Read Online Zero at the Bone by Mary Willis Walker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Willis Walker
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many ways to your family. I’m talking here not just about your father. Living out of town, I don’t know how much you know about your mother’s family’s contributions to the zoo, but the Driscoll name is almost synonymous with the zoo. Coop Driscoll is our current board president, and your grandmother was one of our founders and continues to be our most generous benefactor. We owe your family a great deal. And now this.” He waved a hand in the air as if the accident had contaminated the very atmosphere of the room.
Katherine was startled to find herself suddenly a member of a powerful family that habitually received this sort of special attention. It felt unaccustomed, undeserved, but there was something nourishing about it. She found herself taking a guilty pleasure in it. And she wondered how far she could go in making demands.
“Mr. McElroy, I’d like to see where it happened,” she said. “And the tiger, I’d like to see him.”
The director looked at the ivy-covered stockade fence out his window for several seconds, then back at Katherine. “Fine. We’ll go now.”
“Thank you. Then I think I’ll drive over to the attorney’s before I go to see Lieutenant Sharb.”
The director sprang up easily from the chair while Katherine had to struggle to extricate herself. People rising seemed to stimulate the bird. It began shrieking and pumping its wings up and down, propelling pale-peach feathers and gray fluff into the air. “What kind of bird is that?” Katherine asked.
McElroy was hooking a walkie-talkie over the back of his belt as he walked toward the door. “A Moluccan cockatoo. Damned nuisance, but I’m attached to him. Kim, I’ll be over in cats for the next half hour. Please call Travis Hammond and tell him Miss Driscoll is here and that she’ll be coming over to him in about forty-five minutes.”
As they headed across the footbridge spanning Barton Creek, Katherine admired the free-flying native birds along the banks. Oh, yes. She remembered this place. She had been here before and she had loved it.
The director talked and walked at the same rapid-fire pace. Katherine had to walk briskly and listen attentively to keep up. “We opened late this morning,” he said. “First time in the fifteen years I’ve been here. We’re open every day of the year but Christmas, and always on time. But it was so traumatic getting here to this … terrible news. We’ve put the big cats, all of them, inside. I’m afraid we may have to keep them off exhibit for a long time. The calls have been hair-raising, even worse than usual. Tomorrow the letters will start.”
He looked hard at Katherine. “I don’t know where you line up on this, Miss Driscoll, but your father would have snorted at the idea of destroying an animal in a situation like this. He knew the job was dangerous. Keepers get hurt and even killed, no matter how careful they are. Everyone in zoo work knows that. It just happens sometimes.”
As they passed an area where bulldozers were clearing rubble from what looked like a building site, he waved an arm to the workmen and said, “Here’s where our new small-mammal house is going. It’ll have one of the most advanced nocturnal sections in the world.” He looked at Katherine. “Some of the funding comes from the Driscoll Foundation.”
He waved a hand to the row of enclosures on the right and pointed to a gangly blue bird in the last cage. “That’s our baby Goliath heron, first ever born in captivity.” As he talked, he kept up a pace so rapid it was closer to a trot than a walk.
Katherine saw that promoting the zoo was so compelling a passion for him that he would be doing it in the middle of a nuclear attack. She found that kind of enthusiasm irresistible.
He picked up a Styrofoam cup from the ground without slowing his pace. “Your father was a total professional in his job, the last one I’d expect to have an accident.” He stopped to toss the cup into a trash
Katherine was startled to find herself suddenly a member of a powerful family that habitually received this sort of special attention. It felt unaccustomed, undeserved, but there was something nourishing about it. She found herself taking a guilty pleasure in it. And she wondered how far she could go in making demands.
“Mr. McElroy, I’d like to see where it happened,” she said. “And the tiger, I’d like to see him.”
The director looked at the ivy-covered stockade fence out his window for several seconds, then back at Katherine. “Fine. We’ll go now.”
“Thank you. Then I think I’ll drive over to the attorney’s before I go to see Lieutenant Sharb.”
The director sprang up easily from the chair while Katherine had to struggle to extricate herself. People rising seemed to stimulate the bird. It began shrieking and pumping its wings up and down, propelling pale-peach feathers and gray fluff into the air. “What kind of bird is that?” Katherine asked.
McElroy was hooking a walkie-talkie over the back of his belt as he walked toward the door. “A Moluccan cockatoo. Damned nuisance, but I’m attached to him. Kim, I’ll be over in cats for the next half hour. Please call Travis Hammond and tell him Miss Driscoll is here and that she’ll be coming over to him in about forty-five minutes.”
As they headed across the footbridge spanning Barton Creek, Katherine admired the free-flying native birds along the banks. Oh, yes. She remembered this place. She had been here before and she had loved it.
The director talked and walked at the same rapid-fire pace. Katherine had to walk briskly and listen attentively to keep up. “We opened late this morning,” he said. “First time in the fifteen years I’ve been here. We’re open every day of the year but Christmas, and always on time. But it was so traumatic getting here to this … terrible news. We’ve put the big cats, all of them, inside. I’m afraid we may have to keep them off exhibit for a long time. The calls have been hair-raising, even worse than usual. Tomorrow the letters will start.”
He looked hard at Katherine. “I don’t know where you line up on this, Miss Driscoll, but your father would have snorted at the idea of destroying an animal in a situation like this. He knew the job was dangerous. Keepers get hurt and even killed, no matter how careful they are. Everyone in zoo work knows that. It just happens sometimes.”
As they passed an area where bulldozers were clearing rubble from what looked like a building site, he waved an arm to the workmen and said, “Here’s where our new small-mammal house is going. It’ll have one of the most advanced nocturnal sections in the world.” He looked at Katherine. “Some of the funding comes from the Driscoll Foundation.”
He waved a hand to the row of enclosures on the right and pointed to a gangly blue bird in the last cage. “That’s our baby Goliath heron, first ever born in captivity.” As he talked, he kept up a pace so rapid it was closer to a trot than a walk.
Katherine saw that promoting the zoo was so compelling a passion for him that he would be doing it in the middle of a nuclear attack. She found that kind of enthusiasm irresistible.
He picked up a Styrofoam cup from the ground without slowing his pace. “Your father was a total professional in his job, the last one I’d expect to have an accident.” He stopped to toss the cup into a trash
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