Poached (9 page)

I squeezed past them and finally got outside again. After the heat and the crush of humanity inside the exhibit, the chill air and empty walkways felt wonderful.

Before I could take another step, however, someone grabbed my jacket from behind. The hood came off my head, revealing me to the world.

“Not so fast, Teddy,” Kristi Sullivan said. “We need to talk.”

Kristi dragged me into her
tiny office. Since there was only one chair, she steered me into it. Then she shoved aside a stack of fashion magazines and perched on her desk.

“I didn't steal Kazoo,” I said quickly.

Kristi laughed. “If I thought you had, Teddy, I would have called security.”

It took me a moment to process that. “So . . . you already know it wasn't me?”

“No, I don't know anything for sure,” Kristi admitted. “I just don't
think
you did it. You might be a handful, but you're not stupid. However, I
would
like to know what you were doing in the exhibit last night.”

I explained everything. How Vance Jessup had forced me to play the prank at the shark tank, how Marge had caught
us, and how I'd taken refuge in the exhibit. Kristi listened intently to it all. She even laughed a few times.

When I finished, she stared at me thoughtfully, then said, “You picked the wrong night to hide out here, Teddy. You're in some serious trouble.”

“I know,” I said, then asked, “Why's there a toy koala in the exhibit?”

Kristi reacted with surprise, but quickly broke into a smile. “I knew you were smart,” she said. “It's there because we don't have a real koala anymore.”

I was annoyed at myself for not realizing the Kazoo on display was a fake right away. After all, the toy koalas for sale in the gift shop looked almost exactly like the real thing; they would look even more real hidden behind a bunch of eucalyptus branches. What had kept me from putting it all together right away was denial: Even though FunJungle had done some sneaky things before, I still couldn't believe that the park would try to pass off a fake koala as a real one.

“I know
why
you're using a toy,” I said. “What I meant was, why hasn't the public been told Kazoo is gone?”

Kristi raised her hands in a gesture of innocence. “I had nothing to do with this. In fact I think it's terrible. But . . . well, you see, when the kidnapper took Kazoo last night, they put the fake one in the tree to cover their tracks.”

I sat forward, intrigued. “Really? Did it work?”

Kristi looked embarrassed. “For a few hours, I guess. No one's quite sure when Kazoo was taken last night. But the fake was discovered around four thirty this morning.”

“Who noticed?”

“Someone in security. I forgot his name. Apparently, the toy koala fell out of the tree. At first, the guard thought it was really Kazoo and that he'd died. He called the vet on night duty, who determined it was a fake.”

“And so the park decided to just put it right back on exhibit?”

“Like I said, I don't agree with this. The decision was made by the head of PR.”

“Pete Thwacker.” I wasn't surprised.

Kristi's eyebrows raised slightly. “You know him?”

“Unfortunately.” I'd run into Pete a few times while investigating Henry the Hippo's death. He was a vain, cheesy man who knew very little about animals and a great deal about how to manipulate the public. I'd even considered him a suspect in Henry's murder for a while.

“I've been trying to reach him all morning . . .” Kristi was interrupted by the ringing of her office phone. She glanced at the caller ID, then groaned. “Speak of the devil.” She signaled me to be quiet, then put on the speakerphone. “Kristi Sullivan.”

“Hi, Kristi. This is Pete Thwacker. I understand you've
called my office a few times. Is something wrong over there?” Pete's phone voice was extremely dramatic; it was probably a habit from being interviewed on TV all the time.

“Yes,” Kristi said. “I'd say that lying to the public is wrong.”

Pete hesitated upon realizing what all this was about, but when he spoke again, he sounded as confident as ever. “Kristi, we're not lying to the public. We're merely delaying the reveal of the truth until a more opportune time.”

“And when might that be?”

“Hopefully never. I've been assured that FunJungle security knows the identity of the perpetrator and is currently engaged in a full-scale manhunt. If they can find him and return Kazoo quickly, then what's the point of upsetting people with the fact that the koala was ever gone?”

Kristi sighed, exasperated. “This isn't right. You can't pass a toy koala off as the real thing.”

“First of all, Kristi, it's not a toy. It's an emergency backup koala—”

“It's a toy. From our very own gift shop.”

“Second, have any of the guests noticed?”

Kristi frowned. “No,” she admitted.

“Well, there you go!” Pete cried. “No harm done! I'm not saying that we here at FunJungle aren't concerned about the welfare of our animals. We are. In fact that's our primary
directive. But our secondary directive is to provide our guests with a day of wholesome family fun. Frankly, I don't see how informing them of Kazoo's disappearance fits into that scenario. Instead it will merely distress them. And to what end? Isn't it better for all these people—many of whom have come from quite far away to see a koala—to
think
they've seen one? Would you rather they came all this way only to be disappointed?”

“No,” Kristi said, sounding less sure of herself now. I couldn't really blame her. Pete was surprisingly convincing. Even though I was sure his plan was morally wrong, there was a certain bizarre sense to it. “But what if our security doesn't find Kazoo right away?” Kristi asked. “Or what if they never find him?”

“I think that's unlikely,” Pete said. “I have every confidence in our security here.”

“I don't,” Kristi told him. “Marge is a lunatic. So let's suppose she fails. Won't FunJungle look worse for covering this up?”

“Only if the public finds out we
have
covered it up, which they won't,” Pete said. “As you've observed yourself, the emergency backup koala is working perfectly well. And I certainly hope you're not thinking of spilling the beans.” As Pete said this, his voice gained an unsettling edge of menace.

“Of course not,” Kristi said.

“Good,” Pete replied. “Because doing so would be a violation of park policy, which is a fireable offense.”

Kristi swallowed, looking a little frightened. “And what if one of the guests notices on their own that the emergency backup koala is just a toy?”

“They won't—as long as you take the proper steps to prevent such a scenario: Position the koala as far from the viewing windows and behind as much foliage as possible. And shift its location every evening so that it appears to have moved during the night. Frankly, I don't see that you have anything to complain about. This seems considerably easier than taking care of a
real
koala.”

“I
like
the real koala,” Kristi protested.

Pete didn't seem to hear her. “In fact,” he said, “it almost makes you wonder why we bother having real animals here at all.”

“What?” Kristi asked, aghast.

Pete either didn't notice the horror in her voice, or he was too consumed with his own idea to hear it. “It'd be a significant financial savings for us,” he mused. “After all, fake animals don't require expensive food or medical care—and they don't poop, pee, or smell bad. Plus, it's much easier to acquire a fake panda or rhinoceros than a live one.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Kristi said. “Tell me you're not seriously considering this.”

“What's so wrong with it?” Pete asked.

“
Everything
,” Kristi replied. “People don't come to a zoo to see fake animals.”

“We have fake dinosaurs,” Pete countered.

“Because dinosaurs are extinct, you moron.”

Even this didn't faze Pete. “I understand why you're upset,” he said. “You're worried that you'd lose your job if there weren't animals to tend to. True, fake animals would certainly require fewer staff to care for them—at a further savings to the company, I might add—but we'd still need some people such as yourself to maintenance the creatures and sell the idea that they're real. This is quite a groundbreaking concept, if I do say so myself. If you'll excuse me, I need to go work up an action plan. It's been a pleasure talking to you, Kristi.”

Kristi tried to say something else, but it was too late. Pete had hung up.

The koala keeper returned her attention to me. “See what I'm dealing with here?”

“Pete's an idiot,” I said.

“Unfortunately, he's an idiot with power.” Kristi sighed. “I'm just scared this whole thing's going to blow up in our faces. And you know who's going to look bad then?
Me
. Not Pete Thwacker. His whole plan hinges upon FunJungle security finding Kazoo quickly, and frankly, I don't have much
faith in them. They're not even trying to find the real thief. They're trying to find
you
.”

I nodded sadly, and then thought to ask, “Do you have any idea who the real thief is?”

“Sure,” Kristi said. “I have plenty of ideas. Only I can't get Marge or any of her stooges to listen to one of them.”

I straightened up, intrigued. “
I'm
listening.”

Kristi gave me a doubtful look, then seemed to think better of it. “Okay. You're the one who figured out who killed Henry, right? I think Freddie Malloy is a possibility.”

“The actor?” I asked. “Why would he want to steal Kazoo?”

“Because he thinks Kazoo ruined his career,” Kristi replied.

“How? If anyone ruined Freddie's career, it was Freddie.”

“Well, let's face it, Freddie's a bit delusional. I mean, the guy thought that provoking dangerous animals on stage would be a good career move. He believes FunJungle canceled his show because they wanted to focus on Kazoo instead.”

“But then he ought to be angry at FunJungle, right?” I asked. “Not the koala.”

“Yes, if he were a rational human being,” Kristi replied. “But he's not. He
hates
Kazoo. I saw him skulking around here all the time—and once, I heard him say he wanted to throw Kazoo into the crocodile pit.”

I gulped. I'd always thought Freddie wasn't playing with a full deck, but this was worse than I realized. I thought back to my encounter with the actor that morning, how he was still skulking around KoalaVille, desperate to be noticed. If he'd gotten rid of Kazoo, it must have been driving him insane that a fake koala was still attracting more attention than he was. “And you told security about him?” I asked.

“I
tried
to. But Marge is so sure you're the culprit here, she won't listen to anything else.” Kristi rolled her eyes. “I probably should have reported the threat when Freddie first made it, but at the time I thought it was all just talk.”

“How long ago was that?”

Kristi shrugged. “Two weeks or so. Not long after Kazoo arrived here.”

“Who else do you think the kidnapper might be?” I asked.

“Charlie Connor,” Kristi replied. “He's one of the guys who dress up in animal costumes here—”

“Oh, I know who Charlie is,” I told her. “He was a suspect in Henry's murder.”

Kristi reacted with surprise. “Really?”

I nodded. Charlie was a dwarf ex-con who had become a clown after serving time in prison. He had briefly been at the same poorly run circus as Henry, where the hippo had attacked him one day. (Charlie had chalked this up to the
hippo having an inexplicable hatred of little people.) Eventually, both of them had ended up at FunJungle. Charlie played a character named Larry the Lizard, which merely involved wearing a reptile costume and standing still so that tourists could take pictures with him. There were a lot of characters like this at FunJungle: Eleanor Elephant, Zelda Zebra, Uncle O-Rang—although Henry the Hippo had been the most popular by far. Until his alter ego had ended up dead. After that, fake Henry had been cut from the mascot squad.

“I'm surprised Charlie's still working here,” I said. “He hates being a lizard.”

“He's not a lizard anymore,” Kristi said. “He's a koala.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “Since when?”

“Since Kazoo got here. FunJungle took everyone who used to play Larry the Lizard and switched them to playing Kazoo.”

“Then what happened to Larry the Lizard?”

“FunJungle surreptitiously retired him. I don't think many people ever liked Larry. He wasn't that interesting a character, and frankly, he looked like a mutant frog to me.”