“There may have been sightings.”
Officer Grant is meeting with the museum officials in the chief executive’s office later that night. Mrs. Simson is with them.
“There may have been sightings?” the security head asks. “What does that mean?”
“It means there may have been sightings,” says Officer Grant. She keeps a close eye on the officials while she talks.
Her specialty on the police force is looking for child runaways. Finding the runaway is only half the work. The other part is finding out why the child ran. More than one hitting parent has come under Officer Grant’s critical eye.
“Where were these sightings?” the chief executive asks. “We’ll get a team over there now and retrieve it.”
“This is now a police matter,” says Officer Grant. “You’ll do nothing without our say so.”
“Excuse me,” says the head of security, sounding not at all like he feels he needs to be excused, “but the sloth is our property. If you know where it is, you have to give it back to us.”
“If it is stolen property, it must be held as evidence,” says Officer Grant. “If it is lost property, then we must do an investigation to see who is responsible for such an expensive loss. And if it is a runaway, then I will need to determine why the sloth ran away and what is the best place for it to live in from now on.”
“It’s a museum exhibit,” says the chief executive. “Museum exhibits don’t run away.”
Officer Grant keeps secret from the officials something she has in her pocket — an analysis of the dung sample she collected after stepping in it in the cannonball thicket. The zoologist at the Georgetown zoo says it’s from the sloth family, but not from any sloth she’s ever seen.
“She is not an ‘it’,” says Mrs. Simson. “Her name is Gather. And she wasn’t stolen or lost. She walked away. I showed you the footprints.”
“She,” agrees Officer Grant, nodding at Mrs. Simson. “We’ll be looking into all possibilities. Now, what sort of habitat would Gather prefer?”
The officials look at their shoes.
Finally, the marketing manager says, “Giant ground sloths have been extinct for twenty thousand years.”
“Ten thousand,” corrects Mrs. Simson.
“Extinct or not, what terrain would she head for? Jungle? Shore? Open fields?”
None of the officials knows.
“I deal with finances,” says the financial officer.
“I find ways to bring people into the museum,” says the marketing manager.
“I have lunch with funders,” says the chief executive.
“And I protect everyone and everything,” says the head of security.
Officer Grant shakes her head. “You mean to tell me that you are around these amazing exhibits every day — a privilege not many people in Guyana have — and you haven’t taken the time to learn about them? I should arrest you all for laziness.”
“Gather will go to the forest,” Mrs. Simson says. “Megatherium can stand on their hind legs, reaching up into the trees to eat leaves and flowers and fruit. She’ll need food and she’ll need places where she can get away from people. If she can get to a forest, that’s where she’ll be the most happy.”
“Someone here knows a thing or two,” says Officer Grant. “I’ve never had to look for a runaway prehistoric ground sloth before. I’m going to need expert help.” She turns to Mrs. Simson. “How would you like to be my deputy on this?”
Mrs. Simson does not need to be asked twice. She takes the supply cupboard key out of her uniform pocket and hands it to the chief executive.
“But you’re the cleaner!” he says.
“The broom is in the closet,” Mrs. Simson says. And, just like Gather, she walks out of the museum.