Monkey See, Monkey Die

by Cynthia Baxter

  “The height of luxury,” he said proudly.

  “The height of decadence,” I shot back. “Marcus, there are children in this country who go to bed hungry every night, and you mean to tell me that—”

  “Wait. I’m just getting started.” He clearly wasn’t the least bit interested in my diatribe about the current condition of the world. He was too busy reaching into the bag he’d dragged in with him. He unfolded the small, oddly shaped garment he pulled out as carefully as if it was the Shroud of Turin.

  When he held it up, I saw that it was actually a khaki-colored jacket. For dogs. But the designer clearly hadn’t been concerned in the least that our canine friends aren’t exactly famous for their manual dexterity. It was covered with pockets, each with a decorative flap held closed by a button.

  “Pretty classy, huh?” Marcus asked.

  “Extremely,” I replied, my voice dripping with so much sarcasm I should have been sitting on a drop cloth.

  “You know what this is, don’t you?”

  “Sure. It’s a safari jacket for cocker spaniels with dreams of becoming movie directors.”

  “Better.” Marcus’s eyes gleamed as he said, “It’s a sun-proof jacket.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a jacket for dogs, all right, but it’s made of special fabric that’s SPF 30.”

  “To keep dogs from getting sunburned?” I asked, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  A look of confusion crossed his face. “Oh. Yeah, I guess that too. But it’s mainly meant to keep dogs and cats from becoming prematurely wrinkled. See? It even has this hood to keep the sun off their faces.”

  Before I could find the words to express my utter disdain, he pulled out one more item and held it up.

  “Guess what this is.”

  “Marcus, I really don’t—”

  “Go ahead, guess!”

  “Uh, a can of cat food?”

  “Close, but no cigar.” Beaming, he explained, “It’s a can of gourmet cat food . . . with truffles in it! Truffles, Popper!”

  “I didn’t know cats were mushroom connoisseurs,” I replied cynically.

  “Of course, this is just a sampling.”

  “A sampling of what?” Stupid pet products for a new segment on the Letterman show?

  “Of the unique products for the pampered pet we’re going to be selling at the clinic’s gift shop!”

  And here I’d thought nothing the man could say would shock me. “Marcus, tell me you’re not serious,” I pleaded.

  “Oh, I’m very serious. Hear me out, Popper. Today’s pet owners are busier than ever. They barely have time to take their animals to the vet, much less the time they need to find just the right products for them. At Innovative Pet Care, we’ve solved that problem!”

  “I get it,” I replied. “One-stop shopping, right? A client can bring in a dog or cat and spend fifty dollars on health services and another five hundred on a diamond collar.”

  “Five hundred?” Marcus cast me a scathing look. “Try five thousand. These stones are the real deal.”

  “Gee,” I muttered. “Looks like I’d better withdraw my application for The Price is Right.”

  “Did I mention that we have a party room for dogs and cats?” he went on. “Well, maybe not cats. But we provide everything for the perfect puppy party: decorations, paper hats, even birthday cakes—made of USDA prime beef, of course. Oh, and let’s not forget the goodie bags filled with special treats for the guests to bring home.”

  Don’t tell me, I thought. They’re called doggie bags.

  “So tell me what you think,” Marcus insisted. “Honestly, don’t hold back.” Before I had a chance to answer, he said, “It’s all too fabulous, right? And if you’re not already totally impressed, check out the shopping section on our website.”

  I blinked. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Hey, these days everybody has a website! But that’s only one part of the package. Believe me, veterinary medicine isn’t what it used to be. Look at me and you’re looking at the future, Popper! I’m at the cutting edge!”

  If only he’d fall off, I thought.

  “Very nice, Marcus,” I said, hoping I’d get rid of him now that his dog-and-pony show was over.

  I handed him back his collection of designer disasters. But he held out his hands to stop me.

  “Keep those,” he insisted. “Not the diamond dog collar, of course. But hang on to the other things. Maybe you’ll decide to show them to your clients. And don’t forget that they can order these fabulous items and hundreds of others online. Not only is shopping on our website fast and easy; it also entitles them to a ten percent discount.”

  Terrific. All of a sudden, I’d found myself living in an infomercial.

  “You know, I just had an idea,” he said, snapping his fingers. “All this talk about embarking on new ventures made me think of it. Maybe I could go on your TV show sometime.”

  “Marcus, I’m not about to—”

  “Not to talk about my new practice,” he insisted. “Just to provide a little variety. You know, give your viewers a different perspective on the vet biz while giving the Marc Man a little well-deserved exposure.”

  I eyed him warily. Personality flaws aside, the Marc Man happened to be a terrific veterinarian. “Maybe,” I said.

  “Great!” he replied. “Just tell me when. I’ll be there. And I can talk about any topic you want. You know there’s no better vet in the entire universe!”

  When I finally closed the door after him, Sunny turned to me and asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what was that?”

  I let out a long, deep sigh. “That,” I replied, “is a classic example of the male ego gone out of control.”

  She grimaced. “The next time he comes around, let’s shut off the lights and pretend we’re not home. Now back to more important things—like what I found out about zoos while you were impressing the heck out of me with how polite you can be.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said, peering over her shoulder at the computer screen.

  “Zoos started out as fairly horrible places,” she began. “The animals were pretty much kept in cages with concrete floors. But these days, most zoos are committed to animal conservation. About twenty percent of the zoos all over the world are actively working on ways to protect endangered species.

  “There’s an organization called the World Association of Zoos and Aquariums—its acronym is WAZA—that’s the umbrella organization for zoos and aquariums all over the world. It strives to ensure high standards at zoos and promote wildlife conservation all over the world. It’s also fighting the importation of wild animals and working to ensure that animals can continue to live in their natural habitat.

  “Here in the United States, we have the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, which was founded in 1924. Just like WAZA, it’s dedicated to advancing both animal care at zoos and wildlife conservation. Both organizations also develop conservation programs that focus on exploited wild species.” Glancing at me, she asked, “What does ‘exploited wild species’ mean, exactly?”

  “It means wild animals, including endangered species, that are hunted for illegal use as pets or souvenirs or even for food,” I explained. “One of the best examples is killing elephants to get the ivory from their tusks. Some wild animals are even killed to feed people’s superstitions, like grinding up rhinoceros horns to make a powder that some people falsely believe is an aphrodisiac. The tragedy is that so many rhinos have been killed and left to rot just to get their horns that they’re now endangered.”

  I sighed. “It’s a real threat, not only to the animals themselves but also to maintaining the biodiversity that’s crucial to keeping the whole planet going.”

  I knew I’d barely scratched the surface of all there was to learn. But having discovered that zoos all over the world were now working to ensure both the welfare of animals and that of the entire planet, I understood why Erin had been dra
wn to working at one. Despite her showy new house—and despite the way her husband had changed—she was starting to sound like the same old Erin I’d known back in vet school.

  I finally felt as if I was reconnecting with her. True, I was saddened by the fact that I’d never have the chance to talk to my friend again. But I was also hopeful that having a strong sense of who she was might help me track down her killer. And paying a visit to her boss at the New York Zoo, the venerable Dr. Annalise Zacarias, seemed like the ideal way to start.

  Chapter 6

  “Zoo: an excellent place to study the habits of human beings.”

  —Evan Esar

  The New York Zoo was located in Riverton, the point at which fish-shaped Long Island diverges into two “tails,” the North Fork and the South Fork. It was also the end of the Long Island Expressway.

  For a long time, Riverton had been the end of the road in the figurative sense as well. But over the past couple of decades the area had become a haven for both tourists and locals. In addition to the zoo, the island’s largest outlet mall had sprung up there, as well as an aquarium, a water park, and a branch of just about every big box store in existence.

  I wasn’t the only person who’d decided to take advantage of a beautiful June day like this one by communing with some of the most fascinating creatures that share our planet. As I wandered along the zoo’s meandering walkways, grateful for the shade provided by the tall trees, I was accompanied by mothers with strollers, groups of rambunctious kids cutting loose on an end-of-the-school-year trip, and a few intense-looking student types bearing sketch pads and boxes of charcoal.

  The place was so congenial, in fact, that I had to remind myself that I’d come here on a mission. I decided to head directly for the Animal Health and Research Center, where I hoped I’d find Dr. Zacarias. I also hoped I was crafty enough to come up with a way to get her to talk to me about Erin.

  Even though I was anxious about whether or not I’d accomplish that, I figured there was no reason not to enjoy the animals. As I made my way across the property, I made a few detours to check out the elephants, the giraffes, and the big cats.

  My favorite stop was the Monkey House. I joined the crowds of enthralled visitors who couldn’t tear themselves away from the gold lion tamarins with their bright red-orange fur and contrasting dark faces, the wise-looking owl-faced guenons, and the tiny pygmy marmosets.

  But my favorites were the comical squirrel monkeys, who acted like a bunch of kids who’d just burst onto the playground after a morning of math and spelling lessons. Only these guys had a jungle for a playground. Instead of swinging on swings and sliding down slides, they redefined the word frenzied as they darted across tree branches, swung from vines, and leaped onto light fixtures, acting as if they were chasing each other even though it was usually impossible to tell who was running after whom.

  I finally reached a low concrete building that had to be the Animal Health and Research Center. It was fairly large, stretching all the way back to the edge of the property, and was tucked away in the most remote corner of the zoo. It was also hidden behind a barricade of trees, no doubt to keep visitors from noticing it.

  Here goes, I thought as I strode inside, reminding myself that this was hardly the first time I’d talked myself into a place I didn’t belong.

  Directly inside I found myself in a small reception area. It had an air of quiet dignity, thanks to the upholstered chairs, the copies of National Geographic neatly stacked on the wooden coffee table, and the framed oil paintings of lions, elephants, and giraffes on the walls. A young woman wearing a pale turquoise sweater set sat behind a high counter. An ID tag instead of a string of pearls hung around her neck. In addition to a telephone with a complex set of buttons, her desk was cluttered with a collection of small stuffed animals that I had a feeling were available at the gift shop.

  I spotted a pair of double swinging doors just beyond the lobby. From the growls and chirps emanating from the other side, I suspected that was where the Animal Health part of the building was located.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked with a pleasant smile.

  “I’m here to see Dr. Zacarias,” I replied as confidently as I could. “She’s expecting me. In fact, I’m running a little late.”

  I held my breath for the three seconds it took her to reply. “In that case, I’ll walk you over to her office. Dr. Zacarias hates to be kept waiting. Besides, I have to go back to the administration area to drop something off.”

  I couldn’t resist adding, “If you have time, I’d love to get a quick tour of your medical facilities.”

  “Sure,” the young woman said. “We have to walk in that direction anyway.”

  I followed her as she pushed through the swinging doors. They opened onto a long corridor with rooms shooting off both sides.

  “This is where we provide medical care for all the animals,” the receptionist told me. “We have an entire team of veterinarians right here. Since this place runs twenty-four/seven, the vets have staggered schedules so someone’s always available. We also have all the equipment and medications we need to treat the animals on-site. A lot of the equipment is the same as what you’d find in a hospital for humans. For example, we use the same type of incubators for our baby animals and the same kind of X-ray machines.

  “Some of the other machinery we have here performs the same functions as what you’d find in any ordinary veterinary clinic, only it’s on an entirely different scale,” she continued. “Over here, we have a five-ton crane. That’s used to lift the largest animals we have, usually after they’ve been sedated.”

  “Do you use a CO2 pistol to anesthetize them?” I asked.

  “That’s right. One of the vets shoots them with a dart while they’re still in their cages. Then we bring them here in a truck or whatever’s needed to transport them.”

  Gesturing toward another room off the same hallway, she said, “Over here is our operating room. It has the usual equipment like heart monitors and oxygen hoses. But our operating table is outfitted with hydraulic lifts to help us manage the elephants and the other large animals. And of course we have really big cages where we keep the animals that have come in for treatment. We also quarantine any new animals that are brought in from outside the zoo.”

  “It sounds as if the vets are kept pretty busy,” I commented.

  “It’s true; one of the animals always seems to need care,” she agreed. “Just this morning, the vet on duty removed a tumor from an aardvark and stitched up a male bison that had been gored by another male in the herd. Then we discovered that one of our tigers is pregnant.

  “But the vets’ routine also includes doing daily rounds every single morning, checking every animal on-site. And all the vets meet twice a week to discuss the animals that are under their care as well as any other concerns they have about their health and wellbeing. Dietary issues are really important. If an animal is overweight or underweight, adjustments are made in the food they’re given. The vets’ job also includes immunizing the animals, screening them for infectious diseases, checking for parasites, and taking care of their teeth. And in the event that one of our animals passes, they do extensive postmortem studies to figure out the cause of death.”

  “But there are also scientists here who do research, aren’t there?” I asked. “Dr. Zacarias, for example.”

  “That’s right, we do have researchers on staff,” the receptionist replied, nodding. “Their main concern is finding better ways of taking care of the animals in captivity. Diet is a biggie, and so is reproduction. Environmental factors are also something they’re constantly learning about.

  “Working with zoo animals makes it really easy for scientists like Dr. Zacarias to do research. The animals are so much more accessible than they would be in the wild. For instance, we’ve been able to measure the levels of certain hormones in the urine of rhinoceroses. We found that rhinos’ peak fertility only lasts for about two days, once a year. Knowing
this makes it much easier for us to understand the way they reproduce. And most of the animals that are in zoos these days were born in captivity. That means we have tons of information about their parents and in some cases their grandparents and even their great-grandparents. That’s especially useful for studying anything that’s related to genetics.

  “The one thing we don’t do is change the way the animals live,” she noted. “Our goal is to replicate their natural environment as closely as we possibly can, so for example, we’d never interfere with their social structure or bring in a species of animal that wasn’t part of their natural habitat.”

  We walked a few more steps, then passed through a second set of swinging doors. On the other side were offices that looked as if they’d been designed to house humans, not ailing animals.

  “That’s the end of the tour,” the receptionist told me with a shrug. “And Dr. Zacarias’s office is right here.”

  “Thanks,” I told her sincerely. I only hoped Erin’s boss would be half as forthcoming.

  The door of Annalise Zacarias’s office was partially open. I waited until the receptionist had disappeared behind the swinging doors before knocking on it softly.

  “Yes, what is it?” a woman’s thin, high-pitched voice replied.

  I pushed the door open and found a frail-looking woman sitting behind a tremendous wooden desk. She wore her white hair tightly braided and coiled at the back of her head, giving her the look of the headmistress at a boarding school—perhaps one located in Munich or Vienna. Her outfit was equally stern: a black blazer, a white blouse, and a gray paisley scarf worn almost like a necktie.

  Perched on her slender nose was a pair of thick glasses with gold wire frames, the chain that held them around her neck dangling from either side. The metal matched the large pin she wore on her jacket lapel, which was in the shape of a chimpanzee.

  I assumed that her taste in jewelry was a sign that somewhere in there lurked a sense of humor. That is, until I realized that the primate theme dominated her office’s decor. There were at least twenty framed photographs scattered on the walls, almost all of Dr. Zacarias posing with some type of monkey. The background, a dense canopy of trees strewn with vines, told me they had most likely been taken in Africa.