Tess Gerritsen - Die Again

“Okay, I’m looking at it now,” she said to Rhodes over the phone. “But it’s not the best shot of him. Do you have any others?”

“I’d have to hunt around. Or I could just ask him for one.”

“No. Do not ask him.”

“Can you please tell me what this is all about? You’re not investigating Greg, are you, because he’s as straight-arrow as they come.”

“Do you know if he’s ever been to Africa?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you know if he’s visited Africa?”

“I’m sure he has. His mother’s originally from Johannesburg. Look, you need to ask Greg yourself. This is making me uncomfortable.”

Jane heard footsteps and swiveled around to see Millie standing behind her. “What do you think?” Jane asked her. “Is it him?”

Millie didn’t answer. She stood with eyes rooted on the photo, hands clutching the back of Jane’s chair. Her silence stretched on so long that the computer screen went black, and Jane had to reawaken it.

“Is it Johnny?” she asked.

“It … it could be,” Millie whispered. “I’m not sure.”

“Rhodes,” said Jane into the phone. “I need a better photo.”

She heard him sigh. “I’ll ask Dr. Mikovitz. Or maybe his secretary has something in the PR office.”

“No, that’s too many people in the loop.”

“Look, I don’t know how else you’re going to get one. Unless you want to come here with your own camera.”

Jane looked at Millie, whose eyes were still fixed on the screen image of Dr. Gregory Oberlin. And she said: “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

SHE PROMISES I’LL BE SAFE. SHE SAYS I’LL NEVER HAVE TO FACE HIM DIRECTLY because it will all be done with video, and multiple police officers will be on the premises. I sit with Detective Frost in the zoo parking lot, and from his car I watch families and children funneling through the entrance. They look happy and excited about a day at the zoo. It’s Saturday, at last the sun is shining, and everything looks different—clean and bright and crisp. I feel the difference in myself as well. Yes, I’m nervous, and more than a little scared, but for the first time in six years I think the sun is about to rise in my own life, and soon all the shadows will be washed away.

Detective Frost answers his ringing cell phone. “Yeah, we’re still in the parking lot. I’ll bring her in now.” He looks at me. “Rizzoli’s interviewing Dr. Oberlin in the animal care facility. That’s at the south end of the zoo, and we won’t go anywhere near there. You don’t have a thing to worry about.” He opens the door. “Let’s go, Millie.”

He’s right beside me as we head toward the entrance. None of the ticket takers is aware there’s a police operation under way, and we walk in the same way every other visitor does, by handing over tickets and pushing through the turnstile. The first exhibit I see is the flamingo lagoon, and I think of my daughter, Violet, who has witnessed the spectacle of thousands of flamingos in the wild. I feel sorry for these city children, for whom flamingos will always be represented by a dozen listless birds in a concrete pond. I get no chance to glimpse any other animals, because Detective Frost leads me straight down the walkway to the administrative building.

We wait in a conference room, which is furnished with a long teak table, a dozen comfortable chairs, and a media cart stocked with video equipment. On the walls are framed honors and awards for the Suffolk Zoo and its staff. EXCELLENCE IN DIVERSITY. EXCELLENCE IN MARKETING. R. MARLIN PERKINS AWARD. BEST EXHIBIT, NORTHEAST. This is their bragging room, to show visitors how distinguished an institution it is.

On the opposite wall, I see the curricula vitae of various staff members, and my eyes go straight to Dr. Oberlin’s. Forty-four years old. Bachelor of science degree, University of Vermont. Doctor of veterinary medicine, Cornell University. There is no photograph.

“This may take a while, so we have to be patient,” says Detective Frost.

“I’ve waited six years,” I tell him. “I can wait a little longer.”

AT SIX FOOT THREE, BLOND WITH BLUE EYES, DR. GREGORY OBERLIN bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Posthumus’s passport photo. He had the same square jaw and the same broad forehead, which was now wrinkled in puzzlement as he watched Jane press RECORD on the video camera.

“Do you really need to record this?” he asked.

“I want to have an accurate record. Plus, this frees me from having to take notes, so I can focus on the interview.” Jane smiled as she sat down. There were distracting noises in the background, animal sounds from the veterinary cages just outside Dr. Oberlin’s office, but this setting would have to do. She wanted him in familiar surroundings, where he’d be relaxed. An interview at Boston PD would almost certainly alarm him.

“I’m glad you’re following up on Debra’s death,” he said. “It’s been bothering me. A lot.”

“What about it, in particular?” asked Jane.

“An accident like that shouldn’t have happened. Debra and I worked together for years. She was not a careless person, and she knew her way around big cats. I can’t see her forgetting something as simple as latching the leopard’s night cage.”

“Dr. Rhodes says that even experienced zookeepers have done it.”

“Well, that’s true. There have been accidents in very good zoos, by veteran keepers. But Debra was the sort of person who wouldn’t leave the house without checking all the burners and making sure the windows were latched.”

“So what are you saying happened? Someone else opened the night cage?”

“That must be what you’re thinking, isn’t it? I assume that’s why you wanted to interview me.”

“Was there any reason Debra might have been careless that day?” Jane asked. “Anything that could’ve distracted her?”

“We’d broken up a few months before, but she seemed to be doing fine. I’m not aware of anything that was bothering her.”

“You told me she instigated the breakup.”

“Yes. I want children, and she didn’t. There’s no way to compromise on that issue. There were no bitter feelings between us, and I never stopped caring about her. That’s why I really need to know if we’ve missed anything.”

“If she didn’t leave the gate unlatched, then who do you think did it?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know! The staff area is out of public view, so theoretically anyone could have sneaked back there unseen.”

“Did she have enemies?”

“No.”

“A new boyfriend?”

A pause. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“We hadn’t really talked much lately, except about issues at work. I know she was upset the day that I euthanized Kovo, but I really had no choice. We tried to keep that cat alive for as long as we could. In the end, it was cruel to let him suffer.”

“So Debra was upset about something.”

“Yes, and pissed off, too, that Kovo was going to be stuffed and mounted for some rich asshole. Especially when she found out the asshole was Jerry O’Brien.”

“You’re not a fan, I take it.”

“The man considers Africa his personal slaughterhouse. He brags about it on his radio show. So yes, she was pissed, and so am I. Part of our mission here is wildlife conservation. I’m supposed to go to Johannesburg next month, for a conference on rare species protection. And here we made a deal with the devil, all for money.”

“So you’re going to Africa,” she said. “Been there before?”

“Yes. My mother’s from Johannesburg, and we have family there.”