The Anteater of Death Read Free Page B

Sebastian County Library Guild, had been slated to hold its monthly luncheon today. Why was she here, not there?
    She wrinkled her nose. “You stink, Teddy.”
    “Taking care of monkeys will do that to you.”
    As if to lead me away from my life of grime, she took me by the arm, then immediately let go as if something from the scorpion exhibit had stung her. “What in the world?”
    “One of the monkeys crapped on me before I could move out of the way.”
    With a cry of distaste, she opened her purse, hauled out some tissues and wiped a brown spot off her hand. “You don’t have to live like this. Now that one of these nasty creatures has killed someone, you need to resign immediately. In fact, I want you to come home with me now.”
    Normally she behaved as if we were pals, not mother and daughter, but today she’d slipped back into the over-protective mother who’d driven me crazy throughout my teens. Ignoring her demands, I started up the winding pathway toward the exit, giving her the alternative to stay behind with my furry friends or follow me.
    She chose the latter. “Didn’t you hear me? If you really want to work, God knows you don’t have to, we can find you another job in…”
    “Please don’t tell me you skipped your luncheon to start that again.”
    My job at the zoo had been an ongoing source of dissension ever since I’d left my teaching job in San Francisco. No compromise was possible. She didn’t like the idea of a Bentley cleaning up after anyone, especially monkeys. I didn’t like the idea of being trapped indoors all day with homo sapiens. Not that I have anything against homo sapiens.
    Mother gave her hand a final flick with the tissue and handed it back to me instead of tossing it on the path. At least her work on the Zoo Guild, another of her organizations, had taught her that much.
    “Since you ask, dear, Jeanette Gunn-Harrill was supposed to be our speaker today, but when we learned what happened to poor Grayson last night, we decided on a quick meeting to discuss what we could do for her. We wound up ordering flowers from La Jolie Jardiniere. Not lilies, too clichéd, but something sleek and comforting.”
    She waited for me to say, “That’s nice.” So I did.
    “Look, I know you love your job, but I’m afraid you’ll get hurt. You’re my only child, for heaven’s sake!”
    One of the squirrel monkeys scampered across the walkway in front of us, carrying her baby on her back. Catching sight of a pink bead on her metal neckband, I identified her as Zsa Zsa, a first-time mom. Because first-borns rarely survive in the wild, their inexperienced mothers frequently being unable to cope, I’d prepared myself to hand-raise the baby. My caution proved unnecessary. Zsa Zsa loved her baby and if she had a flaw as a parent, it was in being over-protective. Gee, who did she remind me of?
    “Mother, I’m perfectly safe here.”
    “I’m sure that’s what Grayson thought before the anteater bit him. And don’t call me ‘Mother.’ It’s too age-specific. You know I prefer ‘Caro.’”
    “Anteaters have no teeth, Caro . She clawed him.”
    “Horrible!” Her hair, makeup and manicure were flawless; only the quiver of her collagened lower lip marred the perfection. That, and the slight pinky-orange tint her skin had taken on since she’d begun the La Jolla Strawberry/Carrot Diet a month earlier.
    “It’s time for you to rejoin the real world, Theodora, maybe go back to teaching.”
    Real world? This, from a woman who at a size three thought she was too fat?
    I looked around at the playful monkeys, listened to their bird-like calls blending with the nearby kookaburra’s cackles and the roar of the snow leopard six exhibits over. On the soft westerly breeze I could smell the Pacific, that liquid Eden populated by dolphins, whales and otters. If this wasn’t the real world, I didn’t know what was.
    “I hated teaching. Besides, my teaching certificate has expired.”
    “You