Death of a Fake Monkey

TW: Mild swearing and murder.

“Hello? Is this Investigator Mia Ashe?” A wavering voice echoed through my phone.

“Yes. Who is this, and why are you calling at 2 in the morning? My office opens at 9.”

I grumbled and dragged my two quilts up over my chilling arms. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus.

“He’s dead. My monkey is dead.”

“I think you better call a vet. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do to save a monkey that’s already dead.”

I shook my head and moved my finger to end the call. I was used to receiving prank calls and weird messages, but a dead monkey was unique to me.

“No, no. You don’t understand. They murdered my monkey tonight, and I know they’re coming for me next. I need your help. I have money. Oh please, Fletcher is dead. I can give you $2,000 tonight to start and more if you need it.”

I shot up in bed, my brain fog dissipating. It wasn’t like I had several thousand in my account. And to be honest, a stabbed monkey intrigued me. But it was late, and the thirty-seven below wind chill didn’t especially make me want to rise and shine.

“Who is coming for you? You should call the police. Just dial 91…”

“No! I need you to help me out of this situation. You’re the only one I can depend on. Please! My name is Zelda, and I am at the Antiquities and Dreams Boutique.”

I reflected for a couple of moments and rolled out of bed.

“Give me the address. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Lock your doors and keep your phone with you.”

“Shit, where’d I put my boots?” I said and plodded into my living room. The blustery wind whistling past my house encouraged me to retreat to my bed.

Being a PI at forty-two didn’t leave me much choice when a request came in, especially when my rent was due and I wanted to visit my 85-year-old mom, who was living in Louisiana now. I dug my heavy boots from the closet, jerked on my parka, and walked out into the Wisconsin deep freeze.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front of the crumbling sandstone shop. Two generous windows flanked a chipped, blue door. A roman shade covered each window, discouraging thieves from checking out what was available to fence. I sprinted to the door. If there was a murderer lingering outside the store, I preferred not to meet face to face. I thumped the door with my mittens.

“It’s Mia. Let me in. Look out your window. You’ll see my ID.”

A few moments later, the door cracked open. An aged woman peered out at me through gold wire-rim glasses. Her face, red from crying, was a tiny oval hidden under matted hair. She opened the door, and the breeze played with the scarves she wore wrapped around her dainty neck. I thought she looked like a damaged butterfly.

“Thank you for coming this late. Hurry! Lock the door. No lights. They can’t know I found Fletcher already. I’m Zelda Grant, and this is my store.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. If she wasn’t so small, I’d worry, but she didn’t seem like a threat. Zelda led me back around shelves overflowing with objects. In the dusky light, I saw strange objects. A mummified rat, rabbit skull, deer teeth, various bird feathers, half of a jaw, crystals, and pelts. I wanted six hours to roam and look at all the oddities there. I reminded myself to concentrate on the crime.

“Where’s the dead monkey? Fletcher, right?”

Zelda pointed to a counter on the left of the room.

“Right here. I covered him up with one of my scarves. I can’t bear to keep looking at him.”

She stared up at me and said, “I need you to know that these men are dangerous.”

I nodded my head and moved to the counter. I had never seen a dead monkey and didn’t relish viewing it on this late at night. Zelda had arranged the monkey in a careful pose under a starry, bejeweled scarf. The little light that shone in the store caused the jewels to sparkle like fireflies. I took a breath and pulled back the scarf.

“What the hell!”

Then I laughed. Before me lay a long-furred, black and white stuffed monkey. Brown glass eyes peered at me, and a crooked tail wrapped around one arm. Its mouth was agape and revealed all of its teeth in an evil-looking grimace.

“This is a damn stuffed monkey,” I said and glared at Zelda.

“You said there was a murder.”

“He’s dead. Look, look!”

Zelda pointed frantically to the monkey’s left side. A bone-handled knife protruded from Fletcher’s ribs. Dirty, gray stuffing oozed from the opening. But no blood.

“He’s been dead a long time. Why the hell are you waking me up in the middle of a freezing night over a stuffed monkey? It’s fake. This monkey wasn’t alive tonight. It wasn’t alive last week. There can’t be a murder. Get it, no murder.”

“Please, listen. I’ve had Fletcher for over fifteen years. He is with me every day. Fletcher sits by my desk, listens while I work, and sometimes he sits at the table when I have supper. He doesn’t complain about my cooking. My friend usually sits right here in the day on his branch, brought in especially for him. He can see the entire shop, and he knows what goes on in the store. But tonight I was very late getting back from a meeting. And this is how I found him. Stabbed in the side. Oh Fletcher, what have they done to you?”

Zelda’s sobs filled the quiet room with such sadness that I felt all the dead creatures in the room were crying along with her.

“Okay, okay. Let me ask a few more questions. Who would have done this to...um...Fletcher?”

“The Bastion Brothers. They have wanted my business for years. They own Bastion Brother’s Brokers, and they import luxury items for rich customers. These horrible men started dealing with taxidermy animals in the past three years. I learned they had endangered animals in their store, so I turned the grubby men in. The federal and state authorities fined them. They sold lion heads, rhino tusks, and even a snow leopard. It crushed me.”

“But you have a stuffed monkey. Is that any different?” I looked down into Fletcher’s leathery face. His smile was unchanging.

“Fletcher was alive when given to me many years ago as a gift. He got sick and died. I couldn’t lose him. He was all the family I had. So taxidermy was my only answer. I would never do that now. Take an animal from its home. Fletcher changed me and I loved him with my whole heart. And now I give endangered species lectures at the local school. I dedicate my time and money to charities that combat poachers. These items in the store come from wooded areas nearby, like the rabbit skull. Feathers I can find anywhere, even in the park. I don’t go out and kill to get the things I sell here.”

“I get it, but again, why would they have stabbed Fletcher tonight?”

I was getting tired, and although I still wanted to help Zelda, the attack on the monkey still confused me.

“Burt and his brother, Dwight, have been threatening me for a long time. Ever since I turned them in, they have been leaving notes on the door, telling me to leave the store.”

“Why didn’t you call the police? ”

“No, I didn’t think they would believe me. An old lady with a store like this,” she said, motioning to her rare items precariously placed on shelves. “They would think I’m senile.”

“I think the police would have listened. But you’re right, I am not sure the police could do much unless there is more proof. Do you have something we can put the knife in for evidence?”

“Sure.”

Zelda pulled a plastic store bag out from behind the counter. I carefully gripped and pulled the claw-shaped knife loose from Fletcher. More stuffing fell out from his side.

“It’s called a karambit. Probably brought in from Indonesia. This claw could rip out someone’s intestines,” I said as I inspected the cutting blade.

Just as I placed the knife in the bag, a thud sounded at the front door. Zelda’s eyes widened with fright. I held a finger to my lips and motioned her to come with me. We sunk to the floor and eased our way behind a shelf.

“We know you’re in here,” said a snarly voice.

Zelda held her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything. I motioned for her to stay put and pulled the knife back out of the bag. I didn’t have a gun with me. The knife would have to do, but I would have to be adjacent to whoever was here before it would do any good.

Jerky footsteps echoed in the store as the men snuck toward the back. They weren’t hiding the fact that they were in the building.

“I see you found your monkey, Zelda. Time to give up and get it over with. You know we’re going to take your store and your money. And you won’t care because you’ll be dead, just like your monkey,” guffawed a man.

“Yeah. We lost thousands because of your annoying phone call reporting us. It’s taken us over a year to get ahead again. No buyers would even come in anymore for fear of getting arrested or fined.”

“You shouldn’t have been selling endangered animals. You disgust me!” shouted Zelda unexpectedly.

Damn, now they knew where we were. I grabbed a smooth skull off the shelf and tossed it to the right, hoping the brothers would go that way and we could sneak out the back.

The skull shattered as it landed on the floor, and to my surprise, the men moved that way.

“Come on,” I said to Zelda, but she shook her head no.

“Fletcher,” she mouthed, pointing to her deceased monkey.

Dead or not, I knew she wouldn’t leave without it. I nodded and turned back to locate the men. A meaty hand grabbed my arm and yanked me up on my feet.

“I’ve got one! Who is this? Must be Zelda’s help. Ha. She can’t even fight me off.”

A bulky man with a stocking cap pulled down over his forehead held my arms at my side.

“Let me go!”

I pushed and wiggled to get free. I kicked hard with my right leg and just missed his groin. I lunged to bite his arm, but he elbowed my face, causing a ringing in my ear.

“Dwight, let’s get them out of here before someone hears us. We can drop them off in the woods, and no one will find their bodies for weeks. Even if they don’t die immediately, they’ll freeze to death tonight,” Burt said, digging his nails into my skin.

I saw Zelda before the brothers noticed her. She perched on an upper shelf and was dangling a large purple geode in her hands. She didn’t hesitate but dropped scarves flying, and clunked Burt on top of his head. Direct hit. He tumbled down, moaning gibberish, and releasing me.

Dwight threw his weight at me, but I swiped the knife from his brother’s hand and stuck it into his bulky thigh. He screamed in pain, and I pushed him backward onto a shelf. With a crack, the old wood broke, and skulls, rocks, and bottles rained down on him. He didn’t move.

“Zelda, are you okay?”

I straightened up and reached out, pulling her to her feet.

“You almost broke your back!”

“I’m good. You?” Zelda panted as her scarves floated around her.

“A little sore, but fine. Let’s get the police here, now.”

We walked together to the back of the store, and I dialed 911. Zelda tended to Fletcher and covered him up again with the bejeweled scarf. She loved that monkey, even if he was no longer living.

She looked up at me and smiled.

“Would you have come if I had told you that Fletcher was not a living monkey?”

I paused. She knew my answer. She nodded at me, understanding, and touched Fletcher.

“He was a good monkey. Never complained about my cooking.”