Mary Anne And The Zoo Mystery Part 8

"Yes, sir," Howie replied. "I won't."

Mr. Chester gestured for the boys to move onto the sidewalk. "And stay on the walkways, that's what they're here for."

Alan and Howie took two giant steps forward. Once Mr. Chester was satisfied that they weren't going to return to the bushes, he hurried back to the side of the building.

Mojo and James had seen their lunches coming and were upset when they didn't arrive. They were now pounding on the metal door.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" we heard Mr. Chester call. He slid the little metal door open and then unlocked the gate, slipping the two trays inside.

Mojo took her tray to a rock. We watched her daintily sift through the vegetables, sampling each one.

"Let's get out of here," Alan murmured.

I didn't blame them for wanting to leave. Mr. Chester had sounded pretty harsh. If he had said those things to me, I probably would have cried.

"Look, why don't you two watch the bears," I said, "and I'll take the seals. And we'll all come back here to the emu pen a little later."

'Tine," the boys muttered.

Logan, who had been at the snack bar near the seal pool, saw me as I came around the bend and ambled over to see what I was up to.

"Popcorn?" He held his bag out to me.

"Thanks. Popcorn is a lot more appetizing than what they're eating," I said, pointing to the fish the keeper was tossing to the seals.

"How's it going with Howie and the jerk?" Logan asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Logan?" I stared down at the rail surrounding the seal pool. "I wish you wouldn't call Alan a jerk. He may act like one sometimes but it doesn't help when you provoke him."

Logan looked hurt. "He's not exactly Mr. Nice Guy to me."

"I know that. It's just that things have become so tense between you two, it makes me feel awkward. This project should be fun - observing the animals and picking up behind-the-scenes information about a zoo. But instead of enjoying it, all I do is worry about what's going to happen when you two see each other."

Logan's face filled with concern. "Gee, Mary Anne, I didn't know you felt that way. I guess you're right. This compet.i.tion thing has gone a little too far."

"A little?" I raised one eyebrow.

"All right, a lot too far."

"I mean, I'd like to win," I told him. "I could really use that extra credit. We all could. But I won't resent it if your team wins."

Logan put his left hand on his heart and held up his right hand. "You have my word that I won't be angry if your team wins either - although it would be nice if my team won. But to show you I mean it, I promise from this moment forward to try to be nice to Alan."

I laughed. "Well, you don't have to go overboard. Knowing Alan, he'll think something's up. He'll probably say you're trying to kill us with kindness so you can do something tricky behind our backs."

Logan laughed and nodded. "You're right. He would think that."

"I have to admit I thought Alan was going to be a real goof-off on the project, but it's amazing how much it matters to him. Look at all of those great observations he made about the emu."

"Yeah." Logan c.o.c.ked his head. "He did have more stuff than I've been able to get on the gorillas. I mean, it's really incredible how detailed his stuff was."

Aroo! Aroo!

The biggest seal in the pool had clambered on top of one of the rocks and was barking at the keeper, a blond man in green work clothes and a yellow slicker. The keeper chuckled and said to the small crowd who had gathered to watch feeding time, "Sparky never lets me get away with anything."

The man dug in the pocket of his raincoat and produced one final fish. He tossed it high in the air. Sparky dove off his rock and caught the fish midair, hitting the water with a tremendous splash.

The crowd's applause jarred something in my memory. Feeding time. That means it's two o'clock. Mrs. Wofsey's video presentation about Mojo and sign language is at two. Come on, Logan," I said, pulling him away from the seal pool. "We don't want to miss it."

Our route to the visitors' center took us past the primate area where I saw the two people in matching sweatsuits huddled together.

"Look," I hissed to Logan. "Those - those spies are here again." I'd told Logan about our mystery. "I wonder what they're up to."

"Let's swing a little closer," he said. "Maybe we'll hear something."

Logan, who was holding my hand, suddenly swerved left and we nearly crashed directly into the back of the couple. Fortunately they were too wrapped up in what they were talking about to notice us.

"I'd say a gibbon costs at least eight-and-a-half thousand," the man was saying. "That is if the market is good."

"A macaque could be even higher," the woman replied. "And gibbons do make nice pets in their preteen years." Logan and I pulled away from the couple.

"They're talking about how much monkeys cost!" I gasped.

"Yeah, and selling them as pets," Logan whispered back. "This is too weird."

Wrapped in our thoughts about what we'd just heard, Logan and I walked the rest of the way to the visitors' center. When we reached it, the presentation had already begun.

Chapter 11.

"Now before I introduce our guest speaker, I'd like to make one last announcement."

Mrs. Wofsey was standing at a podium on the small stage at the visitors' center, which was packed with students and visitors. The benches were filled so Logan and I stood at the back.

"Next weekend we're throwing a 'Good-Bye, Gorillas' party for Mojo and James," Mrs. Wofsey said. "All of you eighth-graders from Stoneybrook Middle School are invited. Please feel free to bring your friends and families. It should be great fun."

Logan leaned over and whispered, "I wonder what kind of food they'll serve - carrots and browse? Or do gorillas like chocolate cake?"

"Everybody likes chocolate cake," I whispered back.

"And now it is my great pleasure to introduce a pioneer in primate studies," Mrs. Wof-sey said. "She has been exploring nature ever since she first went to work for the American Museum of Natural History in New York at age seventeen. Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Arden P. Wordsworth."

Arden P. Wordsworth? The name sounded so old-fashioned that I half-expected to see an old lady totter out. Instead a tanned, athletic woman hopped onto the stage. I guessed she was around fifty but she moved more like somebody my age.

"Greetings, everyone," she said. "I'm here today to talk about two very good friends of mine, Mojo and James."

"Mojo and James were born at the Huntington Animal Park," Dr. Wordsworth continued. "They have never lived in the wild and have always been accustomed to having humans around."

Dawn raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Don't you feel it's cruel to keep animals penned up like that?" she asked.

Miss Wordsworth smiled. "If I thought it was cruel, I would never be a.s.sociated with it. However, I do take your point that animals like to have their freedom, as do we all. But let me ask you this - do you have a pet?"

"I don't," Dawn replied. "But my stepsister has a cat."

"Do you feel it's cruel to keep a cat penned up in your house?"

"No," Dawn said. "But that's different. A cat is small."

"Let's put this in perspective," Dr. Wordsworth said. "Most of us a.s.sume that any captive animal longs to be free. But animals can't always do as they like in the wild. Strict limits are put upon them by the seasons, their territorial status, and the relative richness of their habitat." She paused, then said with a grin, "I'm sorry, I'm starting to sound like a professor. Mojo's and James's home at the San Diego Zoo is a painstaking recreation of their African habitat, a full three acres. They're both lowland gorillas who, in the course of a normal day, would probably travel no further than half a mile. They're safe, warm, and well-fed. Besides spending time with each other, Mojo and James spend several hours a day in structured play, where new challenges are constantly introduced to them. This is where Mojo first learned sign language. James never really picked it up, by the way. Occasionally he imitates Mojo, but that's all it is - imitation."

"I thought I saw him signing to Mojo," I whispered to Logan. "That explains it."

nn "Before I show you the film, I would like to say that Mojo's great strides in communication would probably not have been possible if it weren't for the breakthrough studies of Dr. Penny Patterson, who first worked with a little gorilla named Koko at the San Francisco Zoo, Koko learned to sign four words in 1972. By the time she was seven, Koko counted six hundred and forty-five signs in her vocabulary, which she used to ask for presents, tell jokes, and express her feelings." Dr. Wordsworth waved at the back of the room. "Could someone start the video, please?"

"Mr. Chester was going to run our video for us," Mrs. Wofsey said, as she fiddled with the machine, "but I'm afraid he's not here. I'll need a few moments to make sure I'm pushing the correct b.u.t.tons."

The delay gave me a chance to look around the room. I noticed that neither Alan nor Howie was in the audience.

The exit door slammed shut and Mr. Chester hurried into the room and rushed to Mrs. Wofsey. "I apologize for being late," he said. "But we seemed to be short-handed at feeding time. I had to feed the seals."

"That's quite all right." Mrs. Wofsey smiled stiffly. 'Take a moment to catch your breath, and then we'll begin the video."

The door at the back slammed again and one of the new security guards rushed in. He stood near Logan and me, gesturing frantically. "Mrs. Wofsey? Mrs. Wofsey, please, I need to talk to you."

Mrs. Wofsey nodded. "All right, folks," she announced, "on with the show." She dimmed the lights, turned up the volume, then hurried to talk to the guard.

'/What is it, Mike?"

"One of the gates in the primate enclosure - the gibbons' gate," the guard whispered, loudly enough so that Logan and I could hear. "I found it standing wide open."

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Wofsey reached for her walkie-talkie. "How many got loose?"

"None. Luckily, it was so close to feeding time that the gibbons were still eating and didn't feel like leaving."

"What's that?" Mr. Chester asked, joining the two. "We've had another escape?"

Only a few people in the back besides Logan and me could have overheard the guard's conversation with Mrs. Wofsey. But Mr. Chester's voice carried, and a few people in the audience turned to look.

"No," Mrs. Wofsey whispered loudly in the direction of the audience. "There has been no escape."

"What's going on?" Mr. Chester hissed.

"This is the third escape in a week."

Mrs. Wofsey glanced nervously at Dr. Wordsworth, who had heard everything, too. "Please, lower your voice," she said to Mr. Chester.

"How can these things be happening?" he continued.

Mrs. Wofsey shook her head. "I don't know. I've doubled our security force and patrolled the grounds myself."

"Well, you're the one in charge here," Mr. Chester reminded her. "If an animal escapes and someone gets hurt we'll know who to blame."

Mrs. Wofsey, who looked embarra.s.sed, pursed her lips. "Thank you for reminding me. I suppose you think that if you were in charge, this wouldn't have happened."

"If I were in charge, none of the escapes would have occurred," Mr. Chester snapped back. "I'm going to go check the cage locks now." With those final words he spun and marched out of the auditorium.

In spite of the commotion, everyone was able to turn their attention back to Dr. Wordsworth and the video. After it was over, those of us who'd overheard Mr. Chester rushed out to the primate enclosure. I don't know what we expected to find, since the gibbons hadn't escaped. I guess we just wanted to visit the scene of the crime.

The gibbons' cage was next to the gorillas'. Logan and I watched some gibbons lazily roll a red ball around the cage.

Logan snapped his fingers. "Remember that couple? They were talking about how much a gibbon costs."

"I know," I said. "I've been thinking about them ever since that guard burst in with his announcement. But if they opened the cage, why didn't they take the gibbons?"

Logan shrugged. "Maybe someone, like that guard, happened to come along before they had the chance."

I watched the ball roll back and forth between the gibbons and then I noticed a purplish stain on the concrete just outside of the gibbons' door. "Logan, look! Berry stains."

"What?"

"There are berry stains near the gibbons' cage. They stop just at the door. There were berry stains inside the emu's cage when she was freed."

Logan still looked confused. Then I realized he hadn't been told about my berry discovery.

"I think the person who freed Edith, and unlocked the gibbons' cage door, stepped in red berries." I pointed to the berry bushes between the gorillas' cage and the emu enclosure. "That bush's branches are awfully low to the ground. And, now that I think about it, Alan and Howie were standing in those bushes just this morning."

Logan opened his mouth to speak, then smiled. "I was just about to say something rotten like, I might have known Alan would be involved, but I remembered that I promised to be nice."

"Good." I patted his shoulder. "Keep remembering that."

A group of students standing in front of the gibbons' cage soon migrated to Mojo's and James's area, where Dr. Wordsworth was now conducting an impromptu question-and-answer session.