The Case of the Red-Handed Rhesus (A Rue and Lakeland Mystery) (25 page)

But at the car, she gasped, the tears replaced by wide-eyed amazement. “I get to ride in the
convertible
?”

Oops.
Natasha was supposed to be the only kid who got in there. Aside from the twins being roving disasters, it was a two-seater. No back bench for small boosters. And speaking of boosters, I didn’t even have hers packed along.
Double oops. So much for clean seats and child safety.

“Absolutely. You ought to get
something
out of today.”

“But I thought I was in trouble.”

Where to draw the line?
“Sweetie, we’ll deal with it later. If I argue well, they’ll give you an out-of-school suspension and buy me time to think. You shouldn’t have mushed the cupcakes all over your classmate’s shirt, and it probably would be good to ask an adult for help next time something like that crops up. But it’s your birthday, I’m not angry, and . . .” I cut myself short.

“Mrs. Grim is another
dummyhead.
” Sara finished for me.

I had been thinking “big meanie,” but it amounted to the same thing. I scraped a portion of the icing off both of us so only a minimum got on the seats. “I’ve still got to teach today, but I don’t have to be there for another forty-five minutes. What do you say we get some ice cream? And I want you to tell me again how mean your classmates are. This time, I promise to listen.”

Dear Nora:

I put groomer’s dye in the spot where the cat poops. Of course, my dog got blue feet, too, walking through it, but I caught the cat in the act! And I filmed it! My neighbor was not home to confront. However, the next day, my beloved dog went missing for several hours. When it mysteriously returned to my yard, it had been groomed with a rival team’s football colors! Please Nora, I need some real advice here!

Pooped

Dear Pooped
,

Have you considered a different hobby? You seem to have exhausted all the possibilities this one has to offer.

Nora

Monday never improved above its cupcake-smashing baseline. Travis arrived at the ice cream shop right after Sara and I sat down. He dropped a newspaper over my shoulder with a scribbled note attached to it. The note said, “Chair, six o’clock.” The newspaper said, “Cancer claims social worker.”

It took me a moment too long to realize the note and paper were unconnected, and I wasted several seconds trying to figure out how I was supposed to meet the chair at six, why I should desire to do so, and how it related to my sudden need to flip over every copy of the
Free Press
floating around the shop.

Thus, in spite of Travis’s warning, Sara still surprised me with her cry of, “Hey, there’s your boss-guy. Hi boss-guy!” Sara and William had met Dr. Prescott exactly once, and it had gone badly, as he continuously tried to engage William in conversations and William only stared harder at the ground.
Chair at six.
He meant I should look straight ahead to see Dr. Prescott at the six o’clock position on my personal clock.

“Hello Noel, and . . . Mara, is it?”

“No, I’m Sara. Mara is somebody else, and I’ve never actually met her before, or come to think of it even heard of her, so I don’t think we probably even look alike.”

“Mmm.”

I set down the paper long enough to crumple Travis’s note, and Sara saw the article. “Oh my
gosh
!” she said. “Miss Merry Quite Contrary is
dead.
”

Thereafter, I juggled the conversation between her and the chair, answering questions that weren’t questions from both of them at once.

“We’re certainly looking forward to your presentation.”

No you aren’t.
“Thank you, sir.”

“
Wow
, it says she had terminal cancer. I didn’t know there was a special cancer you catch in airplane terminals.”

“In this case, terminal means final, fatal, Sara.”
No wonder she was in such a hurry. Did she rush to place all her kids, or only these two? I didn’t wish
this
when I wished she’d go away. And I certainly didn’t wish for the Iron Lady in her place!

“A pipe broke in the bathroom above the room we wanted to use. The ceiling’s still dripping. We’ve had to relocate you to the conference room.”
And when were you planning to let me know this?

“Then I guess I’m glad we ran into you. Thanks for telling me.”
Now go away.

“
That’s
how we wound up with the Iron Lady! It makes
so
much more sense now. I thought Merry had ditched us, too, but it turns out, she ditched
everybody.
”

“Cancer’s not the same thing as ditching.”
And will you hurry up and finish your cone.
As if on cue, Sara jumped up and pitched forward. The cone flew over to splat at the chair’s feet, coming within centimeters of decorating his wingtips.

“I’m
sorry
!” she wailed.

“You know what? Let’s get half a gallon and take it home so William can have some too after school.”

“And can we get a box of waffle cones? I love waffle cones.”

“Yes, absolutely. Waffle cones.” The shop sold them six to an overpriced plastic box. I cut in line ahead of the chair to get Sara out before the inevitable tears began. We were due for a meltdown after this morning, and I didn’t want it to happen right there.

In fact, she twitched but held steady until we got home after my class, even when we had to store the ice cream in the smelly department freezer. Then she finally went off because we hadn’t thrown a formal birthday party. She forgot we had discussed this and agreed a family trip in lieu of a party might be more fun anyway. She hadn’t gotten to enjoy her cupcakes with her classmates, and I couldn’t give her the alternative she wanted.

I had barely convinced her to settle down in front of a video game when the phone rang. I spent much of what remained of the afternoon negotiating with her principal. He wanted to shame Sara with an in-school suspension, masking his desire with concern, saying she didn’t want a
real
suspension on her permanent record. I said, “Yes, she does,” at least forty-five times, and he gave up.

“Fine. It’s five days. She can come back next Tuesday; you have to sign off on it; she has to do all her work, but she isn’t eligible for any credit.” I hung up before he could make the list longer. I suspected the sentence length was connected as much to my bad attitude as Sara’s. I had bought my time to think, but I had no idea what it would do for me. I couldn’t see why a child this young wouldn’t be let off the hook with detention or some other, less intense punishment. He had labelled her behavior “bullying” to justify Mrs. Grim’s overreaction, but I had expected no less.

I had been prepared for him to try the in-school suspension tactic, which Natalie said had been used twice the previous year. Those were worse for Sara than even sitting in an overloud class, because everything she did was observed and criticized, and even her usual restless wiggling got her in disproportionate trouble. The kid needed a break. I hoped I hadn’t purchased her one in exchange for an entire school year. I could absolutely imagine Mrs. Grim flunking Sara out of first grade over this.

The next morning was one of our days to open the center, a duty we had been juggling with Jen, as our actual employees were usually responsible for closing. Lance sometimes did it alone, but Natasha liked to help, and the only way we could manage to give her the chance before school (without inciting a twin riot) was to travel as a family and let the kids change clothes after they carried around food.

Natasha took the duty seriously, and her favorite part was after we had finished with the rest of the primates and we could drive over to the other end of the property and give her a few minutes with Chuck. Ace saw to most of the orangutan’s needs, especially now that he’d practically moved in to help identify and quell the roving problem. But the big ape shared a special bond with Natasha. He offered her a safe outlet for her pent-up emotions. Days when she saw Chuck in the morning, Natasha had fewer anxieties.

But when we arrived at the center, we were greeted by a full-blown crisis. We knew something was up from the din being raised out back.

“Surely to
God
those macaques aren’t out again.” Lance hurried ahead while I coaxed the twins out of the van. They disliked the frosty ground, and though William refused to put his coat on, he stood shivering while we opened the barn’s big double doors. Inside, I paused to let my eyes adjust. Something looked wrong, but I couldn’t pinpoint what, and the deputies hadn’t flagged us down from their cruiser, as they tended to do if there was anything to report. I let William bring up the buzz of overhead lights while Lance jogged to the stubborn back door. He never remembers to handle it gently, and he curses it regularly. I was surprised to see it swing open at once. His “Oh shit,” followed by cacophonous chatter could only mean one thing.

“But how did Chuck get out?” I demanded before the host of rhesus macaques swarmed in, hunting for breakfast and fun. This was a huge invasion. There were too many monkeys. This wasn’t one enclosure’s worth. This was
all
of them.

“Monkeys!”
Sara and William shrieked in unison. They leapt around as the animals poured in the door. Neither child understood the “look but don’t touch” injunction all the animals carried, and they wanted to stroke, hold, and otherwise cuddle the inhabitants.

It didn’t seem to bother William that these were his least favorite variety. He didn’t melt down as he had the first day we brought him to the center. That day, he had been happy until he saw the rhesus macaques. Then, he dashed back inside and sat in the middle of the barn, rocking, muttering, “No cages, no cages, no cages” to himself. He clearly didn’t buy my distinction between a cage and an enclosure, and he still watched those particular enclosures with suspicion at feeding time or whenever else I approached them. Now, he hollered, “Free, free, get
freed
,” as the monkeys scattered through the door and up into the rafters, leaving a trail of little red footprints in their wake.

“Lance, what are we painting? Who left a can of open . . .”

“Shit,” Lance said again. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Noel, get the kids in the office and lock the door. Then stay put.”

“What’s with the . . .” I pointed to the smeared path.

“Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Do
not
ask. Get the kids in the office and
don’t leave.
” He practically shouted the last, which was completely out of character for him.

“This is going to be such a pain,” I grumbled. “We’re out of candy!”

“Forget the candy. Go!”

Natasha was as rattled as the twins were enchanted. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice unreasonably terrorstricken.

“It’s going to be fine, Tasha,” Lance said, physically herding us all along. Then he dashed out into the barn, and slammed both our front double doors and the back door the monkeys had so lately rushed.

Back in the office with us, he placed a call. “Drew,” he said. “Listen carefully, because I’m talking above my kids’ heads. Tasha, be cool.”

But Natasha was rooting through my desk for one of her inhalers. We had learned early on to keep them handy for the times when panic stole her breath. I found it, and she took two big puffs. She was pale and shaking, and she sat on the floor. The twins clambered over the desk chasing the sole monkey who had followed us into the office.

“Kids, quit it. That’s a wild animal, not a pet, it’s . . . Lord, Lance,
what
did we paint? It’s getting
everywhere.
” The monkey scrambled over piles of paper, scraped its claws against the window to the barn, climbed on William’s back, and skittered under the desk, leaving a trail of red behind it. Sara and Will shrieked and gave chase, scattering even more paper than their primate pal.

Natasha blocked them at the desk, separating them from the monkey with one leg. “Quit it. It’s not a pet. It’s going to bite you.”

“Who would leave a can of paint . . .”

“Noel, that’s not
paint
,” Natasha snapped. “We aren’t
painting
anything.”

“But . . . I . . .” I dropped beside her on the ground. “Are you sure? What else could it possibly be?”

“Didn’t you get a look through the door?”

“All I saw was monkeys.”
And my kids trying to catch them.

“Noel, Chuck . . . he . . .”

“Hang on, Drew,” said Lance. “Not Chuck, okay, Tasha. Not Chuck. I had a clear view. Absolutely. Not. Chuck.”

“You swear?”

“Yes. Please. Be tough.”

Frankly, I still feared hysterics, but she sat up straighter. “Yeah. Okay. Not Chuck.”

“You listening, Drew? These kids are too smart. They’ll pick up if I have to repeat myself. There is an . . . overtly deceased individual at the primate center . . . I can tell because the individual in question has been relieved of a scalp carrying appendage.”

“No.”
Not paint. Not paint.
The red footprints up William’s back caught my eye.
Not paint.
Belatedly, I smelled iron. Suddenly, I thought Natasha had been highly rational to panic. I looked to her for confirmation, and she sliced a finger across her throat.
There wasn’t anybody at the gate when we pulled in.
“The deputies . . .”

Lance nodded his understanding. “You need to check in with the deputies who were doing security here overnight. We didn’t see them when we pulled in. We’re good. We’re locked in the barn office with a monkey and the kids.”

Then the sanctuary exploded into life of all the wrong sort. I wound up being grateful for our blood-spattered little primates because the twins saw
none
of it. They spent an hour gazing at, luring, and ultimately catching the monkey in the office before Drew sent us back to police headquarters in a squad car.

I got in back, and as Will climbed in beside me, a brown face popped out of his shirt. “The monkey can’t come with us,” I said.

“Ma’am, we need to leave.”