Ken's Blog

I had several places to go, but first I stopped off to check in on Sam. The chief and I had agreed to keep his whereabouts on the lowdown. Somebody had wanted the chimp dead, and we figured it was safer not to let on that he was still alive, let alone where he was. So as far as anyone else knew, this was just another chimpanzee in a hospital ward.

By this point I was fairly convinced our perp was Lulu, as much as I hated to admit it. There were just too many threads pointing to her. The murder of Winthrop was an obvious clue — I was starting to think that was more than self-defense. For one thing, the shooting of Whiskers, given that I now knew him to be a forger, suggested an attempt to change Winthrop’s will. Only Sam, keeper of the records, would know for sure, and he wasn’t talking.

Then there was the death of Manny the parrot — just about to sing when his wings got clipped.

None of this would have swayed me, until Sam got shot. It wasn’t just that my best friend was now lying in a coma, with the evidence he’d found gone missing. It was also just one too many shootings for all of this to be a coincidence, and the Smellephant does not believe in coincidences.

And it all led back to one place — Rebecca’s elusive sister. I was starting to think Lulu had been taking me for a ride. A great ride, sure, but one that wasn’t going anyplace I wanted to be.

If only I could figure out how that sequence of numbers fit together. I was still adding up the angles in my head, trying to piece it all together, when the chief came in.

“Smellephant?” he said.

“Yeah Chief?” I said, lost in my thoughts. I hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

“Sorry to do this, but I’ve got to bring you in.”

“For what, Chief?”

“For the murders of J. Chesterton Winthrop, Whiskers the hare, and Manny the parrot. As well as the attempted murder of Sam the chimp. Smellephant, you’re under arrest.”

Whiskey has a different effect on everybody. Some it makes happy, and others it makes sad. Still others just go right to sleep. I once met a mongoose in a dive bar outside Phoenix who started singing Puccini after his third drink. Which would have been ok, except I’ve never known a mongoose that could carry a tune, even when sober. It wasn’t pretty.

In Rebecca’s case, drink made her talkative.

It was fun for a while, watching Rebecca under the influence. I was surprised how little time it took her to get smashed, until I remembered that she never drinks. Some dames really can’t hold their liquor. Although one thing I hadn’t expected was that she’d start reciting poetry.

      “He’s admired and loved, although misunderstood
      By all of the creatures that live in the wood.
      They know they are safe, for wherever he goes
      The Smellephant follows his nose.”

This went on for quite a while — there are a lot of verses to that damn poem. By the time she got to that particular verse she was standing on the table with her shoes off. I gotta say I’d never heard the poem in an English accent. It didn’t sound half bad either, if you go for that sort of thing.

After that, it didn’t take long before Rebecca passed out on my office couch. I thought of waking her and sending her on her way, but then I figured maybe the poor kid needed the rest, after all she’d been through.

I got a blanket for her, made sure she was nice and tucked in, and turned down the lights. She’d be ok for a while. Quietly I put on my trench coat and fedora.

I slipped out the back way, through the alley, so I wouldn’t be tailed. I needed to check out a hunch, and it would be a lot better if nobody knew where I was going.

When I got back to my office Rebecca was waiting. Which wasn’t surprising, since I had asked her to drop by. I needed to know what she knew.

“You wanted to see me Mr. Smellephant.”

“Yeah, I’d like to talk to you about your sister.”

“You’ve found Louisa?”

“You could say that.”

“Then I assume you can tell me where she is.”

“Well, not exactly. You could say I found her and then I lost her again. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Mr. Smellephant, you have a strange way of conducting a missing person investigation.”

“Sister, you don’t know the half of it. Don’t worry, you’ll get your money’s worth. Meanwhile, I’ve got a question for you.” I took a folded piece of paper out of my pocket.

“Of course, if there’s anything I can do to help with your investigation. I suspect my sister is in trouble, and I believe she might even have killed our father. She may require our help.”

“Yeah, maybe. We might have a clue in the murder case. What do you make of this?” I held out the piece of paper.

Rebecca took the paper and unfolded it. She stared at the nine numbers and scowled. Then she looked at me with an unreadable expression. “What is this supposed to mean?”

“It seems to mean something to you.”

“What it means to me,” she said, after a pause, “is an unreadable string of digits. Is this all a big joke to you?”

“No, I…”

She didn’t let me finish. “My father is dead, my sister remains missing, and you are playing games with numbers. Do you take me for a fool?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. What could I say? “Can I offer you a drink?” I knew she didn’t drink, but it was the best I could do.

She sank slowly down into a chair, crumpling the paper into a ball. “I’m sorry Mr. Smellephant, I … I don’t know what came over me. The stress, I suppose. These recent events have been very difficult. Have you ever lost someone near to you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “and I know how hard that can be.”

“Thank you for being understanding. I believe I will take that drink. Please make it — how do you say it — a stiff one.”

“That’s a nine digit number. What do we know about nine digit numbers?”

“Social Security?” I suggested.

“The first thing we thought of, had it checked out this morning. That’s not a valid range for social security numbers.”

“Good point Chief.” I nodded. “Besides, It’s not like Sam would have that kind of thing in his head. Whatever he was thinking, it had to be something he could come up with right then and there.”

“Yeah,” the chief added, “even after he’d taken a bullet.”

“Maybe it’s the beginning of a phone number. He could have passed out before he got to the last digit.”

“We checked on that too. No such area code. Nearest number is 450 — Quebec.”

“Somehow,” I said, “I doubt Sam was fingering a perp in Quebec. So where does that leave us?”

“A kind of substitution code maybe. But a code needs a key.” the chief shook his head. “There’s something missing.”

“Maybe if we could see the files Sam told me about.”

“Our men looked thoroughly. No files left lying around. Very neat. Maybe too neat. Whoever the killer is, he sure did a good job of cleaning up the crime scene.”

“Or she did,” I said, under my breath.

“What was that, Smellephant?” the chief said. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh nothing. I just remembered I have an appointment.” I grabbed my hat.

“You’ll keep thinking about this right? We’ve got 451614295 reasons to catch this killer.”

“Yeah, lots of reasons Chief,” I said, thinking about my friend Sam. “But I only need one.”

Chapter 5

“What did the adding machine say to the chimpanzee?”

“I give up,” the chief said. “What did it say?”

“You can count on me.”

“Oh, that’s bad even by your standards, Smellephant. Let’s hope we can count on what this adding machine has to tell us. To me it just looks like string of digits.”

“I’m telling you Chief, if Sam typed it, it’s gotta be something. He’s one smart chimp.”

“I don’t know. You’ve been running your own private investigation,” the chief said. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I thought it was. A private eye can go places the cops can’t go.”

“And how is that working out for you?”

I looked down at the spot where I had found my friend lying unconscious. “Right now I’d have to say I’m not so sure. Maybe if I’d worked with the cops — with you — Sam would still … ” I didn’t finish the thought.

“Sorry Smellephant, I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. None of this is your fault — it made sense to try doing this on the low down. I’m just frustrated because we’ve got dead bodies piling up, and nothing to go on but some numbers from an adding machine.”

“Sam’s not dead,” I said quietly.

“Sorry. Look, I know you two were — are — good friends, and we all want Sam to pull through. But we’ve got a chimp in a coma, and we’re not going to be getting any answers from him for a while. Meanwhile, the killer might strike again.”

“Not if we can figure out Sam’s message first.”

“Yeah,” the chief nodded, “if you can call it a message. It would have been so much better if Sam had been shot in the left shoulder. Then he could have used the typewriter.”

“It would have been so much better if Sam hadn’t been shot.”

“Yeah,” the chief said, “very good point. What’s that number again?”

“I’ve got it memorized: 451614295”.

“Sam?”

I didn’t hear any answer, and Sam wasn’t at his usual place between his adding machine and typewriter. This didn’t surprise me, since sometimes he can get lost in all those stacks of records. That’s one of the things I like about him. Sam’s got the curiosity of a chimpanzee. Which makes sense, when you think about it.

Eventually I got tired of waiting and wandered in. Still no sight of him. Seemed like as good a time as any to take a stroll among the stacks. I kind of like them, the years and years of records of everything that has happened in this crazy town.

In a way, I thought to myself, a city is like a person. Layers upon layers of history, and everything ends up in a back room somewhere, filed away, until one day it all comes out. Then everyone wonders “where the hell did that come from?”

Sam didn’t seem to be anywhere. I was thinking maybe he’d wandered out, maybe he thought he had time to go for a coffee before I came around. I was actually about to leave when I finally thought to look down. And there was Sam, unconscious, lying in a pool of blood.

I rushed to his side, felt for a pulse. The chimp was still alive, but not much more than that. A bullet had caught him in the right shoulder, had spun him around till he landed on the floor. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that our perp was not a crack shot. But that could wait until later. Right now, I had other things on my mind. For one thing, my best friend seemed to be dying.

The strange thing was that his left hand, the one attached to a working shoulder, was reaching up, resting on the keys of the adding machine. Curious, I looked at the adding machine, and that’s when I saw what was written there.

I went back to my office around noon, and made myself useful, putting things in order. I had a feeling I’d be spending a lot of time here until I found the killer, and I wanted my office to be a place where I could think clearly. I even did the dishes.

The phone rang a few hours later. I picked it up eagerly, figuring Hu had the print results. But it was Sam.

“Smellephant, you’ll never believe this. I dug up some more evidence in the city records. This really ties things all together — Whiskers, Manny, Winthrop, there’s a pattern. And I think it’s all one perp. One very clever perp. You’ve gotta see this for yourself. When can you get here?”

“Hu in the crime lab is running some tests for me — mums the word. I told her I’d wait for her call. Just give me until five, and then I’ll come over.”

“It’s not like Hu will be upset,” Sam said. “Pandas are always happy.”

“Wait, Hu’s a panda?? I knew she was from China. But I thought she was a bear.”

“Technically,” Sam said, “A panda is a bear. Unless you’re talking about a red panda.”

“Maybe,” I said, “we should stay away from politics.”

“Um, sure,” he said. “fine with me. Anyway, come over as early as you can.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon. Thanks for staying on this. I’m looking forward to seeing your evidence.”

Hu called about half an hour later. “Guess what I found?” she asked with her usual cheerfulness.

I wasn’t feeling so cheerful. “Like I told you, I’ve been hoping you’d tell me.”

“Whoever they are,” she said, “the prints are definitely not from the same individual. So, am I telling you good news or bad news?”

“I’m not sure,” I said slowly, thinking. “It’s definitely, um, interesting news.” With my best theory blown, it looked like I might be back to square one.

Now I had to hope that whatever Sam had dug up would give me some solid answers.

I’m not the neatest elephant you’ll ever meet. Sometimes it can take me up to a week just to wash the dishes. Not saying I’m proud of this, just telling it like it is. But on this occasion, I made sure to have a clean cup and saucer for my guest.

“Good morning Mr. Smellephant.” Rebecca greeted me with a big smile. “I’m glad you wanted to chat. It’s a bit early in the day for you, isn’t it?”

“I’ll manage,” I said brightly, trying to look more awake than I felt. I had a long day ahead of me. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely, yes.” She sat prettily while I boiled some water.

When at last we were sitting down — tea for her, strong coffee for me (with an added shot of something even stronger, and very uncoffee-like) — I went over the progress of the case, and the search to find the whereabouts of her mysterious sister. Omitting, of course, the inconvenient fact that at one point I had known her sister’s whereabouts rather precisely.

After seeing Rebecca to the door, I carefully wrapped the teacup in a clean white cloth. I’d already wrapped up the glass Lulu had used earlier in the week. It was time to test my theory. The coffee was already clearing my head, and a good brisk walk to the crime lab finished the job.

“Smellephant, it’s always great to see you.” Hu was her usual chipper self. Surrounded by beakers and lab instruments and various mysterious pieces of glassware, she seemed completely in her element.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I observed.

She laughed. “I’m often in a good mood when I see you. You bring me interesting stuff.”

I put the two wrapped items on her desk. “Think you can pull prints from these?”

She carefully unwrapped the two bundles. “Sure, it’s what I do. I like this real crime stuff. Better than filling out reports all day. When do you need them?”

“How soon can you get them?”

“Sometime later today I think. Shiny things are easy. What are we looking for?”

I smiled. “Don’t want to influence you. You’ll tell me, ok?”

“Sure thing! Did the owl send you?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“For some reason he ends up steering a lot of work my way. Lord knows why. Maybe it’s my winning personality.”

“Yeah Hu,” I nodded, “that must be it.”

While talking with the owl, I took a look around. As always, his digs were simple. The room was empty except for two cushions, with a low wooden table between them. There were no pictures on the walls. Nobody knew for sure, but I’d heard the owl came from somewhere in the Far East. Seemed like as good a guess as any.

The lack of clutter was helping me think, and now the pieces were starting to come together in my mind. If Rebecca was pointing the finger at Lulu, what did that say about Rebecca? Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. I needed to figure out a way inside her head.

“Owl, what do you think is the biggest mystery about these murders?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Who.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s it, the big question: Who’s our killer? Is it really Lulu, or am I being played? Something’s going on between those two sisters, and I’ve gotta find somebody with the right angle to help me dig out the truth.”

The owl seemed to think deeply before replying. For a long time he just sat upon his cushion in silence. Finally he looked at me, and uttered a single word. “Hu.”

“That’s it, of course!” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this angle before. “Hu, down at the crime lab. Hu owes me a favor, and is one of the few people I can rely on to keep quiet. Owl, you’re a genius.”

The owl looked please, but wisely chose silence.

“Before I go,” I asked, “is there anything else you think I should know?”

There was another silence, even longer than the one before. Then the owl spoke. “Smellephant,” he said, “as an anthropomorphic personification representing a genre archetype, you necessarily exist within a specific dialectic framework. Rebecca and her counterpart Louisa personify the antipodes of this dialectic, inasmuch as they comprise two intrinsic and complementary aspects of a single unifying principle. Your essential quest is to find the unity within these apparently antithetical forces, thereby achieving a state of clarity and balance that will serve to illuminate your very existence.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “I already knew that.” The owl was a smart bird, but he could say the most obvious things. Guess we all do sometimes. I got up to leave.

But it looked like the owl had one more question for me. “What do you get,” he asked, “when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”

“Hell if I know.” It was time to go. I put on my trench coat, drawing it tight against the cold, pulled down the brim of my fedora, and stepped out into the night.

“What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”

“Who?” said the owl.

“No, what,” I started to explain, “It’s a joke,” as the owl stepped aside to let me in. Then I remembered that the owl doesn’t do jokes. Might as well get down to business. “I need your advice. There’s been a murder.”

“Who?”

“Good question. J. Chesterton Winthrop. In his own bedroom.” Owl just shook his head sadly. I went on to fill in the details, the death of the hare and the parrot, what Sam found in the hall of records about the two Winthrop girls. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to admit that I had moved beyond an, um, professional relationship with one of the sisters.

Owl fixed me a disapproving look. “Who?”

“Lulu. I’m not even sure Rebecca goes in for that kind of thing. I can’t say I’m sorry about it. Of course, if Lulu turns out to be the prime suspect in a murder, a certain party is going to step in and take over, sooner or later.”

“Who?”

“The chief of police. And he’s going to tie it back to the murders of Whiskers and Manny. But there’s one thing I can’t figure: Why would she tip me off like that — about her own sister?”

“Who?” the owl asked politely.

“Rebecca. You’d think she’d keep a thing like that to herself. You know, maybe there’s bad blood between those two. Say, just talking about this is helping me think everything through — it’s all starting to make sense. I knew I came to the right bird!”

“Who?” said the owl, with a faint smile.

“You of course. Don’t be so modest.”