The Counterfeit Murder in the Museum of Man Read Online Free PDF

sympathizers.
    At that point something wonderfully adventitious occurred. A group of hearing-and-speech-challenged individuals, deaf-mutes in the old parlance, living communally in a place called, appropriately enough, Sign House, announced that they would become Alphus’s caretakers, or caregivers as they say nowadays. Because of Elsie’s condition, Diantha and I have been there several times and have become friendly with some of the residents.
    One of the inhabitants of the house, which is an old Victorian in an area of genteel shabbiness that borders the Arboretum, had been among those bringing Alphus his food and had gotten to know him. Overnight, with no fanfare and no fuss, Alphus left his trees and went to live in the rambling old place with people who, for all intents and purposes, were as unvoiced as he. The militia types packed up their sad little camp, grumbling about do-gooders and no doubt disappointed not to be able to take on the ape
mano-a-mano
with their automatic weapons.
    I have since learned that one of the residents of the house, an attractive young woman of sympathy and grace with the euphonious name Millicent Mulally, had struck up a friendship with Alphus while he was still living in the trees. The other occupantsof the house apparently had no objections to his coming to live among them, even helping her construct a “nest” for him in the attic.
    Because the animal still belonged to and remained the responsibility of the museum, I had Felix Skinnerman draw up papers to the effect that Alphus was “on loan” to the young woman, who agreed to accept all liability for his behavior. (Adoption was not a legal possibility, and to sell Alphus seemed unseemly.) I arranged as well to have a stipend sent to her for his upkeep. Our veterinarian also makes regular visits.
    Now it appears that someone has been videotaping the “conjugal” visits of Alphus to the MOM’s Primate Pavilion, which we now refer to simply as “the Pavilion.” A large male in his prime, Alphus made it clear through some graphic signing (he apparently has learned a considerable vocabulary in that silent language) that he wanted to consort with females of his own kind from time to time. Thus, whenever one of our females came into estrus, Dr. Angela Simone, the Ruddy and Phyllis Stein Keeper of Great Apes, called Sign House and a visit was arranged.
    As a matter of routine, for security and for a research project a graduate student was conducting on the sex lives of captive chimpanzees, the sessions were video-recorded. It was perhaps only a matter of time before some unscrupulous individual made copies of the recordings and uploaded them onto a pornographic site on the Internet.
    It means that we will have to take steps to secure any further video recordings. Of course, were we not to monitor the animals in our care and something happened to them, the same groups would castigate us for negligence.
    It raises the larger issue of what to do with the remaining chimps. Over the years, we have been trying to deacquisitionthem, to put things in museum jargon. But that is easier said than done.
    As it stands, I will go before the Oversight Committee, of which I remain an honorary (some say ornery) member for the sake of good relations with the university, and not only answer for the exploitation of our chimps as porn stars, but also fend off insinuations regarding security at the museum.
    I do wish Felix, our very competent general counsel, were here to handle the matter. But he’s in Brazil for another week or so on honeymoon with his latest bride. He sent me a postcard from one of the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, describing himself as “a pale northern peeper among flocks of great-breasted thong birds,” a pleasantry even I get.
    All of which pales, of course, next to the murder of Heinie von Grümh. Even in the privacy of this account, I am reluctant to reveal the source of qualms that have plagued me since the moment I discovered