Home>>read Chasing a Blond Moon free online

Chasing a Blond Moon(18)

By:Joseph Heywood


“The preliminary shows evidence of a large dose of cyanide in the victim’s blood. The medical examiner has ruled it a homicide, but they are not releasing this to the media yet.”

Service knew that homicides were not the responsibility of DNR law enforcement. He also knew better than to try to guess where the captain’s peculiar mind was taking him.

“You saw a package of chocolate-covered figs in the refrigerator at the victim’s home? Some of them were laced with cyanide.”

“Figs,” Service said. “Not your usual murder weapon.”

“It’s more complex than that. What interests us is that the package containing the figs also contained two freeze-dried bear galls.”

“What about the hair samples from the scat?”

“Rose Lake sent them on to Fish and Wildlife Forensics in Oregon.”

Fish and Wildlife was the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the federal agency charged with overseeing the nation’s fish and game interests. Their forensics laboratory in Oregon was top-notch, but slow in responding to most state requests.

“Why?” Service asked.

“Rose Lake couldn’t identify the samples other than to confirm they are ursine.”

“This could be a tough one,” Service said. There had been bear poachers off and on in the U.P. for years, but they were difficult to nail. “I don’t like bringing Fish and Wildlife into this so early.”

“We’re not. Rose Lake told them the hairs were gathered during a vacation and they wanted ID as a favor. Right now the whole thing is scientist to scientist.”

“That will take forever,” Service said.

“Once we have more evidence, we can change the nature of the request.”

As usual, Captain Grant was thinking ahead.

The captain added, “Officer Turnage asked if you might be available to assist him. The two gallbladders are enough for me to make this your case, but you two can decide how you want to handle it.”

“Figs,” Service said, shaking his head.

“You understand what the freeze-dried gallbladders signify.”

“Yes.” It meant poachers. The main markets for bear parts were in Asia. The dead man was Korean and Korea was one of the largest markets. Service wondered if the professor’s work gave him access to cyanide.

The captain said, “We’re in agreement. If we make a solid case in this arena, it will go a long way toward discouraging similar incursions.”

Service understood. Some watchdog groups claimed that global trafficking in animal parts was second only to narcotics in profitability, a fact that seemed to escape the attention of the media or maybe they were as dubious as he was. It was hard to believe that such a market was real and global in nature. “I’ll let Gus know I’m on my way.”

At the doorway, Service stopped. “The homicide belongs to the police. We’re only concerned with the gallbladders.” Service had been involved in four murders and a fatal police shooting in less than a year and the captain had reminded him more than once that homicide was outside their brief.

The captain smiled. “Bravo, Detective. Let me know what you fellows find.”

Service said, “Cap’n, I heard yesterday that Betty Very thinks somebody released a bear from one of her traps.”

“She is studying it,” the captain said. “No conclusion has been drawn.”

“Have there been other trap incidents?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“I think I’ll give Bearclaw a call.”

“Suit yourself,” the captain said, snatching a sheaf of reports from his in-basket.

Grady Service fully intended to call on Gus in Houghton and to make contact with Betty Very in Ontonagon, but instead found himself drawn east to the small community of Ridge near Munising, which was forty miles east and out of his way. It was early September with soothing sunny days now and cooling nights. It wouldn’t be long before autumn snapped into place and the air took on a bite.

He stopped at the long driveway up to the massive house, took a deep breath, and drove up the half-mile-long paved driveway lined with maple trees. At the end of the driveway there was a loop and a large new house made of cedar logs. The lawn around the house was carefully manicured and cut.

Ralph Scaffidi was in his seventies. He was short and slightly built with silver hair, a deep tan, and alert brown eyes. Before Service could get out of the truck the man was down the steps of the house and grinning.

“Your timing is impeccable,” Scaffidi said. “The brookies are in full spawning colors. I was just going out back to the pond to give them a little aerobic exercise. We’ll have our espresso down there.”