Twenty-five

Suddenly, Esther found herself in the center of a huddle at the coffee bar with me, Mike, and Nancy hanging over her.

“Did you find something we can understand?” I asked. “Something that makes sense?”

Esther shook her head. “I found some coherent phrases, but most of the handwritten pages are gibberish, at least to me.”

“So what did you find?” Nancy asked.

“Well, this is a five-subject notebook,” Esther said, “which means the pages are divided into sections. See these color-coded cardboard pockets separating each subject? Four of the pockets are empty. But look at this.”

Esther probed a yellow cardboard pocket and produced a plain steel ring with two keys and a paper tag attached. Cramped handwriting on the tag read:

If I am incapacitated, please take care of Wacker.

“Wacker!” Nancy giggled. “That sounds kind of obscene.”

Esther sighed. “Let’s not dive into the gutter.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest!!” Nancy said. “Could Wacker be a person? Like a roommate?”

“Roommates can usually take care of themselves,” I said. “And Lieutenant Quinn just told us that Mr. Scrib lives alone. So he must be talking about something more vulnerable, like a pet.”

“Aha!” Nancy cried. “Then I’ll bet it’s a monkey.”

“Now why would you say that?” Esther asked.

“You’ve seen monkeys at the zoo. They do that ‘whacker’ thing a lot.”

Esther gawked at her roommate. “Do you have a one-track mind or what?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be helpful—”

As the pair bickered, Mike leafed through the notebook without comment while I considered Esther’s discovery. The thought of some poor pet locked in a cramped New York City apartment, alone, hungry, thirsty, and scared, tore at the heart of the animal lover in me until I couldn’t hold back.

“We’ve got to do something. A little life could be in danger. Where does Mr. Scrib live?”

Esther flipped to the pocket where she found the two keys. “The address is written right here on the cardboard. It’s not far.”

“Maybe Mr. Scrib’s building will have a super that you can ask for help,” Nancy suggested.

“I think we just enter ourselves,” I said.

My baristas both stared at me.

“Why not?” I asked. “Esther has keys. We can perform two good deeds at the same time—”

“You can save the monkey!” Nancy exclaimed.

“And maybe find some clues to help Detective Russell with Mr. Scrib’s background or his next-of-kin contacts.” I glanced at Mike. He nodded his approval.

Esther chewed her lower lip. “But going in with his keys, wouldn’t that be breaking and entering?”

“Not at all,” Mike said. “You possess the keys, so there’s no breaking—”

“What about the entering part?” Esther asked.

“This man is your friend,” Mike pointed out. “And your friend is incapacitated. The note attached to those keys can be construed as written permission to enter his premises and take care of his…pet, or plant, or whatever Wacker is.”

“Could you go with us, Lieutenant?”

“That’s where things get thorny, Esther. I’m not a friend. You are. As an officer of the law, I should have a warrant to enter anyone’s home or place of business. There are also statutes that—”

“Okay, okay,” Esther griped and faced me. “It looks like we’re in this alone, Boss Lady. When do we leave?”

“As soon as I can get another barista to fill in while we’re—”

“Hey, guys!” Dante called.

We all jumped at the sudden sound of Dante Silva’s voice, followed by the loud clang of fast footsteps on our spiral staircase. I turned to see Dante and his friend descending to the main floor. I’d completely forgotten about those two. They’d been exploring the attic for almost three hours!

Nancy gave a little wave to her coworker, but her gaze quickly shifted. “Who’s your cute friend?”

“This is Tony,” he said as they approached the coffee bar. “Tony Tanaka…”

Clutching his notebook in one hand, Tony tucked his phone into one of his dozen or more vest pockets, waved back at Nancy, and smiled a greeting to the rest of us. That’s when he spotted Mike’s detective badge.

“Hey, Officer…” Tony paused a moment. His mind seemed to be working. “Are you here to investigate the assault last night? Do you have any suspects? Or witnesses?”

If Mike was surprised by the questions, he didn’t show it. Instead, he offered a friendly cop smile, though it didn’t reach his arctic blue eyes.

“Why do you ask, Mr. Tanaka? Do you know something I should be made aware of?”

“Me? Oh, no. No, no, no. I drive at night, you see? And I’m in this neighborhood a lot. I don’t want to get assaulted myself, and I’d like to know the score, that’s all.”

There was an awkward pause while Mike put the young artist under an icy spotlight (a look I knew well). Finally, Mike said—

“If you do remember seeing anything suspicious, be sure to let us know.”

“Oh, sure, will do,” Tony said, then glanced uneasily at Dante, who turned to me and said—

“We moved everything to the attic, Boss. Do you need help with anything else?”

“Now that you mention it…”