Free Hangman's Root by Susan Wittig Albert

department give you more hours?" I asked. "And repair the equipment?"
    "You t-t-tell me." His glance flicked nervously to Dottie's camera, then to the cages and around the room. Clearly, he didn't want us here. Was it because he was ashamed of the mess? Or was there another reason?
    "The problem is the extra animals," Dottie said. "The guinea pigs for Harwick's experiment." Her voice held an undisguised note of triumph. "If it weren't for those hundred animals, you could handle the rest in ten hours a week, easily." She fixed Scott with a sharp look. "Couldn't you?"
    At the mention of Harwick, the boy's head jerked. His tongue darted out and licked at his mustache. His "P-p-probably" was almost inaudible.
    Dottie's eyes narrowed. "Does Harwick know about this situation? What about Castle?"

    Kevin Scott looked uneasy. "Dr. C-C-Castle has never been down here. I asked him to c-come, but he d-didn't have t-time. Dr. Harwick drops in every d-d-day or so."
    "Of course he does." Dottie was bitterly amused. "I'll bet Harwick comes down here every morning to make sure that none of the animals managed to get away in the night. But he doesn't stay to clean cages."
    Kevin's Adam's apple hobbled. "What are you going to d-d-do?"
    "Get Castle down here. For starters. If he doesn't repond, I'll go to CULAC. If that committee doesn't act, I'll get the USDA animal health inspector here." There was an unpleasant smirk on her face. "That'll make the good old boys move their butts."
    Kevin's eyes were apprehensive. "D-d-do you think you could d-d-do it without getting me in t-trouble? Like, this isn't really my fault, you know. I t-t-tried to t-tell Dr C-Castle that something had to be done, but he said there wasn't any money to p-pay me to work more hours."
    I shook my head. In the hierarchy of things, student employees aren't very far above the lab animals. Unless I missed my guess, the boy hadn't tried very hard to wring more hours out of Castle. He was probably scared of losing what little time he already had. But Dottie wasn't afraid of the chairman. And she had leverage. I looked around. This place would give her a lot of leverage.
    "What about Harwick's grant money?" I asked. "If his grant bought the guinea pigs for his experiment, it ought to be paying for their upkeep. Why isn't it?"
    "Yeah," Dottie muttered. She backed up two paces and took a picture of Kevin Scott framed against a backdrop of filthy, overcrowded cages. "Good question. Why isn't it?"
    Kevin looked as if he'd like to yank the camera out of her hand but didn't dare. "I have to get to work," he said. His voice

    was shrill, and he tried again, bringing it down a notch. "I'm sorry to be rude, Dr. Riddle, b-b-but—"
    "We're going," Dottie said, taking one last picture. Kevin almost pushed us out the door, and I wondered again why we made him so nervous.
    Out in the hallway, I could still smell the stench of the holding facility, which seemed to have permeated my entire body. I felt as if I'd have to strip and stand under the shower for half an hour to wash it from my hair, my skin. But would I ever be able to wash away the ugly image of so many animals, crowded, un-tended, destined for a grim fate.^
    As we went up the stairs, Dottie was gleeful. "Boy, are they in trouble," she said.
    I didn't think she was talking about the guinea pigs. "Harwick and Castle.^"
    "Right. Violations of the Animal Welfare Act. When the USDA sees that mess, they'll shut it down. Which means that Castle will have to answer a lot of embarrassing questions and Harwick could even stand to lose his grant. You don't fool around with the USDA—especially with PETA barking at their heels."
    "PETA.^ But they're not involved with this."
    "Not yet." Dottie grinned mirthlessly. "But it'll only take a minute to step outside and put in a word with Amy Roth, their organizer. Maybe she'd even like to see that hell-hole down there, after the kid is gone, of course."
    I glanced at Dottie's face. I knew how much