Poached (28 page)

“We'll find the real thief,” Dad assured me. “And everything will be right again.”

“I know,” I said, although it probably didn't sound convincing. I knew my parents were lying to me. Or at least they could only hope what they said was true. The fact was, I was in a huge amount of trouble.

Whoever had
really
poached the koala had set me up perfectly. All the evidence pointed to me, while there hadn't been so much as a shred to implicate them. The only hint that someone else was involved at all was the koala hair and poop Marge had found in my room, but I knew the argument that it had been planted there seemed awfully weak. (Who in their right mind would plant koala poop?) With me in hand, the police had no incentive to look for anyone else. That left Mom and Dad to continue investigating, and we were out of leads. The best we had was the tip Marge had received that the koala hair was in my room: I
assumed
that had come from the real thief, but there was no way to know for sure. And Marge refused to share anything more about the tip. She'd only admit that it was a phone call, and that it had been placed the previous afternoon.

All in all, I'd ended up the perfect patsy.

We passed through the front gates into the massive parking lot. There was a cluster of news vans by the park entrance. Pete Thwacker stood in the glare of the Minicam
lights, talking to several reporters at once. I caught a few bits of his canned speech between gusts of wind. “We've simply had a technical glitch at Shark Odyssey. . . . I can promise you, it's nothing serious. . . . Nobody was hurt, but the exhibit might have to be shut down temporarily while we make repairs to improve the viewing experience for all our valued guests.”

Despite my dour mood, I almost laughed. It was amazing how well Pete could twist the truth with a straight face. Although Tracey had threatened to fire him after the fake koala disaster, I knew she'd never do it. The park needed him too badly.

The police cars were parked a long way from the entrance. Even Marge understood that it was bad for business to have the police right at the front gates, so she'd asked Bubba to park well off to the side. Thankfully, the sleet had finally stopped, but the parking lot was now coated with an inch of cold slush, and bone-chilling winds blasted us as we crossed the wide expanse of asphalt.

“Wait!” someone yelled. “Teddy! Wait!”

Kristi Sullivan was running after us, waving frantically.

Marge tried to ignore her and keep walking, but Bubba stopped. At first I thought this was because Bubba wasn't in any hurry to take me away, but when I saw the excited look on his face, I figured out the real reason: He thought Kristi
was cute. “Can I help you?” he asked, trying to sound as suave as possible.

“You're making a big mistake,” Kristi told him. “There's no way Teddy stole Kazoo. He would never do anything like that.”

“Well, he did,” Marge said, though before she could go on, Bubba puffed up his chest and interrupted. “Officer Bubba Stackhouse at your service. What's your name, ma'am?”

“Kristi Sullivan. I'm a keeper in the small mammal house, though I worked with Kazoo until he was taken.” Kristi looked to me apologetically. “I'm so sorry, Teddy. I only heard the news just now, when I got to work. I came as fast as I could. . . .”

“Do you have any evidence that someone else took Kazoo?” Bubba asked.

“Of course,” Kristi said. “I shared my leads with Marge days ago. Charlie Connor, Freddie Malloy, and Flora Hancock all had motives. . . .”

“That wasn't evidence,” Marge huffed. “That was speculation. The cold, hard facts say Teddy did this.”

“No they don't,” I said. “I was framed.”

“Oh, not this malarkey again,” Marge sighed. “Let's go, Bubba. We've wasted enough time as it is.”

“Arresting the wrong person is a waste of time,” Kristi countered. “While you've been focused on Teddy, the real
thief still has Kazoo. And time is running out. That koala will starve to death soon!”

“He won't if Teddy admits where he's hidden him,” Marge snapped, then dragged me away.

Bubba graciously tipped his hat to Kristi, still trying to make a good impression despite the circumstances. “It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Should you come across any concrete evidence that exonerates Teddy here, feel free to contact me directly. . . .”

Kristi ignored him, tailing after me. “Teddy, is there anything I can do?”

“I don't think so,” I said. “Thanks for trying, though.”

“Yes,” Mom said. “It was nice of you to run all the way after us on such a nasty day.”

Kristi waved this off. “Oh, it's no big deal. I'm happy to get out of the small mammal house. It stinks in there.” She shivered in disgust. “All those rats and bats and stuff. None of them are anywhere near as cute as Kazoo.”

Something about this statement struck a nerve with me. I knew Kristi was trying to put my mother at ease, and yet the disgust she'd registered had been real. A thought began to take shape in my mind. I glanced at my father's watch. It was nearly eleven a.m. “Kristi,” I asked, “did you say you just got to work
now
?”

Kristi shrugged, not nearly as bothered about being two
hours late as she should have been. “Yeah. But I'll stay later tonight. It doesn't really make a difference. The animals don't seem to care.”

We reached the police car, which was covered with a thick layer of sleet. Marge held her hand up to Kristi, stopping her in her tracks. “The time for chitchat is over. Teddy has to go now.”

Kristi nodded understanding and waved good-bye to me. “Be strong, Teddy,” she said, then wiped away a tear and turned back toward FunJungle.

Bubba opened the police car door, but then stepped away, leaving me with my parents. “You can have a little time to say good-bye,” he told us.

Marge rolled her eyes, as if Bubba's decency were a sign of weakness somehow.

I looked into the car. With the windows shrouded in sleet, the backseat was dark and cavelike. Just thinking about getting in made me shudder.

I turned back to my parents, who knelt in the cold slush to hug me good-bye. Mom was crying. Dad looked as sad as I'd ever seen him. And yet, while I should have felt upset or angry, I didn't. Instead my mind was racing. I turned back to Kristi and watched her walking away, in no particular hurry to get back to her job. Suddenly the thought I'd been working on became clear to me.

“Kristi isn't a very good keeper, is she?” I asked.

Mom and Dad blinked at me, surprised I'd chosen this moment to ask that question—but aware I must have had a good reason. “Why do you say that?” Dad asked.

“The animals are all on strict schedules, right?” I asked. “Even the ones in the small mammal house. Although Kristi said the animals don't care if she gets here two hours late, it
does
matter to them, doesn't it?”

“It should,” Mom said, intrigued. “The animals might not have to be fed right at nine, but the keepers still need to be here by then to check on them, make sure they're healthy, clean their cages, and things like that. You're right. It doesn't sound like Kristi's paying much attention to her animals.”

“This is all very fascinating,” Marge said sarcastically, “but as much as I'd like to hear it, we can't sit here all day. Teddy, get in the car.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

Mom lashed out and caught my other arm. “Wait,” she said.

“I've waited long enough,” Marge told her.

“Then another minute won't make a difference, will it?” Mom got right in Marge's face and stared her down. “So unclench for once, Marjorie. This is important.”

Marge was so cowed she let go of me and shrank back.

Mom turned back to me, any trace of anger gone. “Now then, Teddy, tell me what you're thinking.”

“Well,” I began, “I don't think Kristi was paying as much attention to Kazoo as she should have either. She had these huge stacks of fashion magazines on the desk in her office. The only reason for that would be if she was reading on the job, rather than working.”

“They might have belonged to one of the other keepers,” Bubba suggested, already smitten enough with Kristi to defend her honor.

“Maybe,” I admitted, “but Kristi also told me the other day that taking care of the fake koala was even more work than the real one. She said the real Kazoo was easy to take care of, but he shouldn't have been if she was really doing her job. I was in the exhibit with her the night everyone thinks I took the koala. She didn't even check on him. She only changed his water.” Bubba started to protest, but I cut him off. “I'm not saying she didn't
like
Kazoo—and I know she learned a lot about koalas and was really good at teaching people about them—but that's not the same thing as taking good care of them, right?”

“Right,” Mom and Dad agreed.

“So she didn't take care of Kazoo,” Marge groused. “What's the big deal?”

“Koalas don't move much,” I explained. “They stay in the same place for hours at a time. Whoever stole Kazoo replaced him with a stuffed animal, and the tourists couldn't even tell
the difference. So if Kristi wasn't paying as much attention to Kazoo as she was supposed to . . . maybe she didn't notice that he'd been replaced by a stuffed animal either.”

My parents' eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. Dad grinned. “In fact, she might not have noticed for an entire day,” he said.

“Meaning what?” Marge asked.

“Teddy didn't steal Kazoo the night he hid in the exhibit,” Mom said. “Because Kazoo was stolen the night
before
that.”

It took a moment for Marge to comprehend. Then she frowned. “That's ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Bubba asked.

“No,” Mom told him. “It's completely plausible. The thief took Kazoo and replaced him with the stuffed koala, but Kristi didn't notice. And since Kristi was the only keeper working the next day, there was no one else to catch the mistake.”

“Therefore, it was more than twenty-four hours before anyone realized Kazoo was gone,” Dad added. “But when you checked the security tapes, you only checked the ones for the night you
thought
Kazoo had been stolen, not for the night before, when he was
really
taken. Which explains why you only saw Teddy, but not the real thief.”

Marge shook her head violently. “I don't buy it.”

“It wouldn't be hard to check,” Dad told her. “Security saves two weeks' worth of footage. We simply need to check
the tapes from four nights ago. If Teddy's right, the true thief will be on there.”

“Sounds like a wild-goose chase to me,” Marge muttered, then reached for me again.

Before she could grab my arm, however, Bubba grabbed hers. “Now hold on,” he said. “The last thing I want to do is lock up some kid who doesn't deserve it. There's no harm in making absolutely sure we've got the right person.”

Marge shot him a look of betrayal, then pulled her arm free. “Have it your way. But when this all turns out to be a waste of time, don't complain to me.” She slammed the door of the police car and led the way back to the park.

Mom and Dad turned to Bubba. “Thanks,” Mom said.

“I don't like making mistakes,” Bubba told her.

“We better hurry,” Dad said. “If Kazoo was taken when Teddy says, then he's been without food for nearly
four
days now, not three.”

“Oh no,” I said, growing worried. “I hadn't thought of that.”

Now that Kazoo's life was in even more danger, there was no time to waste. We all hustled back across the parking lot, through the employee entrance, and toward the administration building.

Pete Thwacker was heading up the front steps as we arrived, his press conference over. Now that the cameras
weren't rolling, he was no longer smiling. Instead he was frowning at something on his smartphone.

Mom approached him as we all entered the building. “Pete, I was wondering. Did you have a hand in hiring Kristi Sullivan to work at KoalaVille?”

“I sure did,” Pete replied, without looking up from his phone. “She's great, isn't she?”

In the lobby there was a great deal of security. Normally, it would have taken my family several minutes to pass, but because we were with Marge, the guards waved us through.

“Does Kristi have any sort of certification in animal care?” Mom asked.

Pete pursed his lips in thought. “I don't believe so, but honestly, how hard is it to care for a koala? All those things do is sleep. Kristi had something that's a lot harder to come by: stage presence.”

“You mean you hired her because she's attractive,” Mom said.

Pete shrugged. “Studies show that interacting with attractive women greatly increases our guests' enjoyment.”

Mom frowned. “So instead of hiring a qualified keeper, you hired a piece of eye candy.”

“Hey, it wasn't only my decision,” Pete snapped. “A lot of people weighed in on Kristi. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have yet another crisis to deal with.”

“Besides the shark tank?” Marge asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Pete sighed. “Not nearly as bad, but still a crisis. Some moron leaked photos of our new tiger cubs to the press.” He held up his phone, displaying a picture of them. “They're all over the Internet already. J.J.'s pitching a fit, demanding to know who's responsible.”

Suddenly yet another mystery became clear to me. “I'd check out Arthur Koenig,” I said. “I overheard him trying to sell them the other day.”

Pete turned back to me, stunned. “You did? Why didn't you say anything?”

“I didn't know he was talking about the pictures. I thought he might have been trying to sell Kazoo. But he was definitely doing something illegal—he said he could go to jail—
and
he works in Carnivore Control.”