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a dud.
    “Jason, dear, could you try Willy? Maybe then we’ll know if it’s just one of the figures or the whole group.”
    “Sure, Arabella.” Jason straightened up and approached a second figure a few feet away. Taller than Harriet, this one sported a smarmy grin and sprouted a lot of whiskers. He was leaning over with an elbow on an old-fashioned metal gate, which put his head within easy reach of small children. The placement of his body also prevented anyone from climbing on the low gate, which was no doubt the intention of the designer.
    “That’s Willy the Weasel,” Arabella explained. “He’s supposed to . . .”
    When Jason reached out and tweaked Willy’s nose, there was a sharp snap or crackle or pop, and all the lights in the room went out.
    “Oh my!” Arabella squeaked. “ That’s not supposed to happen.”
    It wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t supposed to happen. Jason had dropped like a stone at Willy’s feet, and I crossed the space in a second, kneeling beside him. “Arabella, call 911!” I said. “Does anyone have a flashlight?”
    Since I had been closest to Jason, I figured I’d better take charge. I didn’t know how Arabella would react in an emergency—for all I knew she might succumb to an attack of the vapors. I felt for Jason’s carotid artery. At least, I think I did—I was going solely by what I’d seen on a lot of TV shows. I groped around until I found what I thought—and hoped—was a pulse. I forced myself to take a deep breath and stop shaking. Yes, it was a pulse—faint and thready, but there. Jason wasn’t dead, thank God, but I had no idea how close to it he was.
    “Has anyone called 911 yet?” I hollered. “Tell them we need an ambulance!’
    “They’re on their way.” The other worker approached, slipping a cell phone back under his coveralls. “What the hell happened? Is he . . . ?”
    “He was fiddling with the weasel and something seems to have shorted out.” That summed up all I knew.
    “And whatever he did completed the circuit,” the man said. “I’m an electrician. Joe Murphy. I was just helping out with the painting ’cause the wiring was pretty much done. But I swear to God, we checked out all the connections, up one side and down the other! No way this should have happened. He gonna be all right?”
    How was I supposed to know? Jason didn’t look any better: he was pale and breathing shallowly, and showed no signs of waking up.
    I was startled when Arabella said, “Don’t touch anything,” in a calm, clear voice. “We don’t know if the circuit’s still live. You, too, Joe—just leave it alone until we can figure out what happened. Luckily Jason fell clear of it, or you might have been shocked, too, Nell.”
    I hadn’t even considered that, in my hurry to reach Jason, but she was right. I sat back on my heels. “Should we cover him or something?”
    “Good idea. If he’s in shock he’ll be losing body heat. Hand me one of those tarps, will you, Joe?”
    Joe swooped down and bundled up a tarp. He and Arabella together laid it carefully over Jason’s nearly still form.
    “Is the power out throughout the building?” I asked. I thought I could see lights coming from the open stairwell.
    “Shouldn’t be,” Arabella said. “We installed a separate circuit for the exhibition this time around, since we had the walls open anyway, and we knew the electrified animals would draw a lot of power. But we went over the plans more times than I can count! There should have been no way that this could happen. The codes for this sort of exhibit are very strict, and of course we’ve had every inspection the city requires. It would be devastating if anything happened to a child. Not that it should happen to anyone.”
    I felt a sense of relief. Gone was the fluffy Arabella, replaced by a competent leader, and I was happy to let her take charge.
    “Mother, are you up here?” A female voice drifted from the front of the building.