Certain events leave more of an impression than others, particularly on children. Housing an orangutan for a time had been one of the more impressive moments. Coming face to face with a mountain lion also ranked up there. The fact that my father’s cousin, August, had been the one harboring both animals during an illegal animal fight, was not.
However, August’s death had been rather spectacular and fitting. He’d been mauled by a leopard. The leopard had then dragged his carcass into the roof rafters to rot. At the time, I had considered it poetic justice. Nearly ten years later, my opinion on the matter hadn’t really changed.
Needless to say, the funeral had been a closed casket ceremony. I had attended with my mother and Nyleena, as was dictated by my duty to family. Secretly, I was pretty sure that most of those in attendance hadn’t wanted to be there. Sure he was a Clachan by birth, but in a family whose hierarchy was dominated by matrons and money, August had been a bit of a black sheep.
The farm had been inherited. Any money that had come with it had most likely been turned into nose candy for August’s addiction. Anything left was used to start his illegal importing business. The animal fights were just an added bonus to line August’s pockets.
The farm had remained in the family. Twin cousins bought it. It was a nice addition to the land already owned by their parents across the road. As a matter of fact, travelling south between Columbia and Sapp, Missouri, better known as Hoop-Up, one could find a disturbingly large number of Clachan family farms. Something in our ancestry made the idea of giving up land revolting.
There was one big problem with the notation meaning August the person and not August the month. August the person was dead. He’d been suffocated by the jaws of the powerful predator clamped to his throat. At some point, the cat had taken a good sized bite out of his face. Then he’d dragged him to the roof rafters in the barn, where he’d been gnawed on for a couple of days before someone thought to check on the lonely, middle aged man.
Obviously, August wasn’t our serial killer. He had no children to pass the murderous gene and technique onto and as far as anyone knew, aside from family, he didn’t have friends. That lead me to believe the notation, while referring to August, was more likely to be about who bought the jaguar. In a city the size of Columbia, illegal animal importers weren’t exactly numbering in the hundreds. There was a good chance it wasn’t even in the double digits.
This would require a fishing expedition of sorts. I needed to talk to my family about it. However, I wasn’t sure my family would be forth coming with information. They were a closed, close-knit group who guarded family secrets like crown jewels. There was a reason my father hadn’t personally arrested August. Instead, he’d hidden in the shadows, awaiting back-up as the animals were set free. All the spectators had gotten away because my father was a Clachan first and a cop second.
Not me. As far as most of my family was concerned, I was barely a Clachan. My great-aunt had once tutted at me and told me I had too many of my mother’s genes. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but sitting around the table, looking at my team mates, I understood. I had balked at the strategic course of life laid out by the family matrons. It had been their plans that I go to school, return to my hometown and settle down. Nyleena had broken the mold too, refusing to marry after law school and moving to Kansas City. We were more outcasts than even August.
“You look pensive,” Xavier said.
“No one uses the word pensive,” I told him, fiddling with a pen. “So, I think my family might know who is illegally importing animals. It used to be my cousin, August, but he’s dead. It would make sense that someone else in the family took it over. That’s sort of the way things work.”
“Then you’re frowning because we need to interrogate your family?” Gabriel asked.
“No, not in the least. I’m frowning because my family is a little like a cult,” I told him and paused, thinking about it. “No, they are a lot like a cult. Don’t you think it’s weird that Nyleena and I don’t talk about them?” I corrected myself.
“You, no,” Xavier answered.
“I can tell you how to go about it, but I can’t sit in on the interviews,” I told them.
“Ok,” Gabriel frowned.
“You’ll get nothing out of the older generation, especially the women. You’d have better luck going after the younger ones. Of those, I’d say go hard at the men. The Clachan women are really good at hiding the family’s dirty laundry. It’s sort of a tradition. Even when a woman marries into the clan, they are given instructions for a harmonious family life by the matrons. My mother didn’t fit the typical Clachan wife, but she was pretty good at it.”
“Hiding the dirty laundry?” John asked, suddenly curious.
“Well,” I shrugged. “My grandfather up and disappeared after my grandmother was murdered. I’d say there is about an eighty percent chance that my grandfather murdered her. But no one knows where he is or if he’s still alive even. Of course, nobody says he did it. They don’t even whisper about it. I was told exactly what I needed to know by a great-aunt and nothing more. My mom eventually elaborated after she moved to Kansas City.”
“Why can’t you sit in?” Xavier pressed.
“I’ll throttle someone. The crones made my life miserable when I was a child. They won’t be happy to see me now.”
“Why do you think that?” Xavier prodded.
“When I was ten, my great-aunt told me she had picked me out a husband and that she only hoped I didn’t get uglier as I got older because I wasn’t much of a prize. I thought she was crazy, but then this boy started hanging around me. Turned out, she had really picked me out a husband. My father put a stop to it, but that just pissed her off. For a year, my father was not welcome at any of the family gatherings and he stopped making me go after that. As you will soon see, most of my family members are nutty.”
“Should we be concerned?” Gabriel asked.
“Probably not,” I said. “But you should know, that everything lives in a huge grey area with the Clachan clan. Nyleena, my dad, me, we are the exceptions because we don’t like grey areas.”
“Great,” John groaned.
“Just remember that while they seem cooperative, they are going to be quietly hostile and consider you an interloper. They will do their best to be evasive and misdirecting without actually breaking a law. I’ll watch and give you information while you talk to them. Also, I think Xavier and John should do the interviews. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too much of a good ol’ boy for it, Gabriel. Xavier will make them uncomfortable. John will get under their skin because of his appearance of superiority. If one does request to speak with a supervisor, treat them with contempt. I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but if you want to watch my family get their hackles up, put them in a room with Malachi. His contempt for them is not disguised and it pisses them off to no end.”
“You want us to treat your family badly?” Xavier raised an eyebrow.
“If Lucas was here, I’d use his size. Unfortunately, he’s not, so I’m hoping your issues will make them uncomfortable enough to start flopping their jaws. If that doesn’t work, then I’m relying on John’s ‘good guy’ status will do the trick.”
“What if they don’t think Xavier is off?” John asked.
“They will,” I answered staring at my colleague. Xavier looks like a professor that just woke up from a multiple week bender. His hair is dark and disheveled, his clothes are always wrinkled, he has an odd smell and there is intelligence in the face and eyes along with something else. I don’t know what this something else is, but I can see it. My family would as well. “I think you should start with the younger ones. Round them all up before the matrons have the ability to intervene.”
“What are you going to do while we haul all your cousins in for questioning?” John asked.
“Read a book.” I told him.
“You’re going,” Gabriel said. “We might need you.”
“I’m not,” I defied him.
“Sure you are,” Xavier handed me a helmet with a hood that covered my face.
“They are going to know it’s me. A face mask isn’t going to stop that.”
“Do you like your family?” Gabriel asked.
“I like Nyleena.”
“Then does it matter that they know you are helping with the investigation?” Gabriel continued.
“The matrons are evil.”
“I didn’t think you believed in evil?” Gabriel said.
“You haven’t met the great-aunts yet. They’ll make you believe in evil. An hour or two with them and you’ll find you believe in all sorts of things.”
“Like the evil eye?” Xavier stifled a giggle.
“No,” I answered. “But other things.”