Tess Gerritsen - Die Again

“Alan Rhodes can do it.”

“Who?”

“He’s their large-cat expert.” Jane called out to the group of men gathered near the exhibit: “Dr. Rhodes? Dr. Isles is here, from the ME’s office. She needs to see the body.”

The dark-haired man who came toward them still looked shell-shocked by the tragedy. The trousers of his zoo uniform were bloodstained, and his attempt at a smile couldn’t disguise the strain in his face. Automatically he reached out to greet her, then realized there was dried blood on his hand, and he dropped his arm back to his side. “I’m sorry you have to see this,” he said. “I know you’ve probably encountered some terrible things, but this is awful.”

“I’ve never dealt with a large-cat attack before,” said Maura.

“This is my first time as well. I never want to see another one.” He pulled out a key ring. “I’ll take you around back, to the staff area. That’s where the gate is.”

Maura waved goodbye to Jane and followed Rhodes down the shrubbery-lined pathway marked STAFF ONLY. The walkway cut between neighboring exhibits and led to the rear of the enclosure, which was hidden from public view.

Rhodes unlocked the gate. “This will take us through the squeeze cage. There are two inner gates on either end of this cage. One leads to the public exhibit area. The other gate leads to the night room.”

“Why is it called a squeeze cage?”

“It’s a collapsible section we can use to control the cat for veterinary purposes. When he walks through this section, we push on the cage wall and it traps him against the bars. Makes it easy to vaccinate him or inject other meds in his shoulder. Minimum stress for the animal and maximum safety for the staff.”

“Is this where the victim would have entered?”

“Her name was Debra Lopez.”

“I’m sorry. Is this how Ms. Lopez entered?”

“It’s one of the access points. There’s also a separate entrance for the night room, where the animal stays during off-exhibit hours.” They walked into the cage and Rhodes shut the door behind them, trapping them in the claustrophobically narrow passage. “As you can see, there are gates at both ends. Before you enter any cage, you confirm the animal is secured in the opposite section. That’s Zoo Safety One Oh One: Always know where the cat is. Especially Rafiki.”

“Was he particularly dangerous?”

“Every leopard is potentially dangerous, especially Panthera pardus . The African leopard. They’re smaller than lions or tigers, but they’re silent and unpredictable and powerful. A leopard can drag a carcass much heavier than he is straight up a tree. Rafiki was in his prime, and extremely aggressive. He was kept in solitary because he attacked the female leopard we tried to place with him in this exhibit. Debbie knew how dangerous he was. We all did.”

“So how could she make this kind of mistake? Was she new to the job?”

“Debbie worked here at least seven years, so it certainly wasn’t lack of experience. But even veteran zookeepers sometimes get careless. They fail to confirm the animal’s whereabouts, or they forget to latch a gate. Greg told me that when he got here, he found the gate to the night cage wide open.”

“Greg?”

“Dr. Greg Oberlin, our veterinarian.”

Maura focused on the night cage gate. “This latch didn’t malfunction?”

“I tested it. So did Detective Rizzoli. It’s in working order.”

“Dr. Rhodes, I’m having a lot of trouble understanding how an experienced zookeeper leaves a leopard’s cage door wide open.”

“It’s hard to believe, I know. But I can show you a spreadsheet of similar accidents involving big cats. It’s happened in zoos around the world. Since 1990, there’ve been more than seven hundred incidents in the US alone, with twenty-two people killed. Just last year, in Germany and the UK, experienced zookeepers were killed by tigers. In both cases, they simply forgot to lock the gates. People get distracted or careless. Or they start to believe the cats are friends who’d never hurt them. I keep telling our staff, never trust a big cat. Never turn your back. These are not pet kitties.”

Maura thought about the gray tabby she’d just adopted, the cat whose affections she was now trying to win with expensive sardines and bowls of half-and-half. He was just another wily predator who had claimed Maura as his personal servant. If he were a hundred pounds heavier, she had little doubt he’d see her not as a friend, but as a tasty source of meat. Could anyone truly trust a cat?

Rhodes unlocked the inner gate, which led to the public exhibit. “This is the way Debbie would have entered,” he said. “We found a lot of blood next to the bucket and broom, so she was probably attacked while doing morning cleanup.”

“What time would this have been?”

“Around eight or nine o’clock. The zoo opens at nine for visitors. Rafiki’s fed in the night room before he’s let into the exhibit.”

“Are there any security cameras back here?”

“Unfortunately not, so we have no footage of the incident, or what preceded it.”

“What about the victim’s—Debbie’s—state of mind? Was she depressed? Troubled about anything?”

“Detective Rizzoli asked that same question. Was this a suicide by cat? ” Rhodes shook his head. “She was such a positive, optimistic woman. I can’t imagine her committing suicide, despite what was going on in her life.”

“ Was something going on?”

He paused, his hand still on the gate. “Isn’t there always something going on in people’s lives? I know she’d just broken up with Greg.”

“That’s Dr. Oberlin, the veterinarian?”

He nodded. “Debbie and I talked about it on Sunday, when we brought Kovo’s body to the taxidermist. She didn’t seem too upset about it. More … relieved. I think Greg took it a lot harder. It didn’t make things easy for him, since they both work here and they see each other at least once a week.”

“Yet they got along?”

“As far as I could tell. Detective Rizzoli spoke to Greg, and he’s pretty devastated about this. And before you ask the obvious question, Greg said he was nowhere near this cage when it happened. He said he came running when he heard the screams.”

“Debbie’s?”

Rhodes looked pained. “I doubt she lived long enough to make a sound. No, it was some visitor screaming. She saw blood and started yelling for help.” He swung open the exhibit gate. “She’s lying in the back, near the boulders.”

Only three paces into the enclosure, Maura halted, disturbed by the evidence of carnage. This was what Jane had described as “buckets of blood,” and it was splashed across foliage, congealed in pools on the concrete pathway. Arterial splatters arced in multiple directions, sprayed out by the victim’s last, desperate heartbeats.

Rhodes looked down at the toppled bucket and rake. “She probably never saw him coming.”

The human body contains five liters of blood, and this was where Debbie Lopez had spilled most of hers. It had still been wet when others walked through it; Maura saw multiple footprints and smears across the concrete. “If he attacked her here,” she said, “why did he drag her to the back of the cage? Why not consume her where she fell?”

“Because a leopard’s instinct is to guard his kill. In the wild, there’d be scavengers who’d fight him for it. Lions and hyenas. So leopards move their kill out of reach.”

Blood smears marked the leopard’s progress as he had dragged his prize of human flesh along the concrete path. In that trail of streaks and swipes, one clear paw print stood out, startling evidence of the size and power of this killer. The trail led to the rear of the enclosure. At the base of a massive artificial boulder lay the body, covered with an olive-green blanket. The dead leopard sprawled nearby, jaws gaping open.