Duck the Halls(12)

“Trinity Episcopal could host one,” Robyn said. “Possibly both—let me check our calendar. And we can contact all the other local churches. I’m sure among us we can find sufficient spaces for everything.”

“That would be wonderful,” Reverend Wilson said. “Take quite a bit of work to arrange, though.”

I’d already figured that out. And since the last few weeks of nonstop holiday preparations had left me feeling stretched a little thin, I began trying to think of a tactful way to leave before a big chunk of that work landed on my plate. Luckily, Grandfather helped me out.

“Meg!” He appeared at my side, looking his usual impatient self. “Caroline’s going to stay here to supervise the skunk removal. Can you take me over to the zoo? We’ve got to get a temporary habitat ready for these skunks.”





Chapter 6


Perfect. Even if readying the skunk habitat took hours, I decided that chauffeuring Grandfather offered the best chance of seeing my bed sometime before nightfall.

“I’ll be happy to take you out to the zoo,” I said. And then, before Mother could protest that she needed me here, I added, “The sooner we have a place to put them, the sooner the cleanup can begin.”

Mother nodded her approval and returned her attention to the two ministers. Robyn had already taken out her Day-Timer and was scribbling notes. A woman after my own heart, although my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe, as I called my giant to-do list, was currently housed not in a Day-Timer but a small well-worn, tooled-leather ring binder made by a fellow craft show artist.

Reverend Wilson was looking less glum. The situation was in hand; I could sneak off with a clear conscience.

Grandfather brooded quietly on the way over to the zoo, only breaking his silence occasionally to favor me with some tidbit of information about skunks. I’m not sure why he felt obliged to tell me that the Great Horned Owl, due to its nearly nonexistent sense of smell, was the skunk’s only serious predator. And while I found it interesting that the Native Americans used skunk oil as a mild liniment or healing balm, I hoped he wouldn’t repeat this information in front of Rose Noire. Given her fascination with natural remedies, I could easily see her collecting skunk spray and smearing it all over any family member who seemed in need of healing.

The zoo’s night-shift head keeper met us at the gate. He looked pale and anxious as he swung open one half of the enormous wreath-laden metal front gate. I pulled my car into the small gravel circle that served as a loading zone when the zoo was open and Grandfather’s private parking when it was not. A dozen live potted evergreens edged the circle, each decked with ribbon-trimmed seed balls and chunks of suet. Was this Grandfather’s idea or one of Caroline’s suggestions?

“Morning, Victor,” Grandfather called out as he climbed out of my car. “Have you finished checking on the animals the way I asked?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Both of our skunks are there. All of the animals are there except … except…”

“Out with it, man!”

“Cleopatra’s missing.”

“Missing?” Grandfather exclaimed. “How? Did someone leave her cage unlocked?”

“Who or what is Cleopatra?” I asked.

“The emerald tree boa,” Grandfather said. “Unusually large specimen. Nearly seven feet long.”

“Wouldn’t she be hibernating this time of year?” I suggested. “That’s what snakes do in the winter, right? Maybe she’s just burrowed under whatever bedding’s in her cage.”

“It’s called brumating in a snake,” Grandfather said. “And yes, she’d be doing it now—she might wake up if the weather became unseasonably warm, but with the air this cold, she’d be asleep. We keep the snake house cold enough that they’ll sleep, but not so cold as to be dangerous. Victor, I assume you checked the bedding thoroughly.”

“Thoroughly!” Victor nodded vigorously. “And every corner of the snake house, from drains to rafters. She’s not there. And there are no cracks or crevices she could have used to escape.”

“And no Cleopatra-sized bulges in any of the other large snakes, I assume,” I added.

“Of course not,” Victor snapped. “I’d have noticed. And we only have one or two snakes anywhere near her size.”

“She couldn’t get far, surely, on a night like this?” I asked.

“In the unlikely event that she got outside, she’d go dormant almost immediately,” Grandfather said. “And likely die if she wasn’t found soon enough.”