Free The Koala of Death by Betty Webb

you aiming for Zorah’s job next, planning to use it as a stepping-stone for the directorship of an even bigger zoo? The San Diego, maybe? The National? Your rampant ambition knows no bounds! Drowning Kate and railroading poor Bill just so you could get what you want! I used to think you were just another ditzy Central Coast dilettante, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re slick, Teddy. Machiavelli himself had nothing on you.”
    Stung, I replied, “Zorah made both those decisions. As for killing Kate…”
    “You pretend to be one of us by living on some old boat down at the harbor, but I’ve seen that poor-little-rich-girl act before and I’m not buying it. I’m warning you. Don’t mess with me and my big cats or you’ll find yourself in the kind of trouble that neither your rich stupid mother, your crooked-ass father, or your cop boyfriend can get you out of.”
    Threat delivered, she gave my sleeve a yank that almost toppled me, and then disappeared into the brush, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
    Shaken from the confrontation, I returned to my rounds.
    The animals had a calming affect and by quitting time, my mood had turned to curious. While standing in line to clock out, I tried to understand Robin’s sudden dislike of me. Had I inadvertently said something or done something to incur her animosity? No matter how I searched my memory, nothing popped up.
    I put Robin aside and wondered what motive Bill might have for killing Kate. An acrimonious breakup? No one at the zoo knew for certain what had gone on during the final weeks of their relationship, but it was pretty much agreed that he had been the one to dump Kate. It was usually the dumpee who killed, not the dumper—wasn’t it? Even more puzzling was why Bill would peddle his bicycle twelve miles from Castroville, where he lived in one of those rent-by-the-week motels, all the way down to the harbor, and then lurk in the shadows until she left the party. Why not just kill her in her own nearby Castroville apartment?
    I was mulling over the logistics when I arrived home at Gunn Landing Harbor. After sliding my card key into the electronic gate that led down to the docks, I realized that gaining access to the Gutterball would have been a problem for Bill, too. Only boat owners were issued card keys. When they wanted to invite non-harbor residents to parties, they sometimes stationed a friend at the gate to allow other revelers in. A few rebels simply propped the gate open with a rock, but woe betide them if the harbormaster found out. Which had the Grimaldis done?
    I had my chance to find out when I saw Doris and Sam Grimaldi sipping their evening daiquiris on the Gutterball ’s deck. They didn’t look happy.
    “Permission to come aboard, Grimaldis?” I called.
    Doris’ usual smile was nowhere in evidence as waved me aboard. “Oh, Teddy, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry we both are for what you had to go through the other morning. Finding Kate like that. I wish we’d been here to help, but as soon as the last person left the party, we went back home.”
    Even in the evening’s dimming light, I could see that her eyes were swollen and stress lines marred her face. Somewhere in her fifties, she was around fifteen years older than her husband. Despite her salon-tinted hair and expert makeup, she actually looked twenty more. Sam was no beauty himself, but he made up for his no-more-than-average appearance by a warm voice and engaging manner. With those qualities and the help of his workhorse wife, he’d turned Lucky Lanes from a failed bowling alley into one of San Sebastian County’s most popular gathering spots.
    “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Doris,” I told her.
    “That’s what I’ve been trying to convince her of, Teddy,” Sam seconded. “But she blames herself for inviting Kate to the party in the first place. She couldn’t have known that the woman would get drunk and drown.”
    On my way home from the zoo I’d