The Web

33

"Something hidden near her cage?" said Robin. "Or in it?"

"He may have hidden it in the bug zoo to keep it from Jo. She claimed to be queasy about bugs, and this afternoon I told him my suspicions of her."

"She's there right now."

"Holding the ladder for Pam. Be interesting to see if she actually goes in."

"What could he be hiding?"

"Something to do with either the murders or Stasher-Layman's plan. Ben's arrest made him realize things are bad and he has to play whatever cards he's got."

The door opened suddenly and Jo and Pam sloshed in. I closed the book of quotations and tried to look casual. Dropped the shiny key into my pocket as the two women wiped the water from their eyes.

Pam shook her head despondently.

Jo fixed her gaze on me and shut the door. "What are you folks doing out?"

"We wanted to help," said Robin. "Started looking around the grounds, but it got to be too much so we ducked in. Any luck at the insectarium?"

Pam shook her head miserably.

Jo scanned the room. "The windows are bolted shut and layered with wire mesh. I managed to break the glass with the flashlight, but the wire wouldn't bend, so all I could do was shine it around and look in as best I could. Far as I could see, he's not there."

"He didn't answer my shouts," said Pam. "We got a pretty good look."

"Can't break the door, either," said Jo. "Three locks, plate steel, and the hinges are inside."

She removed her hat. Rain had gotten underneath and her hair was limp.

"I'm going back out," said Pam.

"Reconsider," Jo told her. "Even if he is out there, with this kind of limited visibility, I don't see how you'd spot him."

"I don't care."

As she rushed for the door, Jo stared at me. "What about you?"

"We'll stay here for a while, then return to the house. Let us know if you find him."

Pam left. Jo put her hat back on.

"Are you armed?" I said.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you carrying your gun?"

She smiled. "No. Weather like this, it could flood. Why? Think I need protection?"

"Anyone could be out there. The hostility down in the village… the rain'll probably keep people away, but who knows? We're all pretty vulnerable traipsing around."

"So?" said Jo.

"So we need to be careful."

"Fine, I'll be careful." She threw the door open and was gone.

I opened the door a crack and watched as she melted into the downpour.

"Why'd you do that?" said Robin when I closed it.

"To let her know I was onto her. Maybe it'll prevent her from trying something, maybe not."

We stood there, then I cracked the door again and looked outside. Nothing, no one. For what that was worth.

"Now what?" said Robin.

"Now we either go back to our room and wait till daylight or you go back and wait and I use the key and see what Gustave's girl can do for us."

She shook her head. "Third option: we both go visit Emma."

"Not again."

"I'm the one who had the pet tarantula."

"That's some qualification."

"What's yours?"

"I'm nuts."

She touched my arm. "Think about it, Alex: where would you rather I be? With you, or alone with Jo next door? There's no reason for her to think we have any way of getting in there. It's the last place she'll look for us, especially if she really is bug-phobic."

"Nancy," I said. "Nancy, Nancy, Nancy."

"Am I wrong? He's a strange old man, Alex, but in a crazy way he's left a logical trail. Maybe we should see the rest of it, Mr. Hardy."

I checked again twice. Waited. Checked again. Finally we snuck out.

Staying out of the path-lights as much as we could, we took a tortuously slow route to the big building. Stopping several times to make sure we weren't being followed.

The rain kept battering us. I was so wet I forgot about it.

There, finally.

The three new locks were dead bolts.

The key fit all of them.

One final look around.

I pushed the steel door and we slipped in.

It closed on total darkness- the windowless anteroom.

Safe to turn on the light.

The space was exactly as I recalled: empty, the white tiles spotless.

And dry.

No one had entered recently.

We squeezed out our clothes. I shut off the lights and pushed open the door to the main room.

Cold metal handrails.

Robin's hand even colder.

A softer darkness in the zoo, speckled by pale blue dots in some of the aquariums.

Muted moonlight struggled through the two windows Jo and Pam had broken. Each was dead center in the long walls, the glass punched out but the wire mesh remaining. Water shot through on both sides, making a whooshing noise, hitting the sill, and running down to the concrete floor, collecting in shiny blots.

Something else shiny- window shards, sharp and ragged as ice chips.

We waited, giving our eyes time to adjust.

The same rotten produce odor. Peat moss, overripe fruit.

Steps down. Thirteen, Moreland had said.

I took in the central aisle, rows of tables on each side, the work space at the far end where he concocted insect delicacies.

Movement from some of the tanks, but again, the rain overpowered the sounds.

Thirteen steps. He'd said it twice, then counted each one out loud.

Making a point? Knowing this night would eventually come and preparing us for a descent in the dark?

I took Robin's hand. What I could see of her expression was resolute. Step number one.

Now I could hear it. Scurrying and slithering as we got closer to the tanks.

Even as we searched for Moreland, I knew we wouldn't find him. He had something else in mind.

Welcome to my little zoo.

Gustave's girl will be assisting…

The little glass houses were dark and identical. Where was the tarantula?… On the left side, toward the back.

As I tried to pinpoint the spot, Robin guided me to it.

The cage was dark, the mulch floor still.

Nothing on the table nearby.

Maybe Moreland had removed the creature and left something in its place.

I stooped and looked through the glass.

Nothing for a moment. Maybe I'd misunderstood. I started to hope- Emma shot up out of the moss and leaves, and I fell back.

Eight bristly legs drummed the glass frantically.

The spider's body segments pulsed.

Half a foot of body.

Slow, confident movements.

She's spoiled… eats small birds, lizards… immobilizes… crushes.

"Good evening, Emma," I said.

She kept stroking, then scooted back down and sat in the mulch. Light from a neighboring tank hit her eyes and turned them to black currants.

Focused black currants.

Looking at Robin.

Robin put her face up against the glass. The spider's lipless mouth compressed, then formed an oval, as if pushing out a sound.

Robin tickled the glass with one fingertip.

The spider watched.

Robin made a move for the top lid and I held her wrist.

The spider shot up again.

"It's okay, Alex."

"No way."

"Don't worry. He said she wasn't venomous."

"He said she wasn't venomous enough to kill prey, so she crushes."

"I'm not worried- I have a good feeling about her."

"Women's intuition?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"I just don't think this is the time to test theory."

"Why you and not me?"

"Who says it has to be anyone?"

"Why would Bill put us in danger?"

"His being reasonable isn't something I'd take to the bank."

"Don't worry."

"But your hand-"

"My hand's fine. Though you're starting to hurt my wrist."

I let go and before I could stop her, she nudged the lid back half an inch and was dangling her fingers in the tank- that damned dexterity.

The spider watched but didn't move.

I cursed to myself and kept still. Sweat mixed with the rain on my skin. I itched.

The spider pulsed faster.

Robin's entire hand was in the tank now, hanging limply. The spider compressed its own mouth again.

"Enough. Pull it out."

Her face expressionless, Robin let her fingers come to rest near the spider's abdomen.

Touching tentatively, then with greater confidence.

Stroking.

The tarantula turned languidly, spreading to accept the caresses.

Nudging up against Robin's undulating fingers.

Covering them.

Encompassing Robin's hand.

Robin let the animal rest there for several moments, then slowly lifted her hand out of the aquarium.

Wearing the spider like a grotesque hairy glove.

Bending her knees, she placed her palm flat on the table. The spider extended one leg, then another. Stretching again… testing the surface. Peering back toward its home, it walked off the hand. Then back on.

Nosing Robin's fingertips.

Robin smiled. "Hey, fuzzy one. You feel a little like Spike."

As if encouraged, the spider continued up Robin's forearm and came to rest on her upper sleeve, its weight pulling down at the fabric.

"My, Emma, you've been eating well."

The spider curled around Robin's bicep, hugging the arm, then inched forward, like a steeplejack scaling a pole.

Coming to a stop on Robin's shoulder.

Nuzzling the side of Robin's neck.

Stopping right near the jugular. All the while, Robin talked and stroked.

"See, Alex, we're buddies. Why don't you see if there's anything in the tank?"

I started to put my hand in, then stopped- was there another one in there? Mr. Emma?

Oh hell, hadn't I read somewhere that the females were the tough ones? Removing the glass lid completely, I peered down, saw nothing, and plunged in. My hand groped leaves and soil and branches. Then something hard and grainy- lava rock.

Something underneath. Paper.

I pulled it out. Another folded card.

Too dark to read. I found a tank whose blue light was strong enough.

Impressive though Emma may be at first sight,

Everything's relative- size as well as time.

Relative.

Something bigger than the tarantula?

My eyes drifted to the last row of tanks.

One aquarium, larger than the others.

Twice as large.

A big piece of slate resting atop the lid.

What lived there was twice Emma's length.

My brontosaurus… significantly more venomous.

Over a foot of flat-bodied leather whip. Spiked tail, antennae as thick as linguini.

Scores of legs… I remembered how the front ones had pawed the air furiously as we approached.

The flat, cold hostility.

I haven't quite trained it to love me.

Sadistic old bastard.

Robin was reading over my shoulder, Emma still resting on hers.

"Oh," she said.

Before she could get brave again, I ran to the back of the zoo.

The centipede was just where it had been the first time, half out of its cave, the rear quarters concealed.

It saw me before I got there, antennae twitching like electrified cables.

All the front legs pawing this time.

Battling the air.

Everything's relative.

Including my willingness to go along with his little game.

I was about to leave when I noticed another difference about the large aquarium.

The entire tank was raised off the table.

Resting on something. More pieces of slate.

When I'd seen it a few nights ago, it had sat flush.

I ran my hand along the surface of the table. Dust and chips.

Moreland remodeling.

Creating a miniature crawlspace- it looked just wide enough to accommodate my hand.

As I extended my arm, the centipede coiled. As my fingers touched the edge of the slate platform, the creature attacked the glass. A cracking sound made me jump back.

The pane was intact, but I could swear I heard the glass hum.

Robin behind me now.

I tried again, and once more the monster lunged.

Kept lunging.

Using its knobby head to butt the glass while snapping its body into foot-long curlicues.

Something oily oozed down the glass.

Like that rattler-in-a-jar game in old Westerns; I knew I was safe, but each blow sent a jolt to my heart.

Robin made a small, high, wordless sound. I turned to see the spider doing push-ups on her shoulder.

Jammed my hand under the slate and kept it there.

The centipede kept hurling itself. More cracking sounds. More venomous exudate.

Then something coarse and throaty I could have sworn was a growl came from inside the aquarium, rising above the rain.

I groped hyperactively. Touched something waxy and yanked back.

The centipede stopped attacking.

Tired, finally?

It glared and started again.

Crack, crack, crack… I was back in. The waxy thing felt inert, but God knew… predators… pull it out. Stuck.

Crack.

Right angles… more paper? Thicker than the card.

The centipede continued to tantrum and secrete.

I clawed the wax thing, got a purchase with my nails and pulled hard enough to feel it in my shoulder.

The wax thing slipped out of reach and I fell back, kept my balance, and crouched, eye to eye with the centipede.

Separated from its maniacal thrusts by a quarter inch of glass that trembled with each impact.

Its primitive face dead as rock. Then an infusion of rage turned it nearly human.

Human like a death-row resident.

The tank rocked.

I found the corner of the wax thing again, pinched, clawed, scraped… crack… missed, tried again- it moved, then resisted.

Stuck to the tabletop? Taped. The bastard.

Hooking a nail under the tape, I tugged upward, felt it give.

One more yank and the damned thing came out.

Thick wad of waxy paper, the edges crumbling between my fingers as I stepped away as fast as I could.

Robin followed me. So did Emma's black eyes.

Crack, crack… the beast reared up against the lid, trying to force it off. Noble in its own way, I supposed. A hundred-legged Atlas, fighting for liberation. I could smell its fury, bitter, steaming, hormonally charged.

Another push. The slate atop the lid bounced and I worried it would break the glass.

Spotting a flowerpot at the end of the aisle, filled with dirt, I used it for ballast.

The centipede continued lunging. The entire front of the aquarium was filmy with slime.

Crack.

"Nighty-night, you prick."

Taking Robin by the hand, I hurried back to the front of the insectarium, stopping at a spot where the light through one of the broken windows was strongest. Then I realized Emma was still with us- why had I ever worried about her?

Everything's relative… time, too.

Moreland's point: nothing was what it seemed… I unfolded the wax paper. More pieces flaked off.

Dry. Old. Dark paper- black or deep blue, oversized, scored with light lines.

Blueprints.

Squares and circles, semicircles and rectangles. Symbols I couldn't understand.

Lines tipped with arrow points. Directional angles?

An aerial layout. The rectangles and squares were probably buildings.

The largest structure on the south side. Nearby a round thing- water waves within.

The front fountain.

The main house.

Oriented, I located the insectarium with its thirteen steps and central spine, lots of small rectangles angling off like vertebrae.

The baths…

I found my office, Moreland's, the other outbuildings.

To the east, a mass of overlapping amorphous shapes that had to be treetops. The edges of the banyan forest.

A map of the estate's center.

But what did he want me to see?

The longer I studied the sheet, the more confusing it got. Networks of lines, as dense as the streets on an urban map. Shapes that had no meaning.

Words.

In Japanese.