Double

Crouching, I went closer to the window and stopped just outside the beam of light. Through the glass I could see an office with four desks. Woodall stood at a file cabinet, the kind with small drawers that hold 3” X 5” cards. His back was to me and he was reaching into one of the drawers.

He turned, a white card in his hand, and I hunched lower. He went to one of the desks, pulled the plastic cover off a typewriter, and inserted the card. Still standing, he began to type.

After about thirty seconds, he pulled the card from the typewriter, went to a different drawer in the file, and flipped through the cards until he found the place he wanted to insert the one he had in his hand. Then he shut the drawer and looked around the office, an expression of satisfaction on his face.

I started to inch closer, to see if I could make out the label on the file drawer. Woodall stared directly out the window at the place where I was and I froze, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. He remained standing there for a few seconds, then turned and went through a door behind him. A second light flashed on.

I moved closer, crawling through the plants until I was below the window, then stood up and peered through the glass.

The file had little blue labels on each drawer. They were alphabetical — A to C, and so on. The top drawer of the cabinet, however, had a longer notation. I strained my eyes and made out the words Adopt-an-Animal Program. Quickly I ducked back down and squatted behind a rubber tree plant.

So Woodall. had been adding a card to the file of people who sponsored zoo animals. And as near as I could tell, the drawer he’d added it to was P to R. P for Picard. The 3” X 5” card undoubtedly listed her as the proud mother of a gorilla named Fred.

Woodall had lied to me about how he knew Elaine. And now he’d manufactured evidence to back up the falsehood. But why, I wondered, hadn’t he merely filled out the card when he was at work?

Well, for one thing, the card file was in an office with four desks. It would have been hard for Woodall to get to without someone observing him. And secondly, he might not have felt it important until today. After all, there had been another murder—

I heard a noise in the zoo proper, outside the archway. Standing up, I slipped back toward the gate. A silhouette appeared in the archway, swinging a flashlight. I looked around, saw the little footbridge to my right, and tiptoed across it into the darkness beyond.

Ahead of me were tall shapes that reminded me of a bandstand. A path sloped downward and I took it, not thinking, just wanting to get away from what was surely a security guard. After a moment I looked back to see if his light was gone, but found the path had turned and I could no longer see the bridge or the courtyard.

I doubled back, came to a fork in the path, and took the left-hand branch of it. After a few seconds, I realized I couldn’t see the administration center at all. I’d taken the wrong branch, and it was leading me farther away, into the zoo itself.

Now what? I thought, stopping and looking around. I could see nothing but dark vegetation and hear nothing but the distant animal sounds and the overhead drone of a plane heading for Lindbergh Field. Closing my eyes, I tried to picture the zoo as I remembered it from dozens of past visits. But that didn’t help much; I’d always come in through the visitors’ gate.

Where were the guards? How often did they patrol? The one I’d seen had probably checked the courtyard; if he’d noticed the open gate and locked it, I was in real trouble. Or had he seen the light in the office and gone in to see who was working late? There was no way of telling until I got back there. If I got back there.

I went back up the path, took another fork, but found it wasn’t the right one either. At this rate, I could wander all night. The zoo covers a hundred acres of canyons and mesas in the northwestern reaches of Balboa Park. The animals live in relative freedom in natural habitats, which are separated from visitors by low walls and moats rather than barred cages. I supposed if I came to something I recognized, the bear den or monkey island, I could find my way to the main gate. And that was just down from the administration center—

Off to my right something screamed.

I almost screamed back at it. Then I leaped off the path, heading for the cover of the shrubbery. Whatever it was yelled again, and then a great ruckus started, with all sorts of shrieks and flapping.

Birds. I must be near where they kept the big birds — ostriches and emus and God knows what else.

Had I caused this uproar? Or did it happen frequently? Would the guards come to investigate, or just ignore it as a matter of course? I crouched in the shrubbery, waiting.

Birds. That didn’t help me one damn bit. The things were everywhere, all over the zoo. I’d have to figure out some other way to get my bearings.

But how? It was dark, and I didn’t dare use my flashlight...