Tiger Town (11 page)

“Oh, dear. Could he at least see it?” she asked.

“My brother is just putting it away and —”

“There it is!” Malcolm screamed as he pointed down the lane. Nick and Peanuts were just getting ready to head into the barn but were visible in the distance. Before I could think to say another word, Malcolm charged down the lane.

“Hey, come back here!” I yelled out.

Not only did he not listen, but four of the other children charged after him. The boy Malcolm had been punching stayed behind. He was probably grateful for the chance to have Malcolm focusing someplace else.

“You have to stop them!” I said to the woman.

She laughed. “I try not to put boundaries around his creativity,” she said. “He’s gifted, you know.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“We’ll just stay for a few minutes,” she said. “His attention span tends to be fairly limited. He gets bored easily. But here, this is for you.” She reached over and pushed a twenty dollar bill into my hand.

“What’s this for?”

“Think of it as an admission charge to your zoo.”

“It isn’t a zoo, it isn’t mine and we don’t charge money.”

“Regardless.”

“I don’t want it. What I want is for them not to bother the animals. I’ve got to stop them!” I ran down the lane after them.

Nick and Peanuts were already in the barn and out of sight. The five children were racing ahead, closing in on the barn. I ran as fast as I could, but they disappeared inside before I could catch them. I just prayed Peanuts didn’t step on one of them, but if he did, I hoped it was Malcolm. He’d become a gifted pancake.

“All right, everybody, get out of the barn right now!” I yelled as I ran in the door.

“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Nick asked from his perch atop the elephant.

“These kids shouldn’t be in here.”

“I want to stay here! It’s my birthday, and I’m going to stay here —”

“Shut up!” I shouted, and Malcolm closed his mouth. “Tell you what, because I’m such a nice person, I’ll let you stay here for a couple of minutes. Then you have to go.”

“I want to stay longer than a couple of minutes!” Malcolm protested.

“Either a few minutes or not at all. Make a life choice,” I said to Malcolm. I walked up and stood right over top of him. I was pretty sure he wasn’t used to being threatened — or made to do things he didn’t want to do.

“Watch this,” Nick said.

We all turned to face him in time to see Peanuts bow gracefully — at least gracefully for an elephant. Whispering in his ear, Nick got Peanuts to stand, lifting one front foot and the opposite back foot off the ground. Quickly lowering those feet, the elephant raised his other two. It was pretty impressive. Peanuts then responded as Nick had him back up, turn and elevate his trunk. I had to hand it to Nick — he really was doing incredibly well.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think, Malcolm?” I asked. There was no response. I glanced over. He wasn’t there. Frantically I looked around. He was gone. The other four kids were standing right there. Then, suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream shot from the stairs, coming from the stable. It had to be Malcolm. He was down there with the big cats!

Leaping across the barn, I barrelled down the stairs two at a time. I was terrified of what I might find if I didn’t get there immediately. Malcolm was lying on the straw in the aisle between the two rows of cages. He was crying. That was good — you had to be alive to cry. Maybe the animals had frightened him. I ran to his side and pulled him to his feet.

“You shouldn’t have come down here —” I stopped mid-sentence. The whole front of his shirt was in ribbons. “What happened?”

“That … that cat … it attacked me,” he whimpered, pointing at one of the jaguars standing pressed against the bars.

“Attacked you? It’s in its cage.”

“It reached out … like this,” he said, moving as if he were going to slap somebody.

Oh, my! I could see the torn shirt. Had it gotten him, as well? Slowly, reluctantly, I moved aside the ripped material and looked. There was nothing but a chubby little belly. No scratches, no marks. Thank goodness.

“You shouldn’t have come down here. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt!” I scolded him.

“My shirt is hurt,” he whined.

“Come on,” I said, hauling him up the stairs by the hand. It was like pulling an anchor — a chubby, gifted anchor.

“Malcolm! Are you all right, my darling?” It was his mother. She and the other boy had reached the barn.

“He’s fine. He was just —”

Suddenly Malcolm burst into tears and began wailing.

“My baby!” she shrieked, pulling him up into her arms. “What did that horrible girl do to you?”

Horrible girl? Me?

“Hey, don’t you call my sister names!” my brother yelled. He jumped off Peanuts’ back. “She didn’t do anything to your stupid little brat. Even if she did, he probably deserved it!”

“She had no right to harm my —”

“I didn’t touch him!” I protested.

“Malcolm?” she asked.

“It wasn’t her … it was a cat … It ripped my shirt.”

“A cat?” She put him down and examined the rip he showed her. “A cat did that?”

“A big cat. A tiger.”

“A tiger!” she shrieked. I could see where he got his attitude. “A tiger attacked my baby!”

“It wasn’t a tiger,” I said.

“My Malcolm wouldn’t lie! If he said it was a tiger, then it was a tiger!”

“It wasn’t a tiger. It was a jaguar.”

“A jaguar? You have a jaguar here?”

“Two jaguars, two leopards, two tigers, four lions and a bear,” Nick said. “And if your kid’s too stupid to know the difference, he’s not very bright.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. I didn’t know what shocked her more, a jaguar ripping the front of her son’s shirt or someone saying he wasn’t bright.

“We’re leaving! Right now!” she said, grabbing Malcolm by the hand and starting for the door, the other five children trailing behind her. “You haven’t heard the last of this!”

“We haven’t heard the last of it, because you keep talking!” Nick yelled back.

“Nick, that wasn’t very nice,” I said.

“Maybe not, but it was true. Wasn’t she ever going to shut up?”

I didn’t disagree, but still. “I better talk to her. Maybe I should offer to pay for the shirt.”

“Maybe she should offer to pay for seeing the animals.”

I studied the twenty dollar bill still in my hand. I could apologize and give back the money.

“You stay here,” I said to Nick. The last thing I needed was for my brother to come along and say anything else. I couldn’t control Nick’s mouth, but maybe I could keep it away from her.

“Suits me fine. If I never see that lady or her bratty little kid again, I’ll be happy.”

I rushed out the door and came to a dead stop. The woman and her kids were standing in front of the minivan. Right beside them was a man — that photographer from the newspaper! Where had this guy come from, and how come he always managed to arrive at the worst possible moment?

The woman was flapping her arms and yelling, and Malcolm was crying and carrying on as if he’d been mortally wounded. Between their shrieks I could make out some of her words. I didn’t like what I heard: “could have been killed,” “dangerous animals,” “my poor baby.”

Maybe I should try to explain. Maybe I should just retreat back into the barn and hope nobody noticed me.

“There’s the person in charge!” she bellowed.

I looked up, hoping Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir had just driven up. She was pointing at me! Now I really wanted to run back inside the barn and hide. But I couldn’t do that. For one thing, my legs were shaking so badly I didn’t know if I could move, and second, there was no way I wanted the photographer following me into the barn with his camera. Maybe I could straighten things out at least a little bit. The woman and the kids got into the minivan, and the reporter moved toward me.

“Good afternoon,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m James Jamison with the Bolton News.”

Reluctantly I shook hands. “I’m Sarah —”

“Fraser,” he said. “I know all about you and your brother and, of course, Mr. McCurdy.”

I didn’t like him knowing anything about me. Even more, I didn’t want him to know anything about what was going on here right now.

“Would you like to comment on the statements made by —” he stared at the notepad he was holding “— Mrs. Amanda Sommers.”

“I don’t want to comment on anything,” I said.

He began writing in his notepad.

“What are you writing?” I demanded. “I didn’t say anything!”

“That’s what I’m writing — that you did not wish to comment on her allegation that her son Melvin was almost killed.”

“It’s Malcolm. He wasn’t almost killed! He didn’t have a scratch on him!” I protested.

“But he does have a shredded shirt.”

“That’s his shirt. Nobody dies because their shirt got a little ripped.”

“She claims his shirt was ripped — narrowly missing his stomach — by a tiger.”

“It wasn’t a tiger. It was a —” I stopped myself.

“If it wasn’t a tiger, then what sort of animal attacked him?”

“No animal attacked him. It just ripped his shirt.”

“Are you denying there are two tigers, two leopards, two jaguars and seven lions in that barn?” he asked.

“There are only four lions!” I snapped. “And two of them are cubs!”

“So … you are saying that all the other animals are in there … correct?” Again he began making notes on his pad.

“What are you writing now?” I demanded.

“That you confirmed all the other animals are there.”

Darn! I was trying not to tell him anything, but instead I was telling him more.

“She also said the pens holding these animals are all substandard.”

“She never saw the animals or their pens! She hardly even got into the barn!”

“Then perhaps you could show them to me.”

“No!” I practically yelled.

“Are you denying me — a member of the press — access to continue my investigation?”

“No … I mean, yes. Yes, I’m telling you that you can’t go in there.”

He began to write again. I didn’t want to know what he was writing this time.

“You should go now,” I said.

“Are you asking me to leave?” he asked, sounding offended.

“It would be better if you left before Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir arrived.”

“Vladimir? Who’s Vladimir?”

I just kept putting my foot farther and farther into my mouth. I wasn’t going to say another word. “You better go!”

“And if I don’t go, will Mr. McCurdy and this Vladimir become difficult or dangerous?”

“They’re not dangerous!” I protested. “Although Vladimir is bigger than that little car you drove up in. Now get going before I call the police and have them charge you with trespassing!”

He gave a weak little smile. “Fine, I was leaving, anyway. I’ve already got my story. You gave me all the information I need.”

As he climbed into his car, I couldn’t help believing that what he’d said was true. I should have just kept my mouth shut. This could lead to problems. I had two choices: tell Mr. McCurdy right away, or wait until tomorrow’s paper came out and I knew how bad it was going to be. Then again, I guess I really only had one choice.

•

Nick and I finished feeding and watering all the animals. Then I cleaned the kitchen and put some muffins in the oven. Somehow bad news always seemed easier when it was accompanied by food.

I heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway. It had to be them. At least I hoped it was, because I didn’t want any more unexpected visitors today. I grabbed the plate of oatmeal muffins I’d baked — they were Mr. McCurdy’s favourite — and started for the door. Maybe carrying the muffins outside to meet him was a little obvious. I put them down on the edge of the counter and rushed for the door.

Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir had already gotten out of the big rig and were walking toward the house. Neither looked particularly happy. I’d hoped to catch them in a good mood. Then again, maybe I was just being overly sensitive and was misreading their emotions. Why wouldn’t they be in a good mood?

“Hi. How did things go?” I called out.

“Not good,” Mr. McCurdy said.

Great, I wasn’t wrong. I took a deep breath. In one long burst I explained everything about the woman and the kids, darling Malcolm, the ripped shirt and the reporter/photographer guy. Then I waited. Mr. McCurdy didn’t speak right away, and my stomach began to form an even bigger knot. I’d been in charge and I’d let him down. Finally he spoke.

“This boy … it was only his shirt that got ripped, right?”

“Just the shirt. He didn’t get a scratch on him!”

“Good. But, you know, it would have served him right if he did get himself hurt. There were always kids like that hanging around at the circus. Thinking they’re smarter than they are, and parents who are too stupid to act like parents and watch over them.” I felt the knot in my stomach get a little bit smaller. “And that photographer guy, he left, right?”

“Right after I told him to go. He wanted to go into the barn, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Good girl! I would’ve done the same thing! I always know I can leave you in charge and things will be taken care of!” The last of the knot untied itself. “He’s pretty darn lucky he listened to you and got the heck out of here before I got back.”

“I told him that!” I agreed. “That, and that I was going to call the police and have him arrested.”

“You called the police?” Vladimir asked, suddenly sounding alarmed. “Police are coming here?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I only threatened to call the police, but I didn’t. There’s not even a phone, remember?”

He looked relieved.

“I guess that’s one of the advantages of having your mama seeing the chief of police,” Mr. McCurdy said.

I didn’t want to talk about that, especially if Vladimir was feeling jealous. “Can I give you a hand taking the chickens to the freezer?” I asked, trying to change the direction this conversation had taken.

“I do not need help,” Vladimir said.

“It’s no problem. I can help you carry some of them,” I said.

“Not much to carry,” Vladimir said.

“You mean you didn’t get many chickens?” I asked.

“Same as always,” Mr. McCurdy said, “and that’s the problem.”

“How is that a problem?” I asked.

“’Cause now I have eight big cats instead of one, so the birds he gave me will only last for one week instead of for a couple of months.”

“Can you get more from him next week?” I asked.

Mr. McCurdy shook his head.

“Then what happens next week?”

“That’s one of those things I’m a bit worried about.”