Nothing suspicious, alas. But I hadn’t yet seen the bedroom or the bathroom. I made a mental note to visit the bathroom before I left, whether I needed to or not.
“Red or white?” Blake asked when I returned to the patio.
“White,” I said. I normally preferred red wine, but Blake was drinking white. I had to admit, though, that it was an amazingly good white wine.
“So,” I said. “Have you come up with an inventory of animals that might be turning up on our doorstep?”
“Not much on wasting time with useless social chitchat, are you?” Blake said with a chuckle. “Yes, here's your list.”
The list was neatly printed on pale cream paper that looked as if it would match the letterhead.
“Of course, it's only what I pulled together, based on what I saw on my first visit last month, and the discussions I had with Patrick,” Blake said.
“And your visit to the zoo this afternoon,” I added.
“Yes,” Blake said. “Though I didn’t learn much from strolling around outside, and his office was locked. By the police, I presume. If I could just convince Chief Burke to let me see the zoo's files, I’d feel a lot more confident that the list was accurate.”
Was Blake really badgering the chief to see the files? Even if he was, that didn’t clear him of destroying Lanahan's files. If I’d burned the files, I’d make a point of demanding to see them.
As I scanned the list, I started to feel relieved. I didn’t see many animals that I didn’t already know about from my own trip to the zoo—and, of course, my observation of the creatures that had arrived in our yard. If Blake's list was at all accurate, we already had the lion's share of the zoo's population. I pulled out my notebook and flipped it open to a fresh page.
“Impalas, twelve,” I said. “I gather we’re not talking about the Chevrolets.”
“Ah, impalas,” Blake exclaimed. “The McDonald's of the African plains!” “The what?”
“We already have them,” Dad said. “In the pasture with the llamas. You know, those antelopes with the rounded M-shaped markings on their rump. Looks like the McDonald's logo. That's how they got the nickname.”
“Well, that and the fact that they’re the main staple in the diet of so many predators,” Blake said. “Lions, cheetahs, jackals, hyenas—”
“Let's make sure we still have all twelve of them, then,” I said, making some notes on the list. “Reeves's muntjacs, three. What and where are they?”
“Small deer,” Blake said. “Also known as barking deer. Interesting species, though not particularly rare.”
“Dr. Gruber's keeping them,” Dad said. “He has a big fenced area where he used to keep his St. Bernard before the poor old thing died. I don’t think we’ll be seeing the muntjacs—Dr. Gru-ber says he rather likes hearing the occasional bark from the yard again.”
“Check. Norwegian feral sheep?”
“They’re over at Seth Early's, with his herd,” Dad said. “Since they really are just exotic sheep themselves.” “Check. Emerald tree boa?”
“Oh, all the snakes and lizards are down at my office,” Rob said. “They’re fine there indefinitely. The guys like the company.”
“They would,” I said. “Have the guys figured out yet why you have such trouble recruiting and retaining women employees?”
“That was a problem long before the snakes arrived.”
“The snakes are only symptomatic,” I said.
As our inventory continued, I was relieved to see that most of the animals not already in our backyard or Dad's pasture were happily ensconced with people who seemed content to have them stay indefinitely. This could be a problem if and when the zoo tried to retrieve all its inhabitants—what if some of the foster families tried to assert squatters’ rights? But that wasn’t my problem. Eventually, we accounted for all of the missing animals except for a family of naked mole rats and Lola, the elderly bobcat. I suspected if we searched all the cubicles down at Rob's office, we’d find that his wayward band of programmers had taken in the naked mole rats, on the theory that they were the next best thing to reptiles—Though I hoped they realized that the naked mole rats were occupants of the zoo, and not provisions.
Blake wasn’t sure Lola the bobcat was still alive.
“I expect you’ll find Lola succumbed to old age, like poor old Reggie,” he said.
“If that's the case, then we can probably account for all the animals,” I said.
“That's a relief,” Blake said. “Though I confess, I wasn’t all that worried about the animals that are left. It's the ones that disappeared before Patrick died that concern me.”