The Penguin Who Knew Too Much by Donna Andrews Page A

from the little puddle in the dirt beneath the chair, I suspected only the first sip of it had gone down his throat.
    “Now here's what we’re going to do,” she went on. I left them to get on with it. Maybe if Rose Noire came up with a sufficiently bizarre plan of action, Dr. Smoot's claustrophobia would ease up just enough to let him get into his car and leave. I made a mental note to ask her where she’d put the wolves before I found out by accident, and continued my search for Dad.
    No sign of him in the barn, but just as I was about to leave, I heard a scuffling noise at the far end. With so many animals on the premises—not to mention a murderer still at large—I didn’t think unexplained noises should be left unexplained, so I went over to check it out.

Chapter 18
    I breathed a sigh of relief when all I found was Rob, crouched by one wall, behind some half-empty boxes.
    “Avoiding Mother's work detail, I see,” I said.
    “I was just reading,” he said, assuming an air of virtue that wouldn’t have fooled Eric.
    I glanced down. He didn’t seem to be holding a book, or even a graphic novel.
    “Reading what?”
    “This,” he said, indicating the closest box. “You’re reading one of the moving boxes?” “It's not technically a moving box.”
    “No, technically it's the box our air purifier came in,” I said. “And you’re reading the side that's written in French.” “Purificateur d’air HEPA ultra silencieux,” he said. “Yes.” “I didn’t know you read French,” I said. “I took it in high school,” he said. “Yes, but I didn’t realize it took.”
    “I’m beginning to realize what I’ve been missing,” he said. “The romance of the Gallic language.”
    “Have you met a French girl?” I asked. “Or just been watching too many Truffaut films?”
    “I mean, some of the words are just the same as English,” he said. “Eliminer is ‘eliminate,’ for example. And ‘pollen’ is le pollen . Bo-ring! But just when you think it hasn’t got any mystique—listen to this: it also eliminates ‘laJumee, la poussiere, les spores de moisissures, et les squames de chats.’ Doesn’t that just sing to you? Squames de chats!”
    “No, probably because I know what it says,” I said. “Smoke, dust, mold spores, and cat dander.”
    “Cat dander? Squames de chats is cat dander? You see—it loses all the glamour when you translate something out of French. I’m so disillusioned.”
    “Je suis desolee to have been the cause of your disillusionment,” I said. “If you’re going to brood about it, why not go outside and look useful while you’re doing so. Keep Mother happy.”
    Rob sighed heavily and got to his feet.
    “I thought you, at least, would be supportive of my self-improvement efforts,” he said.
    “I don’t suppose you know where Dad is?” “Of course! I’ll show you.”
    He set out at a brisk pace—unusual for the normally languid Rob. And he glanced back over his shoulder at the house once or twice. I deduced that Mother must have a grueling list of tasks for her minions to perform.
    After a few minutes we arrived at the former cow pond, which now housed our duck population and the visiting penguins. If I hadn’t known the way, I could easily have found it by following the happy trillings and honkings of the penguins as they rediscovered the joys of a life aquatic. I hoped the weather stayed cool enough for them to stay outside—at least until we figured out how to rig up an air conditioner for their coop.
    Dad had brought a lawn chair with him and was sitting just outside the fence, watching the penguins frolic. Rob threw himself down on the grass nearby. Eric and Spike were standing bythe edge of the fence, so Spike could growl menacingly at the penguins at close quarters. The penguins mostly ignored him.
    “So, you’re shirking Mother's furniture-rearrangement detail, too,” I said, plopping down beside them.
    “I think your mother has plenty of help