Part 7 (1/2)
From the other side of the bed came Nina's delicious voice: ”Tell me the weirdest thing that happened to you today.”
It was a bedtime ritual, exchanging anecdotes about work. Joe Winder said: ”Some creep claimed he found the missing voles, except they weren't voles. They were baby rabbits. He was trying to con us.” Winder left out the grisly details.
”That's a tough one to beat,” Nina remarked.
”Also, I got slugged in the head.”
”Really?” she said. ”Last night I had a caller jerk himself off in eleven seconds flat. Miriam said it might be a new world's record.”
”You timed it?”
”Sort of.” Playfully she reached between his legs and tweaked him. ”Miriam has an official Olympic stopwatch.”
”Nina, I want you to get another job. I'm serious.”
She said, ”That reminds mea”some strange guy phoned for you this afternoon. A doctor from the park. He called twice.”
”Koocher?”
”Yeah,” said Nina. ”Interesting name. Anyway, he made it sound important. I told him to try you at the office, but he said no. He wouldn't leave a message, either, just said he'd call back. The second time he said to tell you a man from Security was in the lab.”
Joe Winder lifted his head off the pillow. ”A man from Security?”
”That's what he said.”
”Anything else?” Winder was thinking about the empty laboratory: lights on, phone ringing. Maybe he should've tried the back door.
”I told him you'd be home soon, but he said he couldn't call back. He said he was leaving with the guy from Security.” Nina propped herself on one elbow. ”Joe, what's going on over there?”
”I thought I knew,” said Winder, ”but obviously I don't.”
With a fingertip she traced a feathery line down his cheek. ”Do me a favor,” she said.
”I know what you're going to say.”
She scooted closer, under the covers, and pressed against him. ”But things are going so great.”
Winder kissed her on the tip of the nose, and started to roll out of bed.
”Joe, don't go crazy on me,” Nina said. ”Please.”
He rolled back, into her arms. ”All right,” he said. ”Not just yet.”
SIX.
The next morning, in the hallway by the water fountain, Charles Chelsea seized Joe Winder by the sleeve and tugged him into the office. Two men shared opposite ends of Chelsea's leather sofaa”one was the immense Pedro Luz, chief of Security for the Amazing Kingdom, and the other was a serious-looking fellow with a square haircut and a charcoal suit.
”Joe,” Chelsea said, ”this gentleman is from the FBI.”
”I can see that.”
Chelsea cleared his throat. ”This is Agent Hawkins.”
Joe Winder stuck out his hand. ”Billy, isn't it? You worked a Coral Gables Savings job about four years back.”
The agent smiled cautiously. ”And you were with the Herald.”
”Right.”
”Dated one of the tellers.”
”Right again.”
Charles Chelsea was trying to set some sort of record for clearing his throat. ”What a coincidence that you two guys know each other.”
Joe Winder sat down and stretched his legs. ”Bank robbery. Billy here was the lead agent. Funny story, too it was the Groucho guy.”
”Yeah,” said Hawkins, loosening up. ”Wore the big nose and the eyebrows, even carried a cigar. We finally caught up with him in Clearwater.”
”No kidding?” Winder said, knowing that it was driving Chelsea crazy, all this friendly conversation with a real FBI man. ”All the way up in Clearwater?”
”Gentlemen,” Chelsea cut in, ”if you don't mind.”
”What is it, Charlie?”
”Agent Hawkins is here at Mr. Kingsbury's personal request.” Chelsea lowered his voice. ”Joe, there were three notes delivered to employees in the park. Each was signed by this Wildlife Rescue Corps.”
Winder reached in his pocket. ”You mean like this?” He handed his copy to Billy Hawkins. He told him what had happened at the Rare Animal Paviliona”the old lady in the Easter bonnet, the phantom punch. Hawkins took it all down in a notebook.
Chelsea tried to contain his irritation. ”Why didn't you report this to Security?” he asked Joe Winder.
”Because I didn't want to interrupt Pedro's nap.”
Pedro Luz darkened. Every now and then he dozed off in the security office. ”All you had to do was ring the buzzer,” he snapped at Winder. He glanced at the FBI man, whose expression remained impa.s.sive and nonjudgmental. ”I've had a touch of the flu,” Pedro Luz added defensively. ”The medicine makes me sleepy.” For a large man he had a high tinny voice.
”Never mind.” said Charles Chelsea. ”The point is, everybody's calling up for comment. The networks. The wires. We're under siege, Joe.”
Winder felt his headache coming back. Agent Billy Hawkins admitted that the federal government didn't know much about the Wildlife Rescue Corps.
”Most of these groups seem to specialize in rodents,” the agent said. ”Laboratory rats, mostly. Universities, pharmaceutical housesa”those are the common targets. What usually happens, they break in at night and free the animals.”
”But we weren't doing experiments.” Chelsea was exasperated. ”We treated Vance and Violet as royalty.”
”Who?” the agent said.
”The voles,” Joe Winder explained cheerfully.