Predator

“Yes. Darius was smart about it. He funded whatever Hobart asked him to fund. Every so often, the two of them would go over his assets and how Hobart wanted to structure his will and what charities to give money to. So far as I know, there was never any impropriety on Darius’s part.”

She crossed her arms over her dirty shirt. “After we divorced, he slowly sank into the life of a recluse. He took that tiny wretched apartment. Eventually he just became a shut-in. Never went anywhere except to that sanctuary that he supported.”

“Global Earth Sanctuary?”

“Beats me.” A pause. “Talking about this has given me a big headache.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Talbot, but the conversation has been helpful,” Marge said. “I am curious about those sadomasochistic clubs. You asked who might have killed an eccentric old man, and now I have an idea. What if your ex-husband had been giving money to someone in the sex trade and suddenly stopped? These people are not only sleazy, they’re also dangerous. Maybe someone got angry.”

Sabrina said, “He hasn’t been going to those kinds of clubs for decades.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not positive but …” She shrugged.

“What about hiring out?” Oliver said. “Lots of escort services make house calls.”

“Maybe … if she could get past Tiki.”

Marge turned and faced Sabrina. “So you knew about the tiger?”

“Oh my word, she nearly bit my head off when I came to visit him that one time. I never went back.”

Oliver said, “Ms. Talbot, if you knew he kept a tiger, why didn’t you report it to authorities?”

She rubbed her temples. “Look, Detective, I should have. But at the time, I didn’t want to crush the only living thing that the man cared about. And I knew that Hobart would just mail away for another animal. Since Tiki seemed to be bonded to Hobart, I thought the known was better than the unknown.”

Sabrina checked her watch.

“I really do need to end this. I can’t say that this has been fun, but it’s been … therapeutic in a sense. I haven’t really thought about Hobart in years. I do hope you’ll catch the person who did this to him.”

Marge stood up. “Ms. Talbot, did you keep anything personal that belonged to your husband after he moved out?”

“Personal? Like diaries?”

“Diaries, letters, old photographs or old papers.”

“There might be a box or two of his possessions in the storage wing.”

“Do you think we might have a look at them?”

“Sure, but I don’t know exactly where they are or if I even have them anymore.”

“We don’t mind hunting around if it’s okay with you.” Oliver sneaked another cookie.

Sabrina said, “Would you like a box of cookies? I have a freezer full of them. Eleanor bakes them all the time.” Before he could answer, she pressed a button and the maid came back. “Could you give these nice people a box of your delicious cookies?”

“Yes, Madame. Of course, Madame.”

“Thank you.”

The maid left, and a moment later, Thor reappeared: a staff that ran like a well-oiled machine. “How can I help you?”

“Thor, could you take them to the storage wing for me? They want to see if I have anything left from my ex-husband.”

“They can stay here, Ms. Talbot. I can look around to see if you’ve retained anything from Mr. Penny.”

She looked at Oliver, who said, “We always find it helpful to hunt around ourselves.”

Marge said, “We understand if you don’t want two strangers looking around your belongings. He can come with us if that would make you feel better.”

“Yes, that would be a grand idea. I suppose it would be rather reckless of me to have you snoop around without supervision. Thor, go with the detectives. If they have any questions, feel free to answer them. But don’t get in their way.”

“Certainly, Ms. Talbot.”

“Take care.” She waved. “And don’t forget the cookies, Detective Oliver.”

“Thank you.”

“You can always come back for more.” She smiled. “Bye.”

When she left, Thor said, “This way.”

“Thank you,” Marge told him.

Thor walked six paces ahead down the marble hallway. Oliver whispered to Marge, “Was it my self-deluded ego or was she actually flirting with me?”

Marge shrugged. “The proper word is toying.”

“Sure wouldn’t mind being her plaything.” A big grin.

“Don’t be fooled by the charm. She could eat you for a prelude to a midnight snack.”

“Yum, yum.”

Marge laughed. “You know, Oliver, you’re lucky that I’ve got your back.” A beat. “I not only have your back, I’ve got it protected by a loaded gun. And let me tell you, brother, there’s nothing sexier in this world than a woman with a dead aim.”

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_a04bb392-d359-5e11-a46e-eb2deee8e27d)

The Global Earth Sanctuary sat on acreage that was dissected by multiple sinuous trails hugging numerous enclosures of chain-link and barbed wire fencing. The air was filled with animal sounds: roars, growls, grunts, hoots, hollers, huffs, yips and yaps, and other things that go bump in the night. It smelled ripe, and the odor would have been stronger had it been warmer. Vignette was walking at a good clip, so Decker didn’t have a lot of time to look around. But on the occasions when he did turn his head, his eyes took in blurry and shadowed shapes walking on all fours. His own feet were feeling the chill even through his socks as he hiked up the narrow pathways of mud and pebbles. Eventually a man of about sixty years came into view. He was dressed in a work shirt, vest, jeans, and boots. He gave them a wave.

“Hi there, Vern. I’m going to check out Cody now.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Might be a good idea.” The three of them kept walking until they neared a cage containing an upright mass of fur that was limping and pacing at the same time. The animal wasn’t just roaring. It was an ear-shattering bellow. It was only machismo that prevented Decker from covering his ears.

Vignette looked around the cage and shook her head. “He didn’t touch his lunch.” She pointed to a pile of fruit, leaves, and other undecipherable blobs. “Cody’s normally a good eater. He’s agitated about something.”