CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paige was sitting next to a shark. Admittedly, it was just one of the baby sharks from the bigger tank, decanted into a much smaller fish tank and placed on a desk in Detective Sanchez’s office, but it was still a shark.
It was there so that Paige could compare it to pictures online from the few places licensed to sell the creatures.
“This looks like one of the smaller species of reef shark,” Paige said as she studied the pictures.
“Is that good or bad?” Detective Sanchez asked.
“It might help us to narrow down where they came from,” Paige said. “Although there are more places than I thought there would be that sell exotic animals.”
She saw Detective Sanchez shrug. “This is Las Vegas.”
“So when someone calls up a store and says ‘I’ll have a tank full of sharks’…”
“They assume it’s for a show, or some celebrity wants it for their dressing room, or… well, there are plenty of people who want that kind of thing to show off,” the detective said.
Paige looked over to Christopher, to see if he was as surprised by it as she was. Las Vegas was obviously very different in some respects from D.C.
“I’m trying to track down anyone who might have transported it,” he said. “My guess is that a haulage company would remember having to transport live sharks.”
Paige nodded. “Any luck so far?”
“Not yet,” Christopher said, “and it’s a specialist job. There are only so many places that would be able to handle it without the sharks dying.”
“All of them dying in transit?” Paige asked. “Or some of them dying afterwards from the stress?”
“Does the distinction matter?” Detective Sanchez asked.
Paige did her best to explain. “The killer wasn’t looking for sharks to keep as pets, or to live through the run of a Las Vegas show. He just wanted them for this one moment, just needed them to survive long enough for the murder.”
“Meaning he wouldn’t have to be as careful about transporting them,” Christopher said, obviously getting it. “So he wouldn’t have to use specialist transport. My guess is that he would hire a van or use one he already owns. The fewer people involved in it, the less chance of him being caught.”
It meant that there was less chance of tracking him that way, meaning that Paige had to hope her search for the place that had sold him the sharks would pan out instead.
“As far as I can tell, there are three suppliers who stock this particular species,” Paige said. She started to make calls.
“Ok,” she said, after a minute. “Of the three places that stock small reef sharks, only one has any in and would have been able to sell them at short notice.”
“Meaning that this has to be the place,” Christopher said. “Detective Sanchez, can you keep checking things here? I think Paige and I need to go talk to the supplier. If we’re lucky, they’ll have the killer’s details on file.”
Finally, it felt to Paige like they were catching a break in this case.
*
Exotic Aquatics turned out to be a small store that fronted onto a much larger warehouse space. It reminded Paige a little of the prop manufacturer she and Christopher had visited in that respect, just one more small but useful space servicing the bigger machine of the Las Vegas entertainment industry.
As they walked in, Paige had to admit that the store space was impressive. Every wall was covered in fish tanks, the counter was another fish tank, and several more stood in the middle of the space. Each one was a different shape, as if to show off some of the possibilities that could be accommodated, no matter how outlandish the client’s needs.
As for the creatures that were in those tanks… they were a spectacular array that even most large aquariums would have been proud of. Paige saw brightly colored corals and tropical fish in every color of the rainbow. There were octopuses in one tank, shifting shape and hue as the light hit them, and a couple of lobsters in another, ambling about among the rocks.
There were larger fish too, some as big as Paige was tall, looking cramped even in the massive tanks that were set around the room. Then there were the sharks, whirling around and around in a couple of central tanks. The sharks were the same size as the one currently sitting on Detective Sanchez’s desk, the same light gray with white tips to the fins.
This was definitely the place.
A woman in her early forties came up, dressed in slacks, sensible shoes, and a t-shirt that had the silhouettes of different kinds of sharks swimming across it.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Toni, can I help you to find anything?”