The Best American Mystery Stories 2016

Robert Lopresti Street of the Dead House

From nEvermore!

What am I? That is the question.

I sit in this cage, waiting for them to come stare at me, mimic me as I once mimicked them, perhaps poke me with sticks, and as they wonder what I am, so do I.

I don’t think Mama had any doubts about what she was. I don’t think she could even think the question. That is the gift and the punishment Professor gave me.

I remember Mama, a little. We were happy and life was simple, so simple. Food was all around us, dangers were few, and there was nothing we needed. When I was scared or hungry Mama would pick me up and cradle me to her furry breast.

I was never cold. It was always warm where we lived, not this place, called Paris or France. Goujon cannot talk about anything without giving it two names. Sometimes he calls me an Ourang-Outang, and sometimes an ape.

Mama called us nothing, for she could not speak like people, or sign as I have learned to do. That did not bother her. She was always happy, until she died.

The hunters came in the morning, firing guns and shouting. Mama picked me up and ran. She made it into the trees but there was another hunter waiting in front of her. He made a noise as if he were playing a game, but this was no game. He fired his gun and Mama fell from the tree. I landed on top of her but she was already dead.

My life has made no sense since then.

I remember the first time I saw Professor. He tilted his head when he looked at me and spoke. We were in his house. The smell of the hunters was finally gone.

He gave me food and tried to be kind but I was afraid. The food tasted wrong and soon I got sleepy, but not the kind of sleepy I knew with Mama.

I know now something in the food made me sleep. Things were confused after that and I would wake up with pain in my head.

He did things to my head. Each time I woke the room looked different, clearer somehow. And one day when Professor spoke I understood some of his noises.

“Ah, Jupiter. You are with me again. And you are grasping my words, aren’t you? The chemicals are working just as I predicted.”

He held out a piece of fruit. “Are you hungry, Jupiter?”

I was. I reached for it.

He pulled it away and moved his other hand. “Do this, Jupiter. It means orange. Tell me you want an orange.”

After a few more tries I understood. I copied his hand and he gave me the orange.

That was my first lesson. That was my first surrender.

Many more sleeps, many more words, many more pains in the head.

Soon I knew enough gestures to ask Professor questions.

Where is Mama?

“Dead. Hunters killed her. When I heard they brought back a baby I bought you from them.”

Do you have a mama?

“I did, Jupiter. Everyone does. I will show you a picture of mine. I grew up in a place called Lyon. It is far from here, and full of men like me.”

Where is your mama?

“She died when I was young.”

Killed by hunters?

“No, Jupiter. She got sick. Not sick like you did last month. Much worse.”

Where did you live?

“With my papa. Oh dear. A papa is something like a mama. You had one too but Ourang-Outang papas don’t live with their children. I don’t know why. My papa was a baker. That means he made bread, like I eat with my meals.”

I tried bread once. It had no taste.

Did your papa die?

“Yes, but that was much later. There was an accident, he was hit by a wagon. You’ve seen pictures of wagons.” His face changed again. “I had to go to the morgue to fetch him. I knew then I would leave Lyon, because it made me so sad.”

What is that?

“What is... oh, morgue? It is a house where they put the dead.”

Did they put my mama there?

“No, Jupiter. Only men.”

Why?

“Well.” He scratched his head. “I think it is because men think that only they have souls.”

What is that?

Professor waved his arms. “I was afraid you would ask! I know nothing about souls. We would need a priest to explain that — and don’t bother asking me what a priest is, because I can’t explain that either. Let’s say a soul is what makes men different from animals.”

A soul lets you speak?

More head scratching. “I’ll have to think about that one, Jupiter.”

I lived in the middle of the house, where there were trees to make nests in. It was surrounded by white walls, and Professor lived on the other side of the walls. There were some windows, spaces in the walls with bars, through which I could see into his rooms. There were also bars on the top of my part of the house.

One day Professor came to me, excited. “We are to have a visitor, Jupiter! A man who speaks French.”

What is that?

“The words I speak, that I have been teaching you. Men from different places use different sounds, and French is how they speak where I was born. Most men here speak English, or Dutch, or Malay.”

He made the playing noise. “So many ways to talk, Jupiter. But until now none here have spoken as I do.”

Is that why they are afraid of me? Because they cannot speak to me?

His face changed. “Why do you say they are afraid?”

I can smell it on your helpers. The men who clean and cook.

“Have any of them bothered you, Jupiter?”

No. But they peek in my room when you are not there. Some of them speak but I do not know what they say. And when I tried to sign back they did not understand.

Professor got quiet. “I am sorry they are afraid of you, Jupiter. Men fear what they don’t understand. Perhaps I should have let my helpers visit you, but I didn’t want to confuse you with many kinds of words.”

He stood up. “We will see how things go with the sailor, yes? Maybe we can find more friends for you.”

What is that?

“What, friend?”

No.

“Hmm. Then... sailor? A sailor is a man who travels on boats. I have shown you pictures of boats, yes? We need a sign for sailor, I see.”

Boat man.

His face changed. “Very good, Jupiter. You are getting better and better at thinking of signs.”

I want to see the sailor.

I smelled him as soon as he came into the house. The sailor smelled like the fish Professor sometimes eats, and like the smoke some of the helpers smell of.

I heard them while they ate.

“So, where are you from, Monsieur Goujon? Is that a Norman accent?”

“It is, professor. I was born near Caen, but I have lived most of my life with my uncle near Paris. That is actually why I am here in Borneo. He asked me to supervise a load of precious cargo, so I left my ship and will take another back.”

“Excellent. I trust you will visit me often while you are here. It is a rare treat to chat with someone who speaks the mother tongue.”

“How can I resist such a charming host? Not to mention this wonderful food.”

It didn’t smell wonderful to me. Mostly bread and burnt meat.

“I am amazed that you can survive here in this primitive land. Pirates, natives, opposing armies... and yet here you sit in this beautiful villa! How do you do it?”

“Ah well, it is a little miracle, I suppose. The English assume I am a French spy, and would root me out if they could, but this end of the island is run by the Dutch and the Dyaks, and they have no desire to lose the only physician in their territory.

“When I first reached Borneo some of the Malay pirates tried to take me as their personal physician, but I told them I couldn’t work that way. If they wanted my services they would have to set me free — and they did! I suspect they feared I could make them sick as well as heal them. But they come by cover of darkness, when they need me.”

“Professor, if I am not being rude, may I ask what a scholar like yourself is doing out in the wilderness? It amazed me to hear about you.”

“Hmm.” Professor’s voice got quieter. “What did you hear, exactly?”

The sailor made the playing noise. “Oh, you know what the locals are like. The natives are pagans and the Dutch aren’t much better. They say that you have turned animals into servants!”

“I suppose that is better than if they thought I turned my servants into animals.” They made the playing sound. “In fact, my friend, they are closer to the truth than you might imagine. But they are far away too.”

“Really? I am fascinated! Please explain.”

“Very well. I should tell you I was trained as a doctor in France. I found myself working in a rural area, and, alas, there were many feeble-minded people there.”

“Very sad, but I have heard that that condition runs in families.”

“It does. And often a healthy member of such a clan will produce feeble-minded offspring, even though both parents seemed completely normal.”

“Perhaps the family is cursed by God.”

“I know nothing of curses, my friend. As a natural philosopher I can only deal with this world. But my breakthrough came when a fever struck our village and, alas, killed a number of small children, both the normal and the feeble-minded.”

“Death makes no distinctions, I know.”

“Very true. But it occurred to me that I had a great opportunity here that for the sake of all mankind I could not let slip away. As you know, what we call the mind is contained here, in the skull.”

“The brain, yes. I saw one once, when a man was killed by an explosion.”

“Ah. Then you understand that there is nothing magical about the brain. It is just a pile of meat, one might say. And yet all art and literature and wisdom spring from it, yes? So I decided to see if there was a difference between the healthy and feeble-minded brains.”

I heard nothing for a moment. When the sailor spoke he sounded different. “You cut open dead children? Is that legal?”

“No. Autopsies, for that is the word, are not legal in France. But they should be, or how can medicine advance? My so-called crime was discovered and I had to flee the country. How I wound up in Borneo is a long story. But the important thing is what I learned. The feeble-minded brain looked different; there were variations in shape. It did not smell like a normal brain, and I became convinced that there were chemical differences. I thought perhaps it might be possible to improve the little ones.”

“Surely you have not been experimenting on living children, professor!”

“No, my friend. Not even on feeble-minded ones, although I hope I will get the chance to do so. Out here I was able to try my ideas out on apes. Have you seen them?”

“I have, here and in Africa.”

“And what do you think of them?”

“I hardly know. They seem like a joke the devil played on mankind. A satire.”

“Hmm. I think they are more likely a rough draft, if I may call it that. The Bible tells us God made animals before man, after all. I have worked on almost a dozen of them over the years, trying to improve their brains.”

“With what goal, professor? To turn them into men?”

“No, my friend. That would be neither possible nor moral. But if I can improve their ability to think, imagine what I can do for the feeble-minded children!”

I heard a chair scrape back. “That is the most fantastic scheme I have ever heard! Has there been any success?”

“Ah! There has indeed. The latest subject has been a marvel. Come with me, my friend, and you can meet my greatest triumph. He lives in my courtyard.”

I heard them coming so I backed away from the door.

The sailor was big, higher and wider than Professor or his servants. He had fur all around his face, and where there wasn’t fur his skin was red.

He stared at me, eyes and mouth wide.

“Jupiter, this is my guest, Goujon. Goujon, let me introduce you to Jupiter.”

I am happy to meet you.

“What is it doing?” said Goujon quietly. I smelled his fear.

“The gestures? That is how Jupiter speaks. You will notice I sign while I speak to him. What is it, Jupiter?”

Is he the sailor?

“Yes, the boat man. Boat man. You see, Goujon, he invented this combination of signs to mean sailor when he heard you were coming.”

“This is amazing, professor! I wouldn’t have believed it possible. How long have you had him?”

“I purchased him almost three years ago. He was a baby and hunters had killed his mother. He is by far the brightest and most trainable subject I have been lucky enough to encounter.”

Goujon said more and I got angry. He backed up, toward the door.

“What is it?” Professor asked me. “What is the problem?”

Can not understand.

“Oh. The sailor has an accent. He learned to speak far from my home. I am sorry, Goujon. Jupiter gets frustrated when he can’t understand what is said to him.”

The sailor looked at me. His face changed. “You know what? So do I.”

Professor made the playing sound. “Ah, very good!”

“Could you teach me to sign, professor? I would like to speak with your amazing friend.”

It was exciting to be teaching instead of learning.

The sailor came every day. He would say a word and I would show him the sign, then he would copy it.

Professor sat and watched. He helped when I could not understand, or when there was a word there was no sign for.

“Gold,” said Goujon.

What is that?

“Ah!” Professor said. “It’s a metal, Jupiter, like iron, but yellow and heavier. It shines. How about this for a sign? Yellow metal.”

“You leave out the most important thing about gold, professor,” said Goujon. “It is valuable.”

What is that?

“Valuable? You can get things with it. Here.” Professor pulled flat metal things from his pocket and handed them to me. “These are coins. Here’s a sign for coin, yes? I give these to the fruit man and he gives me fruit. Then he can give them to, say, the fish man, and get a fish.”

Are they gold?

“No, Jupiter. Gold coins are very valuable. That means you would have to trade a lot to get them.”

“Or trade something very valuable,” said Goujon.

One day the sailor told us he would be leaving soon. A boat had come that would take him and the things his uncle wanted away. After that he kept coming over, but not for lessons. I heard him and Professor talking. They sounded angry.

“You can find another one. My God! With the money he would fetch in France you could hire armies to hunt the deep woods for them.”

“What do you think he is, a circus act? This is a great experiment. My greatest! I may never find another I can train so well. And when he starts to decline I will examine his brain and see how my chemicals altered it. Then I can apply what I learned to the children—”

“That’s another thing. Do you think anyone, any civilized country would let you cut up people the way you have done with that thing in there? That is madness.”

“Get out of my house! You are not welcome here! Go back to France, or to the devil!”

After a few minutes Professor came into my room. “How are you, my friend?”

Well. Where is the sailor?

“Ah. He is gone. He is going home. I am sorry he couldn’t come to say goodbye to you. Did you like him, Jupiter?”

I liked teaching him.

Two sleeps later and I woke, hearing screams and smelling blood.

I screamed too.

I left my nest and climbed to the top of the tallest tree. I heard more screams. Professor’s helpers were running away from the house.

The door opened and the sailor ran in. “Jupiter! Where are you? Come down!”

I stayed in the branches.

“Jupiter! The hunters are here! The professor says I must take you away or they will kill you. Hurry!”

I came down and followed him out of the house, the first time I was outside since I was a baby.

There was a cart at the door with many men. I screamed and tried to back away, but Goujon was behind me. “It’s all right, Jupiter. They are my friends. They will help us get away from the hunters. Climb into the cart.”

I did, but Goujon did not. The door closed and I saw that the walls were bars, like the top of my room. I screamed.

“Shut the brute up!” said one of Goujon’s friends.

“Let him prattle. Go!”

I could smell animals I had only had hints of before. Those must be horses, I thought. Professor had shown me pictures of horses pulling carts.

And then there were so many smells and sights that nothing made sense.

There were many sleeps on the boat. I was never out of the box of bars and I was too sick to eat. No one came except Goujon.

“How are you, Jupiter?”

Sick. Where is this?

“We are going to France. That is where the professor was born.”

Where is Professor?

“He died. The hunters killed him.”

Is he in the dead house?

“The dead house? I suppose he is. But don’t worry. You will be safe from the hunters in France. There are many people there who will want to see you. No one has ever seen an Ourang-Outang who could talk before! They will pay a fortune.”

What is that?

Goujon called the place where we lived a barn and a house. It did not look like Professor’s house. It was dark and cold and there were no trees to sleep in.

Trees wouldn’t have mattered, because he did not let me out of the box.

Two sleeps after we arrived Goujon came in, excited. “Good news, Jupiter! Some professors from the university want to meet you.”

Professor is dead.

“Yes, yes, but these are other men like him. You will sign for them and they will want you to come live with them in a beautiful house full of trees and fruit and people. You will be famous, Jupiter!”

What is that?

As usual, he didn’t answer.

I heard the professors arrive. I was excited to meet them. Perhaps they would be my friends like Professor was.

But I heard Goujon talking on the way up the stairs. “The man who trained him was mad, gentlemen, quite mad. He wanted to experiment on children! I don’t pretend to understand what he did to this poor beast. The scars on his head have healed. But we had to stop the professor before he engaged in more such crimes. I’m afraid he fought to the death.”

Then I knew how Professor died.

Goujon entered the room with two other men. They had white fur like Professor and one wore circles that made his eyes look big. They stared at me.

“He can’t speak, gentlemen,” said Goujon. “You will have to learn the signs he uses, but it is not hard. Even I can do it. Jupiter!” He started signing. “Here are two new friends for you. Say hello.”

I looked at them.

“Come, Jupiter,” said Goujon. “Show them the sign for your name. Or for sailor! You created that yourself. Boat man! Remember?”

I hooted.

“He’s a fine specimen,” said the man with the circles. “The Jardin des Plantes would be pleased to have him, but not at the price you are asking.”

“He’s not a zoo animal,” said Goujon. “He can talk! Or sign, anyway. Ask him about life in Borneo.”

The younger man came closer to my box. “Oh, why not? We’ve come this far. Jupiter, my name is Pierre. Are you hungry?”

I said nothing. I did nothing. Soon they left.

Goujon was angry. “What was that for, you brute? They would have taken good care of you!”

You killed Professor.

He backed away. “How—? Oh. You heard what I told them. I didn’t mean that, Jupiter. It was just... just... Well, they wouldn’t have understood about the hunters.”

You killed Professor.

He made the playing sound. “I’m afraid your evidence would not hold up in a court, even if you knew what a court was. You don’t want to set a quarrel with me, Jupiter. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can live with someone you prefer.”

I will not help you.

“No? We will see about that.”

He took the lamp and left.

Two sleeps passed. I had no food. No one cleaned my box.

On the third morning Goujon came in with a basket of fruit. “Are you ready to be sensible, Jupiter?”

You killed Professor. I will not help you. He waved his arms. “If you starve to death it won’t help anyone! The professor is dead, Jupiter. What do you want?”

Home.

“Where do you think that is, exactly? You think you can go back to the professor’s house and live there again? Will the Dyaks bring you food and clean up your mess? You could never survive in the forests. In the name of the good god, let me help you.”

What is that?

He didn’t answer. He took the food away.

The next morning Goujon came back with more fruit. “Don’t eat so fast. You’ll get sick.”

When I was done he said, “All right. You want to go back to Borneo, do you? Very well. It will take money.”

What is that?

“Money? The professor told you about that the first time I met you. Remember? Gold coins?”

Why do I need them?

“Because the captain — the big boat man — won’t take you to Borneo without them. Now, my uncle keeps an eye on all the important things that happen here in Paris, and he knows of a caper that is perfect for us.”

What is that?

Goujon said his uncle knew of an old woman, a fortuneteller, who was going to buy a shop. I didn’t know what most of those words meant, but Goujon just waved a hand.

“Never mind. All that matters is this: on Friday she will have a big bag full of gold coins in her house. If we get them there will be enough to send you back to your Malayan hellhole and for me to live here for many years.”

He told me that the woman was a mama and her child lived with her, but the child was grown. They lived on the fourth floor of a house.

“My uncle says there is no way to get into the building but through a window on the fourth floor that can be entered from the yard; I have seen it and you could do it easily.” He made the playing sound. “Easy as climbing a tree.”

That night he let me out of the cage. We went outside, where he had a closed wagon waiting. Two horses pulled it. The man in front was so frightened I could barely smell the horses.

“Come inside, Jupiter,” said Goujon.

I didn’t want to. It was dark and small and the air was cold.

“If you run away, you will never get home. Do you understand that? You can’t get home except by boat, and only I know which boats go there.”

I will go.

Goujon turned to the driver. “Rue Morgue. Jupiter, what’s wrong? Calm down.”

Why are we going to the dead house?

“The dead... the morgue? No, Morgue is just the name of the street. We won’t be going to the morgue at all. Just calm down and get in the carriage. Please.”

We traveled through the place Goujon called Paris, although sometimes he called it France. The windows were shuttered but I could hear and smell. It was like the boat ride; too much to remember.

The house where the woman lived was not the dead house. Goujon told me the dead house was far away and I shouldn’t think about it.

This house was bigger than Professor’s had been.

“The door is always locked.”

What is that?

“Locked? Closed so no one can get in. Like your cage or your room back in the professor’s house in Borneo.” He led me to a yard at the rear of the building. “Look at the windows on the top floor. The woman lives there with her daughter. Could you get in?”

I looked up at it and felt happy. I had never been able to climb so high.

I can.

“Are you sure, Jupiter?”

I can. Now.

Goujon put a hand on my arm. “Not now. She will not have the coins until the end of the week. Let’s go back home.”

I pulled my arm away. Practice.

“Practice? That makes sense. But not here.” He leaned out of the box and spoke to the man who helped the horses.

“We will go to an empty building I know. You can climb there without being seen.”

We went. The building was not as tall as the one where the woman lived, but it was still wonderfully high. I stretched out my arms and began to pull myself up the outer walls.

I felt my heart beating. I had done nothing like this in my life. I had only climbed the trees and walls in Professor’s house. I never wanted to stop. I swung from one piece of wall to another. Swung again and caught a window with my leg. I could have gone on forever.

Goujon yelled, “Jupiter! We have to get going! It will be morning soon.”

I wanted to ignore him. He said we were going home, but where was home? The cage?

“Jupiter! There’s no food here. If you don’t come with me, you will never get back to Borneo!”

He was right. I climbed to the top once more and then rushed all the way to the street beside him.

Goujon’s face changed. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Yes.

“It was very cruel of that professor to keep you locked up like that. Jupiter, what’s wrong?”

I never thought Professor was cruel to lock me up. Why didn’t he let me climb the trees outside his house?

I got in the wagon. When we went into the house Goujon said, “I won’t ask you to get in that cage again, Jupiter. We have to trust each other, yes?”

Yes.

Each night Goujon took me out to practice at a different empty building.

“That metal tree is a lightning rod, Jupiter. There is one on the roof of the fortuneteller’s house, near the chimney. It is much higher. Can you climb it? Yes? Very good!”

I enjoyed the practice so much I did not want it to end, but on the third night Goujon said, “I think you are ready, Jupiter. Tomorrow the old woman will buy another house. So tonight we must move, eh?”

Yes.

I didn’t know why the old woman wanted another house. But I was sure she didn’t need it as much as I needed to go home.

When the carriage arrived, the street was empty and silent. I could hear that no one moved inside. I could smell how nervous Goujon was.

“Ready, Jupiter?” he whispered. “Excellent, excellent. I will be down here waiting. I’m sure the women are asleep by now.”

I climbed the tall lightning rod. It was easy. The shutter was open against the wall. I grabbed it with both hands and swung across to the open window. That was easy too.

Inside the room was one bed, the kind Goujon sleeps on, the head against the window. I squeezed through the window and landed on the bed.

The old woman sat in a chair beside the bed, a metal box full of papers on the table beside her, and she slept. Her eyes were closed, and she growled.

I crept to her. The bags of gold coins Goujon described were lying on the table beside her. I tried to pull one but there were strings on it, and they were wrapped around her wrist.

She growled again. What could I do?

I went back to the bed and stuck my head out the window. I tried to sign my problem, but Goujon didn’t understand. Finally he climbed up the pole, badly, and reached the top.

I crawled out the window, hanging on to the sill, and when our heads were as close together as they could get he looked up at me and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Woman asleep. Bags tied to hand.

Goujon took one hand off the pole and almost fell. He pulled something from his pocket and held it up to me. “Razor. You know how to open it?”

Yes. I had seen him shave.

I reached down to take it. I opened the razor and made sure I knew how to hold it. Then I crept back to the woman. I took hold of the first string and started cutting. The woman kept growling.

I caught the bag so it didn’t make a sound. I put it on the floor. Then I started to cut the other string.

I heard a door close. A young woman had come in. Her back was to me and she was doing something to the door.

What could I do?

She turned and saw me. She screamed.

The old woman woke. She saw me and screamed.

Now I was scared. I wanted to scream too.

Before I could back away the old woman hit me in the face. Then she grabbed me by my fur. I tried to push her away, but the razor caught her in the throat. Her eyes went wide and blood squirted out, poured down.

I smelled blood. I was scared. I dropped the razor and jumped back. The old woman fell to the floor.

The daughter screamed louder than ever.

Outside from below the window I heard Goujon shouting, “My God! You devil! What have you done?”

The daughter would not be quiet. I put a hand over her mouth.

She bit me.

I put my hands on her throat. I made her quiet. She fell down.

“Get out of there, Jupiter! Take the coins and come!”

I was scared. I had never done anything so bad before.

I tried to pick up the old woman by her fur, but pieces of it came out. I grabbed her by the middle and rushed up the bed to the window. I held the woman outside so Goujon could see her. Maybe Goujon could help her?

His eyes went wide. “What have you done?” he yelled, frightening me. I lost my grip, and the old woman fell out the window to the yard below.

“My God! What have you done?” Goujon slid down the lightning rod. He ran from the yard. I heard the carriage with the horses pull away.

I lifted the daughter and looked for a place to hide her. The door was locked. I didn’t want to throw her out the window.

There was no fire in the fireplace. I hid her in there.

I heard people running up the stairs, banging on the door.

I left the coins on the floor and climbed out the window, and it slammed shut behind me. I climbed up to the roof.

I kept going from roof to roof until I could not hear the screams, or smell the blood.

Before the sun rose I found a forest. There were many trees and a grassy place with a path where people walked. I climbed into a tree and hid.

I had not meant to hurt anyone, but I think those two women were dead. I had killed them like the hunters killed Mama. Like Goujon killed Professor.

Professor whipped me once for hurting one of his helpers. This was worse. What would happen now?

I stayed in the tree all day. People walked by on the path but they never saw me. I don’t think they were looking for me.

After dark I went down and searched for food. I found a place where there had been many kinds of food and carts. I found bins where old food was piled and found fruit I could eat. Then I went back to the trees and made a nest.

That’s how I lived for many sleeps.

The food was bad. It was making me sick. Professor could make me better but he was dead. Goujon killed him, but maybe he did it to help me.

One night I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore. I climbed down and followed the smells back to the place where Goujon lived.

The door would not open, but I knew what to do. I climbed in a window on the top floor. Goujon was in a bed growling like the old woman had done.

That made me sad.

I touched him on the arm. He woke with a jerk and sat up. He was afraid.

“Jupiter! Is that you?”

I touched his hand.

Goujon leapt out of the other side of the bed. “Wait, just wait.” He lit a lamp.

“It is you! I thought you were lost forever. Where have you been?”

Food and water.

“Of course! Where are my manners? Come with me.”

I ate. He drank something that smelled spoiled.

I told him what happened.

“What an amazing adventure, Jupiter. I never would have thought you could survive for so long in this city. I am glad to have you back.”

Are the women in the dead house?

“Yes. You know you killed them, don’t you?”

I didn’t mean to.

“Yes. But I doubt anyone else would believe it.” He put down his glass. “Listen, Jupiter. There was one man clever enough to realize that only an animal like you could have broken into that house. A strange fellow named Auguste Dupin who lives in a ruined house with his boyfriend, I suppose. You should see the place! Nothing but moldy furniture and books, hundreds of books.

“This Dupin is both a genius and a fool, I think. He tricked me, convinced me that he found you, but he wasn’t clever enough to realize that you are an animal who thinks. And that’s the point, Jupiter. Do you know what they do to murderers in France?”

What is that?

“A murderer? Someone who kills people, like you did. They kill murderers — chop off their heads. Do you want them to chop off your head, Jupiter?”

My hands trembled as I signed no.

“And I don’t want them to cut off mine either. Understand me, Jupiter. If you are a mere animal, then you are not a murderer. But if you are smart enough to help me steal, then you are smart enough to kill, and they will kill you for it. Do you understand, Jupiter?”

No.

He sighed. “If they see you signing, they will know how smart you are. Then I will be killed as a thief and you as a murderer. But if you don’t sign, if you can keep from ever letting anyone see you do it, then they will think you are just a brute, and neither of us will be punished. What do you say, Jupiter? Can you keep the secret?”

Could I? Could I pretend to be as empty and silent as the horses and the dogs?

“Jupiter?”

I didn’t answer. I have never answered.

Goujon had no money to send me home. I understood. This is my punishment.

He couldn’t sell me as a talking beast, but he sold me to the Jardin des Plantes. There are many animals here.

I live in a box of bars in a big house that is always cold. That is my punishment too.

There are other apes, but they don’t like me. Professor made me different and they can tell. So I live in another building, alone.

Goujon came once and talked to me. I didn’t answer.

He thinks I am afraid. He thinks I pretend to be an empty beast because they will kill me if they find out I can think.

I am not afraid. But after I killed those women I knew I had to decide.

What am I?

Professor tried to turn me into a man. I am not a man. I will not be part of a man.

So I must be a beast. I have decided.

Beasts do not speak. Beasts do not sign.

Yesterday there were a lot of excited men in front of my cage. They were all facing one man, who was pointing at me and talking. I couldn’t understand what they were saying until one of them called him by name: Dupin.

That was the man Goujon told me about, the one smart enough to realize an Ourang-Outang killed the women, but not smart enough to know that I was also smart.

Now he was telling everyone how he figured out that it was me and the men were telling him how clever he was.

He looked at me and I thought, If I sign now and he is so clever, he will know that I am signing, even if he cannot understand the words. Would he tell everyone, or would he be ashamed that he was mistaken?

My fingers itched to sign You are the fool.

But I am a beast. Beasts are silent. I let him pass me, still thinking that I cannot think.

There are more people outside my box now. They yell at me and make the playing sound. I do nothing.

They look at me and I look back. I look back.