Bee Conspiracy, page 8
“I work for the guy that owns the place.”
The security guard looked Fossil up and down. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” Fossil whirled around and flashed his ID for the test farm. The guard glanced at it. “Oh, you work for the farm,” he said.
“That’s right. I’m here on personal business with Mr. Lund. Now if you don’t mind, I’m running behind schedule.”
“Executive offices are down the hall and to the right.”
“I know. I’ve been here before.”
Fossil marched off. As he stomped down the hallway, the office workers looked at him askance. They were not used to jumpsuit clad exterminators walking their halls. That was the end product of their supply chain. One they chose to keep at arm’s length or hopefully further. At the end of the long corridor was Gordon Lund’s office. The secretary stood up to block entrance to his office. “Albert. How nice to see you. Mr. Lund is on a call at the moment...”
“This can’t wait,” Fossil replied as he brushed right past her.
He opened the mahogany door and Gordon Lund looked up from his desk in anger. He had his Bluetooth headset on and was obviously on a call. “Excuse me, let’s take a quick break,” he barked as he put the call on hold. He glared at Fossil with laser hot eyes. “I told you not to come here.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you would answer your phone.”
Lund looked out the window. He could see Fossil’s exterminator truck in the loading zone. “You drove the roach truck? What are you thinking? You know there are no exterminator trucks permitted on campus.”
“You have bigger problems.”
“What’s that?”
“I checked his safe deposit box. The toy is not there.”
“Okay. I’ve got another lead for you. He had a visitor at his house the night before his death. I want you to track them down.”
“I’ve got other things to do.”
“No. You don’t. Think of this as a movie studio. You are my private dick. My fixer. We are full systems go on our latest picture. If we don’t have the supply line the plan will have all been for nothing. There’s no turning back.” He handed over some printed information and a photo.
“I’ll look into it.”
“You take care of it. No loose ends. Do you understand me? Get out of here. Don’t come back until you have the toy.”
Chapter Eight
Kelso hopped the fence of the El Segundo Blue Butterfly Sanctuary as a Boeing 767 took off overhead. “Stop!” he yelled at the man with the butterfly net, but the man didn’t hear him over the jet engines. The man edged closer to the swarm of El Segundo Blues as they hovered around the coastal milkweed plant that contained their life nectar. Kelso broke out into a full sprint towards net man. Beryl watched with interest at the unfolding scene.
The man swept his net over the swarm of Blues and caught one within its confines. He carefully unraveled the net and grabbed the silky creature by the wings. As he plopped it into a specimen case, he caught a glimpse of Kelso barreling towards him. He broke out into a one-hundred-yard dash in the opposite direction. But his exit was blocked by another chain link fence with barbed wire on top. This fence bordered the tarmac to LAX.
The man ran along the line of this fence until he found an opening. It was a hole in the ground that looked like it was dug by some kind of dog or other animal. The man got down on his knees and tried to crawl through this hole. It was not deep enough for him to slip through. He scratched at the dirt like a dog to make the hole deeper. Soil and dust flew into the air. He finally was able to pull himself through the opening. But then his shirt caught on one of the fence tines. Kelso closed in on net man. The man tore his shirt to get free. He stumbled to his feet. He was now on the LAX tarmac asphalt. He ran in the direction of the terminal.
A bank of wall monitors lit up the room in the LAX airport security control center. An Airport PD officer stared intently at the monitors, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a man with a butterfly net running down the west end of runway 7L-25R. Behind him was a uniformed man in full pursuit. The monitor officer picked up his radio. “Sector 73 we have a trespass. He just crossed the southwest perimeter. Need any available LAPD and airport unit.”
“Come again ops center?” the airport tower manager responded.
“We have two men on foot on runway 7L-25R. One appears to be law enforcement in pursuit.”
“We did not receive any transmissions from local law enforcement.”
“I understand tower. Neither did I.”
“All outbound traffic runway 7L-25R, you are hold for takeoff!” the tower responded.
Planes rolled to a stop and held their positions on the runway. It was an immediate traffic jam. Several patrol units emerged from the Airport PD motor pool with sirens blaring. They took off in a westerly direction down the tarmac, towards the sighting. A van containing a S.W.A.T. team followed. Passengers peered out the portholes of their grounded planes to get a glimpse of the unfolding crisis.
Kelso sprinted after butterfly net man at full clip. Net man ran to the left of the runway into a grassy area just south of Lincoln Boulevard. There was another chain link fence that separated the road from the airport property. As net man ran, he frantically looked for an opening in the fence like the one he had entered through. But this fence was completely intact. He had nowhere to go as Kelso closed in on him. So he ran back in the opposite direction, back towards where he had come from.
But Kelso was ready. He leapt through the air and tackled net man as if he were a linebacker preventing a rush into the end zone. Net man and net went down to the ground with a splat. Kelso reached in his back pocket for his handcuffs as the three Airport PD vehicles formed a semi-circle around him and the perp. An Airport PD Captain hopped out of the car, gun drawn. “Hands high,” he warned.
“I’m a Federal law enforcement officer! I’m going to reach for my badge!” He reached for his chest and unpinned the badge. He threw it at the Airport PD Captain. The S.W.A.T. team burst out of their van as the captain reviewed Kelso’s creds.
“You’re a fish cop?” Airport PD asked.
“Fish and Wildlife, sir,” Kelso corrected.
“What’s your mission here?”
“This man was caught killing and stealing specimens of an endangered species from the wildlife sanctuary at the end of the runway.” Butterfly net man groaned.
“You mean that park in the sand dunes?” The Captain holstered his gun and walked over to Kelso.
“That’s right.”
The S.W.A.T. team looked to Airport PD for direction. He motioned them to stand down. “You mean to tell me you just shut down this airport to apprehend a guy chasing butterflies?”
“He is a poacher, sir. He trespassed on the runway, so I took pursuit.”
“Yeah, but he might not have trespassed if you hadn’t been there.”
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what it means for an endangered species to be wiped off the face of the planet.”
“It’s a butterfly, Officer...”
“Bagley. Yes, it’s a butterfly. Today a butterfly, tomorrow something else. There’s a chain reaction.”
The Captain motioned for one of the other officers to take Kelso’s perp into custody and they did so. Kelso straightened up. “Under what jurisdiction are you operating, Officer? Looks like you’re from Arizona.”
“I’m currently in town working with the LAPD on a case, under Captain Brader in Robbery Homicide Division.”
The Airport PD Captain shook his head. “Let’s go. The Chief of Operations is going to want to hear this.” Kelso got into the Captain’s car and the convoy of vehicles took off back towards the tower. None of them realized that their entire exchange had been filmed through the chain link fence on the other side of the runway.
Not fifteen minutes before, the intrepid Hester Lynne, eyewitness reporter for Channel 12 News heard the chatter on the emergency police scanner. She and her cameraman, Jerry, sped to the airport and set up as close to the tarmac as they could get – on the strip of lawn that bordered Lincoln Boulevard. It just happened to be the perfect spot to capture the action. They got it all: Kelso chasing the butterfly net man, the Airport PD chasing Kelso, Kelso’s standoff with the airport cops.
“The is Hester Lynne reporting for Channel 12 News from a scene at LAX where the airport has been shut down due to a butterfly collector. Yes, you heard that right, viewers! We have footage of an agent from the Department of Fish and Wildlife chasing a butterfly collector onto the LAX tarmac in order to make an arrest. The butterfly collector was reportedly taking an endangered specimen, the El Segundo Blue butterfly, off its nature preserve which, believe it or not, is at the end of the LAX westbound runway.”
Across the city a very interested viewer happened to channel surf at the right time to catch Hester’s transmission. It was Gordon Lund. He was in his office, drinking his afternoon high-ball made with ginger-ale. He focused on this crazy Fish and Wildlife Agent who had delayed tens of thousands of passengers for the sake of a butterfly. What could possibly drive him to take this arrest that far?
***
The detective squad room at the new LAPD admin building was designed for comfort. It had a lounge-y feeling, with some soft plush couches and even a pool table. It was an odd cross between a tech company rec room and an updated version of the police stations of yore. There were touch screen panels with wanted posters and white boards with scribbled timelines and clues. The furniture was very mid-century modern, with Eames desk chair knockoffs and walnut wood veneer desks.
Kelso walked in. Duke immediately spotted him and stomped over. He parked himself right in Kelso’s face. “I asked you to pick up my daughter and you stop at the airport and leave her there?”
“I got into something unexpected.
“You bet your damned ass you did.”
“Did she get home okay?” Kelso asked.
“Yeah, she got home. She knows how to drive.”
“I’m really sorry.”
Duke’s phone pinged with a text. He glanced at it. “She’s asking if you’re okay.”
“Really?”
“I’ll tell her that you’re definitely not okay! In the head.” He texted his own dictation then lifted his head. “Brader wants to see you.”
Kelso looked towards the Captain’s office and noticed Brader hang up his phone. He motioned for Kelso to come over. Kelso felt like a dead man walking as he approached. “Sit down and shut the door,” Brader ordered. He was red in the face.
Kelso gently nudged the door shut behind him.
“What the hell did you do?”
“I was trying to apprehend a butterfly poacher and things got out of hand. He ran away and entered airport property.”
“So you followed him?”
“I had no choice, sir. He was in violation of the law.”
“That was not your jurisdiction! You caused flight delays for five major airlines!”
“I’m sorry, sir. But we got him at least.”
“Do you realize the heat I am under because of this?”
“I can get my superintendent on the phone with them to explain the situation.”
“Then why did you give them my name when they asked?”
“You are my commanding officer under this investigation sir.”
“We’re going to put a pin in this investigation. It’s obviously an accidental death. I think you have done all you can do here, Bagley.” Duke overheard this and did a little jig in the back of the room.
“But sir, this is most definitely not an accidental death. I can guarantee you that.”
Detective Peters entered the squad room and looked over at Brader’s office, overhearing Kelso’s reprimand. Kelso gazed at him pleadingly through the window. Throw me a lifeline, he wanted to say. Peters got his thought, because he marched over with a detail sheet and waved it in the window of the Captain’s office. “I’ve got a last known on the hooker that saw Skulberry his last night.”
“What’s this?” asked Brader. He motioned Peters to enter.
Peters promptly entered and answered. “Didn’t you hear Captain? The victim had a visit from a hooker the morning of his death. I think it’s worth an interview for sure.”
“Alright Bagley. You two can interview this hooker. But if that doesn’t turn anything up, we are done here.”
“Yessir,” replied Kelso as he read over the printout. Duke’s shoulders sagged and he sighed from the corner of the room.
“One more thing, Bagley! No more goddamned butterfly chases! Do you understand me?”
“Yessir. Understood.” Kelso immediately walked away before Brader could change his mind.
He walked over to Duke with the detail sheet and handed it to him. “Shall we?”
“You don’t actually think I would put in overtime to follow up on your dead-end, do you?”
The glass door to the squad room opened and Beryl strode in. “There you are, Daddy,” she said. Then noticing Kelso, she added, “Hi Kelso. Are you okay?”
“So sorry about that whole mess. I didn’t mean to leave you.”
“So you caught him?”
“The poacher? Yeah. I caught him.”
“Good luck getting the DA to press charges,” Duke said.
“You mean all of that fuss might be for nothing?” Beryl asked.
“They’ll at least hit him with trespassing on airport property,” Kelso opined. “I doubt he’ll rush onto that preserve with his net again.”
“Come on Beryl. Let’s get home.” Duke got up and headed for the door.
“Are you coming?” she asked Kelso. Duke sighed.
Kelso grabbed his kit bag and followed them out.
***
The side of Duke’s house glowed a burnt orange in the rapidly setting sun. Beryl pulled the Cutlass into the driveway and Duke immediately got out, making a beeline for the front door. Beryl smiled as she heard the sound of chirping. “I love the crickets at night,” she said.
“Those aren’t crickets. They sound like cicadas.”
“Really? You can tell the difference?”
“Yeah. Of course. Cicadas don’t normally sing at night but since it’s hot and there are some flood lights on the house it inspires them to carry their tune.”
“Why do they sing?” Beryl asked.
“It’s a mating call. The females can hear it from up to a mile away.” Kelso got out of the car and something caught his eye on the ground.
“That’s kind of romantic,” she said.
Kelso bent over and picked up a barely moving cicada off the lawn. “This one’s injured,” he explained.
He walked over to his RV and opened the door. Beryl followed. Inside were various terrariums with live insect specimens crawling inside. Some were under heat lamps. On the other side of the RV was a table with two high intensity lights, a microscope and some tweezers and other tools. Kelso grabbed a bottle of chloroform and poured some of it on a cloth.
Beryl’s hackles raised. “What the hell are you doing?”
He placed the chloroform cloth like a tent over the cicada. “Anesthetizing the patient.” He strapped down the cicada now with fishing line and placed it under the microscope, then took out a very, very small scalpel. “His exoskeleton is damaged. I’m going to see if I can repair it.”
The cicada did not move. “Are you sure it’s not dead?” Beryl asked.
“No. He’s just under.”
“Who would have thought you could anesthetize a bug?”
“It takes only a trace amount of the chloroform,” Kelso said. He focused his microscope on the cicada’s leg and took a tweezers to it.
Beryl peered over his shoulder. Kelso liked having her close to him. “The insect exoskeleton is made of cuticle.”
“Like our fingernails?”
“Similar. The insect cuticle is made from a substance called chitin. It has two layers, an outer and an inner. The outer one is very thick and tough. The inner layer flexes more. When cut, the cuticle will form new cells on either side to heal the wound.” He nudged the two exoskeleton cuticles closer together. “The pieces have to be close enough for the new cells to bridge the gap.” Kelso positioned the femur, or thigh, and the lower foreleg of the cicada in a V position and used an eyedropper to drop a glutinous substance on the joint.
“You gave this cicada a cast.”
“Exactly! The glue will hold the leg together until the endocuticle cells can grow together again.” Kelso placed the cicada in a terrarium and turned on a heat lamp over it.
“Thanks for the demonstration.”
“No problem. Hey! I forgot to give you something.” He picked up a specimen vial containing live flies.
She looked askance at the vial. “Kelso, just because I’m interested in what you do doesn’t mean I share your enthusiasm for flies.”
“They are lacewings. Some people call them aphis lions. They eat aphids. I overheard you saying your roses were infested.”
She smiled a toothy grin. “You can fix my roses?”
“No pesticide needed.” He took the vial and walked out the door of the RV. Beryl followed him into her garden. The roses definitely looked anemic. The leaves were a bit wilted and the flowers were dying on the bush. He opened the vial and released the aphis lions into the air. They soared over the thorned bushes.
“Is there going to be enough?” Beryl asked, noticing the squadron of four or five lacewings.
“Don’t worry. The females can lay four hundred eggs at a time. Once the eggs hatch, each larva will eat six hundred aphids.”
“That’s great!”
“The mothers seek out the aphid colonies and lay their eggs right next to them.”
Beryl beamed. “I had no idea!”
From across the yard, Duke cleared his throat from his perch on a chaise lounge. Beryl could see he was trying to read his paper and they had disturbed him. A fly buzzed over his head and landed on his nose. “Are you spreading flies into my yard, Bagley?” he asked.
“They’re lacewings. Aphis lions,” Kelso replied.
