It was a good thing the Carnivore Canyon grand opening party wasn’t that night, because Mom was so angry at me for running off that she probably wouldn’t have let me go. I’d never seen her so upset in my life. She’d been worried sick—even though I’d left the note—and alerted security to keep an eye out for me. (It spoke to how crummy FunJungle’s security was that I’d been running around the park for over an hour and no one had spotted me.) After chewing me out, Mom planted me in a chair in her office and didn’t leave again until it was time to go home for the night. Then she marched me back to our trailer, made me dinner, and sent me right to my room. She also confiscated my phone so I couldn’t communicate with Summer.
That was frustrating, because I knew Summer was probably in a heap of trouble as well. Once we left the dressing room, she’d checked her phone and found about a hundred messages from her mother and her bodyguards. “I gotta split,” she’d told me, and raced out the front gates to grab a cab. I hadn’t heard from her since and now wondered if she’d even be allowed to go to the gala event the next night, let alone bring a date.
I told Mom what I’d learned, of course. (I’d tried to leave Charlie out, but she’d dragged his name out of me.) I wanted her to know I’d disobeyed her for a good reason: my own safety. “If Pete and Marge really killed Henry, then they’re also the ones who tried to kill me,” I explained. “We should tell the police!”
“The police aren’t going to believe that story for one second,” Mom told me.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even believe it. Pete Thwacker doesn’t know a thing about hippos—and Marge is even dumber. You really think those two blockheads could put together that plan to kill Henry?”
“Maybe,” I said. Although the truth was, this had already occurred to me. It was what had bothered me about Charlie’s story. A couple weeks earlier, Pete had actually remarked at a press conference that hippopotamuses were basically whales with legs. I didn’t doubt that he might have truly wanted Henry dead—or that Marge would have been willing to do it for extra pay. But the two of them seemed more likely to go the poisoning or shooting route than doing something as subtle as killing Henry slowly via peritonitis. Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t have done it.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ here,” Mom told me. “It’s completely implausible.”
“What if they got help from someone else? Like one of the hippo keepers? They’d know how to kill Henry without making it look like a crime.”
Mom just shot me an angry look, as though the idea that one of the keepers would help kill their own animal was offensive to her. Then she got up, went into the adjoining office and made a phone call.
I didn’t find out who she’d called until later that night. I was sitting in my room, reading, when Mom came in and said I had a visitor. I stepped out into our little kitchen and found Buck Grassley there.
“Evening, Teddy,” he said. “Your mother tells me you’ve been looking into Henry’s death on your own.” Unlike a lot of the other adults at FunJungle, Buck always talked to me like I was a grown-up. He didn’t seem upset that I’d been investigating. Instead, he seemed to be intrigued, like he was my grandpa asking how school had been that day.
“I guess,” I replied.
Buck chuckled a bit. “It’s a nice night,” he said. “Why don’t we all have a little chat outside?” It wasn’t really a question. He held open the door for us.
I looked to Mom. She nodded that it was all right. So I went out.
We had a couple of cheap Target lawn chairs set up outside our door, facing the woods. Dad and Mom liked to sit there at night, stare up at the sky, and imagine they were back in Africa. Ever the gentleman, Buck waited for Mom and I to sit before he did.
It was still humid out, but the heat of the day had broken. The stars were bright and the woods were alive with the chirp of crickets.
“Your mother tells me you talked to Charlie Connor today,” Buck said. “He told you Pete Thwacker and one of my own people might have had something to do with Henry’s death?”
I thought it was interesting that he didn’t call Large Marge by her name. Or call Henry’s death a “murder.” “That’s right.”
“I don’t suppose Charlie told you what he did before he was in the circus?”
“No.”
“He was in jail.”
I swallowed hard, worried. Charlie had threatened me not to mention his name and I had—and now he turned out to be a criminal. “For what?”
“Armed robbery.”
“You mean like from banks?”
“No, nothing that big. He mugged people. Just a two-bit thug.”
Mom stared at Buck, even more upset than me. “You hired an ex-con to work as a mascot?”
Buck shrugged. “He’d served his time. Got early parole for good behavior. The system considers him reformed.”
“I’m all for giving people a second chance,” Mom said, “But as a mascot here? Most of that job is working with children. You couldn’t have given him a behind-the-scenes position instead?”
“I’m in security, not personnel. From what I understand, there’s not a whole lot of people lining up to work as mascots. Those suits are hot and uncomfortable, and we’ve got to put people in them. I understand your concern, though. I have it too. So I’ve kept an eye on Charlie. . . .”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“To people? Not really. Charlie never actually used a weapon on anyone. He only used it to scare his victims. When he got busted, there weren’t even bullets in the gun. But animals might be a different story. . . . I know he likes to hunt, so he’s killed animals before. And he did have a grudge against Henry.”
“So you think maybe he murdered Henry?” I asked. “And then accused Pete and Marge to distract attention from himself?”
Buck just gave another shrug. “First of all, we still don’t have any proof Henry was murdered. . . .”
I almost interrupted him to say that wasn’t true—that I’d even found evidence of the murder—but Mom signaled me to keep my mouth shut, so I did.
“. . . but if someone did try to harm the hippo, I think Charlie would be as much as suspect as anyone else. Certainly more than one of my own people. I know Marge has a big beef with you, Teddy, but that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, understood?”
I stifled a smile. “Understood.”
Buck suddenly leaned forward, fixing me with a hard stare. “The thing is, these investigations can get dangerous. Someone’s already made one attempt to scare you off and you could have been seriously hurt. Now there’s a known felon in the mix. So from now on, let me and my people handle this, okay? This is a big park. I’m sure you and Miss McCracken can find something else to occupy your time here.”
I reacted with surprise—which was exactly what Buck was expecting. Now that he had me on the hook, he let me wriggle a bit. He picked a chunk of cedar wood off the ground, took his Bowie knife from its holster and started to whittle, carefully shaving off the bark.
“Remember how we have all those cameras everywhere?” he asked. “Well, we’ve been reviewing all the tapes of Hippo River from the last few days. So we’ve got plenty of footage of you two and your little swim party.”
“That was all my idea.” I spoke so quickly, I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it. Trying to protect Summer just seemed like the right thing to do.
“Was it now?” The tone of Buck’s voice indicated he knew Summer well enough to guess whose idea it really was. He and Mom shared a smile, as though they thought my attempt at chivalry was cute. “What exactly were you doing in there?”
“Looking for the murder weapon.”
“Did you find it?”
I hesitated before answering, then realized that this was as good as an answer. “Yes,” I admitted.
“Where is it?”
“Doc has it.”
Buck didn’t seem quite sure how to respond to that. He fell silent for a bit, like he was mentally jotting down notes.
I realized I’d just dragged Doc into the investigation, which would probably make him even more annoyed at me than usual. But I still felt right in telling Buck about the weapon. I was glad someone in law enforcement was finally showing an interest in Henry’s murder. I also felt some relief in letting Buck take over. After all, he was right. It was getting dangerous. The incident at World of Reptiles had been scary, but somehow, learning that Charlie Conner was a felon was even more unsettling. It seemed no one at FunJungle was exactly what they appeared to be. I wondered how many other people were hiding something.
“Why’d you give it to Doc?” Buck asked.
“I didn’t, really. He took it.”
“You mean he stole it from you?”
“No. I went to show it to him because I thought he’d want to see it. He’d suspected Henry was murdered during the autopsy, but couldn’t find the weapon.” I explained everything that had happened at the vet lab that day: How there’d been someone else in the operating room with Doc, how Doc had seemed on edge and taken the jack from me, how I’d caught a glimpse of the dead jaguar . . .
“Whoa there.” Buck looked up from his whittling. “What dead jaguar?”
“It must have come for Carnivore Canyon, I guess. Doc was doing an autopsy on it.”
“You mean to see if someone had killed it, too?”
“No,” Mom said. “Nothing like that. It’s just Doc’s policy to autopsy any animal that dies at the park.”
“So . . . he doesn’t suspect there’s a serial animal murderer here?”
“No. He thinks Henry is the only animal that’s been killed.” Mom suddenly seemed to doubt her statement and looked at me. “Is that right?”
“As far as I know,” I agreed.
“But he still autopsies everything anyhow?” Buck asked.
“Yes,” Mom said. “To determine the cause of death so that similar deaths can be prevented.”
Buck had chewed his toothpick to pulp. He tossed it aside, then shaved off a new sliver of wood and stuck it in his mouth. “Teddy, you keep referring to this murder weapon as a jack. Can you describe it to me?”
I did. Then I explained how anyone could have picked up a package of jacks at FunJungle Emporium, turned them into murder weapons, and easily fed them to Henry. Buck listened intently, nodding thoughtfully, his mood darkening the whole time. I think he was starting to grasp that I was no longer just some bored kid crying wolf—although I’d have thought the murder attempt at World of Reptiles would have convinced him of that.
Mom grew more intrigued as she listened as well. “All these cameras you’ve got, Buck. Are any of them aimed at the tourist areas of Hippo River?”
“Plenty.”
“So you could go through all the tapes from the days before Henry died and see if you can spot the killer throwing the jacks into Henry’s mouth.”
Buck frowned. “In theory, yes. But if it’s as simple to feed Henry as Teddy says, then I doubt the tapes will do us any good. If the killer knows about the cameras—and I have good reason to suspect he does—then there are plenty of ways he could have avoided being filmed: going to the most crowded viewpoint and blending in with everyone else—or maybe wadding the jacks into some bread and giving them to a child to feed to Henry—or wearing a disguise. A baseball cap pulled down low over the eyes would be enough. Plus, we all know hundreds of people threw food to Henry every day. How could we tell which of them was the killer?”
“Good point.” Mom looked defeated as she said it.
“Did you ever find out why all the cameras in Reptile World went down?” I asked.
“Power failure,” Buck replied.
“Only for those cameras?” Mom asked.
“Yes. A fuse blew in the room where the recordings are kept.”
“At the exact time that the mamba was being let out? That seems awfully suspicious.”
“Yes,” Buck admitted. “Yes, it does.”
“Could the fuse be tripped manually?” Mom asked.
“Where is it?”
“Inside the administration building.”
“You need official access to get in there,” Mom said. “Sounds like this was an inside job.”
“Oh, I don’t think there was ever any doubt of that.” Buck stood and stretched. “Well, it’s late and I’ve got a long drive home. I hope you’ve taken this little talk to heart, Teddy.”
“I have, sir,” I said.
“I have your word you’re done investigating?”
“Sure.”
“Good to hear.” Buck tousled my hair and smiled.
“Am I in trouble for going into Henry’s pool?”
Buck chuckled. “For what? Showing a little gumption? Nothing wrong with that. Reminds me of a kid I knew growing up around here. Little squirt named John James McCracken. He turned out all right.” Buck sheathed his knife, then added, “Of course, J.J. always knew when to leave well enough alone. Hopefully, you do too.”
Then he ambled off toward the employee parking lot.
I turned to Mom, expecting to be sent straight to bed, but to my surprise, she wasn’t even looking at me. She was just staring after Buck, lost in thought.
I went inside and headed for my room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mom asked.
I looked back through the screen door. “I thought I was grounded.”
“Not anymore.”
“I’m not?”
Mom shook her head. “I’m not saying I’m happy about what you did, but I see now that you didn’t have much choice. You told me Henry had been murdered, but I didn’t help you. No one did.” Mom came inside and pointed to a seat at the table. I sat while she cut slices of cake for both of us.
“Do you think Buck can find the killer?” I asked.
Mom took her time before answering. “I’m not sure,” she finally admitted. “Buck’s a good man, but . . . I’m not so sure he’s coming at this the right way.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he seems far more concerned about Charlie than Pete and Marge. Now, yes, Charlie has a criminal past, but I find it hard to believe he’d kill Henry for revenge. If he really was angry at the hippo, wouldn’t he have killed it back in the circus? Why wait until now?”
“I don’t think Charlie knows that much about animals,” I said. I was having a hard time imagining him doing something so clever as using the jacks to kill Henry. Or freeing the mamba. Plus, he wasn’t tall enough to cut the glass on the mamba’s exhibit without using a stepstool.
“Pete doesn’t know anything about animals either,” Mom admitted. “But then, maybe that’s all an act. He was a very successful PR man at some of J.J.’s other companies before he was transferred here. He can’t be as much of an idiot as he sometimes seems.”
“Do you think he and Marge killed Henry?”
Mom sighed, then sat down with a glass of milk. “I don’t know. I can see the motive. Henry’s been a constant thorn in Pete’s side. I can even see Pete getting so frustrated that he’d say he wanted Henry dead. I just can’t see him actually going through with it.”
“I can see Marge doing it,” I said. “She’s mean.”
“Can you see Marge coming up with the plan with the jacks?”
“No. But I can imagine her feeding them to Henry if someone told her how to do it.”
“How about setting the mamba free?”
I thought about that a bit. “Maybe if she thought it’d scare me. Not to kill me, though.”
Mom took a long gulp of milk, then said, “I think Buck might be biased toward investigating an ex-con, rather than one of his own employees. Although there’s plenty of other people who could have done this as well.”
“Like who?”
“Pete wasn’t the only person that Henry caused trouble. For a hippopotamus, he had a lot of enemies. I know Martin hated him. Everyone in administration did. And the marketing department too. And if you’re going to throw Charlie Conner in the mix, then you might as well count every other person he’d ever attacked or covered with crap.”
“What about his keepers? I heard none of them liked him.”
Mom immediately shook her head. “Maybe they didn’t. But I’ve never met a keeper in my life who’d harm an animal. And anyone who works with hippos chose to do so. They’d know what the risks were. J.J. hired some of the best keepers from around the country to come here. Each of those people had years of experience with hippos. They wouldn’t kill him.”
“Even for money? What if they were really broke and someone offered them a whole lot of cash?”
“Like who?”
I thought a bit, but could only come up with one person who had a great deal of money. “J.J. McCracken? I’m sure he wanted to get rid of Henry too.”
Mom considered that, then reluctantly admitted, “I guess it’s possible. Whatever the case, that’s an awfully long list of suspects, any one of whom could have killed Henry—and gone after you .”
I got a queasy feeling in my stomach. Every minute Buck spent going after the wrong suspect was a minute the real killer was still out there, free to come after me again.
Mom must have noticed I was getting worried, because she reached across the table and set her hand on mine. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But for the time being, when I say ‘Stay in my office with me,’ stay there, all right?”
I nodded. “Does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”
“Yes. And I think it’d be okay if you came to the party tomorrow night.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’d like to meet this new friend of yours.”
I blushed a bit, thinking of Summer. Mom laughed, then grabbed our plates and took them to the sink.
Despite the good front she was putting up, I knew the real reason Mom was letting me go to the party: She felt I’d be safer there with her than I would be at home alone.
Sadly, I felt the same way. Our trailer was a cheap prefab job with a cheesy lock on the door and walls you could practically poke your finger through. Plus, it sat in the middle of nowhere, thirty miles from the closest police station. True, we had neighbors, but they’d all be at the party the next night as well. You couldn’t really come up with a less protected place to be.
That night, I went to bed with a chair jammed under the doorknob of my room, just to be on the safe side.