Foxes and Fatal Attraction: Mystery (Madigan Amos Zoo Mysteries Book 9) Read online

  I thought back. “I just told him that trophy hunting wasn’t okay. It’s a horrible thing to do! I know that sometimes things can be more complicated than they appear when it comes to hunting, but this was for vanity - plain and simple.”

  “Yes… that’s probably the sentiment he’ll pass on to the club.”

  I made a sound of disbelief. “Surely they can’t expect the owner of a zoo to be in favour of trophy hunting, or even fox hunting?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Auryn said, dryly. He sighed again. “Look, the annual business review is coming up soon. Once it’s over, we’ll have another year to prove loyalty. But for now, we’re both on shaky ground. No more anti-hunt lobbying.”

  I bit my tongue. Hard. “Fine,” I finally managed. “But this shouldn’t be allowed! Someone needs to put a stop to it.”

  “Their power comes from their choices of members. I’m sorry to say it, but they hold all the cards. We need to stay in line, or face the consequences.”

  And on that ominous note, he hung up, leaving me to wonder whether I’d done the right thing by trying to save an animal who shouldn’t be left in the wild. Every instinct I possessed roared that I’d done the right thing. I’d followed my heart this far and I wasn’t going to stop now.

  9

  One Door Down From Death

  The next day, Tiff and I went back into Herriot’s Houses. So far, our search had been fruitless and instead of wasting more time wandering around unsuitable properties, we were going in to look through some brochures of the newest house offerings on the market - or at least, that’s the way Tristan Herriot had sold it to Tiff over the phone. I strongly suspected he just wanted to spend more time with my beautiful best friend.

  However, when we walked into the estate agents, he was conspicuously absent, and I was forced to conclude I’d been wrong.

  “Good morning!” Yolanda said, beaming at us when we walked over to her desk. There was something tiger-ish about her smile that somehow made me believe she was far hungrier for a sale than her boss - and with that kind of ambition, she might just succeed in making the sale. I just hoped my friend found an excellent house that suited her. And her future family! I remembered and silently hoped she’d summon up the courage soon to tell her fiancé the truth about her current state. Preferably before they put down the deposit on a new house.

  Josh swanned by carrying a giant pile of papers.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I asked, walking over to the desk whilst Tiff leafed through potential houses.

  He looked up at me, startled. Josh was definitely jumpy at the moment. His expression changed and I quickly realised just how little he wanted to talk to me.

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he said, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

  I turned and walked back to sit down with Tiff and stare at more houses. If Josh didn’t want to be helped, there was nothing I could do - not when I didn’t know if he actually knew anything or not. He was a grown man. If he was in trouble, he was the only one who could get himself out of it.

  Tiff’s latest selections were scheduled for viewing in the evening that very day. Tristan was out of the office because of a sudden influx of new - presumably rich - clients, and Yolanda and the others were rushed off their feet, too. She’d been visibly relieved when Tiff had been more than happy to meet up after work that evening.

  The first house on our list was a disappointment. The photos had clearly been taken a long time ago - probably even the last time the house was sold - and it was all too obvious that the current owners hadn't lived in it for a long time. Damp was creeping down the walls and the once-fancy wallpaper was peeling off. The price, which Yolanda assured us could be beaten down, wouldn’t make up for all of the hassle it would take to fix up. Anyway, I knew that Tiff didn’t want a fixer-upper. She wanted a home.

  “Okay, I think the next one will be perfect! You really liked the photos, didn’t you?” Yolanda said when it became clear she was beating a dead horse by trying to sell Tiff the heap we were currently looking around. “It’s in more of a residential area, whilst still being of good size, which means you won’t feel isolated. Plus, there’s a lovely garden which is perfect for pets, and the property backs on to a private park that only you and the surrounding neighbours have access to.”

  I silently crossed my fingers for Tiff, hoping that this property would be the one. Otherwise, it seemed likely she’d go through all of the properties on the market in the local area and draw a blank. Normally, I’d have advised Tiff to take her time, but if she told Alex and everything turned out the way I hoped it would, then getting settled in a new home was something the couple should be getting on with - right now if possible.

  We got back in the car and Yolanda drove us across the darkening country roads before we pulled up on a nice-looking estate. The houses spoke of good money, but they weren’t ostentatious or falling into dilapidation. Instead, they were classy and had an old-inspired-modern-remake feel to them.

  “Looks good so far,” I said to Tiff who smiled back enthusiastically.

  We got out and Yolanda opened the door of the property with a flourish.

  The interior was even lovelier than the exterior. I assumed that the owners of this particular house had merely gone out for the evening, because the place had a cosy lived-in feel that made me believe this place could really be a home. Even the air smelt nice - of vanilla - and while I suspected it was a house-selling technique, it did open your mind to the possibility that this property could be the one.

  Tiff rushed into the kitchen and gazed out at the lawn, which was lit up by lamps. From what I could see in the darkening evening, it was beautifully landscaped - although, I happened to know Tiff’s own menagerie of animals would probably make short work of it.

  “It’s beautiful,” Tiff said, immediately forgetting that you were never supposed to show that much enthusiasm for a property you liked in front of the estate agent. I’d known that Tiff would never manage to play that kind of game. She was honest to a fault. With a recent exception, I suddenly realised.

  “Come and see the bedrooms,” Yolanda said, sounding half-thrilled, half-relieved. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to find Tiff a place as fast as humanly possible. After what had happened at our first property viewing, it was bad business keeping around clients who’d had that terrible experience. I was betting that Tristan Herriot had chewed everyone’s ears off about finding Tiff a happy ending in order to uphold the company’s reputation.

  It looked like they might just have succeeded.

  “I’ll have to get Alex to look around it,” Tiff said, still beaming.

  “Of course! I can book you as many viewings as you like. Take your time and let me know if you want to make an offer.” Yolanda made a note on her tablet. “This property has been on the market for a while, simply because it’s out of most people’s price range, and other people want more heritage, for some reason.” She gave a shrug to show what she thought of that. I silently agreed with her. Auryn and I had more than enough heritage on our hands. It was a big pain keeping it all from falling down. “However, I do think they’d be willing to look at a lower offer, so keep that in mind.” Yolanda handed all of the details to Tiff.

  “Would you like to look at any of the others on the list?” she asked my friend.

  Tiff shook her head. “I remember them from the photos. This was the one I’d put my hopes on… and it’s perfect,” she informed the estate agent.

  Yolanda kept her smile fixed in place. “Great! I’m so glad we’ve found your perfect future home. Mr Herriot will be thrilled.”

  We all got back into the car with Tiff staring wistfully backwards at the house of her dreams.

  We’d only driven two hundred metres back down the road when Yolanda stopped the car.

  “What’s that doing there?” Yolanda muttered from the front seat.

  “What’s what doing where?” I asked cheerfully.

  “The
car on that drive… I’m pretty sure it’s Josh’s car.” She shook her head. “He shows people houses, too, but frankly, that kind of place is above his pay-grade. He can’t even be visiting the owners because the house has been empty for ages.” The house she was looking at was larger and older than the one Tiff and I had been shown. I would have assumed it was the grand old house the estate had grown up around. She frowned. “I’ve no idea why he would be here.”

  Yolanda got out of the car. I remained rooted in place for a few seconds more. It felt like there was something icy crawling up my spine. Finally I could keep it in no more and let the shiver go. It was as if a herd of elephants had just trampled over my grave.

  “What’s wrong?” Tiff asked, probably confused by my strange shiver.

  I looked at her apologetically. “I’m going to go inside with Yolanda, but… if you want to stay here, I understand.”

  Tiff immediately paled. “You think…?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. I hoped I was wrong. I really did.

  I caught Yolanda up whilst she was fiddling with the door handle.

  “I already knocked,” she told me and I could hear the same reluctance in her voice that I felt. We both knew that whatever we were about to find inside the house, it wouldn’t be good.

  Yolanda finally gritted her teeth and pushed down on the door handle. It swung open. Unlocked.

  “Hello?” she called. Her voice seemed to be swallowed up by the vast interior of the house. She shivered. “No electricity,” she explained, bringing her phone out. “We never show this place after dark.”

  With a solemn nod of agreement, we hastened down the corridor. Some inexorable force seemed to pull us up towards the bedrooms. As we climbed the stairs I became aware of a constant drip-dripping sound. I really hoped the house had a damp problem.

  The first room to the right of the landing had its door partially ajar.

  After steeling ourselves for the worst, we crept forwards. I didn’t fail to notice that neither of us called out for Josh. Deep down, we already knew the truth.

  I pushed the door open wider, shining my phone’s torch into the room. The first thing that struck me was the pool of crimson on the floor and the drip-drippping sound that turned out to be blood, leaking from the poor receptionist’s wrists.

  “Looks like suicide,” Yolanda muttered. “Why on earth would he do it? I know he was upset about Harry Farley. We all were. But…” she frowned. “Do you think he was the one who did that to Harry?”

  I stayed silent and took a couple of steps closer to the man lying on the bed. When I reached out and felt for a pulse, I realised his skin still had traces of warmth left in it. He hadn’t been dead for long. It was maddening to think that while we’d been looking around a house just down the street, the receptionist had been breathing his last.

  My eyes were drawn to his neck and the purple bruise that was already showing there. Someone had tried to arrange Josh’s tie, with its trendy Celtic knot fastening, so that it covered the mark, but it was already too livid to conceal.

  “We need to call the police and report another murder,” I said, breaking the deathly silence in the property.

  “Murder?” Yolanda said, sounding baffled.

  “The killer wanted us to think that it was a suicide, but they were clumsy.” I pointed to Josh’s neck. “He was strangled before someone tried to make it look like something else. They must have known he was upset by everything that happened. Perhaps they hoped we wouldn’t question it. Or perhaps…” I thought about the tie around his neck, considering whether or not I’d seen the receptionist wearing a tie before. I didn’t think I had. “They might be hoping that the police believe he tried to kill himself with his tie before he opted for a different option.”

  “Couldn’t that be exactly what happened?” Yolanda queried, dancing in the doorway with nerves and horror written on her face.

  I shook my head. I’d spoken to Josh earlier that day and he’d seemed defiant, not broken. The same as he was in the restaurant, I realised. He’d been upset, but he hadn’t caved to any pressure. Josh had known something about Harry Farley’s killer after all - and he’d paid for it with his life.

  “It would be you, wouldn’t it?” Detective Gregory said when he arrived.

  “Sorry?” I managed, wondering what else to say. “We found a lovely house,” I said, my own shock over this new horrible death making me say something that wasn’t really situation-appropriate.

  “I hope it’s not this one,” Detective Gregory replied, but I thought I detected the slightest bit of humour in his voice when he said it. You probably had to have a dark sense of humour in his line of work.

  “Someone needs to contact the owner of this property to make them aware of what has taken place here,” Detective Gregory said, addressing Yolanda. She bobbed her head eagerly and rushed off, eager to have a distraction. “You can wait outside now. Keep Tiff company,” the detective told me when the estate agent was gone.

  Yolanda and I had gone outside to call the police but they’d asked us to show them everything we’d done in the house and how we’d come to find the body. The police had immediately set up crime-scene floodlights, which had actually made everything appear ten times worse. I was feeling pretty nauseous and was glad of the detective’s choice to send me back outside.

  “Tiff didn’t see this… did she?” he asked, catching my arm as I turned to go.

  I looked back at him and shook my head. “Just me and Yolanda.”

  He nodded. “Good. Thank you,” he added in a quiet voice.

  I walked back outside to wait with Tiff and Yolanda, who seemed to be permanently glued to her phone. I was certain her original phone call had ended after thirty seconds, but from what I could overhear, she was already telling everyone all about what had happened to poor Josh the receptionist. It was with a heavy heart that I realised I didn’t even know his last name.

  “Ma’am, please hang up the phone,” a familiar voice said. Officer Kelly walked over to Yolanda and the estate agent reluctantly said goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I’m going to need to know who you’ve called.”

  Yolanda looked at her and shrugged. “I just called my boss to let him know his receptionist is dead. Am I under arrest?” There was a note to her voice that hinted of hysteria.

  Officer Kelly took a deep breath, being well-trained in this kind of situation. “No, Ma’am, but we do ask that you try to keep as quiet about what you’ve seen as you can. It may affect our investigation if you share details that we haven’t released to the public.”

  Yolanda let out a slightly crazed laugh. “No fear of that! I’d be labelled kill-joy of the year if I were to let on how bad… how horrible…” She cleared her throat, looking terrified for a moment before lifting a hand to her heart to steady herself. “I’d never be invited to another party again.”

  Although social standing sounded like a stupid thing to focus on, I understood that it was Yolanda’s refuge from what she’d seen. It was what she needed to tell herself in order to carry on with her life and not remain traumatised.

  I was answering Officer Kelly’s questions about what I’d been doing and what I’d seen when the car pulled up. It probably drew my attention because it was a sleek black Mercedes - a car which I didn’t associate with anything particularly good. A man with straw coloured hair got out of the car and immediately patted his hair flat. I estimated he’d probably put an entire tub of wax on it to hold it down, but there were still strands that seemed to want to stick straight upright. It was clear that he was a man who wanted to be taken seriously - his expensive looking suit said that much - but I saw his constant fight to tame his unruly locks as something that made him almost laughable. The scowl on his face as he stormed towards the house also contributed to that view.

  “Excuse me, Sir! This is a crime scene. You can’t go in,” Officer Kelly said, stepping to the side and into the man’s pathway.

  �
��It’s my house! I’ll go where I please.” He tried to sidestep her, but she was too quick. I wrinkled my nose at his strong aftershave and wondered what he was trying to conceal.

  “Sir, you are not permitted to go in there until the police have cleared it. Someone will be here to talk to you about what has happened in a moment,” she assured him.

  “I know what’s happened! Some runt has broken into my house and got himself killed in there. I’m paying extra to have the estate agents pop in regularly to make sure the place is fine, but clearly they’ve neglected that duty.”

  Yolanda came out of her daydream for a moment. “Excuse me! It’s an estate agent who’s dead,” she said, hotly.

  “No one informed me that there would be anyone in the house today. That’s akin to breaking and entering. Your company will be hearing from my lawyers…”

  Yolanda looked horrified. I knew I looked as exasperated as I felt. This man was utterly ridiculous.

  “Sir, someone has been murdered…” Officer Kelly said, trying to get him to understand the severity of the situation - and that a little decorum would go a long way.

  He waved a hand in her face. “Get me the person in charge!”

  She glared at him for a moment longer before she picked up her radio and very deliberately read out some sort of code. Although Officer Kelly kept a straight face, I could tell that the meaning of the code wouldn’t be particularly favourable to this rude man.

  A couple of moments later, Detective Gregory marched back out of the building, ready to put the fear of God into the house owner. As soon as the two men locked eye contact, Detective Gregory’s march stopped. And if I wasn’t much mistaken, the rude man looked a little less sure of himself, too.

  “I understand that this is your property,” Detective Gregory began, stiffly.

  “It is,” the man replied, equally ill at ease.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that these two men knew each other.