Did Not Survive

by Ann Littlewood

  Damrey stood with her back to us, a hind foot stuck out behind her, and rocked rhythmically. Sam said that both had been circus performers and arrived years ago. “I was working hoofstock when we finished building this elephant exhibit, and Damrey was added to my string. She was pretty thin and had bad digestion when we got her. You could see all her vertebrae. I had to try a lot of different diets to get her settled in. I called five or six zoos for advice. I’d guess the circus sold her because she was such a mess. She was about twenty then, and we think she was originally from Thailand. Nakri came several years later, probably born in Cambodia. She was just a kid, only about six, and this little circus sold her in a bankruptcy before she was confiscated. She was chained most of the time and had a sore on her leg. She healed right up, and Damrey loved having her.” Sam’s pride in his care of these two animals leaked through his matter-of-fact account. “Damrey’s always been dominant, and Nakri’s never challenged her. But Nakri takes the lead now more than she used to. Damrey seems happy to follow. She’s getting on in years.” He added, almost as a plea, “She’s always been reliable.”

  Directed by the researcher’s quiet questions, Sam described the daily routine, foot care, training, bathing, cleaning, and so on. Dr. Rasmussen said she was glad to see the soft floor covering in the stalls and the deep sand in the yard. “That’s why Damrey walks sound even at her age. We see so many in captivity with arthritis from the hard surfaces. What about exercise?”

  Sam glanced at Mr. Crandall. “We need the new exhibit for that. I walked them on the grounds up until a few years ago, even did elephant rides for awhile with Damrey, but the insurance company clamped down on that. Can’t even walk them before visitors come in.”

  Mr. Crandall nodded in confirmation. This was before my time. The idea of two elephants wandering the grounds was startling. I sensed old friction over ceasing the exercise program and wondered where Wallace had figured in that. My bet was he had sided with Sam.

  Dr. Rasmussen turned to Ian, who seemed surprised to be asked, and requested that he review the daily and weekly schedule again. Ian looked cornered and kept his answers even more terse than usual. Berchtold, the committee’s elephant keeper, asked why they didn’t use the door between the back stall and the outside yard. Ian froze up, and Sam explained that the building had settled and it didn’t work. “The maintenance staff said it was a huge job. They’ll need to tear out and re-pour that whole wall.”

  Mr. Crandall looked uncomfortable, but all he said was, “That’s a problem we plan to address.”

  I was ready to bet my next paycheck that the zoo would be dinged for the non-functional door in the NAZ report and wondered why the director wasn’t more specific about the new exhibit. He might have given a date when he thought it would be done.

  Next up were Dr. Reynolds and Kayla, who walked through the research protocol. “Kayla, did Damrey ever swing her trunk at you or act threatening?” Dr. Rasmussen asked.

  Kayla was backed up against Dr. Reynolds and Hap. The brash vitality was nowhere to be seen. “Well, I don’t know…I mean, I’m not any kind of elephant expert…She—Damrey—didn’t seem to like me. She sort of did what I asked, but mostly because Ian or Sam was nearby. I didn’t feel comfortable around her…” Her voice trailed off.

  “And did she ever act aggressive toward you?”

  “Um…it’s hard for me to say.”

  I’d never seen cheerful Kayla look so uncomfortable.

  Damrey made herself conspicuous by vibrating her forehead against the closed door to the outside yard. It was hard to hear over the din. We waited while Sam shut both cows outside.

  “Did Damrey grab at you or try to hit you?” Dr. Rasmussen asked Kayla

  “Once, when Sam and Ian weren’t right there next to me. I jumped back.”

  Sam and Ian both came to attention. Sam looked dubious, and Ian seemed surprised. Sam said, “You should have said something.”

  “I…I didn’t know if it was normal or what. I didn’t want you to think…” Kayla looked miserable.

  I looked around and saw a sea of poker faces. This did not sound good for Damrey.

  I knew what Kayla didn’t want others to think. She didn’t want them to think she was afraid of elephants. The same concern I had.

  I was next and described my two mornings of sample collection. I said that Damrey was initially uncooperative the first day, but was fine after a few minutes and had behaved well today. And, no, she hadn’t swiped at me. I didn’t add that I’d been careful not to give her an opportunity.

  “Sam,” Dr. Rasmussen said, “Could you tell us about Kevin Wallace’s normal interactions, if any, with these animals? Did he go in with them?”

  “He came three-four times a week to help me out. We’re shorthanded, what with the elephants and giraffes and so on. The girls did anything he asked. He helped me trim feet, and he kept Nakri quiet when the vet lanced that abscess on her hip two weeks ago, just by talking to her. Wallace was an elephant man before he came here to be foreman, and he never forgot it.”

  “Did he observe all safety protocols, such as not going in with them when you or Ian weren’t standing by?”

  Sam said, “Yes, he did.” Ian was stiff and silent.

  The gloomy detective surprised us by saying, “A word?” He and Dr. Rasmussen stepped out of hearing and conferred. Dr. Rasmussen motioned Berchtold, the elephant keeper, to join them.

  They returned to the group, and Dr. Rasmussen resumed questioning Sam. Berchtold tapped Ian on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the work room. They were behind Sam, and he didn’t notice when they left.

  I didn’t get it until I saw Hap nod thoughtfully at the detective, lips pursed. He looked impressed.

  The detective had picked up on the tension between the two Finley Zoo elephant keepers and recommended separating them for questioning.

  Ian would still be on the spot. If he described what he thought was Wallace’s recklessness, Sam would figure it out when he read the report. Ian would hesitate, but the odds of him coming clean in private with Berchtold were vastly better than the odds of honesty in front of Sam and the rest of us.

  Dr. Rasmussen was done with background. I was up again and described my morning from hell. Hap, Sam, and the two police officers confirmed my story and added details from their perspective. I didn’t learn anything new. Ian and Berchtold returned after a long session. Sam frowned at them.

  Dr. Rasmussen looked at the vet in the tropical shirt and some signal passed between them. He picked up the questioning, turning to the police group. “Detective Quintana, you said you would provide information about Mr. Wallace’s injury. May we see the medical chart and x-rays?”

  “The medical examiner briefed me, and I’ll share that with you.”

  Dr. Morgan looked annoyed. “Very well then. Share away.”

  Quintana said, “Cause of death was brain trauma. He was hit on the head with the twin to that elephant hook on the wall over there. The old wood one, not those lightweight aluminum ones. Hit twice. The hook penetrated the skull and caused massive bleeding. He lost consciousness quickly and never regained it. Minor contusions on his upper arms, ribs, and back were not medically significant.”

  “What?” Dr. Morgan said. “You knew this from the beginning, and we’re learning it now?”

  Quintana was not a man who flinched. “Medical information is privileged, and the family did not want it shared. We had to respect that, but now it’s a death situation. I’m informing you because it’s necessary to close out the incident.”

  The NAZ committee, Sam, and Ian all seemed disconcerted, and I was flat-out astonished. No internal bleeding? No smashed ribs? All that mauling was “not medically significant”?

  The big detective continued unflustered. “The question is, which elephant took the hook away from him and hit him. It looks like the older one, but I’d like to be sure.”

  Sam spoke first, to Mr. Cranda
ll. “I didn’t know he was hit with an ankus. If Damrey wanted him dead, she would have smeared the floor with him. Why would she fool around with an ankus?”

  Dr. Rasmussen said, “Detective, elephants kill people all the time and not by hitting them with little sticks. They use their bodies—step on the head, kick them, or kneel down and crush the victim with their trunk doubled under. Or they smack down with their trunks. All are effective. This news completely changes what we thought happened.”

  The detective’s long face seemed to droop even more. “You’re the experts, but you’ll need to convince me that this isn’t just what it looks like. He goes in with that poker thing and jabs her. She doesn’t like it, she takes it away from him and whacks him a couple of times on top of his head. I looked into it. Elephants have the manual dexterity with those trunks. Maybe it’s a fit of temper, and she stops there. She seems plenty temperamental. We asked around pretty thoroughly and didn’t find any reason for someone to kill him. Let’s not make this more complicated than it is, no matter how much you like elephants.”

  Berchtold turned to me. “Describe what she was doing to his body.”

  Startled, I described again the fumbling trunk and the big feet shoving him around on the straw and rocking him back and forth.

  He turned to Sam. “Did she ever have a calf or was she around a birth?”

  Sam shrugged. “She might have seen a birth, before she was captured. Maybe watched her mother’s next birth.”

  Berchtold said, “I think she was trying to get him up. Cows use their trunks to help their newborn calves stand up. And they nudge them with their feet. Without seeing it, I can’t be sure, but it sounds like she was trying to help him. She sure wasn’t trying to finish the job.”

  “But she had her foot on him,” I said. “She was shoving him around.”

  Berchtold shook his head. “Elephants have almost total control over their bodies. They hardly ever put a foot wrong or misjudge how much pressure to apply.” He looked at Ian and back to me. “You’re, what, a bird keeper, right? No elephant experience? It must have looked pretty bad. But she didn’t actually hurt him.”

  “Yeah, it looked bad.” I was supposed to feel forgiven for getting it wrong, but I was still too stunned.

  Mr. Crandall caught Sam’s eye and they spoke softly. The NAZ committee conferred among themselves. The detective looked mournful and patient. The two officers behind him muttered to one another.

  Another thought came to me, something that had bothered me two mornings running. I hesitated. The pause as each team accommodated the new information and regrouped was long enough for me to find my courage. I was already cast as the village idiot. I didn’t have much to lose. “Sam, how well does Damrey see?”

  Instead of Sam, the committee turned to Dr. Reynolds. “Her vision is not good. I’m keeping an eye on it.” She added a lot of optical technicalities that I did not follow.

  Dr. Morgan said, “We should have started with the health exam. Let’s take a look at her eyes.”

  That was complicated. Dr. Reynolds sent Kayla off for equipment. Sam herded us all out into the visitor area and told us to stand well back. He and Ian and Dr. Morgan remained inside with Dr. Reynolds. I stood by myself, trying to wrap my mind around a whole new interpretation of what I’d seen that traumatic morning. I felt lightheaded and vague. Goji berries exhumed from my pocket helped. Mr. Crandall talked quietly with the police. Kayla came back panting, handed Dr. Reynolds a traditional black bag, and joined us in the visitor area.

  Sam opened the door to let the cows into the front stall. Damrey walked from one end to the other, trunk waving around. Sam began sweet-talking and handing her apple chunks through the bars. She calmed down and started paying attention, nudging Nakri aside to claim the treats. Ian took Nakri to the other end of the stall for her own quality time.

  Damrey was not keen on the vets messing with her, but Sam talked her into it by tugging on her ear, more fruit, and a little help from the ankus. Sam and the vets worked from the people side of the bars, but they were well within trunk range, and Damrey could have eliminated all of them if she’d wanted to. Instead, she stood reasonably still while the docs shone lights into her eyes at great length, and I realized how much intestinal fortitude it sometimes took to be a zoo vet. Not to mention an elephant keeper. When they stood back, Sam slapped Damrey gently on the trunk and let her retreat to the outside yard again.

  We reconvened inside. Dr. Reynolds said, “To simplify, the retinal deterioration has progressed rapidly since I examined her a month ago. Damrey is now essentially blind. There is no treatment, but obviously she can function well enough in a familiar setting using touch, smell, and hearing.”

  Sam turned in triumph to the detective. “She couldn’t have scored two direct hits on the top of his head. She couldn’t see him.”

  That explained her groping for her raisins instead of zeroing in as Nakri had. Perhaps it also accounted for her “fussiness.” She wanted consistency so she knew what to expect and how to behave. Her control as she fumbled around at Wallace’s unconscious body was even more amazing.

  The detective said, “What about the other one? Can she see or are they both blind?”

  That didn’t seem relevant to me, but the committee wanted an answer also. We surplus participants retreated to the work room while Nakri was examined. Her vision passed muster.

  Quintana put me on the witness stand again. With both cows shut out, Sam and Ian did a quick bit of housekeeping in the front stall, then Ian played dead, lying on the floor where I’d seen Wallace. Sam set the door the way it was that morning, the committee stood in Nakri’s stall, and I described how she’d gone to her knees trying to reach him. The detective refused to rule out the possibility entirely, but none of the zoo staff or committee could take either elephant seriously as the aggressor.

  Detective Quintana’s sagging face grew even longer. Disappointment resonated in his deep voice. “Okay, folks. What you’re telling me is that neither of these elephants killed Kevin Wallace. Some party or parties unknown, presumably human and not an orangutan, came into this elephant barn and attacked him inside the stall. The attacker hit him twice with the ankus thing. One blow brought him to his knees and the other, even stronger, finished him off. Or it could be that he was jumped outside the bars and hauled or shoved in there.” He shook his head. “One way or another, I now have a homicide scene that’s had two elephants loose in it for five days. Folks, this isn’t going to be easy.”

  Chapter Seven

  The committee was done with me. I was shooed back to my job while they conferred and debated and speculated with the police. Calvin had somehow missed hearing about Wallace’s death. I broke the news.

  “Wallace dead. Well.” He spread his short, thick fingers on the table, as though bracing himself. “I worked with him a long time. Can’t say I liked him, but still…” He and Wallace had a long and troubled history, but his dismay seemed genuine, and I was struck anew by his decency. He was as amazed as I was that Damrey was exonerated. “Guess I should of trusted Sam. I thought he was letting his heart run away with his head. Teach me to jump to judgment.”

  It had seemed disrespectful to eat while I told him the bad news. Done, I wolfed down the sandwich I’d brought from home.

  He said, “This is a bad situation, not knowing who killed him. It’s a shame you’re pregnant. You might be a good person to sort this out. You got a sharp eye.”

  “Calvin, I’m the one who got it wrong in the first place. But I’m with you—I’d like to know who left him to die and set up Damrey to take the blame.”

  “Yeah, that was a raw deal. In the old days, she probably would of been shot by now. This whole thing put Sam through the wringer. Now we all get to go through it.” He stood up. “When you’re done, let’s see if we can patch that aviary fence. I found a big hole this morning.”

  I put my trash in the garbage can and pulled open the drawer
with leather gloves and pliers. “Calvin? Being pregnant is not like nine months of polio or a broken leg. Really.”

  He snorted a chuckle. “Wait till you try to bend over and tie your shoe laces in another month. We’ll see what you say then.”

  At the aviary, Calvin squatted, knees cracking, and held out duck food to the nenes—Hawaiian geese—and the little Hottentot teals. The pair of nenes came right up and argued with each other as they gobbled from his hand. They would never eat from my hand, but I chose to believe that they were put off by my face mask and gloves, even after five months, rather than that they simply preferred Calvin. The nenes and I related much as Sam and Ian did, and the little teals were cool to me. My feelings were hurt, but I knew they would like me better on Calvin’s day off when I was the only option for special treats.

  We’d been struggling with the fencing for half an hour, Calvin muttering about Birds always getting the short end of the budget, when Dr. Reynolds dropped by. She watched for a moment, then said, “Iris, could you drop by my office before you leave for the day? I’d like to discuss the elephant research for a few minutes.”

  What was so special about the research that she couldn’t tell me in front of Calvin? He and I exchanged a glance. Something to do with Wallace.

  “Sure thing,” I said.

  Calvin and I did our best on the aging mesh, then made the afternoon rounds of feeding, watering, and tidying. I filled out the end-of-day reports while Calvin scrubbed the sinks. He would probably clean the Penguinarium with a toothbrush if that meant he didn’t have to do the reports. Wallace had promised us computers, no more pencil and paper, but we hadn’t seen them yet.

  “Gol-darn it,” he said. “Forgot my medicine this morning. Too much going on.” He rummaged in the people-food refrigerator and found a little glass jar. Thick fingers pulled out little tan lumps.

  “Looks like deer droppings.”

  He was unfazed. “Golden raisins soaked in gin. Supposed to be magic for arthritis. Maybe help my knees.”