The Monkey Howled at Midnight (11 page)

“Let's put these babies back in one of the cages,” he said. “They need food and water. They can be released later.”

“I guess you and Aldo had a disagreement,” Cody observed.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Pino said gruffly. “I finally came to my senses and told him I couldn't be a part of this anymore. That really ticked him off. But when I told him he couldn't take those animals in the suitcase, he really went berserk.”

“My brother and I just got our black belts in karate, but I wouldn't have wanted to tangle with Aldo.”

“That's smart of you, Cody. Aldo is a black belt, too. He's also
really
strong. I've seen him fight. It's like the guy doesn't even feel pain. We've put you in enough danger already.” Pino ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a burst of air.

“I owe you an apology,” said Pino. “We should never have left you all out there in the rain forest alone. It was irresponsible and stupid. One of many irresponsible and stupid things I've done in the past couple of years. But that's all over now.”

Together they walked out into the yard. When Mr. Carson spotted Cody, he hurried over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well done, son,” he said.

Aldo was in handcuffs, standing beside Captain Montez. He gave Pino and Cody an evil look. Then he spat on the ground.

[
Chapter Seventeen
]

T
he police questioned Aldo for hours. He admitted nothing. He kept insisting that he operated a breeding farm that supplied pet stores and zoos, and that he had done nothing illegal. None of the others who had been arrested were talking either. They had all clammed up tight.

Captain Montez became frustrated and then exhausted. He didn't believe Aldo for an instant. And he didn't believe Aldo was the mastermind of the organization, as he kept saying he was. To pull off an operation the size of the one in the warehouse, someone would have to be a heavy hitter in the crime world. It had to be someone with plenty of money and plenty of connections. For whatever reason, Aldo was protecting somebody.

Captain Montez loved animals and hated seeing them mistreated in any way. He was horrified by what he had seen at the warehouse, even though the animals there were kept in clean, comfortable conditions. He knew enough about animal smuggling to know that such good environments were the exception. Most of the time, the animals were kept in small, filthy cages. Often they were poorly fed and sometimes abused.

Who knows what happened to them when they left the warehouse? Some were stuffed into suitcases to be smuggled into airports. Others were hidden in clothing or in crates under merchandise or animals legal to export.

And what happened when they reached their destinations? Were they sold to people who would care for them well? Maybe not. Maybe they would even be killed.

And sending these animals into other countries could endanger thousands of other creatures. If one carried a disease, it could spread and become an epidemic. If people ate infected animals, such as chickens, they could die.

Captain Montez also realized that the animal smugglers preyed on people, too. Some of the poor people who helped capture the animals were struggling to get by. While others were just greedy and cruel, some only wanted to feed their families.

Montez sank into a chair behind his desk and put his head in his hands. If only that computer hadn't been smashed. Maybe they could have found some information leading to who was running this illegal organization, and how to find him. Now, with no one talking, he and his officers had reached a dead end.

[
Chapter Eighteen
]

C
ody awoke the next morning feeling better than he had in days. He had never in his life been as exhausted as when he got back to the mansion the night before. He yawned and stretched. The animal-trafficking operation had been exposed. Pino was out on bail. But the mystery was far from solved.

He still had to decide what to do about Mr. Estevez and the document he had found in the warehouse office. He had forgotten all about it until he felt it crinkle when he took off his pants to get into bed last night. When he read it more carefully, he realized that it put Mr. Estevez in the middle of the whole nasty animal smuggling business.

He wanted to find out who was behind the attempts on Mr. Estevez's life. And he really needed to find out who was the mastermind of the organization. Captain Montez had phoned last night and told Mr. Estevez that he was sure that Aldo was protecting someone. Cody didn't believe that Aldo was in charge any more than Captain Montez did.

He threw back the covers and put his feet on the floor. “We've got our work cut out for us,” he muttered as he threw on some clothes. He chewed his lip. He knew his father and Maxim would tell them to leave matters to the police. But once he, Otis, and Rae discovered a mystery, they couldn't leave it alone.

Cody headed downstairs and found everyone gathered around the table in the garden. Luis had joined them, badly bruised but sitting straight and tall.

“Where are Koobi and Pino?” he asked.

“Koobi left last night while you were asleep,” said Carlos, pouring Cody a glass of iced tea. “He said he had to get back to his tribe. Pino won't come out of his room.”

“I guess Koobi has decided the life he wants,” Luis said, twirling his glass between his hands. He looked at his father. “Maybe you should let Pino do that, sir,” he said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mr. Estevez said wearily. “I had a long talk with Pino last night. What he had to say was very interesting.”

“He told you that he got involved in this animal-trafficking business to make money to go to art school,” said Luis. “Isn't that right?”

Mr. Estevez threw down his napkin. “You knew about this?” he said, spitting out the words.

Luis sighed. “Not at first. Later on, I could tell that something was the matter with him. He didn't know what he was getting into, Father. But he didn't think he could talk to you. He wants so much for painting to be his life.”

A hummingbird flew over the table, its wings beating so fast that they were a blur of motion. It hovered over a flower.

“Silly boy,” said Mr. Estevez. “I'm offering him a great future in the coffee business. Why can't he see that, the way you do, Luis?”

“Because
he
doesn't want to be in the coffee business, Dad,” said Luis. “He wants to be a painter.”

Mr. Estevez waved his hand dismissively. “Look, son, painting pictures is fine for a hobby, but it's not a way to make a living,” Mr. Estevez said.

“Mr. Carson makes a living from his art,” Luis protested. “Why can't Pino try to do the same?”

Mr. Estevez sighed. “Mr. Carson has a great talent,” he began. “Just look at my portrait. He's captured the real me.”

They all turned to look at the finished portrait, which rested on an easel near the table. Mr. Estevez was wearing a suit and tie, seated in a chair in his study. He looked the part of a powerful executive, confident and in control.

“How do you know that Pino doesn't have great talent?” Luis snapped.

Mr. Estevez stamped his foot. “A great talent isn't always enough. Some people have great talent and are never recognized. They struggle all their lives. They are always poor. That isn't what I want for either of you.”

“Take a look at Pino's paintings, Dad,” Luis pleaded. “You haven't seen them in years. Every time he asks you to look at them, you refuse. Please, Father.” He got up from the table. “Let's go to his studio.”

“I'd like to see them,” Mr. Carson said eagerly.

Mr. Estevez got to his feet. “Okay, if that's what you say, my friend. Let's go.”

Luis led the way to Pino's studio, which stood behind the house. He unlocked the door and they all stepped inside. When they saw the paintings on the walls they were speechless.

Directly across from the door was a painting at least six feet by six feet of a tiger that looked out at them. The animal was so realistic, they could almost see him leaping off the canvas.

Most of the other paintings were scenes of monkeys, apes, and baboons. They scampered through the jungle, played together, cared for their babies.

“These are awfully good,” said Mr. Carson.

“Yes, yes,” Maxim agreed, eyeing them critically. “Quite extraordinary, really.”

“This is what Pino wants, Dad,” said Luis. “To paint pictures. Try to understand.”

“You think I don't understand? I'm going to show you something. Come back to the house with me,” said Mr. Estevez.

When they were all seated in the garden again, Mr. Estevez left and came back with two huge manila envelopes. They were stained and torn and faded with age. He opened them and began taking out black-and-white photographs. “These are some pictures I took a long time ago. I liked to photograph people. There are several pictures of your mother here.”

Mr. Estevez showed them photos of a beautiful young woman with dark, sparkling eyes. “That is just how I remember her,” said Luis. “She was always so happy.”

“That is how I remember her, too,” said Mr. Estevez.

“You never said anything about taking photographs, Dad. Why not?”

Mr. Estevez looked thoughtful. “I just put the idea away,” he said. “I thought of being a photographer myself. It was when I started dating your mother. She thought I was very talented. But then …”

“But what, Dad?” asked Luis.

“But then your mother and I got married, and soon I found that we were going to have two sons. I couldn't pay the bills taking pictures. So I got a job as a salesman for a coffee company.”

“And you threw away your dreams,” said Luis.

“No, no, I didn't, son. At first that is what your mother said, too. But I found out that I liked the coffee business. Soon I opened my own store, and after a while I had my own fields and my own business. I found that I really enjoyed it. And it's a lot easier than being a poor photographer. Look around you. The coffee business built all this.”

“I wish that I had seen these pictures before, Dad,” said Luis.

Cody looked over the photos again. Mr. Estevez had signed every one in the right-hand corner. An idea was beginning in his head with a whisper that got louder and louder. Then it finally dawned on him.

That's it. The signature. The signature is the key.

Without a word he left the table and hurried to his room. The filthy pants he had worn in the rain forest were flung on a chair. He reached into the back pocket and pulled out the piece of paper he had taken from the office. Then he raced back to the dining room.

The others were still gathered around the table. When they saw him come running up, they stared in surprise.

Cody waved the piece of paper. “Mr. Estevez, I have a bill of sale deeding a parcel of your rain-forest land to Mr. Aldo Aldorado. And it has your signature on it.”

Cody put down the bill of sale in front of Mr. Estevez. The man examined it and turned pale. He shook his head.

“I found the bill of sale in Aldo's warehouse. The signature puts you in the middle of Aldo's trafficking business. It looks like you hid the fact that you sold Aldo the land because you knew that he was going to use it for something illegal.”

“That's not my signature,” Mr. Estevez said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I would never sell that land. How can you think that I would be involved in Aldo's trafficking business? This is a forgery.”

“I believe you,” said Cody.