The Koala of Death (11 page)
“Hold tight. I’m workin’ on it.”
As I lay there muttering imprecations in the slime, Lex oh so slowly and oh so carefully pried Pretty Bird’s jaws apart. After that, he gently lifted Pretty Bird out of my arms and hurried off with her to a waiting vet.
I struggled to my feet just before Robin arrived. Was it my imagination or was she smirking?
“You better not have hurt that flamingo,” she said.
***
Thirty minutes later, after showering and putting on the clean uniform I always kept in my locker for situations such as this, I plodded over to First Aid and had my ear seen to. That took another ten minutes, so by the time I arrived at the giant anteater enclosure, I was almost forty-five minutes late and Lucy was furious. From behind her holding pen gate, she threatened me with four-inch claws.
“Hssssss!” she added for emphasis.
“Now don’t you start,” I said, stuffing a starter helping of termites into a faux log. “Just hold on…”
“Zoo One to Keeper Fifty-Two. Report to the office immediately.”
Zorah’s voice squawked so loudly over my radio that it sent Lucy scurrying for cover with Baby Boy Anteater clinging to her back. The two would have to wait for their second helping of termites.
After arriving at the Administration Building, I parked my cart and wove my way through the maze of desks to Zorah’s office. “Keeper Fifty-Two reporting for duty, Ma’am,” I announced, saluting.
She stopped shuffling papers. “Don’t get cute with me, Teddy. We have a lot to discuss.”
“And I have hungry mouths to feed.”
She looked at her watch. “You’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes. Lucy can hold on that long. Sit.”
I sat.
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You smell like cheap soap. And what’s that bandage doing on your ear?”
When I told her about my morning’s adventures, she smiled. “Man, I would have given anything to see that, but…” She waved a hand at the mounds of paper on her desk. “Those Chilean flamingos are wonderful animals, aren’t they?”
“Divine. What did you want to see me about?”
“Aster Edwina called this morning…”
Remembering the conversation at Caro’s party, my mood soured even further.
Oblivious, Zorah continued, “…and she wants you to take over Kate’s job permanently.”
I knew where this was going. “Temporarily, like I agreed yesterday. Permanent, no way. I like working with animals, not paper.”
She ignored me. “So in addition to some of the Down Under animals and the TV segment, in the future you’ll be the editor of
ZooNews
, keep our website up to date, and generate at least one press release a week. Don’t look at me like that, Teddy. Aster Edwina has approved a hefty pay increase, and besides that, you’ll make a fortune in overtime. You used to be a teacher, so I’m sure your writing is at least grammatical. You already have some computer skills, but I know there’ll be a learning curve, especially with the web site. Helen will help with that.”
“Helen Gifford? Your executive assistant? But isn’t she..?” I was about to say that Helen was pushing seventy, and couldn’t be any more Web-literate than I already was, but Zorah must have read my mind.
“Don’t be ageist. For the past ten years, Helen’s been teaching Web site design in the evenings at San Sebastian Community College. Several of her students have even won awards. And in case you didn’t know, she’s the very person who designed the zoo’s web site. Kate just kept it current.”
“Then Helen should take over Kate’s job.”
“A good executive assistant is too valuable to lose. Besides, part of Kate’s job was to take care of the koalas, and Helen can’t do that. She’s allergic.”
Not for the first time, I opened my mouth before I engaged my brain. “But Bill…”
“Bill’s in jail, and the way things are going, he may be there a while. Now, here’s how it’s going to work.” Zorah outlined a schedule that had other keepers taking over various Down Under animals, as well as some of my own. “So you’ll just be left with the koalas, the wombats, the numbats, and the wallabies.”
“But Lucy…”
“If you insist, you can keep the giant anteater and her baby. As I was saying, Aster Edwina has already approved overtime for up to fifteen hours a week. Isn’t that generous of her? You’ll have that old boat of yours in ship shape—ha!—in no time.” Zorah stood up, signaling that our meeting was finished. “On your way out, stop by Helen’s desk and have her show you where Kate kept her
ZooNews
file. Take it home, and this evening, log onto the zoo’s web site and blog to familiarize yourself with the material. Tomorrow, as soon as you finish feeding everyone, come back here and get started. Don’t look so glum, Teddy. It’ll be fun!”
With that, she came around the desk and ushered me out the door.
***
That evening, after studying the zoo’s Web site on my laptop and deciding that yes, with a little help I could keep it updated, I went through the
ZooNews
material that Kate kept in a manila folder. Helen had explained that Kate did most of her writing at home, but fortunately the file included a rough draft for the next issue. From what I could see, the newsletter needed a serious rewrite—the syntax was all over the place, and the accuracy was slipshod. The snow leopard we were getting was a male, not a female. The Egyptian geese were in the African Veldt enclosure with the giraffes and ostriches, not on the Serengeti Plains with the Grevey’s zebras. Our zebras, zoo-born, hand-raised, and spoiled rotten, weren’t big on sharing.
Kate was also a believer in the power of Post-it notes. Every other page in the file was plastered with them, in various colors that had seemingly nothing to do with their subjects. Some looked old, some new, some were zoo-related, some not. Sorting through the mess, I shuddered at the clumsy phone text spelling.
Koal, mayb Tues.
Koala, maybe Tuesday. Possibly a reference to the TV segment she had never lived to appear on.
Frilld liz & snk?
Frilled lizard and snake. Back-up animals in case the koala didn’t work out, or possibles for a later show.
Frshn sho wi dangr anmals
. Kate wanted to freshen up her segment with dangerous animals, instead of a parade of cute and cuddly. As if Zorah would allow such a thing.
Tel Z re prob wi Bill?
Uh oh. It looked like Kate was considering telling Zorah about some problem with Bill. What could that have been? A personal problem, or a problem with the koalas?
Emu egs, mt b gd.
Emu eggs might be good. On toast, or on
Good Morning, San Sebastian?
Mnks
? Minks, or more probably, monkeys.
Bengl cb pos
. Bengal cub a possibility on the TV segment? Over Robin’s dead body, I bet. But Kate was the one who had turned up dead.
C Robn Tues
. A meeting with Robin planned for the day after Kate died?
T Doris t at party?
Talk to Doris
Grimaldi
at the boat party? Tell Doris “t”, whatever that meant. The truth, maybe? But about what?
C Lex.
It sounded like she was going to console herself with the park ranger. Or something.
Cst 4 teak?
Cost for teak? I had almost forgotten that Kate owned a boat and that it was berthed right here in Gunn Landing Harbor. It had escaped my mind because she didn’t have a liveaboard permit and was seldom at the harbor, but the boat was the
Nomad
, a twenty-seven-foot Newport sloop with a hull painted in an incongruous, orange-and-blue psychedelic pattern. Come to think of it, how had Kate, on little more than a zookeeper’s salary, been able to afford it?
None of us made much at the zoo; we worked with animals mainly out of love. Altogether, the combination of slip fees on a purely-for-pleasure craft, plus the rent on Kate’s Castroville apartment would run a pretty penny. And upkeep, my God! These days the upkeep on a boat was enough to send a millionaire to the poorhouse. My father had given me the
Merilee
, otherwise I’d be sharing a tiny inland apartment with another keeper or living with my mother. Perhaps Kate had inherited
Nomad
, too. Maybe her parents were deceased, which was why no one had been able to find them.
I frowned. Once the medical examiner had declared Kate’s death a homicide, surely Joe and his deputies would have already searched her apartment, as well as the
Nomad,
for clues. He would also have looked for family records in order to contact next-of-kin. But at the party last night, Aster Edwina—who was always the first to know anything—had stated that Kate’s next-of-kin remained a mystery.
Shrugging, I turned to another page.
Orgs, banas & prs, vdka
. Shopping list.
Pikup unfrm clnrs.
Due to our messy jobs, we keepers almost lived at the laundromat but due to Kate’s lighter schedule with animals, she was able to afford to send hers out.
When I arrived at the last page, the Post-it note there made me gasp.
Tdy’s mom noz.
My mother knows what?
First thing the next morning I called Caro and asked, “Did you know Kate Nido?”
“Who?” She sounded groggy. No surprise there, since it was only six.
“Koala Kate. The zookeeper who was murdered.”
A whine. At first I thought it was my mother, distressed at being awakened so early. Then I realized it was Mr. Trifle, grumpy for the same reason.
“Of course I didn’t know her, dear. Why in the world are you calling me at this hour with such a foolish question?”
“Because you popped up on one of her Post-it notes. Here, let me read it. ‘Teddy’s Mom knows.’ What information do you have that Kate might’ve been interested in?”
“I’m half-asleep and you expect me to answer something like that? It could be anything. A recipe for pâté, the whereabouts of a spa, the name of a good cosmetic surgeon, a…”
“Kate was a zookeeper, Mother, not a beauty queen.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s
Caro.
And as for that unfortunate Kate person, don’t be so certain she wasn’t interested in cosmetic surgery. From the picture they ran of her yesterday in the
San Sebastian Gazette
I could see that her nose needed work. Her chin, too. She appeared on that TV segment on
Good Morning, San Sebastian
, so perhaps they were pushing her to get some work done. TV people are shallow that way.”
I forced myself not to laugh.
“Keep thinking, Moth…Caro. Maybe you’ll come up with something else.”
“I’m going back to sleep now. Bye, Theodora.”
She hung up.
Frustrated, I paced back and forth in the
Merilee
. Three-legged Bonz hobbled close behind while Miss Priss watched us haughtily from her one good eye. Was Caro keeping a secret, one that might wind up hurting her? If so, I had to nip it in the bud.
A plan occurred to me. I wasn’t due at the zoo until eight—the drive took only fifteen minutes—and I’d already showered and dressed for work. The weekends were always busy at the harbor, but the fog would keep most folks away until it lifted. The Sunday sailors wouldn’t show until then, and most of the liveaboarders still remained snug in their cabins. But would putting my plan into execution be the right thing to do?
Of course it wasn’t.
Not only was it ethically wrong, it was illegal. If caught, I’d find myself sitting in the San Sebastian County Jail, explaining my actions to an enraged sheriff. But if Bill hadn’t killed Kate, who had? He, or possibly she, was still on the loose, and no matter what the consequences to me, my mother’s safety had to come first. Caro might be a pain in the neck, but she was
my
pain in the neck, and anyone who wanted to hurt her would have to get through me!
There are times when having a crook for a father comes in handy, and this was one of those times. After scooping up a flashlight and a handful of hairpins, I pulled a slate-gray sweatshirt over my zoo uniform, slipped out of the
Merilee,
and quietly made my way down the dock to the garish
Nomad
. Best to conduct my search now, under cover of the fog, before Joe had the boat removed to the county evidence yard.
Kate’s boat was only seven slips down from mine. Sails sheathed, it bobbed gently on the morning tide. I peered through the fog. Nothing stirred, except for the shadowy figure of a harbor seal swimming alongside the dock and a lone pelican perched on
Nomad
’s bow. When I stepped on board, it flapped away.
The
Nomad
was ringed with yellow police tape, but I ducked under it. My only difficulty was in picking the lock on the hatch cover, not as easy as it looks in the movies. Thankfully, Kate had settled for a flimsy lock, unlike the
Merilee
’s heavy Schlage. Once I’d managed to release its grip, I slid the hatch aside and peeked inside.
Due to the morning fog, the cabin was dark, so after clambering down the ladder, I clicked on my flashlight. Keeping the beam low, I began my search. As I’d expected from what I’d seen of Kate’s neat habits at the zoo,
Nomad
’s cabin was immaculate. Although stuffy from being closed up, the salon and galley were spotless. Teak walls and cupboards gleamed, and I could smell the faint scent of lemon wax above the damp. I wasn’t too surprised to see that
Nomad
’s interior matched its exterior. It looked like an aging hippie’s retreat. Faded tie-dye patterns were everywhere; on the curtains, the seating, over the narrow bunk in the stern. Multicolored love beads dangled from draw-pulls. Peace symbols decorated several cracked coffee mugs.
It was like stepping inside a time capsule.
As I continued taking inventory, I spied a boom box sitting on top of a cabinet between the galley and the head. Stacked on top were reissue CDs of music from Jefferson Airplane, Blind Faith, and Uriah Heep. Taped to the cabinet door was an elderly poster of Quicksilver Messenger Service that announced in psychedelic script,
LIVE AT THE FILLMORE!
