by Stuart Gibbs
“We did no such thing,” J.J. told him. “All we did was give you a rare one-on-one encounter with one of our animals. Most tourists here would kill for an opportunity like that. In fact, perhaps we should give you another chance. . . .”
“No!” Hank shrieked. He bolted for the office door, but Bubba caught him.
“Aw, come on now, Hank.” J.J. grinned, enjoying this. “George there’s normally gentle as a kitten. The only time he’s ever like this is when someone’s not telling the truth.”
Even in his terrified state, Hank still struggled to remain tough. “I have told you the truth!” he said.
“Well, let’s see if George thinks that’s true,” J.J. said, then nodded to Bubba, who dragged Hank back toward the chimp’s cell.
The last of Hank’s resolve slipped away. “All right!” he cried. “I admit it! I rigged the tube to blow! But I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I swear! In fact, I took steps not to. I was watching the entrance to make sure no one was in the tube. You guys just came in the wrong way—and by the time I realized, it was too late!”
Bubba stopped dragging Hank. “Why were you trying to blow the tube at all?”
“To make FunJungle look bad,” Hank explained. “To create a disaster that looked like it could have killed people, so tourists would think FunJungle was too dangerous to visit.”
“Who paid you to do this?” J.J. demanded. “Ogilvy?”
Hank wavered, trying to protect his boss.
Bubba started dragging Hank toward George’s cell once again.
Mom came back into her office from the cell. “I hope you like chimp poop,” she warned. “I fed George a really big meal last night.”
Hank cracked. “Yes, it was Ogilvy! He wants to bankrupt FunJungle!”
“So he paid you to destroy the shark exhibit and steal the koala?” Marge asked.
“No!” Hank exclaimed. “He only asked me to cause one disaster. I didn’t touch the koala!”
“Oh, please,” J.J. snorted. “You expect us to believe that someone else just happened to steal it while you were around?”
“Yes!” Hank cried. “I admit, I considered stealing Kazoo. I paid Freddie Malloy to help me figure out what to target and feed me the security codes. The koala was the first thing he suggested. But someone else took him before we could do anything, so we shifted our target!”
All of us in Mom’s office exchanged glances, surprised by this revelation.
“You think he’s telling the truth?” Marge asked.
“He’s already owned up to the shark tank and ratted out Ogilvy,” J.J. said. “Why would he keep lying about Kazoo?”
Marge turned back to Hank. “You’re saying a stolen koala wasn’t good enough for you? You had to go and destroy something else?”
“Yes!” Hank now looked like he was at the end of his rope. “Ogilvy said if the koala was recovered, the whole thing would blow over. He wanted something bigger. Something that’d scare visitors away from FunJungle. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone—and I didn’t touch the koala! That’s the truth, I promise!”
He certainly sounded like he was being honest to me. J.J. seemed to think so too. “All right,” he told Bubba. “Don’t take him in with George.”
“You sure?” Marge asked. “The guy caused you a couple million in damages this morning. We could lock him in with that chimp as long as you’d like.”
“That wouldn’t be very nice—for the chimp,” J.J. said.
Bubba sat Hank back in the chair again. “So you fully admit to sabotaging the shark tank this morning?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hank said meekly. He now seemed only a shell of the tough guy who’d sat in that chair minutes before.
“And you admit that both Walter Ogilvy and Freddie Malloy were complicit in this?” J.J. asked.
Hank nodded.
“Lock him up,” J.J. ordered.
Marge obediently took Hank by the arm. He didn’t even try to fight her as she led him toward the door. In fact he seemed relieved to be getting farther away from George.
“You sure you didn’t take that koala?” Marge asked.
Hank shook his head. “I swear it wasn’t me.”
Bubba turned to me, visibly unhappy about what he had to say. “Sorry, Teddy. It looks like I still need to bring you in.”
“What?” Mom cried. “Teddy just handed you Hank! If it hadn’t been for him, the shark tube would have blown and no one would have known Ogilvy was behind it!”
“I understand that,” Bubba said sadly. “And I’ll admit, Teddy might have saved my life today. But that doesn’t change the fact that we still have a mountain of evidence against him.”
I backed away, stunned this was happening. I’d been so sure I’d figured out who the thief was, it had never occurred to me that I might be wrong. I thought about running again, but I was trapped in the office. Besides, I couldn’t run forever.
“This is ridiculous!” Dad protested. He turned to J.J. “Tell these guys Teddy’s innocent! Hank’s the criminal here. He already confessed to plotting against FunJungle—”
“But not to stealing Kazoo,” J.J. said. I noticed he didn’t seem nearly as sad about this as Bubba did.
Mom glared at him with disgust. “Are you actually saying that after everything Teddy has done for this park—for you—you believe he would have stolen Kazoo?”
“I’m saying that we need to recognize the facts.” J.J. gave Mom a pointed stare. “All of us do, no matter how much we don’t want to. I thought Ogilvy was behind the koala theft, but he wasn’t. Teddy’s the only one left who could have possibly done it. And let’s face it, the kid has a history of causing trouble around here. So if you want to be upset with someone, maybe it ought to be your son.”
Before Mom or Dad could even respond, J.J. walked out, leaving us with Bubba—who looked sort of ashamed—and Marge, who looked like it was the happiest day of her life. “Let’s go, Teddy,” she told me, grinning from ear to ear. “Seems I was right about you all along.”
UNDER ARREST
For the second time that day, I was marched through FunJungle in handcuffs. Once again, Bubba and Marge each held an arm of mine. Meanwhile, Hank the Tank was back in FunJungle security’s holding cell. Industrial sabotage was a much bigger crime than the local police were prepared to handle, so J.J. had called some friends in the government and asked them to send federal agents.
Mom and Dad walked alongside Marge, Bubba, and me, although they’d given up on arguing that a mistake had been made, aware the argument would only fall on deaf ears. Now they were merely doing their best to comfort me.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “We’ll get you out of this as soon as we can.”
“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 an
imal 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.”
