Mary Anne and the Zoo Mystery

  “Yeah.” Logan cocked his head. “He did have more stuff than I’ve been able to get on the gorillas. I mean, it’s really incredible how detailed his stuff was.”

  Aroo! Aroo!

  The biggest seal in the pool had clambered on top of one of the rocks and was barking at the keeper, a blond man in green work clothes and a yellow slicker. The keeper chuckled and said to the small crowd who had gathered to watch feeding time, “Sparky never lets me get away with anything.”

  The man dug in the pocket of his raincoat and produced one final fish. He tossed it high in the air. Sparky dove off his rock and caught the fish midair, hitting the water with a tremendous splash.

  The crowd’s applause jarred something in my memory. “Feeding time. That means it’s two o’clock. Mrs. Wofsey’s video presentation about Mojo and sign language is at two. Come on, Logan,” I said, pulling him away from the seal pool. “We don’t want to miss it.”

  Our route to the visitors’ center took us past the primate area where I saw the two people in matching sweatsuits huddled together.

  “Look,” I hissed to Logan. “Those — those spies are here again.” I’d told Logan about our mystery. “I wonder what they’re up to.”

  “Let’s swing a little closer,” he said. “Maybe we’ll hear something.”

  Logan, who was holding my hand, suddenly swerved left and we nearly crashed directly into the back of the couple. Fortunately, they were too wrapped up in what they were talking about to notice us.

  “I’d say a gibbon costs at least eight-and-a-half thousand,” the man was saying. “That is if the market is good.”

  “A macaque could be even higher,” the woman replied. “And gibbons do make nice pets in their preteen years.”

  Logan and I pulled away from the couple. “They’re talking about how much monkeys cost!” I gasped.

  “Yeah, and selling them as pets,” Logan whispered back. “This is too weird.”

  Wrapped in our thoughts about what we’d just heard, Logan and I walked the rest of the way to the visitors’ center. When we reached it, the presentation had already begun.

  “Now before I introduce our guest speaker, I’d like to make one last announcement.”

  Mrs. Wofsey was standing at a podium on the small stage at the visitors’ center, which was packed with students and visitors. The benches were filled so Logan and I stood at the back.

  “Next weekend we’re throwing a ‘Good-Bye, Gorillas’ party for Mojo and James,” Mrs. Wofsey said. “All of you eighth-graders from Stoneybrook Middle School are invited. Please feel free to bring your friends and families. It should be great fun.”

  Logan leaned over and whispered, “I wonder what kind of food they’ll serve — carrots and browse? Or do gorillas like chocolate cake?”

  “Everybody likes chocolate cake,” I whispered back.

  “And now it is my great pleasure to introduce a pioneer in primate studies,” Mrs. Wofsey said. “She has been exploring nature ever since she first went to work for the American Museum of Natural History in New York at age seventeen. Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Arden P. Wordsworth.”

  Arden P. Wordsworth? The name sounded so old-fashioned that I half-expected to see an old lady totter out. Instead a tanned, athletic woman hopped onto the stage. I guessed she was around fifty but she moved more like somebody my age.

  “Greetings, everyone,” she said. “I’m here today to talk about two very good friends of mine, Mojo and James.

  “Mojo and James were born at the Huntington Animal Park,” Dr. Wordsworth continued. “They have never lived in the wild and have always been accustomed to having humans around.”

  Dawn raised her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t you feel it’s cruel to keep animals penned up like that?” she asked.

  Miss Wordsworth smiled. “If I thought it was cruel, I would never be associated with it. However, I do take your point that animals like to have their freedom, as do we all. But let me ask you this — do you have a pet?”

  “I don’t,” Dawn replied. “But my stepsister has a cat.”

  “Do you feel it’s cruel to keep a cat penned up in your house?”

  “No,” Dawn said. “But that’s different. A cat is small.”

  “Let’s put this in perspective,” Dr. Wordsworth said. “Most of us assume that any captive animal longs to be free. But animals can’t always do as they like in the wild. Strict limits are put upon them by the seasons, their territorial status, and the relative richness of their habitat.” She paused, then said with a grin, “I’m sorry, I’m starting to sound like a professor. Mojo’s and James’s home at the San Diego Zoo is a painstaking recreation of their African habitat, a full three acres. They’re both lowland gorillas who, in the course of a normal day, would probably travel no farther than half a mile. They’re safe, warm, and well-fed. Besides spending time with each other, Mojo and James spend several hours a day in structured play, where new challenges are constantly introduced to them. This is where Mojo first learned sign language. James never really picked it up, by the way. Occasionally, he imitates Mojo, but that’s all it is — imitation.”

  “I thought I saw him signing to Mojo,” I whispered to Logan. “That explains it.”

  “Before I show you the film, I would like to say that Mojo’s great strides in communication would probably not have been possible if it weren’t for the breakthrough studies of Dr. Penny Patterson, who first worked with a little gorilla named Koko at the San Francisco Zoo. Koko learned to sign four words in 1972. By the time she was seven, Koko counted six hundred and forty-five signs in her vocabulary, which she used to ask for presents, tell jokes, and express her feelings.” Dr. Wordsworth waved at the back of the room. “Could someone start the video, please?”

  “Mr. Chester was going to run our video for us,” Mrs. Wofsey said, as she fiddled with the machine, “but I’m afraid he’s not here. I’ll need a few moments to make sure I’m pushing the correct buttons.”

  The delay gave me a chance to look around the room. I noticed that neither Alan nor Howie was in the audience.

  Thunk.

  The exit door slammed shut and Mr. Chester hurried into the room and rushed to Mrs. Wofsey. “I apologize for being late,” he said. “But we seemed to be short-handed at feeding time. I had to feed the seals.”

  “That’s quite all right.” Mrs. Wofsey smiled stiffly. “Take a moment to catch your breath, and then we’ll begin the video.”

  The door at the back slammed again and one of the new security guards rushed in. He stood near Logan and me, gesturing frantically. “Mrs. Wofsey? Mrs. Wofsey, please, I need to talk to you.”

  Mrs. Wofsey nodded. “All right, folks,” she announced, “on with the show.” She dimmed the lights, turned up the volume, then hurried to talk to the guard.

  “What is it, Mike?”

  “One of the gates in the primate enclosure — the gibbons’ gate,” the guard whispered, loudly enough so that Logan and I could hear. “I found it standing wide open.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Wofsey reached for her walkie-talkie. “How many got loose?”

  “None. Luckily, it was so close to feeding time that the gibbons were still eating and didn’t feel like leaving.”

  “What’s that?” Mr. Chester asked, joining the two. “We’ve had another escape?”

  Only a few people in the back besides Logan and me could have overheard the guard’s conversation with Mrs. Wofsey. But Mr. Chester’s voice carried, and a few people in the audience turned to look.

  “No,” Mrs. Wofsey whispered loudly in the direction of the audience. “There has been no escape.”

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Chester hissed. “This is the third escape in a week.”

  Mrs. Wofsey glanced nervously at Dr. Wordsworth, who had heard everything, too. “Please, lower your voice,” she said to Mr. Chester.

  “How can these things be happening?” he continued.

  Mrs
. Wofsey shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve doubled our security force and patrolled the grounds myself.”

  “Well, you’re the one in charge here,” Mr. Chester reminded her. “If an animal escapes and someone gets hurt, we’ll know who to blame.”

  Mrs. Wofsey, who looked embarrassed, pursed her lips. “Thank you for reminding me. I suppose you think that if you were in charge, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “If I were in charge, none of the escapes would have occurred,” Mr. Chester snapped back. “I’m going to go check the cage locks now.” With those final words he spun and marched out of the auditorium.

  In spite of the commotion, everyone was able to turn their attention back to Dr. Wordsworth and the video. After it was over, those of us who’d overheard Mr. Chester rushed out to the primate enclosure. I don’t know what we expected to find, since the gibbons hadn’t escaped. I guess we just wanted to visit the scene of the crime.

  The gibbons’ cage was next to the gorillas’. Logan and I watched some gibbons lazily roll a red ball around the cage.

  Logan snapped his fingers. “Remember that couple? They were talking about how much a gibbon costs.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about them ever since that guard burst in with his announcement. But if they opened the cage, why didn’t they take the gibbons?”

  Logan shrugged. “Maybe someone, like that guard, happened to come along before they had the chance.”

  I watched the ball roll back and forth between the gibbons and then I noticed a purplish stain on the concrete just outside of the gibbons’ door. “Logan, look! Berry stains.”

  “What?”

  “There are berry stains near the gibbons’ cage. They stop just at the door. There were berry stains inside the emu’s cage when she was freed.”

  Logan still looked confused. Then I realized he hadn’t been told about my berry discovery.

  “I think the person who freed Edith, and unlocked the gibbons’ cage door, stepped in red berries.” I pointed to the berry bushes between the gorillas’ cage and the emu enclosure. “That bush’s branches are awfully low to the ground. And, now that I think about it, Alan and Howie were standing in those bushes just this morning.”

  Logan opened his mouth to speak, then smiled. “I was just about to say something rotten like, I might have known Alan would be involved, but I remembered that I promised to be nice.”

  “Good.” I patted his shoulder. “Keep remembering that.”

  A group of students standing in front of the gibbons’ cage soon migrated to Mojo and James’s area, where Dr. Wordsworth was now conducting an impromptu question-and-answer session.

  “Does Mojo communicate with just one person?” Jessi Ramsey was asking. “Or can she talk to anyone who uses American Sign Language?”

  “Mojo can speak with anyone,” Dr. Wordsworth replied. “Many hearing-impaired people visit the Huntington Animal Park just for that reason.”

  Jessi gestured to Matt Braddock who stood beside her. Signing as she spoke, she explained, ”My friend uses ASL, and he’d like to ask Mojo a few questions.”

  “Go right ahead.” Dr. Wordsworth stepped back and watched as Matt tried to talk to Mojo.

  Do you know who freed the emu? Matt asked the gorilla.

  Mojo answered Yes.

  Matt turned to Jessi, his face flushed with excitement. She says she knows who freed the emu! he signed.

  Jessi grinned and signed back, I know. Ask her who did it.

  Matt signed the question, and we all held our breaths, waiting for Mojo’s reply. I knew enough ASL to understand the answer.

  “Food,” I said, turning to Logan. “That’s what she said before. I wonder if she’s hungry.”

  “Maybe she wants a treat before she’ll answer,” Logan suggested to the group at large.

  Dr. Wordsworth shook her head. “Mojo doesn’t normally ask for snacks. Maybe she is just hungry.”

  “Besides,” Erica Blumberg added, “how would a gorilla know what an emu is?”

  Matt and Jessi left the zoo, downcast. I guess we all felt a little disappointed. We were back to where we had started with berry stains as our only clue and the protestors and the people in sweatsuits as our only suspects. But it would have been pretty incredible if the gorilla had named the culprit, wouldn’t it? Not only would Mojo be famous for knowing sign language, but she would have gone down in history as the first gorilla detective.

  “I can’t find my elephant ears!” Haley screeched from her room on Sunday morning. “Claudia, help.”

  Claudia had promised to sit for the Braddocks in the morning and then help supervise the Elephant Walk that afternoon. She hadn’t realized that so much work would be left to the last minute.

  Brrrring!

  “I’ll get it,” Claudia shouted to Haley. “Check in the bottom drawer of your dresser. I think your mom said your costume was there.” Claud picked up the phone and said, “Braddock residence.”

  “Hi, this is Vanessa. I collected the pledge sheets from most of the kids at school, but I don’t know what to do with them.”

  Claudia, who was trying to prepare lunch for Haley and Matt while she spoke to Vanessa, reached for the freezer door and flung it open. “Let’s see, Vanessa, I thought Kristy was supposed to be in charge of — macaroni and cheese!”

  “Macaroni and cheese? I thought there wasn’t going to be any food. Just the Free Babar buttons and T-shirts.”

  “Sorry, Vanessa.” Claudia cradled the phone on her shoulder. “I’m trying to fix lunch here. Um, bring the sheets to the school playground at one o’clock and either Kristy or I will take them.”

  Ding-dong!

  “It’s like Grand Central Station here. Sorry, Vanessa. Gotta run,” Claudia tossed the macaroni and cheese container on the counter, slammed the freezer door shut with one hand and hung up the phone with the other. Then she raced for the front door.

  The Pike triplets and Sara and Norman Hill were standing on the front steps. They held a six-foot-long banner and were beaming at Claudia as she opened the door.

  “What do you think?” Sara asked. “Doesn’t it look great?”

  Free Babar was printed in big letters and Your coins count! in smaller ones beneath it. All around the lettering were drawings of gold coins.

  “It’s terrific,” Claudia said as she let the kids into the front hall. “But aren’t you guys a little early? The parade doesn’t start for over an hour.”

  “We painted the banner this morning,” Sara Hill said, “and it’s still not dry. My mom said we couldn’t keep it in the house so we thought we’d bring it over here.”

  “That has wet paint on it?” Claudia gasped.

  Byron Pike nodded. “Don’t touch it. Look what happened to me.” He stepped back to show Claudia the print of a large “B” on his T-shirt.

  “Out!” Claudia shrieked. “Everybody, back outside. Don’t touch the walls or doors.”

  The five children hurried out the front door as Matt Braddock came bounding down the stairs. He grabbed Claudia’s arm and pointed upstairs, where Haley was shouting, “I still can’t find it. Help!”

  Claudia gestured for Matt to stay with the kids out front. Then she ran up the stairs two at a time. Haley’s room looked as if a tornado had hit it. Every drawer was pulled out of the dresser, and every shoe in her closet had been thrown into the room. In the middle of it all stood Haley, her chin quivering.

  “It’s all right,” Claudia said, giving Haley a hug. “Your mom said the ears are here. I bet we’ll find them. And if we can’t, you’re lucky that you have the world’s greatest elephant ear-maker baby-sitting for you today.”

  Claudia and Haley picked up the room and Haley was right — the ears were nowhere to be found. However, they did collect a lot of dirty clothes, and while Claudia was taking them to the laundry room, she spied two pieces of gray felt stretched across the ironing board.

  “I found them,” she shouted to Haley. “C
risis solved!”

  “Not quite,” a voice answered from the front hall. Jessi Ramsey had heard that Claudia was at the Braddocks’ and had come over to ask for help.

  Claudia gave Haley the ears and hurried outside to check on Matt and the kids, passing Jessi on the way. “Is it dry yet?” she asked the kids.

  Norman Hill held one hand over the banner and patted a letter. He held up a red palm to show Claudia.

  “I guess not.” Claudia sighed. She made a mental note to find a rag for Norman so he could clean his hand. In the meantime, Jessi was still waiting in the front hall, looking agitated.

  “Sorry, Claudia,” Jessi said. “It looks like you have your hands full, but I just remembered that I’m supposed to be in charge of music.”

  “Didn’t you find a tape of the ‘Baby Elephant Walk’?” Claudia asked.

  “Oh, I have the tape, all right,” Jessi said, “but I don’t have anything to play it on, except a tiny little tape recorder. We need a huge boom box.”

  Claudia scratched her head. “Stacey has a great tape player with really loud speakers. We could put it in one of the kids’ wagons and let them pull it.”

  Relief washed over Jessi’s face. “Let’s call her.”

  Claudia grabbed Jessi’s elbow. “Aren’t you forgetting something? We aren’t speaking to Stacey.”

  “Oh, right.” Jessi’s shoulders slumped. “For a minute there I thought our problem was solved.”

  Claudia saw the macaroni and cheese carton lying on the counter and hurried to stick it in the microwave. “It might still be,” she said as they waited for the food to cook. “We just have to be clever about this. Maybe we can get someone else to ask Stacey.”

  “Like who?” Jessi asked. “One of the kids?”

  “Why not?” Claudia said with a shrug. “We’ll just ask Becca to ask Charlotte to ask Stacey if the kids can borrow her tape recorder for the parade.”

  “Do you think she’ll let them?”

  “Stacey adores Charlotte. Of course she will.”

  Jessi ran to the phone. For the next few minutes there was a flurry of activity as Jessi phoned Becca, who phoned Charlotte, and then called Jessi back to say she’d phoned Charlotte, who’d said she’d phone Stacey right away. Now Becca was waiting for Charlotte to call with Stacey’s response.