Angel of Brooklyn (17 page)

‘But, well,’ she hesitated, ‘wouldn’t the lion … go off?’

‘A little preservation is all that’s required. Think of meat,’ he said. ‘Think of all those Virginia hams that go winging their way around the country at Thanksgiving.’

Elijah chewed his fingers.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ his father asked.

‘Nothing,’ he sniggered. ‘I was thinking of Daniel. “Satan as a roaring lion walketh about seeking whom he may devour.”’

‘My lion will be finished with walking. My lion will be required to do an awful lot of standing. Though,’ he pondered, ‘lying down might be easier.’

In the next cage a camel stood chewing a wad of hay, its pale pink lips flopping over its teeth, of which it had thirty-four, according to the information sign, and most of them looked broken. The camel (a dromedary) was called Millicent.

‘I’m not interested in the camel,’ he said. ‘I know my limitations. What with its hump and its spindle-like legs, I don’t think I could manage it.’

‘Hallelujah,’ said Elijah.

‘The camel certainly looks relieved,’ said Beatrice. ‘Did you hear that, Millie? You’re saved.’

‘Stop behaving like a double act and come and find the wolves,’ he said. ‘It says here they have a pair of grey wolves, and wolves are what I’ve come looking for. They’re my next big thing.’

The two unnamed wolves were in a large, wide enclosure. Hiding behind the logs, they were not a popular exhibit.

‘They look like dogs,’ said Elijah, squinting. ‘Willie Freeman at church is from Vermont. He says he has dozens of wolves in his backyard. He can hear them crying all night long.’

Beatrice shivered, picturing her father on a wolf hunt, net in hand, the moon hanging in the sky, shrouded in a curtain of fine white mist. Would she have to go with him?

‘Here, boy,’ said their father, crouching by the rails. ‘Here, boy, come on now, let me see how you move.’

One of the wolves hunched its way over to a rock. ‘Fascinating,’ he breathed. ‘Look at its slinking shoulders, the loose fur and skin, and that face, so intent and pointed and serious.’

Elijah yawned. A man dressed in an ape costume was handing out monkey nuts. Pink-cheeked girls linked arms; bored of looking through bars, they were skipping towards the ice-cream barrel.

‘It says here that their keeper’s name is Jed Adams. Do you think he’ll be around?’

‘What are you going to ask him?’ Beatrice worried. ‘Should we leave you for half an hour, so that you can go away and find him?’

‘We’ll all go together,’ he said, brushing down his pants. ‘You can back me up.’

‘Back you up?’ said Elijah. ‘Back you up, how?’

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘Just help me out now and then.’

In the distance, by a cage of green parrots, a man in a tan-coloured jacket was sweeping the walkway.

‘You work here?’ their father asked.

The man slowly raised himself up, leaned his big red hands on the top of his broom, and smiled. ‘Sure looks like it,’ he grinned.

‘You know a Jed Adams?’

‘Who’s asking?’

‘A Mr Ethan Lyle,’ he said. ‘That’s who’s asking.’

Beatrice felt a little cold. She kept her eyes on the boys peering
through
the parrot cage. Suddenly, the birds dived from their perches, a swoop of squawking jade as the boys started moving away.

‘Parrots are for girls,’ said one of them.

‘Ach, they don’t even talk,’ said another, picking up a stone.

‘Is Jed Adams here?’ her father asked.

‘Probably.’

‘So where might I find him?’

The man took out his watch. ‘He’ll be in his room around now. That’s at the back of the porcupine cage. Do you have an appointment?’

‘We’ll just take our chances.’

‘You folks from Chicago?’

‘No, sir. We’re from Normal.’

‘You are? You came all this way to see Jed Adams and you didn’t make an appointment?’

‘We came to see the zoo,’ he said, turning to look for the porcupine sign. ‘That’s what we came for.’

The man nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘a zoo is a marvellous thing.’

They walked towards the porcupines with their long sweeping bristles. A short stony path led to the office where a sign on the door said,
Keeper
.

‘Looks like we’re here,’ said their father, straightening out his shoulders.

Jed Adams opened the door, eating a sandwich. He was tall, around twenty-five, with chestnut-brown hair, and a wide open smile.

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked. ‘Come on in, folks, don’t be shy, come and step right on inside.’

Beatrice felt embarrassed, the man was eating, they’d obviously disturbed him, and what would he make of her father, with his strange, macabre ideas?

‘Jed Adams.’ The man held out his free hand, after wiping off the crumbs.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Adams. I’m Ethan Lyle, and this here is my son Elijah, and my daughter Beatrice.’

Jed Adams nodded towards them, and blushed. His office was small and messy. There were pictures of bears on the walls. Books on zoology were piled on his desk. The room smelled of coffee, turpentine and animal droppings.

‘I’m interested in your wolves,’ her father said.

Beatrice, squeezing her fingers tight around her thumbs, tried to disassociate herself entirely from the conversation. She studied the bear pictures.
Brown Bear with Cubs. Polar Bear on Icecap
. Elijah stood looking at his feet.

‘The wolves?’ said Jed, taking a last bite of his sandwich. ‘Grey wolves are interesting creatures, though you sure can’t make a pet of them.’

‘I should think not.’

‘We have an information stand. It’s very good. You can purchase pamphlets inside the shop, and all at reasonable prices.’

‘It’s not that kind of query.’

‘No?’

‘Might I ask how long you’ve had them here?’

Jed looked puzzled. ‘A year. Fourteen months,’ he said. ‘They settled in well and they’ve never been a problem to us. They’re often restless, but that’s wolves for you; they seem happy enough, both of them.’

‘And what is their age?’

‘Are you an inspector?’ said Jed. ‘Is this some kind of test?’

‘Not at all. I was simply wondering how long you expect them to live?’

‘You don’t like zoos?’ Jed looked uneasy. ‘Are you one of those campaigners?’

‘I like zoos very much.’

‘You do?’

‘Sure I do. Who doesn’t?’

‘Then the wolves are five and six years old. I’ll be honest with you, sir, I’m a bear man, and I’m no real expert on wolves, but I’m expecting them to live another four or five years, something like that.’

‘Then what happens?’

‘Then we either acquire another pair, or we find something else to fill the cage.’

‘I meant –’ He coughed. ‘What do you do with the remains?’

Jed Adams scratched his head. Beatrice had a crick in her neck. Elijah pretended to be interested in a book called
The World of the Captive Mammal
.

‘The remains? We burn all the carcasses, Mr Lyle. Or the veterinarian takes them away.’

‘Seems such a waste.’

The man laughed. ‘What do you expect us to do with the remains, sir? Give them a full Christian burial?’

‘Now there’s an idea,’ said Elijah.

‘No,’ said their father, ‘not at all. You could give them to me.’

Jed Adams got up from the desk where he was leaning and walked around a little. He brushed against Beatrice, making her turn away from the pictures, her face flushing pink.

‘So,’ said Jed, addressing Elijah, who was just as flushed as his sister. ‘What does a man from – where did you say you were from?’

‘I didn’t. We’re from Normal.’

‘That figures. What does a man from way out in Normal want with the carcass of a wolf?’

Beatrice decided that she’d have to say something quickly. What must this man be thinking? She gave him a beautiful smile, blinked her wet blue eyes and stopped him in his tracks.

‘Mr Adams, my father is a skilled taxidermist,’ she said. ‘It’s a growing pastime, and something he is extremely serious about. So far, he has rebuilt birds and small animals. Now he’d like something bigger.’

‘Yes,’ her father said, nodding vigorously. ‘That’s it exactly. That’s the reason that I’m here.’

‘I’ve never heard of such a thing,’ said Jed Adams. ‘Rebuilt wolves?’

‘You’ve never seen a stuffed and mounted creature?’ her father asked, amazed. ‘Some of the bigger museums show collections in their natural history department. I myself have seen beavers, wolverines and turtles.’

Jed chuckled. ‘Have you seen the size of those wolves, Mr Lyle?’

‘The Museum of Natural History in Manhattan has an Indian elephant standing large as life in the lobby,’ he said.

‘So, where do you plan to show your specimen? Your porch? Now that would be a real nice welcome for your guests.’

‘I plan to donate it.’

‘You do?’ said Elijah.

‘Certainly. I would like to give the good people of Illinois the chance to see my art, and to observe the wild wolf without any fear or danger.’

Jed rubbed his forehead and swallowed. Beatrice and those eyes of hers were making him feel nervous. ‘Thing is, sir, I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. I can’t let you have those wolves dead or alive.’

‘You can’t?’ Beatrice felt a sudden need to stick up for her father, though her voice began to waver a little towards the end. ‘Are you not in charge of these animals? Animals that will end up being burned?’

‘Miss, we are not allowed to give our creatures away, even when they’re completely demised. There’d be a risk of disease. It just isn’t healthy.’

‘Chicago is full of meat packers,’ said her father. ‘What’s the difference?’

Jed opened the office door. A beam of sunlight fell across his face, making him blink. ‘There are laws, Mr Lyle, and in four or five years’ time, when those wolves are dead, I doubt they will have changed.’

‘I don’t believe you. Why, if such a law exists then how do these museums get hold of their exhibits? And what about New York? Those big-shot curators and their taxidermists were allowed a fully grown Indian elephant.’

‘Perhaps they were friendly with a big game hunter,’ he said, showing them out the door. ‘Either that, or a circus.’

Beatrice was glad to be outside again. Above her head a lost red balloon shivered in the sky, then got caught up in some branches. She heard the gibbering of the animals, the high-pitched squealing and a slightly muffled roar.

‘Well, Mr Lyle,’ said Jed Adams, shoving his hands inside his armpits and bouncing up and down. ‘Say, you might have missed out on a wolf, but you’ve certainly made my day. This will do the rounds of the zoo for weeks.’

‘Who runs this place?’

‘A Mr Ephraim Colt.’

‘Then I will write to him.’

‘Oh, please do that. I wouldn’t want to stop you. He’s a hardworking man, and he’ll be awfully glad of some amusement.’

‘It will not be an amusing letter.’

‘Believe me, sir, it will.’

They were at the end of the path when Beatrice took a quick glance over her shoulder. Jed Adams had a hand in his hair. He was smiling and shaking his head.

‘It could have been worse,’ Elijah whispered to his sister. ‘Much worse.’

‘The impudence and the ignorance of the man,’ said their father with his teeth clenched. ‘He knows nothing.’

‘I agree,’ said Beatrice, ‘because, after all, if taxidermy is displayed in an important New York museum, then it’s a very serious business.’

Elijah looked amazed. ‘Sister, you’re forgetting. It’s one thing looking at those animals inside a museum, but we have to live with them, and the outhouse is hardly the right place to take a wolf to pieces.’

‘Chicken,’ their father said. ‘I can smell fried chicken.’

‘Are you awfully upset?’ she asked.

‘Not at all,’ he told her. ‘These ideas have to be explored. Anyway, Lincoln Park Zoo hasn’t heard the last of Ethan Lyle. I can be extremely persistent. Now let’s go and buy some chicken, I could do with a bite to eat, and it does smell uncommonly good.’

They strolled around the zoo for another half an hour, but their hearts weren’t in it. Gazing at the monkeys, their father looked sad. They were a nice size. They had a curl in their tails, and small, human-like faces.

‘I was reading about a man in Seattle,’ he told them. ‘He stuffed one of these little marmosets and he gave it to his wife to keep as a companion. Now she dresses it in soldier suits and takes the creature everywhere. When she visits friends and restaurants, she hooks it onto a chair by its tail. She once took it to the theatre. The play was by Mr Bernard Shaw. It was very popular. They made her buy the little stuffed monkey a ticket.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Every word is true.’

Chicago was wonderful, filthy and frightening. The air sloped. The wide crushing streets were full of steam and sweet oil, soapsuds, raw meat and wet metal polish, new money clinked, and girls with scarlet lips sashayed their way between street lamps, barrels and freshly slaughtered cattle. Walking back to Harlech Street, they passed bars with open doors, glimpsing men without jackets drinking straight from the neck of the bottle. Beatrice had never seen such a thing. Normal was dry. Outside a particularly lively establishment called Frankie D’s Saloon, Elijah stopped.

‘Keep up, keep up,’ their father shouted, battered by the crowds.

‘Wait!’ Elijah stood stock-still. ‘I can’t pass this by. It’s too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘What? Drinking liquor? Liquor just addles the brain.’

‘No. I’m a preacher, I’m going to be a preacher, and I’m supposed to practise my preaching. If I can save just one of those poor damned men from drowning in their sins, then it will be worth it.’

Beatrice felt faint. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, leave them alone, I want to go back to my room.’

‘I can’t walk away,’ said Elijah. ‘I’ve been called.’

‘We can’t stop him,’ said their father, shrugging and shaking his head. ‘The boy has found God, and who am I to say it’s a bad thing? The hotel is just around the block, do you think you can find it?’

Elijah nodded. He was rifling through his pockets for his sermon notes.