Tailed Read Free Page B

arranged. That is, Griswold had seen fit to pose the white squirrels in the pursuit of human activities. Driving pink convertibles. Playing cards. Riding a Ferris wheel that actually turned to the hum of a motor. Drinking at a bar. Fishing. Golfing. Surfing. Each elaborate diorama was in a lighted display case built into the wall, like fish tanks at an aquarium.
    A lot of white squirrels? I’d counted ninety-seven in all. It was a darn sight easier estimating the value of garden-variety trophies. Unless you count the stuffed-frog mariachi bands up for sale on eBay, you don’t see a slew of anthropomorphic taxidermy for sale. Then again, Griswold’s collection wasn’t in the running for the big-game hunter sweepstakes, so I didn’t anticipate that a lower-than-expected valuation would elicit the kind of thunderous, scotch-soaked indignation I’d get from some Lord Blastaway.
    â€œMr. Carson?” Devon, a pretty blond employee in funerary garb, was halfway down the basement steps. “There’s someone here for you. From Wilberforce/ Peete.”
    â€œHere?” I put down my pad and pen. Hmm. Had I screwed up somehow?
    Descending past the blonde on the stairs was another blonde. Or should I say white. White shoulder-length hair, dark sunglasses, skin the color of pizza dough.
    Stella Lombardo. My boss.
    She was in a peach-colored pantsuit, aqua scarf around her neck, aqua pumps. Unlike most people entering a basement in sunglasses, the low light hadn’t fazed her as she scanned her surroundings. She put a hand on her slender hip.
    â€œDisgusting.”
    I looked around behind me at the squirrels, then back at her. This was kind of awkward. Someone with oculocutaneous albinism confronted by a room full of white, pink-eyed squirrels. An albino in a room full of albinos collected as oddities.
    â€œPretty unusual, I’ll say that.” I displayed a frown that I thought would please my boss. But I stopped short of asking her why she was there. No need. I was sure she’d tell me when she was ready.
    Like a captain inspecting fresh recruits, Stella slowly scanned the display cases, eventually coming back to me. I couldn’t see her eyes, only their motion behind the dark glass. Nystagmus, a common side symptom of albinism, meant her eyes quivered uncontrollably, and her head wobbled slightly to counteract the effect so she could see straight.
    â€œI’d say low estimate, wouldn’t you, Garth?”
    I glanced at my pad reflexively. “Not much resale value.”
    â€œResale value? This stuff should be burned. Griswold is a freak, and this…gruesome display is a sick vendetta against albinism. Christ. What’s the matter with people?”
    I was beginning to feel implicated. “I’ve never understood the fascination with albino mounts myself.”
    â€œWhat’s to understand? You don’t see people collecting only yellow animals, do you? Or only red?”
    I was tempted to point out that those weren’t color variegations of any species I’d seen taxidermied. But I didn’t. I’d learned a long time ago, in the trenches at Dairy Twist one summer, not to comment to the boss on the quality of the food.
    â€œAre you almost done down here, Garth?”
    â€œYes.” I almost said
Yes, sir.
    â€œI’ll be in the lobby.”
    â€œRoger. Fifteen minutes.” Wasn’t I just the model staff sergeant?
    After finishing my appraisal, I went upstairs and found Stella in the potpourri-and nicotine-laden “Comfort Lounge.” An ultra-slim brown cigarette wisped between two fingers, like a smoldering pretzel stick held high and to the side. She sat uneasily in a wing chair as though the cushions were lumpy. But I knew it was just nervous energy. Stella never looked comfortable.
    â€œSit.” She puffed, her head jiggling slightly. “We’ve got a situation.”
    This didn’t sound good. I sat down in