As I strolled out to my car I glanced toward the ice rink. I could see Fred, Janet, and Kevin attaching a garden hose to something that looked like a collection of metal tubes arranged in a trapezoid. Presumably the ice-conditioning machine. And—
I suddenly remembered something that Cyrus Runk’s arrival had driven out of my mind: that people looking for Ian might have found him here in Caerphilly through the Virginia Crime Time members-only message boards. As soon as Kevin called or texted me to let me know the rink was ready, I’d sic him on the project of figuring out if Runk or Ms. Koenigslutter had joined his message boards. Or should I interrupt him now? No—a few minutes’ delay wouldn’t make that much difference, and we needed the rink back in shape so I could get everyone to move the festivities back to the house before the roads got bad.
I set out for the zoo. Michael had taken the Twinmobile, but I didn’t mind—in fact, I was glad to be driving my old Toyota, with its lower center of gravity. The roads weren’t bad—not yet, anyway. But that could change. I tucked my phone into the holder so I could glance at it periodically to watch for texts from Kevin.
As I reached the outskirts of town I started seeing more tourists on the road. At least I assumed most of them were tourists, since even when it was snowing the locals usually went more than five miles an hour, and were rarely seen hanging halfway out their car windows with cameras or iPhones in their hands, taking pictures of Christmas decorations, quaint houses, and just about anything they saw that was even marginally decorative. I was relieved when I could turn off the main road and take several side streets to reach Clay County Road without going through the tourist-infested heart of town.
The zoo parking lot was crowded, and tourists were still swarming through the front gate, most of them waving the brightly colored paper maps they could use to compete in the Creatures of the Bible scavenger hunt, a special holiday attraction at the zoo. Grandfather had started it a few years ago as Animals of the Bible, and it had been such a success that he expanded it every year. Anyone who successfully located all one hundred and thirty-one birds, mammals, reptiles, fish, and plants that appeared both in the Bible and somewhere in the Caerphilly Zoo would win a small reward and be entered into a drawing for a series of fairly substantial prizes.
I parked in the staff parking lot and used my all-access badge to let myself into the employees-only entrance. I found myself in a small courtyard between two of the administration buildings. Even here, I could hear the excited squeals of zoo goers.
“Look! A star! A star!” one of them exclaimed just outside the wall separating the courtyard from the public area of the zoo. She wasn’t talking about the Christmas star, of course—she’d spotted one of the small bright silver stars that marked the various items included in the scavenger hunt. Probably the one marking the row of now-dormant apple trees on the other side of the wall.
I was about to go into the main Admin building when I spotted a sign taped to the door.
MUTANT WIZARDS/ACERGEN HOLIDAY GATHERING: EVENT SPACE, SMALL MAMMAL PAVILION.
So I turned around and headed out into the public areas of the zoo.
The zoo’s broad walkways were crowded with tourists, most well bundled-up against the cold. Although the holiday decorations were largely limited to twinkling lights, evergreen wreaths on the lampposts, and evergreen garlands looping between the lampposts, it all looked very festive, especially with the snow falling gently and adding a powdery dusting of white to everything. A band of carolers had taken up a position nearby, under a gazebo-like structure that served as a refuge from the sun in summertime, and had begun singing “The Friendly Beasts,” a zoo favorite. Grandfather hired several bands of strolling carolers and musicians every holiday season rather than piping canned Christmas music over the zoo’s loudspeaker system. The tourists seemed to find this warm and charming—we didn’t tell them that Grandfather’s real reason for doing it was so he could shoo the carolers away if they showed up near him when he was in a grouchy mood.
When I was halfway to the Small Mammal Pavilion, a voice came over the loudspeaker system, reading a weather report—obviously one customized for the zoo audience.
“The snow continues to fall here in Caerphilly,” the voice said. “Accumulations of between four and six inches are predicted. After sunset, temperatures will plunge further and road conditions will continue to deteriorate. The front gate will be issuing return tickets to customers who need to cut their visit short due to weather conditions. Please be advised that only arctic animals will be visible in outdoor habitats at this time.”
I didn’t see a lot of people hurrying for the exits after that. Maybe I should suggest to Grandfather that a more strongly worded announcement would be advisable. Did we really want a repeat of the time that a freak snowstorm had made Clay County Road impassible before they’d shooed out all of the tourists? Fortunately the zoo had plenty of cots and sleeping bags on hand, thanks to its summer camp program for middle- and high-school students—Camp with the Cheetahs and Sleep with the Sloths! But the tourists hadn’t all enjoyed the experience—in fact, some of the ones who’d been housed in the Reptile Pavilion or the Big Cat House had been downright traumatized.
I reached the Small Mammal Pavilion and hurried through its crowded hallways, averting my eyes from the naked mole rats and silently promising the meerkats that I’d come back and watch them later. When I opened the door to the event space a wall of sound hit me—overloud Christmas music mixed with the babble of many voices.
The Small Mammal event space was a big open room that could be put to many uses. Add tables and you could host a banquet. With booths, it could become an exhibit hall. Several sets of the kind of folding bleachers often found in high school gyms turned it into a good venue for Grandfather’s nature talks. Michael had occasionally used it for a rehearsal hall, and the Caerphilly Garden Club now held its annual shows there.
Today, a series of long tables down one side of the room held a buffet, and a hundred or so people—mostly Mutant Wizard and AcerGen employees—were milling about holding plates of food.
The sight of the food made me realize that it had been a long time since breakfast. I headed for the buffet tables which, though visibly ravaged, still held more than enough food to keep me happy. And the menu was a delightful mixture of the coq au vin and Cousin Nora’s other contributions along with some of the specialties of Grandfather’s favorite local caterer.
I was still piling up my plate when the music halted, and Mother’s voice came over the loudspeaker system.
“Attention, everyone,” she said. “We have an important announcement.”
People began shushing each other. I moved around the perimeter until I could see Mother standing on a small raised platform at one end of the room. Mr. Meredith and Festus were standing nearby.
And so, I noticed, was Chief Burke. Facing the audience, rather than Mother, as if interested in watching their reactions. I followed his gaze—he seemed to be marking down the locations of all the Canadians
“Thank you, everyone,” Mother began. “First of all, I’d like to thank everyone here for all your hard work on this project. I know it’s been difficult being away from your families at this time, with Hanukkah already going on and Christmas fast approaching. We appreciate your dedication.”
These heartwarming sentiments were met with polite silence, but Mother went on unperturbed.
“I’d like to offer condolences from the Mutant Wizards team to Mr. Gordon Meredith and to all the AcerGen staff on the loss of Mr. Ian Meredith. And to assure you all that we’ll be doing everything we can to help bring the person or persons responsible to justice.”
Was it an accident that she glanced over at me when she said that?
The polite silence continued, although the mood of the crowd seemed a little warmer—probably because she’d avoided making any fulsome tributes to Ian’s memory. I’d been more than half expecting a minute of silence, but luckily Mother read the mood of the crowd on that one.
“And finally, I’d like to announce that we are putting the project on hold for the time being.”
That got a reaction. A buzz of comments rippled through the room.
“We know AcerGen needs time to regroup from the loss of its CEO. And since he was spearheading the joint project, now seems a good time to take stock of what we’ve achieved and make any necessary adjustments to our future plans. So we’re asking team members from both companies to spend tomorrow wrapping up whatever work they’re currently involved in, after which Mutant Wizards staff will be free to use their leave to celebrate the holidays, and we’ll see what our Administrative Services staff can do to help the AcerGen staff book transportation home.”
If Mother was disappointed in the reaction to her earlier remarks, she certainly couldn’t complain about how the crowd reacted to this news. Cheers and applause filled the room and many Canadians and Americans exchanged high fives.
Mother smiled and left the small stage. I was about to walk over to let the chief know I was here when suddenly Grandfather appeared at my elbow.
“Meg,” he bellowed. “What the devil’s going on? Why is Mutant Wizards canceling that DNA-related project?”
His booming voice carried far too well. I could see nearby groups of people interrupting their own conversations to listen.
“Postponing, not canceling.” I tried to make my voice loud enough so all the eavesdroppers could hear, and hoped that the elder Mr. Meredith had already left. “Didn’t you hear what Mother just said? They need to regroup after Ian Meredith’s death.”
“Preposterous,” he said. “It’s not as if that idiot made any real contribution to the project. In fact, it will probably run a lot smoother without him going around interfering with the actual work.”
“Good point,” I said. “But come with me and I’ll show you something.”
I led him toward one of the staff-only doors and badged myself through. Mercifully, he followed. We were in a long corridor, brightly painted and lined with doors and the large, curtain-covered picture windows that could be used to observe the animals in the adjacent habitats. To our right was a small veterinary lab, empty but for a few four-legged patients. I led the way into it and closed the door behind us.
“So what is it you want to show me?” he said. “Not the Didelphis virginiana, I presume.” He pointed at a nearby cage where a half-grown possum with a bandage on one of his forelegs was baring all fifty of his excessively pointy little teeth at us.
“Actually, I wanted to tell you something without the entire party overhearing,” I said. “Since at the moment it’s a corporate secret and all. Assuming you can keep quiet about it.”
“Of course,” he said. “I figured there must be some more logical reason for postponing the project.”
“For canceling the project, actually,” I said. “You were right on that part. But we don’t want that to get out until we’re ready to announce it. If you—”
“Canceling it? Why? Do you realize that DNA is—”
“Because we figured out that AcerGen doesn’t know how to run it right,” I said. “You heard about what happened with Cyrus Runk, right? And Katherine Anne Koenigslutter? Who knows how many more people are going to sue AcerGen for violating their privacy? And that could be small potatoes when the word gets out about the problems with mixing up samples and who knows what other shenanigans have been going on at DNA Gnostics, the lab they’ve been using to process people’s test kits—”
“DNA Gnostics?” he bellowed. “You mean they’ve been using that bunch of charlatans? Who made that idiotic decision? Didn’t they do any research?”
“Ian made the decision, and I don’t think he researched anything but their low prices. So you’ve heard of DNA Gnostics?”
“Of course,” he said. “All of us in the field have heard of them. They’re completely incompetent and should have had their accreditation revoked ages ago.”
“According to a conversation of Ian’s that I overheard yesterday, their accreditation has probably been revoked and they’re facing fraud charges.”
“Excellent!”
“Which means AcerGen is scrambling to find someone willing to process DNA kits for what they can pay.”
Grandfather nodded slightly.
“So that’s why we’re canceling the project,” I said. “Not because we have any doubts about the importance of DNA. But because we do realize how important it is—and how vital it is to do it right. AcerGen isn’t up to it. We realize that now. And so do they—at least Ian’s father does.”
Grandfather nodded slowly. He looked sad and defeated. And older. He suddenly looked his age.
“It was stupid of me,” he said—words I couldn’t have imagined ever coming out of his mouth. “I was so excited about Rob doing something in a scientific field. I thought maybe I could help out somehow.”
“Maybe you still can,” I said. “Now that we’re terminating the contract with AcerGen, Mutant Wizards suddenly has a nearly finished and highly expensive program on its hands, with no interested buyer. A complex, interactive web-based program to help consumers understand and use their DNA test results—one that Kevin and Delaney assure us is a cut above what any other company in the consumer DNA market has to offer. You know everyone in the field, right? Maybe you can help Mutant Wizards find a more worthy buyer for all that fancy programming work they’ve already done.”
He perked up a little.
“That’s possible,” he said. “Assuming it really is something that would be useful in the field. From what I saw of Ian—”
“He had no idea what he was doing,” I said. “But Kevin and Delaney do. And they—and a bunch of other really smart people at Mutant Wizards—did a lot of research to figure out what would be useful. Get them to give you a demo.”
“It’s a plan,” he said.
“But remember—don’t tell anyone until we make the public announcement.”
“Of course.” He nodded and tried to look inscrutable. Then he gave that up.
“And you need to be more careful,” he said. “I hear you’ve single-handedly captured three suspects for the chief. That should be their job. The police, I mean.”
“I didn’t really capture any of them,” I said. “They just showed up and I managed to stall them all long enough that the cops could capture them.”
Actually, I did play a part in capturing Runk, but Cousin Nora and the barn cats had done most of the work. I wasn’t going to mention that and make him any more worried than he already was.
“Still,” he said. “You should be careful. Especially if one of those creeps ends up getting bail.”
“I will,” I said.
We delayed our return to the party long enough for Grandfather to check on the well-being of the small mammals currently recuperating in the clinic. When we emerged into public view, Grandfather’s face and body language clearly showed that he was gloating over being in possession of a secret. Dad was prone to the same thing. But at least Grandfather was reasonably good at keeping any secrets confided to him, if only because it prolonged his opportunity for gloating. Dad not only telegraphed that he had a secret, he almost always blurted it out. As a result, ever since my high school days, he almost always recruited me to pick out Christmas, birthday, and anniversary presents for Mother. Usually by the time I’d done enough research to select something she was sure to like, she had already figured out what she was getting. But since I was under orders not to tell Dad what he was giving her, lest he accidentally spill the beans, at least someone was always delightfully surprised.
Keeping the ice rink a secret from nearly everyone must have been an incredible strain on him. I looked to see if he was here at the party.
I didn’t spot him, but I did see Chief Burke. I caught his eye, and he excused himself from the conversation he was in and headed my way.