Tess Gerritsen - Die Again

“Oh my God. Are we going to have any liability issues?”

“I doubt it. He was never in any real danger, and I think he found it so humiliating he’ll never tell a soul.” Rhodes gave a pained smile to Jane and Frost. “Just another fun day with idiot humans. My lions, at least, have more than an ounce of common sense.”

“This is Detective Rizzoli, Detective Frost,” said Mikovitz.

Rhodes extended a callused hand to them. “I’m Dr. Alan Rhodes. I’m a wildlife biologist specializing in felid behavior. All cats, large and small.” He glanced at Mikovitz. “So have they found Kovo?”

“I don’t know, Alan. They just arrived, and we haven’t gotten to that subject yet.”

“Well, we need to know.” Rhodes turned back to Jane and Frost. “Animal pelts deteriorate quite rapidly after death. If it isn’t immediately harvested and processed, it loses its value.”

“How valuable is a snow leopard pelt?” asked Frost.

“Considering how few of the animals there are in the world?” Rhodes shook his head. “I’d say priceless.”

“And that’s why you wanted the animal stuffed.”

“ Stuffed is rather an inelegant term,” said Mikovitz. “We wanted Kovo preserved in all his beauty.”

“And that’s why you brought him to Leon Gott.”

“For skinning and mounting. Mr. Gott is—was—one of the best taxidermists in the country.”

“Did you know him personally?” asked Jane.

“Only by reputation.”

Jane looked at the large-cat expert. “And you, Dr. Rhodes?”

“I met him for the first time when Debra and I delivered Kovo to his house,” said Rhodes. “I was shocked this morning when I heard about his murder. I mean, we’d just seen him alive on Sunday.”

“Tell me about that day. What you saw, what you heard at his house.”

Rhodes glanced at Mikovitz, as if to confirm he should answer their questions.

“Go ahead, Alan,” said Mikovitz. “It’s a murder investigation, after all.”

“Okay.” Rhodes took a breath. “On Sunday morning, Greg—Dr. Oberlin, our veterinarian—euthanized Kovo. According to the agreement, we had to deliver the carcass immediately to the taxidermist. Kovo weighed over a hundred pounds, so one of our zookeepers, Debra Lopez, assisted me. It was a pretty sad drive. I worked with that cat for twelve years, and we had a bond, the two of us. Which sounds insane, because you can’t really trust a leopard. Even a supposedly tame one can kill you, and Kovo was certainly large enough to bring down a man. But I never felt threatened by him. I never sensed any aggression in him at all. It’s almost as if he understood I was his friend.”

“What time did you arrive at Mr. Gott’s house on Sunday?”

“Around ten A.M., I guess. Debra and I brought him straight there, because the carcass needs to be skinned as soon as possible.”

“Did you talk much with Mr. Gott?”

“We stayed awhile. He was really excited about working on a snow leopard. It’s such a rare animal, he’d never handled one before.”

“Did he seem at all worried about anything?”

“No. Just euphoric about the opportunity. We carried Kovo into his garage, then he brought us into the house to show us the animals he’s mounted over the years.” Rhodes shook his head. “I know he was proud of his work, but I found it sad. All those beautiful creatures killed just to be trophies. But then, I’m a biologist.”

“I’m not a biologist,” said Frost. “But I found it pretty sad, too.”

“That’s their culture. Most taxidermists are also hunters, and they don’t understand why anyone would object to it. Debra and I tried to be polite about it. We left his house around eleven, and that was it. I don’t know what else I can tell you.” He looked back and forth at Jane and Frost. “So what about the pelt? I’m anxious to know whether you found it, because it’s worth a hell of a lot to—”

“Alan,” said Mikovitz.

The two men glanced at each other, and both fell silent. For a few seconds, no one said anything, a pause so significant that it might as well have come with a blinking alert: Something is wrong. There’s something they’re trying to hide .

“This pelt is worth a hell of a lot to whom?” said Jane.

Mikovitz answered, too glibly: “Everyone. These animals are extremely rare.”

“How rare, exactly?”

“Kovo was a snow leopard,” said Rhodes. “ Panthera uncia , from the mountainous regions of Central Asia. Their fur is thicker and paler than an African leopard’s, and there are fewer than five thousand left in the world. They’re like phantoms, solitary and hard to spot, and they’re getting more and more rare by the day. It’s illegal to import their skins. It’s even illegal to sell a pelt, new or old, across state lines. You can’t buy or sell them on the open market. That’s why we’re anxious to know. Did you find Kovo’s?”

Instead of answering his question, Jane asked another. “You mentioned something earlier, Dr. Rhodes. About an agreement.”

“What?”

“You said you delivered Kovo to the taxidermist as part of the agreement . What agreement are you talking about?”

Rhodes and Mikovitz both avoided her eyes.

“Gentlemen, this is a homicide case,” Jane said. “We’re going to find this out anyway, and you really don’t want to get on my bad side.”

“Tell them,” said Rhodes. “They need to know.”

“If this gets out, Alan, the publicity will kill us.”

“Tell them.”

“All right, all right.” Mikovitz gave Jane an unhappy look. “Last month, we got an offer we couldn’t refuse, from a prospective donor. He knew that Kovo was ill, and would most likely be euthanized. In exchange for the animal’s fresh, intact carcass, he would make a substantial donation to the Suffolk Zoo.”

“How substantial a donation?”

“Five million dollars.”

Jane stared at him. “Is a snow leopard really worth that much?”

“To this particular donor, it is. It’s a win–win proposition. Kovo was doomed anyway. We get a big influx of cash to stay afloat, and the donor gets a rare prize for his trophy room. His only stipulation was that it be kept quiet. And he specified Leon Gott as his taxidermist, because Gott is one of the best. And I believe they’re already acquainted.” Mikovitz sighed. “Anyway, that’s why I was reluctant to mention it. The arrangement is sensitive. It could put our institution in a bad light.”

“Because you’re selling rare animals to the highest bidder?”

“I was against this deal from the start,” Rhodes said to Mikovitz. “I told you it would come back to bite us in the ass. Now we’re going to get a shitload of publicity.”

“Look, if we can keep it quiet, we can salvage this. I just need to know that the pelt is safe. That it’s properly handled and cared for.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Dr. Mikovitz,” said Frost, “but we found no pelt.”

“What?”

“There was no leopard pelt in Gott’s residence.”

“You mean—it was stolen ?”

“We don’t know. It’s just not there.”

Mikovitz slumped back in his chair, stunned. “Oh God. It’s all fallen apart. Now we’ll have to return his money.”

“Who is your donor?” asked Jane.

“This information can’t get out. The public can’t know about it.”

“Who is he?”

It was Rhodes who answered, with undisguised scorn in his voice. “Jerry O’Brien.”

Jane and Frost glanced at each other in surprise. “You mean the Jerry O’Brien? The guy on the radio?” asked Frost.

“Boston’s own Big Mouth O’Brien. How do you think our animal-loving patrons are going to feel when they hear we cut a deal with the shock jock? The guy who brags about his hunting trips to Africa? About the fun he has blasting elephants to smithereens? His whole persona is about glorifying blood sport.” Rhodes gave a snort of disgust. “If only those poor animals could shoot back.”