Meerkats and Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  No, I was a leader of this troop. And since Susan was the best at it, I joined Kelly.

  "I don't get it." Ava was frustrated. The girl was smart, and it galled her that this didn't come easily.

  "Mrs. Wrath!" the other three said in unison as they moved toward me. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

  "Sit down," I insisted. "What seems to be the problem?"

  Kelly mouthed a quiet thank-you then turned back to Ava. I struggled for the next twenty minutes to get the girls to cast on. After some soul-searching, I called Lauren over. She nailed it, and in a few minutes the rest of the girls were on their way to figuring it out.

  In the next group, the four Kaitlyns were huddled around Susan, watching her hands intently. Sharon sat off to the side, knitting like she'd been doing it all of her life. Huh. There was something she was good at that didn't involve punching babies and biting the heads off of bunnies.

  The time flew by, but that wasn't an indicator of prowess, as much as the girls were totally immersed. They wanted to like it, and they wanted to try, but it was hard. Which was too bad because these were smart girls.

  They'd picked up other skills very quickly, from hooking into a zip line to snowshoeing in a way that you couldn't be tracked. But this—a skill their grandmothers used—was beyond them.

  I wished I could have more enthusiasm for it, but we'd only done this so Susan could watch Sharon and help us figure out how to handle her. From a few quick glances, it looked like Susan was too mobbed by the Kaitlyns to figure Sharon out.

  We kept at it, but this was going down as one of my bad ideas. Like the first time I taught them archery and they were too young to pull back the compound bows. Or the time we played a disastrous game of charades, where no one got our clues. Well, except Lauren. She got, and I don't know how she did this, the clue in seconds. It was yellow.

  My troop liked learning new things but didn't do frustration well. Maybe I approached this all wrong. Maybe I should've started with a brief course on how to defend yourself with knitting needles. That would've gone down better, although they most likely would have no interest in knitting itself after learning that you could kill a guy five times with one needle.

  It was Sharon who ended the meeting.

  "My mom's here," she announced loudly, getting to her feet and gathering her things.

  I looked at the clock. She was right. I just didn't like that she'd called it.

  The other girls seemed surprised, but the Kaitlyns quickly packed up and left en masse. Kelly took the rest of the girls outside to meet their parents, and I helped Susan clean up.

  "I guess you didn't get a good idea of how Sharon operates, huh?" I asked.

  She looked surprised. "I certainly did."

  "How?" I asked.

  "It's mostly nonverbal communication." My counselor closed the lid on her plastic bin. "She's an interesting case. Seems to be in a hurry to grow up. So to the other girls, she seems grown up. Does that make sense?"

  I nodded. "You got that all from nonverbal communication?"

  Susan shook her head. "No, that's my first impression. The way she dresses to look older gives the impression that she is. It doesn't matter if she acts like a petulant child. She strives to be a teenager before she is one. That impresses the girls. Especially the Kaitlyns."

  "Okay." I thought this through. "How was she with the activity?"

  "She's pretty good. Even knits continental style, which tells me she was taught by an elder. The thing that's really interesting is how she sort of sat distanced from her group. Did you see that?"

  I nodded.

  "She's showing them that there's a divide. Something these girls have to work for if they want to be like her. It makes the Kaitlyns want that all the more. And her aloofness makes them crazy to be like her. They want to earn her praise. I'm pretty sure that's never coming. Girls like her don't get to be queen bees by acting nice and inclusive."

  "Was she rude to you or the girls?" I asked.

  Susan thought about this. "In a way. By acting bored, she gave the impression to the others that she deemed this task unworthy—even though she knew how to do it already. By not speaking or asking questions, she made them feel stupid because they didn't know what to do. When they saw she could knit and they were struggling with the basic concepts, their sense of self-worth plummeted. They were desperate to get her acceptance, something that didn't happen."

  "Sounds like torture," I grumbled as Kelly joined us.

  Susan explained everything to my co-leader.

  "This is never going to get better, is it?" Kelly sighed.

  "It's too soon to tell, but I think it won't. Sharon has her court. Without realizing it, they've made her their leader." Susan paused for a second. "I don't think she wants to be the girls' friend. In fact, I think Sharon likes causing trouble."

  "Is there anything we can do?" I asked. Short of beating her—I didn't say.

  Susan shrugged. "Sometimes the girl comes around. She softens up and eventually joins the group. But most of the time, she doesn't. And that's a problem because she may not rest until every girl feels bad about themselves."

  Kelly and I looked at each other.

  "What were the girls like before Sharon?" Susan asked.

  "Actually," Kelly said slowly, "they were close. There weren't any cliques at all. Each girl saw the merit in the other girls."

  "And," I added helpfully, "Betty never tried to kill any of the other girls."

  Kelly looked anxious—as if I'd given a secret away. I probably shouldn't have said that.

  Susan took it in stride. "In my opinion, with very little experience with your troop, I'd say Sharon is actively working against you. It's possible she gets a thrill out of upsetting people. And the Kaitlyns' self-esteem is dropping like a stone in water. She's toxic to your group, I'd say. But of course, I don't really have all the facts."

  Kelly plunked down onto a chair that was way too little for her. "What can we do? We're supposed to take every girl who wants in. And her aunt works for the Girl Scout Council."

  I nodded. "A real witch. She hates me."

  This made Susan think. "Maybe she was sent in as a ringer to disrupt you. This aunt could be trying to provoke you into acting in a way where she could have you removed from your troop."

  My jaw dropped. I'd considered that before, but hearing it come out of a professional's lips made it scary. I didn't know what I'd do if I didn't have a troop. It was all I did. There was no job, no other volunteer work. This was it.

  "She's trying to get you kicked out!" Kelly cried. "Well, I'm not standing for this. I'm going down there and…"

  "No," I said, a little unsure as to why I said it. "It's my problem. Not yours. I'll call Juliette and try to reason with her."

  Kelly folded her arms over her chest. "You'll only make it worse. I should do it."

  Susan tapped her chin. "Merry might be right."

  "I am?" I asked just as Kelly asked, "She is?"

  The counselor nodded. "Merry, you could approach Juliette, asking how you could make Sharon more comfortable in your troop. You could explain that you are worried about the girl, that she doesn't seem happy in general."

  "She'll just blow up at me," I griped.

  "You will have to keep your cool the whole time," Susan warned. "No matter what, don't let her goad you into a fight."

  "I kind of don't want to do it now," I said.

  "Don't do it today. Or tomorrow," Susan said. "Give it a few days, and then just inquire innocently about things."

  We helped Susan take the bins out to the car and thanked her profusely. As she drove away, Kelly made me promise that I'd take Susan's advice and wait. I agreed because I didn't want to get in an argument with Juliette right now.

  I had more important things to do…

  * * *

  I'd never broken into the administrative offices at the zoo. I'd definitely have to see Mr. Fancy Pants later, but first I needed a peek at Joel Janson's f
ile. No one seemed to know anything about this guy, except for two things—he broke into my house twice to find the secret plans, and he worked here as a janitor for a short time.

  That's not much to go on. And it's very suspicious. Yes, Dr. Wulf dated the guy, but she wasn't giving me any info anytime soon. And that's why I was here.

  Seriously though, the zoo really needed to up its security game. Push-button doorknob locks in this day and age? I didn't even need my lockpicks. A bobby pin from my hair did the trick. Once I was done burglarizing this place, I was going to offer them some suggestions.

  Dr. Wulf's office was dark. Her collection of stuffed toy animals cast bizarre shadows on the walls. Pulling out my very dim flashlight (I always kept one near for circumstances like these. A bright light is too noticeable), I shuffled through the drawers in her desk.

  No personnel files there, but the woman seemed to have an obsession with lip balm, as I counted no fewer than fifty-six sticks. Once I'd cleared the desk, I moved on to the filing cabinet.

  Again, the files weren't even locked. These were personnel files. There are HIPPA laws on that. Any idiot could break in here and…oh. Never mind.

  I had a little more success here. The files were alphabetical, and I moved to the middle drawer which would, I hoped, have J for Janson. Bingo! I pulled out the file and got behind the desk, which was away from the door, to check it out.

  The file was mostly empty, save for his handwritten application and a photo of Dr. Wulf and Joel at a corn maze. They looked happy. That was sad. Too bad the woman couldn't do better than this flunky.

  The application was ridiculously generic, and the handwriting was so bad it was unreadable. That was spycraft—making your handwriting so bad they glossed over it. I was really good at mangling my handwriting. So good that it remained illegible. As a result, Kelly had to fill out all Girl Scout forms.

  The address, places he's lived before, and work experience were impossible to read. Either he was a floater, or as a spy he must have charmed the woman into hiring him. Spies are very good at targeting lonely people. I never liked that part of the job. Lonely people, or in this case, a woman, are devastatingly easy to charm.

  Poor Dr. Wulf. She didn't deserve that. I made a mental note to have a girls' night out and invite her.

  Stuffing the useless file back into the cabinet, I spotted a slip of paper on the floor. I don't know what possessed me to pick it up, but I did. It was a zookeeper's analysis on Mr. Fancy Pants. She was very worried about the bird and said he hadn't eaten in days.

  I set the slip on the desk and noticed a calendar there. Tomorrow and the next day, the zoo would be closed to the public to get ready for a fundraising dinner. It gave me an idea.

  * * *

  "Okay, Mr. Fancy Pants," I said as I pulled the blanket off the vulture.

  He stood there on my breakfast bar, head ranging up and down as he spread his wings as if in preparation to fight off some attack from a wildebeest.

  "What a dump!" Dickie shrieked as I set him on the fridge.

  I'd had to take him too—he allegedly knew the killer and could rat me out for taking the vulture. But now that he was insulting my house, I was wondering if bringing him here was a mistake.

  The cats were safely across the street and knew nothing about the birds. Dickie stayed on the fridge, while Fancy Pants jumped down to the floor and began walking around, inspecting the place.

  I'm new to exotic-animal relocation, but everything seemed okay so far. Dickie seemed happy at the highest point in the kitchen, and if he was panicked about being out of his enclosure, Mr. Fancy Pants didn't show it. I followed him as he went from room to room checking out the place. It appeared that he approved.

  Back in the living room, he jumped up onto the couch and then onto the end table, knocking over a lamp. The lamp, a rather generic-looking thing I bought at IKEA, broke upon hitting the soft carpet, blinked once or twice, and then the light went out.

  I put the lamp in the garbage but held on to the shade. Kelly once told me they were hard to find. Maybe I'd need it eventually. You know what? I never was a hoarder until I became a home owner. I set the shade on the end table as the vulture jumped over to the window and looked out.

  Uh-oh. I'd forgotten to draw the curtains! I ran to the window to see Philby in Rex's window at the exact same time. When she saw the vulture, she plastered her body to the glass and began yowling. I couldn't hear it, but the way her mouth opened and closed, I guessed I was in trouble.

  Scooping up the bird, I closed the curtains. I set him down on the breakfast bar again, but he jumped down and back into the window, nuzzling the curtains open with his beak. This time Philby had company, as Leonard and Martini were with her. The dog began to bark—again, only evidenced by his head moving up and down. Martini fell onto the sill on her back and fell asleep.

  "No!" I said to the bird as I once again moved him to the breakfast bar. "No one can know you're here!"

  To distract him, I pulled a box of shortbread cookies from the cupboard. The raptor danced from one foot to the other in anticipation, never taking his eyes off the blue box. Once they were dumped on the counter, he went to work, devouring the cookies with gusto. Yay! He was eating!

  Dickie was unnervingly silent. He just stared at me. Was he hungry too? What did you feed a parrot? Fruit? Bugs? I pulled a brown banana from the freezer and, worrying that it was too cold, stuck it in the microwave.

  Why did I have a banana, let alone a brown one? It's a Midwestern thing. When bananas go brown, you stick them in the freezer to make banana bread later. The thing was, I never made banana bread, so I had about fifty bruised bananas piled up in my freezer.

  Once the fruit was thawed, I took some bread, tore it up, and added it to a plate, which I offered to Dickie.

  He looked at me as if I was trying to poison him. Maybe I was? Pulling out my cell, I looked up food for a scarlet macaw. Berries? Nuts? Leaves from plants in the rainforest? I didn't have any of those things lying around! Where at this time of night was I going to find that stuff?

  The two grocery stores in town were closed. Rex was working late on reorganizing the evidence room, so he was no use…not that I'd include him in my heist. Oh, wait! We had some lettuce in the fridge.

  "I'll be right back!" I shouted as I grabbed my keys and ran across the street.

  A trio of extremely excited animals accosted me the moment I walked in the door. Philby sat on my right foot in what I can only imagine was an attempt to stop me from going any farther. As fat as she was, it still didn't stop me. Leonard pressed his nose hard against my jeans as if he could smell and touch the birds through the contact. Martini began running in circles around me, possibly to disrupt any movement.

  I began to walk, but Philby wrapped her paws around my leg and wouldn't budge. So there I was, walking into the kitchen with a cat on my foot, a dog with his nose attached to my leg, and a younger cat who ran around me in circles until she just fell asleep.

  Bingo! I found something called romaine in the fridge and a can of beer nuts in the pantry. I had no idea what they were—someone had given them to Rex at work, and he brought them home and dumped them in the pantry, unopened.

  I made it to the door, but the animals let it be known that in no way was I going back over to my old house without them. Philby had met the birds before, but I had no idea how the others would react.

  Carefully peeling the animals off of me, I made it out the door and slammed it in their faces. They teleported to the front window and watched me as I crossed the street. Thankfully, Mr. Fancy Pants wasn't in the other window.

  Back inside, I threw out the banana and bread and made a plate of romaine and beer nuts. Dickie attacked the leaves but regarded the nuts with a level of suspicion that implied he still didn't trust me after the poisoned banana.

  Well, it was food. And they were eating.

  My cell went off with a text from Rex that let me know he'd be home in ten minutes. I put out wate
r dishes for the birds, closed all extraneous doors, prayed that the birds would behave themselves, and locked the door.

  Later that night, I lay in bed feeling proud of myself, until I started to imagine all the horrible things the birds were probably doing to my house.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I was prepared for anything the next day, from a trashed house covered in bird poop to Officer Dooley ready to arrest me for stealing animals from the zoo. What I wasn't ready for was Kelly on my doorstep.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, stopping short of my door because Kelly was between it and me.

  My usually unflappable best friend looked worried. And that's saying something because she's an ER nurse and has a toddler.

  "I'm thinking we might need to find another troop for Sharon," she said. "Maybe a more girly troop."

  I agreed. "Maybe Juvie has one. You should go check."

  Kelly's brow wrinkled. "I'm serious. Can we just talk about it inside?"

  Did I imagine it, or did an orange beak and one googly eye poke through the curtains?

  "Let's go get coffee somewhere." I steered her by the elbow. "My treat!"

  "You hate coffee." She folded her arms over her chest. "What's up?"

  I shrugged. "Nothing! Can't a woman take her best friend out for coffee?"

  She nodded. "Yes, but you've never done it."

  "It seems like the appropriate time to start," I said with a smile that I hoped didn't give away the fact that I'd kidnapped animals from the zoo and put them in my old house.

  "Merry! What is going on?"

  She was answered by a crash coming from the other side of the door.

  "Is your house getting broken into again?" She pulled out her cell.