Whale Done, page 5
It was my guess that Cass had forgotten she was even holding the giant blade, although it was possible that she wanted the boys to think she intended to use it. Whatever the case, it scared the pants off them. Both turned and bolted down the beach.
Doc and Summer raced after Cass, and, without even thinking about it, I joined them.
The shortest path to the college guys took us directly through what remained of the whale. Besides the head and tail, there wasn’t much; most of the body had been blown elsewhere—although the explosion had left a crater in the sand that we had to pass through. It barely slowed Cass at all. She was in exceptionally good shape and full of determination. Even with the flensing knife, she tore across the sand.
Both of the college guys had the muscular builds of people who spent a lot of time in the gym, but all their bulk made them slower than Cass. The one who’d been doubled over was slightly bigger and faster, though. He was leaving his friend behind.
“Wait!” the smaller guy shouted. “Don’t leave me!”
The bigger one didn’t listen. He didn’t even look back. There was something clutched in his hand, and, as he ran, he tried to get rid of it. He twisted sideways in midstride and flung it toward the ocean. However, in doing so, he took his eyes off where he was heading.
A large, ragged strip of whale skin lay on the sand in front of him, blubber side up. Blubber looks a lot like fat, but it is really a different substance. Fat is used to store energy, whereas blubber is designed to keep marine animals warm in cold water. Because of this, the blubber layer can be up to a foot thick; a single blue whale can produce fifty tons of it. The piece lying in front of the college guy was about two feet square and eight inches deep—and, like fat, it was extremely slippery. The guy stepped on it, and his feet skidded right out from under him. He flopped onto his back atop the blubber with a wet thwack, landing so hard that the wind was knocked out of him.
His friend, who he’d been about to leave behind, now ditched him. He ran right past his fallen buddy and sprinted on down the beach.
Doc directed Summer and me to the ocean as we ran. “See if you can find what he threw in there! We’ll take care of him!”
I knew better than to question Doc’s orders when he was in a bad mood. Summer and I veered into the surf while Doc and Cass continued toward the fallen college guy.
Since the tide was at its lowest point, there was a wide stretch of very shallow water along the beach. Even though the college guy was big and strong, he hadn’t been able to throw his evidence all the way across it.
“There!” Summer shouted, pointing.
The object the guy had thrown was tumbling in the surf close to the shoreline, although the current was about to drag it out to sea.
Summer and I raced through the shallow water, hoping to get to the mysterious object before that happened. Otherwise, it might vanish into the sea forever. The surf was full of whale bits; tiny pieces of blubber bobbed about everywhere like tiny icebergs. We scattered a small flock of seagulls that was gulping them down. The object disappeared under the surf just before we reached it. I plunged into the deeper water and rooted around desperately. Something long and skinny grazed my hand. I grabbed on tight and lifted it out.
I was clutching the antenna of a small plastic device. It looked like the back half of a gun, with a handgrip and a trigger, and was made of dark plastic.
Summer stopped in the surf beside me, staring at it. “What is that?”
“I think it’s a remote detonator,” I answered. “Guess we’ve got the right guys.”
A shark fin sliced through the water nearby. It was only a few inches across, meaning the shark was too small to eat me, but it gave me the shivers anyhow. I grabbed Summer’s hand, and we hurried back out of the water.
Doc and Cass were now standing over the college guy who had slipped on the blubber. His friend had escaped down the beach, but Cass had ensured that this guy wasn’t going anywhere. She held the flensing knife like a spear, the blade aimed at his belly, holding him at bay.
The guy was being cocky and belligerent. “Put the knife down, lady! I’m just an innocent bystander! My father’s one of the biggest lawyers in LA. If you so much as nick me with that, he’ll sue you for everything you own!”
Summer grabbed the detonator from me and dangled it in his face. “If you’re so innocent, what were you doing with this?”
The college guy gulped, obviously surprised that we had recovered the evidence. “I’ve never seen that before,” he said weakly.
“We just saw you throw it into the ocean, you moron,” Cass snapped.
“I’m no moron,” college guy said defensively. “I’m in my second year at Harvard!”
“Well I don’t think you’ll be going back,” Doc warned menacingly. “You just committed multiple felonies. I don’t think Harvard likes having criminals as students.”
The college guy grew very concerned as this sank in. He suddenly became much less antagonistic and far more weaselly. “This wasn’t my idea! I was tricked into doing it!”
“By who?” Cass held the flensing blade dangerously close to the guy’s belly button.
“Some woman I met at a party last night! Sadie—or Zadie—or something like that. This was all her idea!”
A pickup truck came along the beach. It was marked LOS ANGELES COUNTY LIFEGUARD SEARCH AND RESCUE on both sides. Two lifeguards were in the cab. A man who looked to be in his fifties was at the wheel, while a much younger woman sat beside him. They had obviously come from the public beach, most likely in response to the explosion, but now they seemed more concerned about Cass. There was a speaker system attached to the truck, through which the younger lifeguard announced, “Step back from that man and put the spear down!”
Cass shot the lifeguards a look of betrayal. She stepped back, then held up the flensing knife. “This isn’t a spear!” she yelled as the lifeguards parked nearby. “I’m from NOAA, and this is a tool for dissection!”
Summer pointed accusingly at the college guy. “He’s the one who blew up the whale! We caught him red-handed!”
“Here’s the detonator!” I said helpfully, holding it up. “He threw it in the ocean, but we got it back!”
Now that Cass wasn’t looming over him anymore, the guy scuttled away from her and got back to his feet. “That’s not my detonator!” he proclaimed to everyone at once. “The woman at the party gave it to me! And the dynamite, too!”
“Dynamite?” The older lifeguard was now climbing out of the truck and seeing the results of the explosion up close for the first time. There was a lot to take in; he and the younger lifeguard appeared stunned by the extent of the carnage. The man finally turned his attention back to the college guy and said, “Chase, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”
Even if the lifeguard hadn’t called Chase by his name, it was evident from his tone that they knew each other well. I got the sense that they had a long history—and that the lifeguard hadn’t enjoyed most of it.
“This wasn’t my fault!” Chase protested. “I’m an innocent pawn!”
“We’ll see what the sheriff has to say about that. Get in the truck.”
Chase stood his ground. “My father’s not going to like how you’re treating me.”
The lifeguard’s stare grew several degrees colder. “I said get in the truck, Chase. Are you gonna do that—or do I have to cuff you in front of all of Malibu?” He pointed down the beach.
I had been too focused on Chase to notice until then, but we had drawn a lot of attention. We were far enough from the point of the explosion that the mansions hadn’t been too badly slimed with whale guts, although they had still been slightly sullied—and many had cracked windows from the blast. The owners had emerged onto their pool decks to assess the damage, and now they were watching us intently.
Chase didn’t say another word. His shoulders slumped like those of a cowering dog, and he trudged across the beach to the truck.
“Skip! Is he the one who blew up the whale?” a middle-aged woman with bleached-blond hair shouted to the lifeguard from her pool deck.
“I don’t know, Nancy,” the lifeguard replied.
“Well I’ve got cracks in all my windows and what looks like whale vomit smeared all over my deck,” Nancy said angrily. “This is imported mahogany and it’s worth a fortune. If it’s ruined, that kid’s gonna pay.”
“That’s an issue for you and the sheriff’s department,” the lifeguard informed her, then turned his attention to Cass and Doc. “I’m Skip Howell. This is quite a mess we’ve got here. Are both of you with NOAA?”
“Just me,” Cass said. “This is Ed Deakin, head veterinarian at FunJungle.”
Skip arched an eyebrow, surprised. “FunJungle? You’re pretty far from home.”
I was also surprised, but for an entirely different reason. I had known Doc for well over a year and never heard anyone call him by his real name. In fact, until that moment, I hadn’t even known what his real name was.
“I’m on vacation,” Doc replied.
“Not much of one,” Skip observed. “I take it that all of you witnessed this”—he paused to search for the right words—“unfortunate incident. Including Chase’s alleged participation in it?”
“That’s right,” Summer said.
“Then I’m sure the police will want to talk to all of you as well.” Skip cocked his head, listening. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. “That’s probably them now. Don’t go anywhere.” With that, he turned away from us.
More lifeguards were arriving in other pickups. Skip started giving them orders.
Doc looked at me and sighed. “What is it with you, Teddy? You haven’t even been in Malibu an hour, and you’re already involved in another crime.”
“I don’t ask for this to happen,” I told him. “It just does.”
“This isn’t going to affect our vacation,” Summer assured me. “There’s nothing to solve this time.” She pointed at Chase, who was sulking in the back of the pickup truck. “That jerk did it. We caught him. Case is closed, pure and simple.”
“No, it isn’t,” Doc said.
Summer and I turned to him, stunned. “You think that guy’s really telling the truth?” Summer asked. “You honestly think he was framed?”
“Do you have any idea how much explosive it would take to do that to a blue whale?” Doc nodded back down the beach, to the remnants of the carcass. “That’s no college prank. That’s a professional job. Someone wanted to get rid of that whale before we did the autopsy. And they found a patsy to pin the blame on.”
“But why would someone do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Doc answered. “But I intend to find out.”
6
QUESTIONS
Even though Malibu felt like a small beach community, it was part of the city of Los Angeles. Law enforcement was provided by the closest sheriff’s department, which was based fifteen miles away over a windy mountain road. A dozen cars had been dispatched in response to the news that there had been a large explosion. The police were stunned by the sight of the decimated whale, but pleased to discover that an obvious suspect had already been apprehended. Since no one wanted to drag us all the way back to the sheriff’s department, our statements were taken right on the beach.
I was assigned to Officer Gomez, who was so young, it looked as though he hadn’t even started shaving yet. He took down my name and phone number on a small notepad with a stubby pencil. Then he quickly rattled off his questions, as though he really wanted to be doing something else, and showed no patience when I tried to raise questions of my own.
“Did you witness the suspect with the detonator?”
“Yes. Although I didn’t actually see him use it. So it’s possible that—”
“Did you personally see him throw the detonator in the ocean in an attempt to get rid of the evidence?”
“Well, I saw him throw it, but—”
“Is the suspect on the beach right now?”
“Yes.” Three deputies were gathered around Skip’s truck, grilling Chase, who looked like he was going to cry.
“Can you identify the suspect for me?”
I pointed to Chase. “That’s him, but there was someone else with him.”
“Would you be able to recognize that person if you saw them again?”
“Maybe. You should know, there might have been a third person involved. Doc thinks Chase is telling the truth about being set up.”
Officer Gomez gave a short laugh. “Do you or Doc have any proof of this? Or is it just speculation?”
“Well, Doc says this explosion looks like the work of a professional, not some college kids.”
“Is Doc an expert in explosives or munitions?”
“Er… no. He’s a veterinarian.”
Another short laugh. “Like for dogs and cats?”
“No. At a zoo. He works with all sorts of animals. Elephants and giraffes and lions and such.”
“Does he work with whales?”
“There aren’t any whales at the zoo. But Doc’s really smart. He knows about plenty besides animals. So I think he could be right. What if someone tricked Chase into getting involved in this to set him up?”
This time, the laugh went on a little longer. “Did you see this mystery person out on the beach with Chase and his accomplice?”
“No. But if they were really setting him up, then they probably wouldn’t have been here. Or at least not close by…”
“You realize how ridiculous this sounds, right?”
I frowned. Now that Officer Gomez had called me on it, it did sound far-fetched. I still pushed on, though. “The person’s name is Sadie. Or Zadie.”
“How do you know that?”
“Chase told us.”
“So, the only way you’ve ever heard of this mystery person is when the main suspect claimed she existed while professing his innocence?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thanks very much for your time.” Officer Gomez closed his notepad. Short of my name and phone number, he hadn’t written down one word I’d said. “If we need anything else from you, we’ll be in touch.” He turned away from me and went to speak to his superior officer.
Summer had had almost the exact same experience with her interview. She couldn’t get her officer to take her seriously. Doc’s interview had gone slightly differently, but only because he hadn’t bothered sharing his theory about the crime at all.
“There wasn’t any point,” he explained as we walked back along the beach to Binka’s house. “As far as the police are concerned, this case is already solved. We gave them a prime suspect and all the evidence they need. The last thing they want is to complicate things for themselves.”
Cass had stayed behind with the sheriff’s department, which had asked for NOAA’s help in coordinating the removal of the whale and cleaning up the beach. The officers had their hands full dealing with all the damage from the explosion. There were dozens of angry millionaires who all wanted their attention at once. Doc had volunteered to stay and help, but a deputy had curtly informed him that his services would not be needed.
The way he’d been treated left Doc in an even more crotchety mood than usual, although it seemed to me that something else might also be upsetting him. He remained sullenly quiet for the rest of our walk.
Binka’s mansion was far enough from the exploded carcass that it hadn’t sustained much damage, but there were still miscellaneous whale chunks plastered to her windows and floating in her pool. Binka had put both of her full-time maids and her personal chef to work cleaning it up, as well as a man from the pool service. She was overseeing them with a cocktail in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
She wrapped up her call as we climbed the steps to the pool deck. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said to Doc. “Do you have any idea what that is?” She pointed to a large, gelatinous piece of whale that was bobbing in her pool.
Doc considered it thoughtfully. “Looks like part of an organ. Maybe the spleen?”
Binka gave him a disappointed look. “You don’t know for sure?”
Doc said, “Usually when I see the organs, they’re still inside the animals. And in one piece.”
“Is it toxic?” Binka asked. “Do I have to drain the pool?”
I considered the pool. So many strange objects were bobbing up and down in it, it looked like an enormous lava lamp.
“I’d drain the pool,” Doc said. “And sterilize it too.”
Binka sighed heavily, then turned to the pool guy, who was cautiously prodding a floating lump of goo with a skimmer. “You heard the man. Let’s do this.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the pool guy said, and hurried off to where the pumps were housed.
Doc went to the railing of the deck and stared down the beach, toward the remains of the whale, lost in thought.
Out in the ocean, dozens of dolphins were darting about, their dorsal fins slicing through the surface of the water. The whale carcass was basically chum, and it had attracted plenty of fish, which had then attracted larger predators. I figured there were plenty of sharks out there as well, and made a note not to venture into the ocean for the next few days.
“Where’s my mom?” Summer asked.
“In the bathroom,” Binka reported. “The sight of all these innards made her sick. And the smell, too. She’s been in there ever since the whale blew.”
“I should have figured,” Summer said.
I should have too. Kandace McCracken had a notoriously weak stomach. I once saw her get nauseated at the sight of bird poop on her car. Whale guts strewn over the deck would probably put her out of commission for the rest of the night.
“You ought to shower before you see her,” Binka informed Summer. “You’ve got whale all over you. And…” She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “No offense, but… you smell.”
We had both done our best to wipe off as much of the whale as possible, but we hadn’t been able to get all of it. Summer sniffed a bit on her arm, then recoiled in shock. “Yeah. I could use a shower.”
