The Penguin Who Knew Too Much(32)

“Well, what are his qualifications, anyway?” I asked. “Is he a vet?”

“He's a world-famous zoologist,” Dad said.

“Are we really sure?” I asked, as a sudden thought hit me. “Do you know where he got his degree from? I mean, is he really a trained zoologist, or does he just play one on TV?”

“Oh, dear,” Dad said. “You know, I’ve never checked on that. What if he's like those radio psychologists? You know, the ones who give advice even though they aren’t really therapists.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll look him up.”

“Google him,” Rob said with a shrug.

“I would have already,” I said. “But we packed our computers up a few days ago, and Kevin won’t be here to set them up again until tomorrow. But I’ll stop by the library sometime today and do it.”

“It's easy to see who the real sleuth is,” Dad said, beaming at me. “It never occurred to me that he might not be the real thing. And this could explain the murder—what if Patrick found out that Blake was a phony!”

“And Blake killed him to cover up—that's possible,” I said. “But let's not jump to conclusions. We don’t yet know that he's a phony.”

“We don’t know he isn’t,” Dad said.

“I think we’d know if he was,” I said. “Remember, he's a human gadfly, always on TV denouncing some corporation for its rotten environmental record.”

“I happen to agree with him on most of those issues.” Dad looked stern.

“So do I, but not everyone does,” I said. “And as famous as he is, don’t you think someone would have outed him if he was a phony? But I want to see just what his background is.”

Including whether he’d ever been suspected of knocking off anyone for cruelty to animals.

“Meanwhile, there's something else I need to do,” I went on. “We can’t just sit around waiting for Blake to rescue the zoo.”

“Especially if he turns out to be a fraud,” Dad muttered. Blake must really have gotten to him.

“So,” I said. “You’re pretty familiar with the Caerphilly Zoo, right? What kind of animals they have and all that?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Very familiar. I’m over there all the time.”

“Great,” I said, pulling out my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe. “Let's make a list.”

“A list? Why?”

“So we’ll know what to expect over the next few days, if we can’t get the fate of the zoo straightened out. What animals people are going to try to dump on us. And how many.”

After a long pause, I looked up from my notebook.

“Well, there are eight or nine penguins.”

“Thirteen, actually. Count them.”

“If you can get them to stand still long enough,” Rob said, waving at the pond where the penguins were busily diving in, swimming around, climbing out, chasing each other around, and then diving in again.

“I’m also aware of how many llamas, camels, hyenas, lemurs, acouchis, and sloths we have,” I said. “Let's concentrate on animals who aren’t here yet.”

“Oh, dear,” Dad said.

He frowned as if concentrating deeply. I tapped my pen impatiently against the notebook. “That's tough,” Dad said.

I knew perfectly well that what was stumping him was not the number and identity of the animals at the zoo. He’d been spending an inordinate amount of time there in the past few months. He probably knew not only what animals Lanahan had, but all their names, nicknames, medical histories, and favorite foods. What he couldn’t decide was whether it would be a good thing or a bad thing to tell me the full extent of the menagerie that might be headed our way.

“Tell you what,” I said, snapping my notebook shut. “You think about it. Scribble down a list and get back to me later today.”

“Roger!” Dad said, suddenly cheerful again. He hurried off.

“Wouldn’t count on getting that list anytime soon,” Rob said with a snicker.

“Want to bet?”





Chapter 19

Rob accompanied me back to the house. I was relieved to see that Blake and his foul-smelling concoction were gone, and Michael and Rose Noire had begun fixing breakfast. Michael was frying bacon and sausage while Rose Noire was slicing up a small mountain of apples, peaches, pears, grapes, and melons into a fruit salad.

“So what other wildlife are we expecting?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, plucking a few slices of bacon from the plate where they were draining. “Dad wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”