The Penguin Who Knew Too Much(83)

“No problem,” I said. “It was mainly the chief who talked to the reporters.”

“Do they know if Lola's going to be all right?” Charlie asked. “That wound didn’t look good.”

“Clarence says she’ll be fine,” Dad said. Clarence was Dr. Rutledge, Spike's vet. I wasn’t surprised that they’d taken Lola to him—a wounded bobcat would present no great challenge to a vet who could give Spike his annual shots. “No permanent damage, and she's resting comfortably. And isn’t it lucky that she's had her rabies shots?”

“How can they be sure?” I asked. “I thought Lanahan kept lousy records and Ray Hamlin burned them.”

“Oh, yes, but Clarence keeps meticulous records of the animals he treats,” Dad said. “He's the zoo's regular veterinarian, you know. Why didn’t one of us think to ask him about the animals?”

“I can’t imagine,” I muttered.

“And Hamlin keeps detailed financial records on all his businesses, even the illegal ones,” Dad went on.

“He even had a legal contract with old man Bromley for the hunting rights to his land,” Randall Shiffley said. “He just never told Bromley what kind of hunts he was running out there.”

The Shiffleys all smiled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d bet anything that they’d already made a deal with Mr. Bromley for the hunting rights Ray Hamlin would no longer be at liberty to exercise—which meant they’d probably stop trying to get the hunting rights to Mother and Dad's farm.

“So between Clarence's records and Hamlin's own,” Dad was saying, “Chief Burke should have ample evidence to convict him of violating any number of animal-welfare and game laws.”

“And murder, I hope,” I said. “Murder and attempted murder and kidnapping and—”

“I’ve got a long list of crimes for Mr. Ray Hamlin to answer to,” the chief said, walking through the door with Dr. Blake at his side.

“What about the Sprockets?” I asked.

“Threw a whole bunch of charges at them, too,” the chief said. “Gets my goat, having people complicate my life when I’m trying to solve a murder.”

I winced, hoping the chief didn’t consider my confrontation with Ray Hamlin one of those complications.

“Like Shea Bailey with his trick of letting all the animals loose?” I said aloud.

“Irresponsible,” the chief said, shaking his head, as he pulled over a chair for Dr. Blake. “We caught up with him, too. Looks like he won’t be leading the SOBs anymore. Seems his dedication to the cause of animal welfare was just an excuse for milking the organization for as much cash as possible. The SOBs are poorer but wiser today.”

“Actually, I think they’ve all voted to disband and join Rose Noire's animal-welfare group,” Dad said.

“Splendid,” I said. Perhaps Rose would have more than enough people for her animal-massage class and wouldn’t need to recruit me.

“And as their first project, they’re all going to come out and help take care of the zoo animals until we can get their future sorted out.”

“And how long will that be?” I asked.

“Tuesday,” Blake said. “Maybe sooner. I’ve got a couple of my staff down at Virginia Beach, hunting down that fellow from the bank to see if we can wrap it up tonight. But by Tuesday, at the latest, we’ll have that zoo back open or I’ll know the reason why.”

“And I gather you’ll be staying around for a while, overseeing the transition.”

“Possibly,” Blake said. “Why?”

I hesitated. After all, Blake wasn’t the killer. Did the suspicious things he’d done still matter?

Yes. After all, he was going to be hanging around, helping take care of our animals.

Now I was doing it too. Not our animals. The zoo's animals. Who would probably all be back in the zoo by the time Michael and I returned from wherever. But either way, it mattered. If he wasn’t completely on the up-and-up, we didn’t want him anywhere near anyone's animals.

“If you’re going to be hanging around, I want a straight answer on something,” I said. “In fact, several somethings.”

“Now, Meg,” Dad said. “We have the killer, remember?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain the photo I saw of Dr. Blake holding a rifle with one foot on a dead lion. Can you explain it, Dr. Blake?”

“Probably a fake someone Photoshopped to discredit me,” Blake said. “Where did you see it?”

“You have it as part of the screen saver on your laptop.”

Blake frowned slightly, and then his face cleared and he chuckled.