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animals. Remember how he acted with that little saki?”
    A big woman in both height and girth, she seemed more harassed than ever. Her dark brown hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days and she’d inadvertently splashed zoo goo across the front of her khaki uniform. As she picked up another container of mealy worms for the frilled lizards, she mused, “I was too busy serving drinks in that stupid anteater costume to keep an eye on Grayson. Damn Barry, making us dress in animal drag! Where’s the dignity?”
    She had a masters degree in animal husbandry but had been edged out of the zoo director position by the business-wise, animal-ignorant Barry Fields. It made her more alert to affronts to her dignity than was normal for a poop-scooping zookeeper. When the directive came down that everyone assigned to work the fund-raiser must wear an anteater costume in honor of Lucy’s pregnancy, her complaints had been loud and long. Her argument that the costume’s long nose might flop into the drinks went unheeded.
    Just like my pleas for Lucy’s freedom.
    I grabbed a tray of meat for the Mexican gray wolves and set it inside my cart next to a Tupperware container of termites. “I’d forgotten about the costumes. Did you tell the sheriff about them?”
    “Of course,” she replied. “I also told him Grayson partied pretty hard before…Well, before.”
    There had been rumors Grayson had a drinking problem, which might explain why he’d been foolish enough to enter the deep foliage of Tropics Trail by himself. Or allowed his killer to lead him there. “If he was drunk, he might have said something to upset anyone.”
    “I wouldn’t know. He sure wasn’t the only drunk around. By the end of the evening half the guests were in the bag, including our esteemed director.”
    We worked in silence for a while, but as I climbed into my zoo cart, Zorah called, “Hey, why wasn’t your mom at the fund-raiser? She’s never missed one before.”
    I had put Caro’s absence to the back of my mind. I decided to ask her again, hoping she’d break down and tell me the truth. The chances weren’t good, though. After being married so many times to so many different kinds of men, she’d learned to fib whenever it suited her purposes.
    “Who knows why Caro does or doesn’t do anything?”
    Zorah’s scowl disappeared, replaced by a warm smile. “Yeah. Your mom’s an original. It must be fun being her daughter.”
    “It’s an adventure, all right.” On that note, I started my electric cart and began my morning rounds.
    First Lucy, who didn’t understand why she couldn’t enter her big enclosure, then the squirrel monkeys, the Chacoan peccary, the capybara, and last but definitely not least, the Mexican gray wolves I’d temporarily inherited while their regular keeper was on vacation. On my way to the wolves, the Collie’s magpie jay gave a big squawk and flew to the front of the large aviary to see me. I stopped to say hello.
    “Good morning, Carlos. How’s my favorite cuckoo bird?”
    As beautiful as he was, with his royal blue and ebony plumage, the bird was clearly demented. For some obscure reason known only to his tiny avian mind, he had been trying to coax me into mating with him. Every day he offered me a twig to help him build our honeymoon suite. As I approached the aviary, Carlos stuck today’s twig through the grid while mimicking the call of the Asian fairy bluebird on the perch behind him.
    “Silly Carlos is a love-addled fool.”
    Delighted by my response, the magpie tilted his head, raised his crest, and pushed the twig out further. Touched, I took it. It’s nice to be loved, even if only by a confused bird.
    In an attempt to lure me into the aviary, he began running through his entire repertoire.
    “Whit-wheet !” Curved bill thrasher.
    “Bzzz-zzzz-zzzz !” Bluebird of paradise.
    “Eine-eine-eine !” Black-backed gull.
    “Sweet-sweet-sweet!” Yellow warbler.
    “Flattery will get you