The Anteater of Death

by Betty Webb

  This is what happens when amateurs try to act the part of femme fatale. Biting back a curse, I scuttled around the Nissan’s front bumper toward the passenger’s side. Fortunately, I was able to open the door, spring in, and locked up before he reached me.

  He pressed his face against the window, an unlovely sight. “Don’t go, Teddy! I have so much I want to say...”

  I crawled over the gear shift to the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. Rolling the window down a hair, I called out, “See you tomorrow!”

  I peeled rubber out of the lot.

  ***

  The next morning Lucy rushed into her roomy enclosure with a joyful bound. I leaned against the railing and watched her run back and forth to each of her faux logs, then start the circuit all over again. Seeing her caper like this was worth every minute of the ghastly evening I’d endured.

  “You go, girl!” I called, my heart lifting to see her happiness.

  She spun, reared up on her tail so high that I could see her protruding belly, and pointed her long nose at me.

  Grunt, grunt!

  Then she gave a hop and buck, and sped around the enclosure again, her tail waving behind her like a furry flag.

  ***

  The wages of sin came due when the zoo closed for the day and I rang the squirrel monkeys’ dinner bell, signaling it was time for them to return to their night quarters. As I led them toward their spacious, two-story-high cage, Barry emerged from the underbrush, making Marlon shriek in alarm. The zoo director looked as sleek as usual, give or take a bloodshot eye or two.

  “Please accept my apologies for my behavior last night,” he said nervously. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  A diamond necklace and several bourbons, that’s what came over you. For Lucy’s sake, I swallowed my irritation. Setting down the monkey’s water bucket, I said with as much tolerance as I could muster, “We all have our off nights.” I gestured toward the monkeys swarming around our feet. “By the way, never approach animals so quickly. When startled, they might bite.”

  He threw Marlon a contemptuous look. “They don’t scare me. After all, how much damage can a two-pound monkey do? Anyway, I wanted to say how much I enjoyed being with you.”

  “I had a nice time, too.” Pretending that I was merely brushing away a fly, I felt my nose to see if it was growing longer. Nope. Still the same short, bumpy thing.

  Hoping to get away from him, I ushered Marlon and the girls into the night quarters and followed close behind to turn on their heat lamps. Barry hurried along, too, but in his haste bumped hard against Lana, one of the younger females. When she gave a frightened scream, the monkeys scattered. All except Marlon, who froze beside an empty water bucket.

  The zoo director ignored the monkeys’ fright. “Let me prove my contrition by fixing you a great big sirloin at my place tonight.”

  Like previous zoo directors, he lived in a house in a secluded area at the rear of the zoo, a place where—as the movie line goes—no one could hear you scream. I wasn’t about to let him lure me there.

  “Tonight?” To give myself more time to think, I poured fresh water into the monkey’s bucket.

  I was still scrambling for an excuse when Marlon, furious at Barry’s rough treatment of Lana, darted forward and nipped him on the ankle. Barry responded by aiming a kick at the monkey, who deftly dodged it.

  “Don’t!” I warned.

  Too late. Several enraged squirrel monkeys leaped on the zoo director, nipping at his hands, his ears, his cheeks—everywhere their teeth could find exposed flesh. For a moment I just stood there shoked. Such orchestrated violence among squirrel monkeys against humans was rare, which is why we allowed them to roam freely with children in the exhibit. Monkey-against-monkey violence was more common, but although the females often ganged up on Marlon, they apparently didn’t want anyone else doing it.

  Barry flung a few of his attackers away, but for every one he got rid of, two more took its place.

  “Get them off me!” he yelled.

  Careful not to step on tiny monkey toes, I waded into the melee but had no more luck peeling them off him than he did. Defense was the only possible strategy. “Cover your face and hold still. And for God’s sake, stop yelling.”

  He didn’t listen.

  Yelling curses that would horrify a gangsta rap star, he swatted at the monkeys, which only enraged them further. Every now and then, his hand or elbow would find its target, but not often enough to make any difference. Worse, Marlon, now recovered from the affront to his dignity, joined the females and gnawed at Barry’s ankle with renewed gusto. As the monkeys swarmed over him, the air in the cage grew musky with the scent of urine—the monkeys, I hoped. A humiliated zoo director might be even more dangerous than a bitten zoo director.

  Fearing that he might hurt one of my little friends, I stepped away from the brawl, picked up the water bucket and upended it over everyone, drenching the director in the process. With a chorus of screeches, the monkeys—who loathed getting wet—fled into the corner of the cage. I took advantage of their retreat by pushing Barry out the cage door and locking it behind us.

  When I patted his arm, water squished through my fingers. Still, I tried for a smile. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? We keepers routinely suffer far worse injuries than monkey nips.”

  Now that it was too late to do him any good, Barry covered his scratched face with his hands. “I want you to put those little rats down. All of them!”

  “Euthanize the monkeys?”

  “Wring their nasty necks, give them lethal injections, shoot them, feed them to the crocs, I don’t care.”

  He was being hysterical, I decided, and didn’t mean it. Then again, maybe he did. While I knew Dr. Kate would rather be fired than carry out such a Draconian order, Barry did have the power to make life hell for everyone until the situation sorted itself out. Meanwhile, it was obvious that he was in pain. When he lowered his hands, I saw a long red mark across his cheek. It resembled a dueling scar, which in a way it was.

  “Euthanize them, I said! Or do I have to do it myself?”

  Hoping to calm him, I switched to the same soothing voice that usually worked with upset animals. “There, there. Everything will be all right.” As he began to settle down, I reverted to human-speak. “Look, these things happen when you work around animals. At least the monkeys have never attacked the kids, but I guess that’s because kids have the common sense to pay attention when we tell them...”

  Oops. I cleared my throat and blundered on. “From what I can see, the monkys didn’t do any real damage. We’ll slap on a few bandages, get you a tetanus booster, and you’ll be fine.”

  He blew his nose on a soiled handkerchief. “Are you nuts? They tried to kill me!”

  “When an animal is serious about killing you, it’s quick.” “I want those monkeys dead!”

  “But...”

  “As for you, Ms. Bentley, I’m holding you responsible for what happened.”

  Ms. Bentley? The return to formality wasn’t a good sign. But why be mad at me? I hadn’t bitten him.

  His next words answered my question. “And why the hell did you have to throw water on me? Don’t you know how much this sports coat cost? It’s a Cavalli! ”

  With that, he stalked off.

  The monkeys hurled curses at him as he disappeared.

  Chapter Eleven

  There are things you can fix and things you can’t. Fortunately, the memory of my mother’s necklace must have put Barry in a forgiving state of mind, because when I dropped by his office first thing the next morning to plead the monkeys’ case, he rescinded their death-by-crocodile sentence.

  “I was upset,” he admitted, speaking to the spot on my throat where Caro’s necklace once dangled. “And for what I said to you, I apologize.”

  For his words, not his actions? “No problem. You were having a bad time of it.”

  At that, he rose in his chair, rushed around the desk, and before I co
uld stop him, wrapped his arms around me. Apparently he was one of those men who thought physical contact solved everything. Without letting my disgust show, I stepped out of the embrace.

  “How long do I need to wait, Teddy?” he whined. “You know I’m crazy about you. Let me come over to your boat tonight and make it up to you. I’ll bring champagne...”

  I’d rather have a hungry python slithering around the Merilee than Barry, but he did look lonely. Maybe, just maybe, I could teach him to love animals the way the rest of us did. After all, there was a chance he wasn’t as bad as I thought. It never hurt to give someone another chance. “Tonight? I’ll have to check...”

  Sensing capitulation, he attempted to hug me again. This time I was ready and he bounced off my raised hands.

  “Gotta go!” With that, I hurried out of his office, climbed into my cart and took off.

  I was thinking so hard as I sped toward the anteater’s enclosure that I almost had a head-on collision with the vet. After we both braked, Dr. Kate leaned out of her cart and said, “Hey, do you know what happened to Barry? I saw him leaving the zoo last night and he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with an alley full of cats.”

  The circles below her eyes had deepened, which madhought phyonder if the combination of job stress, the demands of her three hyperactive children, and the declining health of her husband were overwhelming her. But I didn’t dare ask. She was a very private person, so I kept the conversation professional.

  “He had some problems in Monkey Mania but it wasn’t anything serious. The report’s in your mailbox.”

  Whenever there was an animal-versus-human incident on zoo grounds, the keeper had to file a report in quadruplet: one copy for the head park ranger, one for Zorah, one for the vet, and—ironically, in this case—one for the zoo director, who was supposed to file additional paperwork with the necessary agencies.

  Alarm leaped in Dr. Kate’s tired eyes. “Perhaps we should close the exhibit for a few days until things settle down. We can’t risk having a child injured.”

  “They gave him a nip or two, that’s all. He provoked the incident himself when he hurt one of the females, then kicked Marlon.” After the monkey bit him, but no need to mention that.

  At this, the vet looked like she wanted to bite him herself. “What was he doing up there in the first place? He hates animals.”

  “He needed to talk to me.”

  Her next question proved she didn’t miss much. “Then why didn’t he summon you to his office?” She motioned to the radio hanging from my belt.

  Since the truth was embarrassing, I merely shrugged.

  My nonanswer didn’t get by her. “Are you having a problem with Barry?”

  I tried to force a smile, but those muscles were already exhausted from their performance in the zoo director’s office. “What makes you ask?”

  “There’s been talk.”

  “About the director and me?”

  She shook her head.

  I said, “I can assure you that there’s nothing to worry about, at least where I’m concerned.” After all, I’d brought my problem on myself, hadn’t I?

  “Positive?”

  “Yes. Listen, about that independent vet study...”

  Before I could finish my sentence, she started her cart again. Without another word, she headed toward the lemur enclosure, steering carefully around the visitors now trickling into the zoo.

  As I watched her go, I wondered where she had been when Grayson was shot.

  The squirrel monkeys still appeared agitated when I arrived at Monkey Mania, but after I released them from their night quarters and fed them large helpings of fruit mixed with mealworms, they settled down. At one point Marlon crept over to give me a conciliatory stroke on my ankle.

  “Yeah, you’re tough,” I told him. “Personally, I sympathize with last night’s temper tantrum, but you need to steer clear of Barry for a while. He has more clout than you.”

  Poor Marlon had no clout at all. Granted, he was larger than the other squirrel monkeys, which theoretically made him the alpha male of the exhibit, but in reality he was Big Boss Man only when the females allowed it.

  Satisfied that life in Monkey Mania had returned to crazy-normal, I continued my rounds, eventually winding up at the anteater’s enclosure. When she spotted me bustling around her holding pen, she gave a happy buck and rushed over.

  “How’s my Lucy?”

  As if in response, her blue tongue snaked out, flapping against the chain link fence that separated us.

  “I’m fine, too. Ready for breakfast?”

  “Grunt.”

  “I brought some nice termites. And a couple of bananas.”

  “Squeak!”

  “No, they didn’t come all the way from Belize, but I’m sure they’re lovely bananas anyway. Teddy wouldn’t give her Lucy second-rate fruit.”

  “Grunt.”

  After stuffing a small portion of termites into the Wellington boot in her holding pen, I held up the safety board and opened the gate, expecting her to rush in. She didn’t. Instead, she backed away, emitting what sounded like a growl. Apparently she’d had enough of the holding pen and wanted nothing else to do with it.

  Somehow I had to transfer her to the pen. Regardless of her new loathing for it, I couldn’t let anteater droppings pile up in the large enclosure until they became a health hazard. The mess would not only impact Lucy, but her baby, too.

  “Lucy, I...”

  Before I could react, she reared back and slashed at me, knocking the safety board out of my hand and tumbling it against the gate, which exposed my torso to those four-inch talons. Instinctively, I snatched up the safety board and slammed the gate closed between us.

  “That was rude!”

  I didn’t take the attack personally. After all, she was a Code Red animal, and such behavior was to be expected given what she’d gone through the past week. For a moment I considered radioing another keeper and asking for help, but my pride kept me from it.

  As I watched from behind the safety of the sturdy gate, she moved to the edge of her enclosure slashing at everything in her path: flies, a stand of bougainvillea, a clod of dirt. She was in what zookeepers call “attack mode,” and there was nothing I could do until the mood wore off.

  Moments later, it did. Once she finished her circuit and returned to the holding pen gate, her eyes looked into mine, imploring. With a low groan, she leaned against the links.

  My heart ached for her. “Lucy doesn’t understand why she tried to hurt Teddy, does she?”

  Aother keeproan.

  Animal behaviorists say animals can’t feel guilt, but I’m not sure I believe that. Talking softly, I fished a banana out of my pocket, mashed it into my palm and pressed it to the gate. Lucy’s blue tongue flicked out and made short work of the mush.

  “Feel better now?”

  With another plaintive groan, she turned sideways and pressed against the fence. I reached out and scratched her coarse fur.

  “Still friends?”

  “Grunt.” And something that sounded oddly like a sob.

  “I’m sorry, too. And don’t worry. I still love my sweet girl.”

  To make certain she and her unborn baby were all right, I decided to remain with her for a while. I peeled the other banana and squashed half of it into my hand. While she lapped it up, I began to wonder what Grayson was doing alone by the anteater enclosure, since she was Code Red and he was afraid of even the meekest animal. Had he made an appointment to meet his killer there? The more I thought about it, the more I wondered about something else: why had Grayson appointed Barry Fields as the new zoo director? The ability to raise money was important, yes, but it wasn’t everything. Other candidates were much more qualified—Zorah, for instance—yet he chose that idiot over her.

  Grayson himself remained an enigma. Was he the nice man I’d always believed him to be, or the manipulative double-dealer Roarke had described?

  Still baffled, I discuss
ed my quandary with the anteater.

  “What do you think, Lucy? Was Grayson a good person? Or like most of us humans, was he a mixture of good and bad? Whatever he was really like, he never locked you up in this awful holding pen, did he?”

  At the words “holding pen,” I thought I saw another flash of anger in her eyes, but I may have imagined it.

  “If Jeanette ever gets her migraines under control, maybe she could come back and work here. Maybe even become director! She has the contacts, and it would certainly help keep her mind off her troubles. Don’t you agree?”

  Lucy lapped up more banana.