Everyone sat up straighter, as if the chief’s few quiet words had been a bugle call.
“We also need to think about the welfare of that poor woman in the wheelchair,” Dad said. “You can see from Meg’s pictures what a completely unhygienic condition the house is in. I think we need to involve Adult Protective Services.”
“Oh, Lord, do we have to?” Randall muttered. “That woman could give St. Peter homicidal urges.”
“Meredith Flugleman, the county social worker,” the chief explained for Grandfather’s benefit. “She can be a little overwhelming, but she means well. I’ll do the liaising with her if you’d like, Randall.”
“I’ll owe you one,” Randall said.
“We don’t have any county ordinances regulating the number of domestic animals a household can have,” Clarence said. “Might be something we should consider for the future. But we do have the state animal cruelty statutes. From what I see in those pictures of the cats, it’d be a miracle if we went in and didn’t find violations. So we’re completely justified in conducting a search as long as Meg is willing to make a sworn complaint—”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Another thing—our records don’t show any validly licensed dogs at that address, or under the name of Willimer at any other address,” Clarence said. “At a minimum, we need to ensure that all those poor animals are disease-free and have been properly vaccinated.”
“And Willimer doesn’t have a business license on file,” Randall put in. “He’d need one if he’s operating a kennel. And I can’t imagine any other reason why someone would have a whole blasted barn full of puppies.”
“And just in time for Christmas,” the chief said. “I’m sure if we look hard enough we’ll find somewhere that he’s advertising puppies for sale.”
“We’ll also need to check with the state to see if Willimer has a permit to own that tiger,” Grandfather said.
“And the monkeys, I assume,” the chief said.
“No, Virginia’s laws on private ownership of wild animals are pretty lax,” Grandfather said. “You need a permit for bears, wolves, and big cats, but there’s no regulation at all on primates. But we should probably notify Fish and Wildlife about all the wild animals—including the finches. In fact, especially the finches. They’ve been battling an epidemic of Gouldian finch-smuggling lately. Maybe this Willimer acquired his finches and his tiger and all the rest of them perfectly legally, but you never know. Could have some connection to that big smuggling ring Fish and Wildlife has been investigating.”
“I think we’ve established that we need to intervene out there on humane grounds, and that we have ample legal justification for doing so,” the chief said. “We can sort out the legal issues when we have more information. But this is going to take a bit of organizing. Dr. Blake, can you get me the contact information for the appropriate person I should notify at Fish and Wildlife?”
“I can take care of it myself if you’d like.” Grandfather squared his shoulders as if he’d just offered to carry the flag up San Juan Hill.
“If you have good contacts there, that would be excellent,” the chief said. “I confess, I’m feeling rather annoyed with them at the moment. Someone identifying himself as a Fish and Wildlife agent was snooping around town about a week or so ago, asking a lot of peculiar questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Grandfather asked.
“Asking the pet store if they could procure a three-toed sloth for him,” the chief said. “Asking Mr. Wu at the House of Mandarin if they served shark-fin soup.”
“Two staples of the wildlife trafficking racket,” Grandfather said, nodding.
I found it hard to believe that three-toed sloths were a staple of anything, but I kept my mouth shut.
“That is exactly the sort of thing Fish and Wildlife is trying to get a handle on,” Grandfather went on.
“Yes, but I gather this particular agent was unnecessarily persistent,” the chief said. “Became verbally abusive when they told him they couldn’t help him. Told Mr. Wu he’d look into having him deported.”
“Well, that’s a crock,” Randall said. “Not only was Danny Wu born here in Caerphilly, I think three of his four grandparents were. And one of them a Shiffley.”
“A baseless threat, but still alarming to Mr. Wu,” the chief said. “And I am not pleased with the fact that the agent in question didn’t even have the courtesy to notify me that he was investigating something in my jurisdiction. In fact, I wouldn’t even have known he was from Fish and Wildlife if he hadn’t lost his temper when the Caerphilly Inn couldn’t accommodate him with a room. According to Ms. Voro—Ms. Voro—Miss Ekaterina, he slammed his fist down on the registration desk and told her she couldn’t treat Fish and Wildlife this way.” He surprised us all by chuckling at this. “She told him that she was sorry, she did not have a room, even for Fish and Wildlife, but perhaps he could find accommodations at the local zoo. When she started giving him directions there, he stormed out, and that was the last anyone saw of him.”
“Typical bureaucratic behavior,” Grandfather said. “Especially from some of the new lot that have been coming in lately. I hope you complained to his management.”
“I called both the state and national offices of Fish and Wildlife, got transferred a dozen times, left messages, and haven’t heard a thing. And if they’re so all-fired busy investigating a giant smuggling ring, they’d probably consider our problem here pretty small potatoes. So if you have good contacts there, have at it. Just keep me in the loop.”
Grandfather nodded.
“Clarence,” the chief went on. “Can you organize the logistics of our raid? Keeping in mind that we won’t know exactly what we’re facing till we get in there. Meg’s photos are helpful, but they don’t show the whole interior of the barn.”
“They only show about two-thirds of it,” I said. “If that much. There could be a lot more animals.”
“But however many animals we find, we need to be prepared to seize any or all of them if their welfare requires it.” The chief’s voice was solemn.
Clarence was looking anxious, but at the chief’s last words he lifted his chin and nodded.
“And I’m sure those of us here represent only a small portion of the local citizens who will be willing to help,” the chief added.
“Of course!” Dad wiggled his sock-clad toes vigorously as if to underscore his own readiness.
“I’ll bring as many zoo personnel as possible,” Grandfather said. “And I’ll put the word out to the Brigade.”
“We probably do need them,” the chief said with a slight sigh. Clearly he had mixed feelings about Blake’s Brigade, the loosely organized cadre of volunteers Grandfather called on whenever he was organizing an animal rescue or a protest. I could understand the chief’s misgivings. The Brigade members were almost universally good-hearted and well-meaning, but they often displayed more enthusiasm than common sense. For my part, I always wanted to breathe a sigh of relief and take a long nap when the Brigade left town.
“So I’ll leave it to you to organize the crates and cages and the transport,” the chief said. “Dr. Blake, can we safely house the exotic animals at your zoo, at least for the short term?”
“No problem. Depending on how many we find, we might need to transfer some to the Willner Wildlife Sanctuary in the longer term. But we can talk that over with Caroline when she gets back from that silly cruise of hers.”
Did Grandfather actually miss Caroline, his usual co-conspirator, or was he only annoyed that she wasn’t on hand to help?
“And Clarence,” the chief continued. “I assume you can tap your network of foster families to handle the rest.”
“There are an awful lot of animals,” Clarence said. “But with a little help from the Brigade, we’ll manage.”
“I’ll strong-arm a few cousins if you fall short,” Randall said.
“Mother could probably do the same with our family,” I suggested. Dad beamed at the idea.
“So how soon can we make this raid?” the chief asked.
“Immediately!” Grandfather roared, leaping out of his chair. “While we sit here talking, animals are suffering!”
“And if we rush in without proper preparation, we could add to their suffering rather than alleviating it.” The chief extended both hands, palms down, and gently patted the air in front of him. Grandfather took the hint and sat down.
“But quickly,” Grandfather said. “Today.”
“It will take us a few hours to round up the necessary supplies, transport, and personnel,” Clarence said. “And the statute prohibits a search after sunset unless specifically authorized for cause by the proper authority.”
“Well, either I’m the proper authority or I’m sure Judge Jane Shiffley would do,” the chief said. “But is there cause?”
Clarence considered.
“Cold is the biggest thing to worry about in the short term,” he said. “Assuming Meg’s right about the barn being unheated. Still, snow’s a pretty good insulator, and the temperatures aren’t going to get more than a degree or two below freezing tonight. The animals should be okay for that long. But I hear there’s an arctic air mass headed our way by tomorrow night. Record cold temperatures. I wouldn’t want to leave them out there for that. So I think we should go in tomorrow.”
“But in the meantime, the animals could be suffering!” Grandfather exclaimed. “Why not go now?”
“Call me a worrywart,” I said. “But we’re talking about going into an unfamiliar place, looking for an unknown number of animals, some of them potentially quite dangerous, and with no idea whether or not the human occupants are armed. Do we really want to be dealing with all those unknowns in the dark?”
“And in the middle of a snowstorm.” The chief nodded. “My thinking exactly. Can we all be ready by dawn tomorrow?”
One by one they all nodded.
“Dawn’s at seven fifteen,” the chief said. “Rendezvous here at six thirty. I’ll work out all the legal issues—Randall, I hope you didn’t have anything else for the county attorney to work on today.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
The chief looked at me.
“Meg, I know it’s an imposition, but I’d like you to go along if possible. You’re the only one who’s had eyes on the place—we may need your knowledge. If we had more lead time I’d find a way to get one of my officers to scout the place, but I don’t want to risk spooking the occupants this close to our search.”
“Count me in,” I said.