Murder is a Monkey's Game Read online

  I thought about pushing her for the truth but decided against it. We’d only just met. Whatever the problem was, she didn’t need my help.

  “I think I hear the guys now. Let’s go into the main room," Zara said and we left the office behind.

  The PR team were seated on oversized school chairs in a circle. I was reminded of an alcoholics anonymous meeting, or at least, the film version of one. Five faces turned to look at me when I walked in behind Zara.

  “Good morning, guys. This is Madigan. She's working on the Pendalay project with us overseeing… Well, I'm sure she'd tell you better herself," Zara finished with a smile.

  She’d very obviously realised halfway through she actually had no idea what I did. Likewise, I wasn’t crystal clear on what her job actually entailed.

  I cleared my throat, self-consciously. “Please call me Madi. I’m an animal breeding and welfare specialist but I'm also here to observe the animals' behaviour and figure out what might be causing the zoo animals to be… less than happy,” I finished. It was the warm and fuzzy version of the truth.

  “Anything interesting you want to tell us about yourself?” Zara asked, making me feel like I was back at school again. I was halfway through a head shake when I thought about my comic.

  “I write and illustrate a webcomic called Monday’s Menagerie,” I said, immediately feeling foolish.

  The comic had started out as a hobby. I’d only confided its existence with a few close friends but now things were different. The comic had more than doubled its funding target on a recent crowd funding campaign for a print version, and I had a publishing agent who was still trying to pin me down. It was probably about time I started to blow my own trumpet a little.

  By the number of raised eyebrows around the room, I'd succeeded in sharing something interesting.

  A tall, red-headed man with a slew of ginger freckles stood up and smiled. I took a moment to admire his neatly spaced teeth before trying to focus on what he was saying.

  “Nice to meet you, Madi. I’m Alex, chief copywriter here at ZaZa PR. My ‘something interesting’ is that I was on TV as a contestant on Britain’s biggest baking show.”

  “Out in the first round, unfortunately,” the dark-haired woman next to him chimed in, not unkindly.

  Alex grimaced. “I had a cake catastrophe,” he confided.

  The woman next to him got to her feet. “I’m Laura. I’m responsible for making sure this company doesn’t collapse under a mountain of paperwork.” This was met with sounds of approval and a couple of claps. “However, I don’t give out interesting facts before being bought a drink,” she said, completely straight-faced.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or not. I was glad when the next woman stood up.

  She had a blonde pixie cut and some prettily slanting green eyes. Unfortunately, there was also something about those eyes that immediately put me on edge.

  “I’m Teagan. I help Zara come up with concepts. An interesting fact about me is that I’m married to the founder of Illiyrism.”

  I looked around the gathered group of people, but everyone was avoiding making eye contact.

  “What’s Illiyrism?” I asked and sensed a silent, but collective, group moan.

  Teagan’s eyes lit up. “It’s a revolutionary new religion that pairs modern ideas with old faith. If you're interested, I’ll be happy to introduce you to it,” she said. I thought her bright smile looked just a little maniacal.

  “Thanks,” I said, in what I hoped was a suitably noncommittal way.

  Fortunately, the next woman had already pushed herself to her feet. She was tall, but chunky, with hair a beautiful shade of grey blonde that I’d forever admired on the internet.

  “I’m Lyra. My job is to deal with any fallout. Think of me as the company cleaner because that’s what I do. If there's any mess surrounding a business we’re working with, it’s my job to clear it up.”

  “How do you do it?” I asked, curious about this rather interesting occupation.

  “Blackmail, bribes, bullying… If it begins with a ‘b’, I’ve probably done it,” she said with a smirk that I felt was intended as a ‘just between us’ joke that made fun of her colleagues. I thought I might have finally found someone that wasn’t as fake as burger cheese.

  “Tell us something interesting," Zara prompted when Lyra sat down.

  She stood up again, but not without reluctance. “Let’s see... the last time I took a couple of days off work for being sick, it was actually so I could binge watch Game of Thrones.” She nodded as if that settled it and sat down again.

  To my surprise, Zara just cleared her throat and inclined her head towards the final man in the room. I’d been expecting at least a reprimand. I could tell from the vein which pulsed in Zara’s forehead she wasn’t happy but Lyra just looked amused.

  She must be damn good at her job.

  Lyra grinned at me across the circle and I suspected I might have made my first real friend at Pendalay Zoo.

  “I’m Adrian. I do all of the graphic design and I’m also the only creative on the team.” He gave me a stern look but I'd already caught his not-so-subtle meaning. I wondered why he saw me as a threat. For all he knew, my comics were a bunch of stick men. I’d never said they were successful, had I? He’ll probably have a nervous breakdown when he finds out the truth, I thought, allowing myself a brief moment of smugness.

  “My interesting fact is that I’m allergic to nuts. Please do not bring any in to work.”

  Lyra snorted with laughter and then had to disguise it with a coughing fit.

  “Great! I think we’re good to go,” Zara said. I noticed the overly cheery facade was back in place. After hearing that phone call, I found it even harder to believe.

  “If you just sit in on this meeting, you’ll get an idea of where we’re at. I’m sure you can work around us?” Zara continued. I noticed she hadn’t said I could contribute anything - just that I would have to fit in around them.

  Instead of arguing, I took a deep breath and sat down to listen.

  It wasn’t so bad in the end. Most of what the PR team did was done out of their rented offices. The reason they were on site in the first place was because one of their selling points was ‘working closely and personally with business owners and the business itself'. Another reason was so they could put up posters and rebrand locally without having to pay someone else to do it for them. I could see there was something in that but I still thought it must be a lot of effort, having to hire new premises every time.

  I was relieved when the meeting ended an hour later. One thing was for sure, I’d picked the right career. To me, PR sounded deadly boring. There was so much jargon flying around and discussions on how to best present ‘the idea’ of Pendalay Zoo. I’d also concluded that Jules had been right to hire me. While the PR team did focus on how the zoo looked and customer satisfaction levels, it was all too clear they had no animal experience whatsoever. I only hoped the other zoos they'd worked for hadn't been in the same dire straits as Pendalay.

  The autumn air was fresh against my skin when I escaped from the confines of the group meeting. I sighed with relief and someone chuckled.

  “Chill out, it’s only me,” Lyra said when I flinched.

  She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I watched as she held it and made no effort to bring it up to her mouth.

  She saw me looking and smirked again. “I don't actually smoke but it’s the smokers who get all of the breaks. Believe me, I deserve to have more breaks.”

  “So, you deal with complaints and things like that?” I was hoping for a more open explanation now that we were away from the others. Not that Lyra was anything but forthcoming, I thought to myself, remembering her open admission to skipping work in front of the boss herself. I still wasn’t sure whether that had been a joke or not.

  “Kind of,” she replied. “Basically, if anyone says anything bad about a place it’s my job to hunt them down and ask them nicely if they wo
n’t change their opinion, pretty please.” She shot me a toothy grin. “There’s an art to it and you definitely have to be a little bit of a masochist. If I didn't have a sense of humour, I don’t know where I'd be.” She hesitated. “Probably doing Alex’s job.”

  “What’s it like working for Zara?” I asked, wondering if my prying into her history was subtle enough.

  “It’s okay. My job is more interesting than most, despite having to deal with a big bunch of moaners. Zara’s a decent boss most of the time but none of us have worked for her for long,” she revealed.

  “Really?” I raised my eyebrows enquiringly.

  “Yeah. The company has been around for a bit, I think, but Zara and her husband only decided to move to Cornwall six months ago. They started fresh with a new team and decided to limit the moving around a bit more,” Lyra explained. “She’s nice for a boss, anyway. I know she comes across as fake, but when you get to know her a bit, the mask slips and she's actually fun to be around. We all work really hard here and she’s the one who brings it all together and cracks the whip when needed.” Lyra half-shrugged. “Someone's got to, right?”

  I nodded keeping the light smile on my face. Whatever I’d overheard on the phone, it wasn’t a regular part of Zara's personality from what Lyra was saying.

  Perhaps she’d been telling the truth and it had been a particularly annoying scam caller. Even I'd been guilty of snapping at cold callers.

  * * *

  I was back at my rented cottage with a hot chocolate in one hand and most of Lucky in the other when my laptop started yelling that Lowell was calling me on Skype. I managed to unhitch Lucky’s burgeoning claws from my jumper and popped him up onto my shoulder, where I hoped he’d settle down.

  “You have a cat on your head,” Lowell gravely informed me when I answered his call.

  “Really? I had no idea,” I returned, equally dryly. “How’s work?” I asked, both of us casually ignoring the black kitten with the white socks, who was trying to build a nest in my hair.

  “Work is bland. The only new case since you've been gone was catching a benefit fraud. You know I hate those cases.”

  I nodded. I was willing to bet the majority of private detectives hadn’t imagined that catching fraudsters would be their bread and butter. Hanging around in the car all day, not even able to pop out to the loo, lest you be spotted, was not the glamorous lifestyle I was sure many hoped for.

  “I’ve got some big news, but first I want to hear all about how your new case is going,” Lowell said, smiling fondly.

  I hesitated for a moment while I took in his dark, swept back hair and the creeping growth of stubble that was verging on a beard these days. My boyfriend was a handsome man and I often found myself guessing what particularly attracted him to me. I’d concluded it was just because I was me, which I supposed was a comforting thought.

  “Things are okay here. I’ve had a look around the zoo and it’s as bad as they said it would be. The outsides of the enclosures and some of the interiors have clearly been reworked. There's decent food here, too, so diet research has been done. All of that’s good, but it's too little, too late. These animals have had a bad time and it’s clear enough for anyone to see. I’m thinking about talking to the PR team…” I began and then trailed off. It had been my intention to discuss the spin that would be needed to explain the animals’ state of being but it had slipped my mind. It’s not as if you were encouraged to share your views either, I thought, reminding myself of how this morning’s meeting had gone down.

  “PR team?” Lowell looked puzzled.

  I realised I hadn’t filled him in on the situation that I’d only been appraised of yesterday.

  “…They seem like an okay bunch and I think Lyra could definitely be an ally,” I said, finishing my assessment of the group.

  “That phone call does sound strange,” Lowell commented. Even after I’d gone through, describing the ridiculously awkward introductions, he’d focused in on the phone call I’d overheard. It didn't surprise me in the slightest.

  “I know, but perhaps she was just stressed out,” I allowed. “Anyway, I’m hoping this job will work out well,” I said, doing my best to sound chipper.

  In reality, I wasn’t so sure. This was a challenge unlike any I’d ever faced before. All I could think to do right now was take some time and look at each and every animal in their environment and go from there. I hoped the worst cases would reveal themselves and I hoped even more that I’d be able to help them. That was what I wanted most of all.

  “I should tell you my news,” Lowell said, snapping me out of my inner reverie. “I’ve been offered a case in Cornwall. It’s not far away from you, either.”

  “Really? That’s pretty lucky,” I said, answering before I had time to think.

  Equally luckily, Lowell smiled. “If I’m being completely honest, there were a few jobs on the table and I accepted the one that was in Cornwall.”

  “So, what's the job?”

  “The job itself is not great.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I actually think the agency director was surprised when I picked it, but I figured it would be nice to be near to you.”

  My heart did a little flutter when he said that.

  “It’s basically a glorified stake out. There’s a big designer clothes outlet on the road to Padstow. I think it’s out of the way on an industrial estate. They sell direct to both businesses and the public. Recently, they've suffered a number of thefts. It's nothing too big, just a few jackets and handbags, but the items are consistently going missing, and as they’re designer, they’ve all got ludicrous price tags. The company contacted the agency asking for someone to come and work as an employee but be on the lookout for the thief. They suspect it’s one of their staff who’s responsible,” he confided.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Does the company in question know who they're getting?”

  Lowell cleared his throat. “They were a little confused. They’d expected the newest detective on the agency to be sent over. Someone who still has acne… but they’re very pleased, of course.”

  For a second, I thought Lowell looked a little worried. I reckoned I knew why.

  “It’ll be fine. You've done this a thousand times, right? If there’s something to find, you’ll find it,” I reassured him.

  He nodded and looked a lot happier. “It’ll be a good refresher to do a job like this. It reminds you of where you've come from.”

  “Plus it's like another holiday with me!” I piped up.

  We talked a little longer, figuring out the living arrangements, before I wished him goodnight.

  Later, I lay in bed with Lucky curled up on the pillow beside me, but sleep was a while coming. Lowell’s conversation had given me pause for thought. This job was beneath his pay grade, he’d said as much himself. He'd claimed he’d taken it so he could spend time with me, and I really hoped that was the truth.

  I didn't want to contemplate the other option. If Lowell was keeping something from me, there'd be trouble ahead.

  * * *

  As it turned out, the rains of England had come and gone while Lowell and I had been in the South of France. The projected weather for October was mostly dry and sunny - albeit a sight colder than the little village in France had been. When Lowell and I went out for a walk that Saturday, it was one of these promised, sunny autumnal days.

  We’d planned a walk across the cliffs and beaches to Padstow. Lowell was determined to try as many Cornish pasties as possible and Padstow was certainly the place to go for an authentic pasty experience.

  We’d only made it a little beyond Pendalay village when we heard the scream.

  We both looked over to our left at a little hamlet of traditional stone cottages. After exchanging a warning look we hastened over. I had no idea what to expect. Were we about to land in the middle of another violent crime?

  When we rounded the corner of the boundary wall that encircled the properties, I got a surprise. Zara was standi
ng on the prettily paved path that led up to one of the little cottages. At the same moment we arrived, a man rushed through the gate at the side of the house and Zara screamed again.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” he said, rushing over to Zara. Even as Lowell stiffened next to me, the newcomer was throwing him an equally suspicious look.

  I’d just spotted the real reason why Zara had screamed, and it had nothing to do with either of the men.

  “That’s horrible,” I said, walking up the path towards the front of the house.

  The man with his arm around Zara looked at me in confusion but made no move to stop me. I was able to get a good look at the scene of a foul crime.

  There was blood splattered across the front step. Its garish red colour seemed to mock the subdued claret shade that the front door was painted. It hadn’t taken me long to spot the source of the blood. A rat had been strung up by its tail in the ornamental lavender tree by the front door. Its throat had been cut and there was a sickening drip drip that continued to fall and stain the ground.

  I turned back to the couple on the path and saw that Zara was crying.

  “He’s followed me here! I thought I was safe,” she sobbed.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Lowell asked, walking up the path to join our little group.

  “Thank you, but no. It’s kind of you to stop but I'm afraid there’s nothing you can do,” the man said, sounding remarkably defeated.

  “Well, we can at least call the police for you,” I tried, managing to shoot Zara what I hoped was a comforting smile. The business woman I’d met yesterday had completely gone to pieces.

  “We’ve tried that before. Nothing ever happens. The police just ignore us,” the man said.

  “Oh, Madi! I don’t know what I’m going to do. I thought this was all behind us. We've even been constantly moving around just in case. I thought it had done the trick,” Zara said.

  “Do you two know each other?" Lowell asked.

  I nodded. “This is Zara, head of the PR firm I told you I was working with.”

  His eyes went a little wide when I mentioned her name but he covered it. I knew he’d remembered the odd phone call I’d described. Given today’s display, I was definitely revising my opinion that it had been a scam caller.