Panda-monium

  I got the impression that Flora had knocked over the sugar on purpose to distract us from our questions.

  J.J. seemed to suspect the same thing. He was on his feet before she was. “A little spilled sugar is no big deal. A stolen panda is. So for now, let’s forget about the fact that you can’t remember the details of yesterday morning. According to Teddy, there’s further evidence that you have Li Ping.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Given the weird timing of your visit, Miss Hancock, I started thinking that maybe you’d come down for some reason besides seeing Li Ping. Yesterday you admitted yourself that you were listening to me and Chloé Dolkart near Panda Palace, but you didn’t approach us until after Chloé mentioned that Li Ping only eats one kind of bamboo. However, she hadn’t said what that was. So that’s when you came over—”

  “What kind of evidence is that?” Flora interrupted. “I was merely interested in what the panda ate. Isn’t a lady allowed to be interested in something like that?”

  “Sure, if she’s got a stolen panda that won’t eat,” Summer said. She stepped forward, tired of sitting on the sidelines so long. “Here’s what we think happened, lady. Walter Ogilvy’s men stole Li Ping two nights ago and brought her right here to you. Only, you hadn’t done your homework and thought you could just give her any old bamboo. No matter what you tried, Li Ping wouldn’t eat it. Which was a big problem. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just call up FunJungle and ask for help with feeding your stolen panda. So you and Arthur decided to take a road trip. You drove down to FunJungle and lurked around Panda Palace until you overheard Teddy and Chloé talking about what you needed to know. Then you pestered them for details until you learned the right kind of bamboo for Li Ping, raced home, and ordered as much as you could. You got the info you needed—and at the same time gave yourself an alibi, acting like you were all upset and surprised Li Ping wasn’t at FunJungle when you’d been involved in her abduction the whole time!”

  “I cannot believe this!” Flora exclaimed. She was trying to sound indignant, but she sounded nervous instead. “To think you all would have the audacity to come into my home and accuse me of such a heinous crime!”

  “Oh, we’re not accusing you,” J.J. said. “We have proof you did it. We’re merely explaining how Teddy figured it out. You see, Flora, Wolong bamboo, the type Li Ping likes, doesn’t grow in Texas. It grows in cold regions, like the ones where pandas live. It’s not easy to get. There are only a few places in this country that grow it, and they’re all in Colorado. I happen to know them all, since I’m a customer, so I called them up this afternoon. Lo and behold, the second one I tried had just sold their entire shipment . . . to you.”

  Flora didn’t reply. Instead, she sat there, her eyes nervously darting from one of us to the next, like she was trying to figure out what to say.

  Suki came to Flora’s side, scooped a handful of the spilled sugar off the floor, and dumped it into his mouth.

  “All right,” Flora said finally, “I admit, I purchased a panda, but I thought I was getting one legally. I had no idea that scoundrel Walter Ogilvy was going to steal Li Ping from you until the news broke. . . .”

  J.J. groaned. “Flora, that is the biggest load of bull patootie I’ve ever heard in my life. You know full well there’s no way for a private citizen to legally acquire a panda. Emily Sun from the Chinese Consulate says you have approached her about it repeatedly and that she has told you each time that it can’t be done.”

  “Emily Sun knows who you are?” I asked Flora, unable to contain my surprise. “So that’s why she looked so angry yesterday at Panda Palace! I thought she was upset at me, but she was really upset to see you!”

  Flora lowered her eyes guiltily but didn’t say anything.

  “Therefore,” J.J. went on, “you were either completely aware that you were purchasing a panda illegally—or you have more bats in your belfry than Saint Peter’s Cathedral.”

  Flora’s hand went to her chest. “Why, J.J. McCracken! How dare you impugn my honor!”

  J.J. said, “If I wanted to impugn your honor, I’d have sent the State Department here instead of coming myself. And by tomorrow, every news channel in the country would be running stories on you. You would instantly become the most hated woman in the world: the thief who willingly participated in the kidnapping of a giant panda—and who allowed an animal rights group to be framed for it.”

  “The NFF isn’t an animal rights group,” Flora scoffed. “They’re a bunch of hooligans who don’t think anyone ought to be allowed to have pets!”

  “Have they caused trouble for you before?” my father asked.

  “On too many occasions to count.” Flora fanned herself with an open palm. “They picket my property! They protest outside my gates! You should hear some of the scurrilous things they’ve said about me!”

  Suki came to my side, holding a teacup and a saucer. The teacup was upside down and the saucer was filled with tea, possibly regurgitated by the orangutan.

  “Er . . . Thanks,” I said, trying to be polite.

  “So you admit to having a motive against the NFF,” J.J. said to Flora. “If I had chosen to let the media in on this story, I’m sure they would have had a field day with that information. But I’ve kept my mouth shut—so far.”

  “All right,” Flora said, her voice a little harder-edged than it had been before. “I see you do understand the concept of honor.”

  “I do,” J.J. agreed. “And to that end, I’m taking drastic steps to ensure that your name doesn’t end up in the newspapers. I had to twist a lot of arms to keep the State Department and the Chinese government from throwing the book at you. For the time being, they’re happy to just prosecute Walter Ogilvy. But if I gave them the green light, they’d come after you, too. And they’d do it fast.”

  Flora’s facade of good humor faded. She stood shakily and led us across the room. “I meant her no harm,” she said. “In a sense, I actually protected her. Mr. Ogilvy claimed he had a drug dealer down in Mexico who wanted to buy the panda. Goodness knows how that ruffian would have treated such a delicate creature. But I stepped in and offered more money.”

  “I’d be willing to bet that’s all a load of hooey,” J.J. told her. “Ogilvy simply conned you into jacking up the price.”

  Flora ignored the accusation. “As you can see, I gave Li Ping as good accommodations as anyone could hope for.” She opened the door into the next room.

  It was a playroom for human children, full of toys and books. But now there was a live panda in it.

  I was hit by a cloud of different emotions: pride that I’d found the panda, anger at Flora for helping steal it, and amazement at being so close to such a rare and beautiful creature for the first time. Li Ping was sleeping in the corner. Thankfully, she still looked healthy. Flora had provided lots of bamboo and a tub of water, but hadn’t done much else to prepare. The place reeked of panda pee.

  The bamboo hadn’t been touched. It was browning, the leaves still on the shafts.

  “She hasn’t eaten anything?” Dad asked, concerned.

  “No,” Flora admitted, looking ashamed. “Only a bit of fruit salad. I’m afraid the Wolong bamboo I ordered won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

  “We brought some on the chopper,” J.J. said. “Not a lot, but enough to tide her over until the truck gets here.”

  “Truck?” Flora repeated, caught off guard. “What truck?”

  “The one I’m sending to collect her,” J.J. replied. “It’ll be here in a few hours. My people will then remove Li Ping from these premises, and you aren’t going to do anything to stop them.”

  “And in return for that, you’ll keep me from being prosecuted?” Miss Hancock asked.

  “Oh, I’m just getting started,” J.J. told her. “Over the next few weeks, you will begin to transfer your entire collection of animals to FunJungle. I will pay you a fair price for them, and I will give all of them quality care and decent places to live. . . .”

  “My pet
s!” Flora gasped. “You wouldn’t dare take them from me!”

  “Flora,” J.J. said, “I don’t doubt that you love these animals and that you’re doing your best to tend to them, but the conditions you’re keeping some of these creatures in is deplorable. If you really do care about them, then you know what I’m offering you is the right thing to do.”

  Flora glanced to Summer and me. I got the sense that, if we hadn’t been there, she might have thrown a fit. But now she was struggling to maintain a sense of decorum.

  “He’ll give them a very good home,” Summer said.

  “And so many other children will get to see them there,” I added. “Wouldn’t you like to share all these wonderful animals with the public, rather than keeping them all to yourself?”

  Flora struggled to keep a smile on her face. It was evident that she didn’t want to share her animals with the public; if she had, they would have already been in zoos, rather than her house. “I suppose,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Very well, then,” J.J. said. “After Li Ping is on her way back to me, I’ll send up an advance team to catalog all the animals you have here on your property.”

  At the thought of this, Flora seemed to age twenty years in a second. “Every last one of them?”

  “Every last one,” J.J. repeated. “I’m sure you can even get along without Suki there. After all, you have a real butler, and pardon me for saying so, but that orangutan sucks eggs when it comes to serving tea.”

  Suki stuck out his tongue and gave J.J. a raspberry.

  J.J. allowed us one last look at Li Ping, then closed the door and ushered us all back toward the front door.

  “J.J.,” Flora said, looking defeated now. “You indicated a fair price for all the other animals—but you didn’t mention one for Li Ping.”

  “That’s because Li Ping is my panda,” J.J. explained. “You stole her from me.”

  “Walter Ogilvy stole her from you,” Flora corrected. “I purchased her from him at a very steep price.”

  “Well then, that’s between you and Walter Ogilvy.” J.J. took Flora by the arm and steered her back into the living room. “If you’d like to take this matter up with the authorities, be my guest.”

  Flora’s knees buckled. She sank into a chair. Suki proffered her a teacup that actually had some tea in it.

  To my disgust, Flora drank it. Either she was so shaken by events that she didn’t realize Suki had gotten orangutan spit in it, or she didn’t care.

  There was a sudden movement behind me. I spun around, fearing one of the big cats might have gotten into the house, but saw something even more frightening.

  Arthur had snatched one of the old hunting rifles off the wall, and with a look of total hatred on his face, he aimed it at J.J. Unfortunately, Summer and I were standing right between them.

  I dove, tackling Summer to the floor.

  Thankfully, Dad was moving even faster than I was. He broadsided Arthur just as the butler pulled the trigger.

  The shot went wide, blasting an old vase to smithereens.

  Startled by the noise, the macaws took to the air. Suki leaped onto the tea cart, upsetting what few pieces of china hadn’t been broken already, and careened across the room into the wall. A portrait of an old man toppled onto Suki, who tore right through it.

  Flora gasped in horror. “Great-grandfather!”

  Dad and Arthur were now grappling with the rifle. Despite being much older than Dad, Arthur was surprisingly strong. “You’ll never take our animals!” he yelled. “Never!”

  Dad socked him in the face hard enough to send his dentures flying. They skittered across the floor one way while the rifle skittered another. Arthur stumbled backward, then took out another vase as he collapsed to the floor.

  Dad grabbed the rifle and turned to Summer and me. “Are you guys okay?”

  I looked to Summer, who was pale from fright but recovering. “I’m good,” she said.

  Suki plucked Arthur’s dentures off the floor and stuck them in his mouth.

  The sight of the little orangutan in the tuxedo triggered something in my mind. I was suddenly struck by a flash of understanding. “Oh wow,” I said.

  “Look out!” Dad cried.

  A Komodo dragon, probably frightened by the gunshot, scurried through the door with a coterie of butlers, cooks, and other servants in pursuit. Suki spit out Arthur’s dentures and scrambled up the fireplace mantel in terror. Another painting toppled off the wall and tore, while the dragon knocked over two more vases as it ran about the room.

  “Oh wow, what?” Summer asked me. “Like ‘Oh wow, this place is crazy’?”

  “No,” I said. “I mean, it is, but . . . I wasn’t thinking about that.”

  “Then what were you thinking?”

  “I just realized who’s been swimming with the dolphins.”

  THE SWIMMER

  While J.J., Dad, Summer, and I were at Flora Hancock’s mansion, Chief Hoenekker was calling his contacts at the State Department’s Diplomatic Security Service. It turned out the DSS could claim jurisdiction over anything that might impact US relations with a foreign power—and since China was a foreign power, arresting Li Ping’s thief counted. Their southern branch was happy to come aboard the investigation, especially when they realized they could make Molly O’Malley look bad in the bargain. Apparently, she’d riled up some DSS agents on a previous case a few years before.

  So that night, while the TV news continued mistakenly reporting that the FBI had closed the Li Ping case, James Van Amburg handed over all his evidence to the DSS, which quickly went to work. Within hours, they’d arrested Juan Velasquez and the three other men who’d switched the trailers and stolen the panda. Threatened with long sentences in a federal penitentiary, each coughed up incriminating evidence on Walter Ogilvy.

  At 7:00 a.m. the next morning, when Walter Ogilvy walked into his offices at Nautilus headquarters in New York City, the DSS was waiting for him.

  By the time I got up for school, the story was out. Every news channel was breathlessly reporting how the FBI had made a huge blunder, while the DSS, working with FunJungle’s Security Division, had tracked down the real criminal. It would have been a massive story simply because of Li Ping, but Walter Ogilvy had thrown an honest-to-god tantrum as he was being arrested. He’d broken down even worse than James Van Amburg had, sobbing uncontrollably, begging not to go to jail, claiming he’d been framed by everyone from his ex-wife to international terrorists. A disgruntled Nautilus employee had recorded the whole thing and posted it online. The embarrassing footage had trended like crazy; by noon, there were over six million views on the Internet, and Ogilvy had quickly gone from being a respected businessman to a national laughingstock.

  Not a single news story mentioned me, however, except to say that one of the criminals involved had accidentally knocked an innocent boy into the polar bear exhibit during an attempt to flee FunJungle Security the day before, and subsequently ruined a parade. Pete Thwacker promptly announced that the Polar Pavilion would be temporarily closed to install better safety railings, and went on to say that the chaos at the parade had all been part of a FunJungle sting operation to catch the criminal. “Our guests were so impressed by the spectacle of our law enforcement agents in action,” he added, “that FunJungle is considering adding a permanent stunt-show element to the parade in coming weeks.”

  I was given many reasons that my name couldn’t be revealed as part of the investigation, from protecting my safety to fear that my involvement would harm the credibility of the government’s case against Walter Ogilvy. However, Mom and Dad said that it was probably because everyone was embarrassed to admit that a thirteen-year-old boy had cracked the case when no one else had.

  It was annoying, but I had another mystery to solve that day as it was.

  I waited until lunchtime, then approached the perpetrator in the school cafeteria. “It was you, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  Xavier Gonzalez looked up from
his lunch, startled. “Was what me?”

  “The person who lost his bathing suit in the dolphin tank.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Xavier asked, but it was obvious he had a secret. He’d turned bright red and his voice had gone up two octaves. Plus, he was a terrible actor. If I hadn’t been convinced he was the culprit before, this proved it.

  No one else was at the lunch table with us. I hadn’t wanted to accuse Xavier in front of all of them. Dash and Ethan weren’t even at school—they had a track and field tournament in Austin—and Summer had kept Violet away by suggesting they eat outside.

  I unwrapped my brown bag lunch. Turkey and cheddar on wheat bread. Xavier had a tuna fish sandwich. Now that I thought about it, Xavier almost always had a tuna fish sandwich.

  “Yesterday at lunch,” I explained, “when I was telling everyone about the dolphins, I only said that they’d been pulling people’s bathing suits down. But then you said the dolphins had been stealing bathing suits. Which you wouldn’t have known unless yours had been stolen.”

  “That’s not true!” Xavier said defensively. “You definitely said the dolphins had been stealing suits. I know it.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” I told him. “And then, there’s also the bathing suit itself. It was a FunJungle shark attack suit. Almost every piece of clothing you own is FunJungle merchandise.”

  Xavier reflexively looked down at his T-shirt. As usual, it was from FunJungle. Today it read: “Carnivore Canyon Is Awesome—and I’m Not Lion.”

  “I’ll bet lots of people have that bathing suit,” he said.

  That was probably true, no matter how tacky the suit was. Although there was another piece of evidence against Xavier: The bathing suit had been a men’s medium, which had led me to believe a kid couldn’t have worn it, especially a short kid like Xavier. But Xavier was overweight and had a much bigger waistline than he should have. I’d realized that when looking at Flora’s tuxedo-wearing orangutan. Xavier’s own tux hadn’t fit right; the arms and legs had been way too long, which meant he’d needed to rent a men’s tux so the pants would fit over his belly. It followed, then, that he would wear a men’s bathing suit as well.