“She just had her laryngeal implant, so she can’t speak yet,” Lady Valladay said, “but she has the highest IQ of any primate we’ve ever had here at the Institute, and she’s already reading at a primary school level. She’s read The Cat in the Hat and all the Curious George books, haven’t you, Heidi?” and the chimpanzee grinned widely and bobbed her head up and down. “But your books are her favorites, Inspector Touffét. She’s constantly after me to read them to her, and sometimes she even tries to read them on her own.”
Lady Valladay led Touffét over to the table, her arm linked in his. “Our primates have even outperformed A-level students on higher-level-thinking tests, but in spite of all the studies the Institute has done, in spite of the overwhelming evidence of their intelligence, people persist in thinking of primates as animals instead of sentient creatures. They continue to put them in zoos, experiment on them, kill them for trophies. That’s why it’s so important that the Institute continue to exist.”
“Continue to exist?” Touffét asked.
“I’m afraid we’re sadly in need of funds,” she said. “If we don’t find additional donors soon, we’ll be forced to close. We—”
“I beg your pardon,” the stout man said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I only wanted to tell you how much I admire your work.”
“This is Sergeant Eustis, our local police detective. Perhaps you two can exchange information about your investigations.”
“Oh, no,” Sergeant Eustis said, fumbling at his tie, “I haven’t had any interesting cases, compared to Mr. Touffét.”
“What about—” she began, but the sergeant said, “I’d very much like to hear about the Sappina jewel robbery.”
“A very satisfying case,” Touffét said, and launched into an account of it.
I wandered over to where the pretty young woman stood by the table and introduced myself.
“Leda Fox,” she said, and pointed to a press badge. “I’m a reporter with the On-Line Times. And I’m freezing.” She leaned forward to warm her hands over one of the candles. “You’d think with all the billions Lord Alastair’s got, he could afford to turn up the heat.”
“Lord Alastair is a billionaire?”
“Yes. He made his fortune in AI patents.”
“I was wondering how the Institute was financed,” I said.
“Oh, no, the Institute doesn’t get a penny. Lord Alastair never approved of primate research. It’s all financed by donations. So, what’s this mystery Inspector Touffét’s supposed to solve?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea,” I said, sipping my drink. “What was the media told?”
“The media?” she said blankly. “Oh. You mean what were we told? Not much. Just that we were all invited to be present at the solving of a mystery by Inspector Touffét. And we were sent a packet of information on primate intelligence.” She frowned. “I wonder what the mystery is.”
“Something to do with the Institute, perhaps?” I asked. “Lady Charlotte seemed anxious to show us the facilities.”
“She dragged me all over them this morning,” Leda said.
“You do not like primates?”
She shrugged. “Animals are all right, I suppose, but one tour is enough. She wants me to go again with all of you this afternoon, but there’s no way I’m going out in that,” she said, gesturing at the falling rain. “Tell her I have a headache.”
Heidi shambled over with a tray full of silver goblets, one hand under the tray and the other dragging the floor.
“What is it?” I asked Leda, taking one of them.
“Wassail.”
Heidi waddled over to Touffét and Sergeant Eustis.
“Poor Touffét,” I said.
“Doesn’t he like wassail?”
“He doesn’t like Christmas.”
“Do you think they’re really as smart as Lady Charlotte says?” Leda said, watching Heidi offer the tray to the police detective. “She says Heidi can do long division. I can’t do long division.”
“Neither can I,” I said, but she wasn’t listening. She had turned to look at a tall man in his thirties who had just walked in.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Lady Charlotte’s brother, James,” she said. “I met him this morning.” She made a face. “You didn’t like him?”
She leaned toward me and whispered, “Drunk.”
“Well, well, so this is the Great Detective,” James said, walking over to Touffét.
Lady Charlotte looked vexed. “Inspector Touffét, my brother, James.”
James ignored her. “Have you solved my sister’s mystery yet? I heard you solve them”—he snapped his fingers next to Touffét’s nose—“like that!”
Touffét stepped back. “Lady Charlotte has not yet informed me of the nature of the mystery.”
“Oh, well, then maybe you can solve a mystery for me. Why is it my sister prefers monkeys to her own father and brother?”
“James,” Lady Valladay said warningly.
“Heidi!” James said, and snapped his fingers at her. “Bring me a drink.”
The chimpanzee hesitated, looking frightened, and then shambled over to him and offered the tray.
James grabbed a drink and turned back to Touffét. “It’s a true mystery to me. Why would she rather spend her time with a bunch of dangerous, smelly, stupid—”
“James!” Lady Valladay snapped.
“Oh, that’s right. They’re not stupid. They can do trigonometry. They can read Shakespeare. Isn’t that right, Heidi?” He tweaked her cap. “How much is two plus two, Heidi?”
Heidi looked beseechingly at Lady Charlotte.
“How do you spell ‘imbecile,’ Heidi?” James persisted.
“That’s enough, James,” Lady Charlotte said, putting her arm around the chimpanzee. “Heidi, go unpack Inspector Touffét’s bags.” She took the tray from her. “That’s my good girl.”
Lady Charlotte set the tray down. “Inspector, you and Colonel Bridlings must both be tired,” she said, ignoring James, and he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. “You’ll want to get settled in and have a chance to rest before we tour the compound. D’Artagnan will show you to your rooms, and we’ll meet in, say, an hour in the entryway.”
A door slammed, but she paid no attention. “I do so want you to see our facility.” She led us to the door. “D’Artagnan, take them to their rooms.”
“Yes, madam,” he said. He started to drop to all fours but then straightened.
“An hour, then,” she said, smiling, and went down the corridor and into another room, shutting the door behind her.
D’Artagnan pushed the lift button.
“I don’t care”—Lady Charlotte’s voice drifted down the hall—“I won’t have you ruining this. It’s too important.”
“It’s my house,” James’s voice said.
“It’s Father’s house.”
“It won’t be forever,” James said, “and when I inherit it, there won’t be any monkeys in it. I’m shipping them back to the jungle the day Father dies.”
“So this is your idea of a jolly Christmas?” I asked Touffét, waiting for him to put on his Inverness cape. I had spent the promised half hour attempting to find a telephone. I’d left in such a rush, I hadn’t had time to telephone my sister to tell her I couldn’t come. I attempted to ask Heidi, who was unpacking my things, but couldn’t make her understand, so I went downstairs in search of one myself.
There was one in the study, a small frigid room across from the solarium. My sister was disappointed but optimistic.
“Perhaps your Inspector Touffét will solve the mystery so quickly you can come tonight, or tomorrow. We could wait dinner.”
“Better not,” I said. “We haven’t even been told what the mystery is yet.”
I hung up and started back upstairs. As I came into the entryway, I caught a glimpse of Leda, in a hooded raincoat, going out the front door. She must have changed her mind about touring the compoun
d, I thought, and wondered if I’d taken so long the others had left without me, but Touffét was in his room, putting on a wool sweater and wrapping a knitted scarf around his neck.
“At least at my sister’s house it’s warm,” I said, “and no one ever threatens to turn anyone else out.”
“Exactly,” Touffét said. “And there are no mysteries.” He put on his cape. “Here already there are several.”
“Lady Charlotte’s told you why she invited us here?”
He shook his head. “But certain things have struck me. What about you, Bridlings? Have you noticed nothing?”
I thought about it. “I’ve noticed the brother’s a lout. And that Ms. Fox is very pretty.”
“Pretty. Alas, Bridlings, once again you see only the facade. You do not look at what lies behind. Do you not think it strange that Sergeant Eustis does not wish me to know of his interesting cases? All detectives wish to brag of their exploits.”
Well, that’s certainly true, I thought.
“And there is this,” he said, handing me Lady Charlotte’s letter. “Odd, is it not?”
I read it through. “I don’t see anything odd about it. She invites us to come and lists the train times.”
“Indeed. Look at the second-to-last train time.”
“5:48,” I said.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. It says—”
“The five and the four are quite distinct, are they not? And yet both Mr. Rutgers and Ms. Fox say they mistook Lady Charlotte’s five for a four and thus came a day early,” he said, obviously in his element. “A mystery, yes? Come, we are late.”
We went down to the entryway. Lady Charlotte and Mick Rutgers were already there, bundled in coats and scarves. She was telling him about the Institute. “Organizations and ethologists have tried for years to protect primate habitats and regulate the treatment of primates in captivity, but conditions have only gotten worse, and will continue to get worse, so long as people continue to think of them as animals.”
She turned to greet us. “Oh, Inspector, Colonel, we’re just waiting for D’Artagnan. He’s going to drive us down to the compound. I was just telling Mr. Rutgers about the Institute. Some people do not approve of our implanting larynxes and dressing primates in clothing, but the only chance they have of survival is for people to accept them. And to be accepted, unfortunately, they must stand upright, they must have employable skills. They’re necessary to make people realize primates are sentient creatures, that they can think and reason and feel as we do. Did you know that humans and pygmy chimpanzees share ninety-nine percent of their genes? Ninety-nine percent. Our genes are their genes. And yet when the University of Oklahoma discontinued their language research project, the apes who had been taught to sign were used in AIDS experiments. Do you remember Lucy?”
“The chimpanzee who was raised as a human and taught to sign?” I asked.
“She was shipped back to Gambia, where she was murdered by poachers.” Tears came to Lady Charlotte’s eyes. “They cut off her head and hands for trophies. Lucy, who knew three hundred words! Oh, D’Artagnan, there you are,” she said.
I turned. D’Artagnan was standing there in the corridor. He was still in his cutaway coat and trousers, but not his white gloves. I wondered how long he’d been there.
“Are you ready to drive us to the compound, Tanny?” Lady Charlotte asked.
“Lord Alastair. Wish meet Inspector,” he said in that ridiculously small voice.
“Oh, dear,” Lady Charlotte said, as if she’d just heard bad news. She bit her lip, and then, as if she’d realized her response needed some sort of explanation, said, “I’d hoped your arrival hadn’t wakened him. My father has so much difficulty sleeping. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to tour the compound.”
She turned to D’Artagnan. “Tell Nurse Parchtry we’ll be up directly,” she said, and as he started to leave, “Where are your gloves, Tanny?”
He promptly put his hairy black paws behind his back and hung his head. “Took off. Dishes. Now can’t find.”
“Well, go and get another pair out of the pantry.” She took a bunch of keys out of her pocket and handed them to him.
“D’Artagnan sorry,” he said, looking ashamed.
“I’m not angry,” she said, putting her arms around his vast back. “You know I love you.”
“Love you,” he said, and flung his huge arms around her.
I looked at Touffét, alarmed after what James had said, but D’Artagnan had already released her and was asking, “Gloves first? Tell first?”
“Tell Nurse Parchtry first, and then go and get a new pair of gloves.” She patted his arm.
He nodded and lumbered off, Lady Charlotte smiling affectionately after him. “He’s such a dear,” she said, and then continued briskly, “Inspector Touffét, if you don’t mind, my father’s an invalid and gets lonely.”
“But of course I should be happy to meet him,” he said.
“Can I meet him, too?” Rutgers said. “I’ve heard so much about his AI work.”
“Of course,” Lady Valladay said, but she sounded reluctant. “We’ll all go up just for a little while. My father tires easily.”
She pressed the button for the lift. We stepped inside. “My father’s rooms are on the fourth floor,” she said, pressing another button. “It used to be the nursery.” The lift shot up. “He’s been ill for several years.”
The lift opened, and Lady Charlotte led the way to a door. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I gave my keys to D’Artagnan. Nurse Parchtry will have to let us in.”
She knocked. “My father has a wonderful nurse. Marvelously efficient. She’s been with us for nearly a year.”
The door started to open. I looked curiously at it, wondering if Nurse Parchtry would turn out to be an orangutan in a nurse’s cap and stethoscope. But the person who opened the door was a thin, disheveled-looking woman in white trousers and a white smock.
“May we come in, Nurse Parchtry?” Lady Charlotte asked, and the woman nodded and stepped back to let us through into a small room with plastic chairs and a Formica counter along one side.
“You’d best stay here in the anteroom, though,” the woman said. “Tapioca for lunch.”
If this was Nurse Parchtry, she looked anything but efficient. One pocket of her smock was torn and hanging down, and her fine, gray-brown hair had come out of its bun on one side. There was a huge blob of something yellowish-gray on one trouser leg—the tapioca?
No, the tapioca was splattered across the glass-and-chickenwire partition that separated the room we were in from the larger one beyond, along with soft brown smears of something. I hoped they weren’t what they looked like.
I wondered if I had somehow misunderstood, and Lady Charlotte had taken us to see the primate compound after all instead. The room behind the partition looked almost like a cage, with toys and a large rubber tire in the middle of the floor. No, there was a single bed against the far wall and a rocking chair beside it.
“He heard the taxi,” Nurse Parchtry was saying. “I’ve told that cabbie to drive quietly. I tried to tell him it was just a parcel arriving for Christmas, but he knew it was guests. He always knows, and then there’s just no dealing with him till he sees them.”
Lady Charlotte nodded sympathetically. “Nurse Parchtry, this is Inspector Touffét.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Nurse Parchtry said, trying to push the straggle of gray-brown hair behind her ear. “I am such a fan of your detecting. I adored The Case of the Clever Cook. I’ve always wished I could see you solve one of your murders.” She turned to me. “Does he really solve them as quickly as you say, Colonel Bridlings?”
Nurse Parchtry turned to Lady Charlotte. “I was wondering—it is Christmas Eve, and I am such a fan of Inspector Touffét’s—if I might eat downstairs tonight instead of having a tray.”
Lady Charlotte glanced uncertainly at the partition. “I don’t know….”
r /> “Lord Alastair always goes to sleep after he’s had his cocoa,” Nurse Parchtry said, gesturing toward the tray, “and I did so want to hear Inspector Touffét recount some of his celebrated cases. And Lord Alastair’s been very good today.”
There was a splat, and I looked over at the partition. A large blob of greenish mush was trickling down the center of the glass, and behind it, holding the plastic bowl it had come out of, was Lord Alastair.
If I had been shocked by the sight of a talking gorilla, I was completely overwhelmed by the sight of Lord Alastair, computer genius and billionaire, dressed in wrinkled pajamas, his white hair matted with the greenish stuff he’d just thrown. He was barefoot, and his teeth were bared in a cunning grin.
“Good Lord,” I said, and next to me, Rutgers murmured disbelievingly, “Al?”
Lord Alastair stepped back, hunching his shoulders, and I wondered if we had frightened him, but he was still grinning. He reared back and spat at us.
“Oh, Father,” Lady Charlotte said, and he grinned evilly at her and began smearing the spittle into the tapioca and the brown streaks, as if he were fingerpainting.
“Oh, dear,” Nurse Parchtry said, “and you were so good this morning.” She pulled a bunch of keys out of her pocket, hastily unlocked a door next to the partition, and disappeared. She reappeared inside a moment later with a wet towel and began wiping Lord Alastair’s hands.
I watched, horrified, afraid he was going to spit on her next, but he only struggled to free his hands, slapping weakly at her like a naughty child and shouting a string of garbled obscenities.
Beside me, Rutgers seemed hypnotized. “How long has he been like this?”
“It’s gotten gradually worse,” Lady Charlotte said. “Ten years.”
Nurse Parchtry had Lord Alastair’s hands clean and was combing his hair. “You must look nice for your guests,” she said, her voice faint but clear through the glass. “Inspector Touffét’s here, the famous detective.”
She brought him over to the partition, holding his left wrist in a firm grasp. “Lord Alastair, I’d like you to meet Inspector Touffét.”
Touffét stepped up to the glass and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you.”