Belly Up Read online

  Toward the front of the crowd, I encountered the die-hard mourners: the Henry devotees who’d camped out to get the best spots. These people all stood in respect. Many were openly weeping. Each had been completely fooled by FunJungle’s PR machine into believing Henry was a wonderful creature. “Why did he have to die?” I overheard someone sob. “Why Henry, when so many terrible animals are allowed to live?”

  Everyone was so tightly packed together, it became much harder for me to slip through them. They had invested so much time and energy to get their good viewing positions, they didn’t want to let anyone get in front of them and reacted with indignation as I shoved past. As tough as the going was for me, though, it was much harder for the security agents. I heard several get gut-checked by annoyed mourners who thought they were jockeying for a better spot. It was stifling in the crowd, but I could see daylight ahead. I forced my way between two bawling women and found myself in the open, right at the base of the crane.

  The stage wasn’t far away. Almost everyone’s eyes were locked on the Archbishop, although I could see Summer bent over with her face in her hands. At first it looked like she was crying, but then I realized the truth: She was trying not to laugh at the overblown eulogy.

  Two more security guards charged at me from behind the podium. Buck had called for backup.

  I could hear Buck himself not far back in the crowd, informing everyone that I was connected to Henry’s death. A few mourners came at me with white-hot hatred in their eyes.

  I was surrounded. There was only one way to go. I grabbed the crane’s tread and scrambled up.

  The Archbishop’s voice suddenly caught in the midst of his eulogy. I was now out in the open enough to be noticed. On the stage, everyone turned toward me. Martin was livid. Summer was shocked. I couldn’t quite make out what J.J. was thinking.

  A security guard’s hand brushed my ankle. He was coming up after me, a beefy guy with tiny, mean eyes. “Give yourself up or we’ll do this the hard way!” he threatened. Then he snatched his Taser from his holster and flipped it on.

  Electricity crackled between its contact points.

  I kept climbing, though I was running out of room. I quickly reached the cab where the operator worked the controls. The crane stretched ten stories higher, but that was a dead end and there was no way I was going up it.

  The cab’s door suddenly swung open, nearly clocking me in the head. The crane operator lunged out, trying to grab me himself. “Get off, kid! You’re not supposed to—”

  I leapt aside, barely dodging his grasp, just as the guard behind me made a jab with his Taser. He missed me—and hit the crane operator in the arm. The operator gagged as 3,000 volts of electricity shot through him, then collapsed backwards into the cab, landing on the controls. A lever with a bright red handle shifted beneath his weight.

  There was a loud twang as the main support cable was unlocked, then a whoosh as it quickly snaked up the crane.

  Thousands of mourners looked up in horror at once. Then they all screamed as Henry’s coffin dropped.

  “Jesus Christ!” the Archbishop gasped, and then dove for cover.

  I scrambled into the safety of the crane’s cab.

  The coffin smashed into the ground and burst open—as did its contents.

  Despite Martin’s best efforts to keep Henry cold, the hippo’s corpse had been slowly rotting for days. And it had spent the last few hours slowly roasting in the Texas sun. It was probably bloated from the heat and ready to rupture anyhow, but the sudden impact with the ground made it explode. A wave of putrid flesh and bodily fluids rained upon the crowd. The mourners who’d been so devoted as to get the best seats possible were now in prime position to get the most disgusting souvenirs of Henry’s death imaginable: a piece of the actual hippo himself.

  Something that looked like a gall bladder splattered on the window of the crane’s cab.

  The cab had protected me from the worst of it, unlike everyone else within a hundred-foot radius. The security guard who’d tried to Taser me had been hit head-on. Covered with rotten innards, he instantly forgot about me, screaming as he ran for the showers.

  The crowd below was now a sea of shrieking, disgusted people. Some desperately wiped themselves off; some stood rigid in shock; quite a lot were vomiting.

  While everyone was distracted, I made my break. I leapt from the cab onto the treads of the crane, nearly losing my balance as they were now slick with Henry’s guts. The smell from them was overpowering, far worse than it had been a few days before. I fought the urge to blow chunks, dropped to the ground, and fled into the open countryside beyond the stage.

  I only had a second to glance at Summer. The stage had taken a direct hit. It—and most of the dignitaries—were coated in flesh. However, Summer and her family were surprisingly unsullied. Their bodyguards had thrown themselves atop them as protection right before the hippo blew.

  Summer locked eyes with me as I ran past. She didn’t look happy to see me—and in that moment, my worst fears were confirmed:

  She’d turned me in.

  I didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. Buck said J.J. McCracken had sent him to arrest my family, but the only way J.J. could have known we were in the blueprint room was from Summer. If a guard had spotted my family on the security cameras, he would have notified Buck directly, not J.J. Summer’s father was at the root of all that was wrong at FunJungle. He was planning to turn the animal exhibits into theme rides. He controlled the security force. He was the one who’d proposed that the ALF was behind the attacks—but who also had the ability and the money to fake any evidence he needed to prove it. Maybe Summer had known J.J. was behind everything all along—or maybe she’d only found out recently. But given the choice between bringing down her family or mine . . . she’d chosen mine.

  I hightailed it toward the scrubby forest that surrounded FunJungle. The splatter of Henry’s remains ended abruptly beyond the stage, with only the occasional fleck of red gunk strewn on the ground. I left it all behind, disappearing into the trees.

  I had no idea where I was going. I just ran.

  My parents had been arrested on trumped-up charges. J.J. probably intended to pin the murder of Henry and everything else that had happened on them. Even though our lives were the ones that had been in danger.

  And Summer had betrayed me.

  I couldn’t think of another person I could trust. I couldn’t even come up with anyone else I considered a friend. But now I had to find someone . I was only a kid in way over my head. I needed to solve the crime and present the evidence to someone who could help my parents, but I couldn’t do that alone. I’d been on the case for days now and I still had no idea who had killed Henry—or freed the mamba—or helped the tiger escape. Maybe J.J. had—or maybe he was just looking for someone to frame for it. Did his plans to build the theme park rides tie in to Henry’s death somehow—or were they two separate works of evil? And if J.J. wasn’t the killer, who was? Everyone I’d met seemed to have a motive. Anyone could have done it.

  I suddenly realized I was alone. I’d left the crowd far behind, so far that it was almost quiet. If anyone was still chasing me, I’d have heard them coming.

  I was too exhausted to run anymore. I bent over, clutching my stomach, having no idea where I was or how far I’d come. I was lost and on my own. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.

  The world spun around me. For a few seconds, I thought I might pass out. . . .

  I looked for something to focus on and steady myself. To my surprise, there was a rabbit sitting a few feet away. It had frozen in fright at the sight of me, not daring to twitch a muscle. It occurred to me that I’d done exactly the same thing the night before, facing down the tiger—and a few nights before that while watching the autopsy.

  The autopsy . . .

  I was struck by a flash of insight.

  There was one more lead. And maybe, if I was right, there was someone I could trust.

  I wasn�
�t quite sure, but it didn’t seem I had any other choice. And the more I looked at the pieces, the more everything seemed to make sense.

  I was still scared and worried, but now, at least, I felt a tiny glimmer of hope.

  I scrambled up a tree. I’d run much farther than I’d realized. FunJungle was about a mile away. I could see the crane jutting into the air. I could barely hear the distant screams of panic and horror from the funeral. And I could smell Henry.

  I dropped to the ground and headed back toward the park. I couldn’t spare the time to be cautious. My parents were in trouble, and if I wanted to help them, I didn’t have long to solve the case.

  I found Doc out at the farthest end of SafariLand, where he’d just overseen the birth of a wildebeest. He was sitting in the shade of a cedar tree, watching the baby struggle to its feet for the first time. Despite such a joyous event, he appeared quite sad, his eyes rimmed with red, as though he was close to crying.

  He’d skipped the funeral, of course. Doc knew the whole thing was a sham and would have had no tolerance for it.

  It hadn’t been too hard to find him, even though I couldn’t show my face inside the park. I’d simply called the vet hospital looking for him. Roz was at the funeral, which was probably lucky for me; I was afraid she might recognize my voice and alert Buck. Instead, there was a temp who happily informed me where Doc had gone.

  SafariLand was the easiest part of FunJungle to sneak into. Given its massive size, it was difficult for security to patrol. I circled through the woods to the back fence and found a place where I could scramble up a tree and drop over. Then I just snuck around until I spotted Doc’s truck. Much of the time I was right out in the open, but I was so far from the viewing areas no one could tell I was only a kid. Instead, everyone probably assumed I was one of the keepers who occasionally wandered through.

  To my surprise, Doc showed none of the gruffness he usually greeted me with. Instead he appeared strangely relieved to see me. “How’d you get here? Buck’s turning this whole county over looking for you.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It’s all over the park’s radio channel. His men are combing the woods, the trailer park, everything.”

  “They got Mom and Dad.”

  Doc nodded sadly. “I heard that, too.”

  “J.J.’s saying they’re members of the ALF, but they’re not.”

  “I know. I . . . I’m sorry. I had no idea this would happen. Otherwise I’d never have . . .” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

  Suddenly I understood. “You knew I was in the auditorium during the autopsy, didn’t you?”

  Doc nodded. “I saw you up in the lighting grid after you made that noise. I knew Martin would prevent me from doing anything with the information that Henry was killed, so I let you know. But I never thought you’d investigate. I figured you’d tell the police. . . .”

  “I tried. They didn’t care.”

  “Or your parents. I hoped there was a way to get someone to look into Henry’s death, to wonder why somebody would murder a hippopotamus. I just didn’t realize how far up it all went. . . .”

  “You mean to J.J.?”

  Doc scratched his chin thoughtfully, watching the baby wildebeest as it took its first stumbling steps. “I don’t know. He’s not the cleanest businessman in the world, I’ll tell you that. He’s never up to exactly what he says he is.”

  “He’s planning to build thrill rides in the park.”

  Doc turned back to me, stunned. “Where?”

  “Through the exhibits.” I quickly explained how I’d found out and what had happened to my parents as a result.

  Doc shook his head. “I should have known. I knew this place was too good to be true.” He spat in the dirt. “So your parents told you to come to me?”

  “No. But I figured you might know what was going on.”

  “How so?”

  “You do all the autopsies around here.”

  Doc stared at me a long moment, then broke into a smile. “Your mother always said you were smart.”

  “Why are all the animals that died from South America?”

  “Because that’s where the emeralds are from.”

  That revelation caught me off guard. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. “Emeralds? What emeralds?”

  “Sorry. I should start at the beginning.” Doc rubbed his eyes. He looked tired and worn-out, like a man who hadn’t slept in a week. Something seemed to be weighing on him. “I think Martin del Gato killed Henry.”

  Even though I’d considered Martin as a suspect before, I was still surprised to hear his name. “Why?”

  “Because he killed all the other animals.”

  “All the ones from the Amazon?”

  Doc held up a hand, signaling me to be quiet. “I’ll explain it all. Just sit and listen.”

  I did as I was told, finding a spot of shade under the tree.

  Nearby, the baby wildebeest staggered to its mother and took its first drink of milk from her teats.

  “Before FunJungle, Martin ran a dozen other companies for J.J. and they all made money,” Doc said. “However, this place was the brass ring. If Martin made it a success, he’d become J.J.’s right-hand man. . . . But if he failed, J.J. would want a fall guy. Now, Martin’s a very good businessman. That’s why J.J. picked him. Unfortunately, the zoo business doesn’t work like any other business, because at a zoo, your main attractions are alive. Martin didn’t get that. He didn’t know squat about animals and he didn’t bother to learn. He figured they were like cars or soup or detergent. He thought he could make them do whatever he wanted, but of course, he couldn’t, and so he made mistakes. . . .”

  “Like choosing a hippo for the mascot.”

  “Right. Every keeper knew that was idiocy, but when they tried to protest, he didn’t listen. All those mistakes started to pile up. He made dozens over the years—and each cost money. Exhibits had to be designed over and over again. Construction fell behind schedule. Animals died. The park started to hemorrhage money. Martin cooked the books to hide that from J.J., but he knew he couldn’t get away with it for long. So he started looking for a way to line his pockets before he got canned. That’s where the emeralds come in.”

  My phone buzzed. I checked it and saw it was Summer calling. It was the tenth time she’d tried to reach me. I ignored the call and stuffed the phone back in my pocket.

  “J.J. owns a jewel-importing business,” Doc said. “Martin ran it for a while, so he had contacts at an emerald mine in Venezuela. He arranged for them to smuggle stones to him—and figured out how to get them across the border without anyone noticing.”

  “The animals,” I said.

  “Exactly. Customs agents don’t pay much attention to animals. Animals can be dangerous. The agents know enough to check their cages for contraband. . . . But they never think to look inside the animals. Heck, they’d need an X-ray machine to do it.”

  “Martin got the emeralds inside the animals? How?”

  “The mine set up a shady animal distributor and Martin arranged contracts with FunJungle. Whenever he needed a new shipment of emeralds, he’d send a request for a big animal, like an anaconda or a jaguar. They’d go out and catch one in the wild—which is totally illegal—then do a little surgery, sewing a pouch of jewels inside the animal. Customs never noticed. Of course, the animals usually got sick because the surgery wasn’t done right, but that didn’t bother Martin. In fact, it made his job easier, because when they died, he had a legitimate reason for having me cut them open to get his emeralds out, rather than having to make one up.”

  “But why’d you help him?”

  Doc wavered a moment, as though he didn’t want to admit the next part. “My daughter. She’s an actual member of the Animal Liberation Front. She means well, but . . . sometimes, she doesn’t think things through. She was involved in that attack on the meat-packing plant last year. She managed to keep anyone from finding out she was involved—except
Martin. The jerk listened in on my phone calls and overheard her. Then he blackmailed me. If I didn’t do his dirty work, he’d turn Susie in to the FBI.”

  “That’s why you couldn’t go public with the news that Henry had been killed if Martin didn’t want you to?”

  Doc nodded. “I’ve hated every minute of this. Watching animals die for no good reason and not being able to do a damn thing about it. It goes against everything I believe in. There’s been a hundred times when I wanted to call the police, but . . . I love my daughter.”

  “Was Martin the person in the operating room the day I came there?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I was surprised you were there—and with the jack, no less. I probably shouldn’t have taken it from you . . . but I panicked. I was afraid Martin would come through the door any moment and see you. That’s why I told you to talk to your parents before you did anything else.”

  I nodded, realizing I’d completely misjudged Doc all along. He hadn’t really been angry at me all those times. He’d only wanted me to keep my distance for my own safety. “Did you keep any evidence against Martin?” I asked.

  “Tons.” Doc pulled out his keychain and unclipped a portable flash drive. “It’s all on here. Detailed accounts. Photos. Everything. We need to get it to J.J.”

  “But I thought you said he was corrupt.”

  “That doesn’t mean he likes people killing his animals. Once you show him that Martin’s the real culprit here, he’ll make sure justice is served.”

  “But your daughter . . .”

  Doc shook his head. “I can’t protect her anymore. Your parents are in trouble now because of all this. You’re in trouble. I can’t sit by and watch anymore. My daughter made her mistakes; now she’ll have to pay for them.”

  He got to his feet, looking like it was a struggle, as though he was burdened by what he was about to do to his daughter.