by Jana DeLeon
“Any ideas?” I asked as she took off down the street.
“Plenty, and none of them good.”
“I know. It can’t be dynamite because she gets that all the time. And I was thinking it must be something big if she can’t haul it over to my house.”
“Big and likely illegal and she doesn’t want everyone to see it.”
“Yeah, that’s the part that worries me. I keep thinking submachine gun or something equally as lethal.”
“Well, she can’t fit a tank in her garage, so at least that’s one thing off the list.”
“Grenade launcher?”
Ida Belle gave me a pained look. “I swear my blood pressure is through the roof. I’m too old for this crap.”
I grinned. “I don’t think it’s going to stop. You might want to ask your doctor for a pill or something.”
“Maybe something I could slip into her drink.”
“I meant something for your blood pressure, but the other is a viable option.”
Ida Belle pulled into Gertie’s drive, and we watched as Gertie ran outside and started hopping up and down while clapping. Ida Belle looked up and I could see her lips moving. I assumed she was praying. Probably not the worst idea.
We got out of the SUV and Gertie started motioning for us to come inside.
“Hurry up!” she yelled. “You two are dragging butt.”
“God, I hope it’s not something that’s set on a timer,” Ida Belle mumbled.
“Surely she wouldn’t blow up her own house.”
“Not intentionally. But there was this one time she thought she would put a new well in out back and didn’t want to wait for the backhoe.”
Ida Belle picked up her pace so that I was practically jogging to keep up with her. Then I remembered that the siding on one side of the back wall of Gertie’s house had always looked a little newer than the other side. I went ahead and kicked things up to a full jog. Hopefully, if anything about Gertie’s surprise required a lit fuse, she was waiting for us to get there.
Gertie had disappeared into her house and we rushed through the open door, scanning the house for the source of the potential disaster. Then we saw Gertie standing next to a huge wire cage in the corner, beaming at us as she struck a Vanna White pose indicating the giant parrot inside.
Ida Belle and I drew up short and glanced at each other, neither of us knowing how to handle this complete turn of events. We’d been expecting a weapon of mass destruction and we’d gotten a bird.
“That’s…that’s a parrot,” Ida Belle said finally.
Gertie nodded. “A green-winged macaw. Isn’t he wonderful?”
“This is the surprise?” I asked, wanting to make sure that something far more sinister wasn’t tucked away in the garage or the coat closet.
“Of course,” Gertie said. “What did you think?”
I gave her a sheepish look. “Well, given your propensity for unusual weaponry…”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m all stocked up on the lethal stuff. You don’t have to worry about me on the private investigator end of things. I’m well prepared.”
That statement had the opposite effect on me than what Gertie intended but she didn’t seem to notice my look of dismay. She was too enthralled with her new housemate.
“The vet estimates his age at thirty,” she said. “He’ll live another thirty or forty years, so eventually, I’ll have to face the loss, but I think it’s still worth it.”
Ida Belle shook her head but wisely remained quiet.
“Why a bird?” I asked, still confused.
“You two keep harping on me about getting a hobby,” Gertie said. “I even joked about taking up bird-watching yesterday but of course, it was an inside joke.”
“Far inside,” Ida Belle grumbled.
“At least no trees are involved,” I said. “So how does one acquire an, uh, green-winged macaw?”
“There’s breeders, of course,” Gertie said. “But it’s really expensive to get a young bird. Mostly, you have to find someone who kicked the bucket and doesn’t have any family that wants to keep them. But I got Francis through a police auction.”
“Francis?”
“Police auction?”
Ida Belle and I both spoke at once.
Gertie nodded. “Apparently, he must have escaped his first home when he was fairly young. He was found by a nun and lived in a convent for the first ten years of his life. They named him Francis after Saint Francis of Assisi because apparently, he used to preach to birds.”
I laughed. “You have a Catholic bird?”
“Don’t blame Francis,” Gertie said. “He’s no more responsible for where he was raised than those orphans the church takes in.”
“No, of course not,” I said, feeling as if I’d entered a dream state. Despite having a pretty good imagination, I couldn’t form a visual of a parrot in a convent.
“Besides,” Gertie said, “I plan on talking to Pastor Don about converting him.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “The more important question is where Saint Bird went after the convent and how he ended up part of a police auction.”
Gertie shrugged. “They wouldn’t really tell me that. Said it was all part of an ongoing investigation and couldn’t be discussed. All I know is that Francis was seized along with some other property, and since they couldn’t exactly stick him in a warehouse with the money and weapons, they got permission to sell him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Money and weapons?”
“Yeah,” Gertie said. “But the weapons weren’t for sale. I checked.”
“Of course you did,” Ida Belle said.
I took a couple steps toward the cage and leaned forward, eyeing the bird as he stared at me. “So…does he talk?”
“They said he has a large and colorful vocabulary,” Gertie said.
“Colorful?” Ida Belle asked.
“Yes, well,” Gertie said. “He called the delivery driver a few colorful names when he banged the cage against the door hauling it inside. But he did offer to pray for him before he left.”
I eyed the bird again. “Hello, bird.”
The bird cocked his head to one side. “My name is Francis. You’re pretty.”
I glanced back at Gertie, somewhat surprised. “He does talk.”
“Of course he talks,” Gertie said. “Why do you think I got him?”
Ida Belle frowned. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“Why?” Gertie asked.
“I think this was a bad idea,” Francis said.
Ida Belle pointed. “That’s why. He’s liable to repeat anything he hears.”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “We do all the good talking when we’re plotting something illegal. And that’s all at Fortune’s house.”
Ida Belle didn’t look convinced. I could see her point but wasn’t sure it was as big a risk as she seemed to think. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts and we all looked at one another.
“Did you invite anyone else over to meet Francis?” Ida Belle asked.
“No,” Gertie said. “And it’s a little early for visitors.”
Ida Belle headed for the front door and swung it open. Carter was standing outside.
Gertie leaned toward me and whispered, “It’s like we said the word ‘illegal’ and summoned him.”
I nodded as Ida Belle waved him inside.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I mean, no more than usual. I got positive ID this morning. Gertie was right. It was Venus Thibodeaux.”
“How in the world did you manage ID that fast and on a Sunday? Did the overnight at the ME’s office know the dentist and get the records?”
“Didn’t need them,” Carter said. “Apparently Venus had some cosmetic work done and the overnight knows someone at the manufacturer…”
Gertie looked over at Ida Belle. “I told you her boobs were bigger when she came back. Of course, I heard her tell someone in the café tha
t it was a push-up bra. I knew that wasn’t a push-up bra. She lied about everything.”
“Your knowledge of bras and fake boobs is astounding,” Ida Belle said. “But I think there’s a more important point here.”
“Anyway,” Carter said. “I was on my way to Percy’s and saw Ida Belle’s vehicle here, so I thought I’d let you guys know. It’s going to spread fast enough once I make a statement and I’ll be doing that after church.”
“Should do it before,” Ida Belle said. “It would be a more efficient way to spread it around. You know, save all the locals the time of having to make excuses to drop by and call people when they really just want the scoop.”
“I’m not really worried about making Sinful more efficient at spreading gossip.” He frowned. “Speaking of which, should I even ask what you guys are doing over here this early?”
“Said the word ‘illegal’ and summoned him,” Francis said.
I struggled to maintain a straight face. Ida Belle didn’t even try. She broke out in a huge I-told-you-so grin.
Carter’s eyes widened as he finally realized Gertie and I were standing in front of a huge cage. “What’s that?”
Gertie stepped aside, beaming. “This is Francis. My new housemate.”
Carter stepped up to the cage and peered in at Francis. “Good morning.”
Francis cocked his head to the side. “Good morning. We’re plotting something illegal.”
Carter turned around and narrowed his eyes. “What are you plotting?”
Ida Belle bent over the recliner, laughing so hard she couldn’t stand up anymore. I lost all ability to remain neutral and started laughing as well.
“Gertie thought it would be a good idea to buy the bird from a police auction,” I said, creating cover for today and every day in the future. “Apparently, they didn’t want to keep the bird as evidence, but they were okay with the weapons and money. Who knows what he’s going to say.”
“She lied about everything,” Francis said.
Carter glanced back at Francis, then shook his head. “You are the only person I know who would buy a talking bird that criminals owned.”
“Nuns owned him first,” I said. “Maybe it will all balance out.”
“I’ll pray for you,” Francis said.
“Thanks,” Carter said. “I could use all the prayer I can get with these three around.”
“Jason Momoa is the hottest guy ever,” Francis said.
Carter raised one eyebrow.
Ida Belle started laughing again. I grinned. “You know how those nuns talk.”
“I’m going to leave before I hear something I’m required to take action on,” Carter said.
“Make sure he doesn’t leave Florida,” Francis said.
As soon as Carter shut the door behind him, Ida Belle came up for air. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so. That bird and your mouth are a problem waiting to happen.”
“When does the dynamite arrive?” Francis asked.
“Thank God he waited for Carter to leave before he came out with that one,” I said. “Make sure that bird doesn’t spend any quality time with local law enforcement.”
Gertie waved a hand in dismissal. “Stop your worrying. It’s just a bird…but maybe I’ll turn on Sunday Revival kinda loud, and we’ll eat our muffins in the breakfast nook with the living room door closed.”
“The only good idea you’ve had today,” Ida Belle said and headed for the kitchen.
Chapter Five
That afternoon, we were all sitting in my backyard, drinking sweet tea and looking out over the water. After the Great Bird Reveal, we’d all gone to church where I’d enjoyed one of those naps where your eyes are open but your mind goes blank, then had lunch at Francine’s, per our usual Sunday schedule. The only difference was there wasn’t a banana pudding run today because there was no banana pudding. Apparently, Francine needed the refrigeration space for Thanksgiving goodies she was offering the entire week. Plenty of people at church and the café were talking about the body in the concrete, but the fact that it was Venus hadn’t yet made the rounds.
Ida Belle dropped me off after lunch and I ran through a bunch of chores that I’d been ignoring. By the time Ida Belle and Gertie showed up with a batch of Gertie’s homemade caramel brownies, I’d already cleaned the bathrooms, mopped the floors, and done two loads of laundry. I was contemplating giving the refrigerator a good scouring when they knocked on the door, saving me from a life of certain domestic boredom.
“Have you seen Godzilla lately?” Gertie asked as we headed for the backyard.
I shook my head. “No. Thank goodness. I can’t have that gator hanging around my yard. Ronald is still trying to figure out a way to sue me over the last time.”
My next-door neighbor, Ronald J. Franklin Jr., was an eccentric who wore crazy outfits, didn’t like most people, and absolutely hated me. He’d lost a pair of designer pumps to Gertie’s “pet” gator and was still mad that a lawyer wouldn’t take his case. The fact that he was trespassing in my yard when it happened, Godzilla was a wild animal, and I was a former CIA agent with a former federal prosecutor as my personal attorney prevented anyone with two brain cells from giving Ronald more than a cursory chat. But apparently, Ronald was really passionate about those shoes and was still trying to find someone with nothing to lose.
“I’ve been out a couple days this past week looking at all his old haunts,” Gertie said, “but I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Maybe he went looking for a girlfriend,” I said.
“They don’t do that until April,” Gertie said.
“He might have found new territory,” Ida Belle said. “Or got tired of your cooking.”
Gertie sighed. “I guess so. But I miss him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I said. “And he belongs in the bayou eating fish. Not in your house eating chicken casserole. Besides, he’d make a snack out of Francis in a second.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Gertie said. “But he sure was fun.”
“Something tells me he’ll be back,” I said.
“Why do you think that?” Gertie asked.
“Because it’s you and he’s trouble,” I said.
Gertie brightened. “That’s a good point.”
I looked over at Ida Belle. “You’re kinda quiet today. What’s up?”
Ida Belle shrugged. “Nothing really.”
“She’s bored,” Gertie said.
I nodded. “I can appreciate that. I mean, the whole turkey run fiasco was rather entertaining but it didn’t last long. Do you want to go fishing?”
“Water’s too muddy for fishing,” Ida Belle said. “We’d just wind up sitting there with no bites. Might as well stay here and not have to bother with loading up all the gear.”
While my growing understanding of local fishing said she was right, there was something in her tone that was off. Regardless of what Gertie might think, something was up with Ida Belle besides boredom. But since Ida Belle played things as close to the vest as I did, nothing short of the Jaws of Life or Jesus would be able to pry it out of her until she was ready. So I made a mental note to keep watch—as if I needed a reminder to notice things—and changed the subject.
“Any word on how Percy took the news?” I asked.
“One of the Sinful Ladies is a third cousin,” Ida Belle said. “They’re not close—Percy’s not close to anyone, really—but I gave her the news after lunch and she headed over to see if there was anything she could do. Percy wouldn’t even let her in the house. Said he had things to do and he didn’t need any help with funeral arrangements. He shut the door before she could even respond.”
“Everyone grieves differently?” I suggested.
“I doubt he’s grieving so much as he is angry,” Gertie said. “He might get around to feeling bad about things later on, but right now, he’s probably thinking Venus managed to cause trouble in every aspect of her life, and her death is no different.”
Ida
Belle nodded. “I imagine Percy figured he’d lost Venus completely when she ran off to New Orleans the first time. He probably reconciled himself to it then. I don’t think he ever expected that she was back in Sinful to stay, so he probably never allowed himself to get involved in her life again other than allowing her to stay under his roof.”
“You don’t think…” I shook my head. “Never mind. I don’t even want to go there.”
“That Percy took his daughter out?” Ida Belle finished my thought. “I honestly don’t know. I wouldn’t say that he’s ever struck me as the kind of man that has low morals where that sort of thing is concerned. And I’ve never heard that he had a temper, but Venus managed to bring it out in a lot of people I thought were beyond it.”
“Venus brought out the worst side of everyone she came in contact with,” Gertie said.
“Besides,” Ida Belle said, “even if Percy could have done it, why would he?”
“She robbed him blind when she was in high school,” Gertie said. “Hocked anything of value. He kept his tools locked in his truck and finally stopped replacing the television. Didn’t get another one until months after she took off.”
“That’s true enough,” Ida Belle said. “But if he was unhappy with her shenanigans, seems like kicking her out would be the easier route. Not like she was a minor anymore.”
“I wonder when Carter will get cause of death,” I said.
“I haven’t heard anything yet through my channels,” Ida Belle said. “But given that the body was buried under concrete, and the ME’s assistant is covering this weekend, I’m going to guess that everyone is waiting on the ME to come in tomorrow and give his opinion on the matter. Unless, of course, there was a bullet hole through her head or something. That would be easy enough to recognize.”
“We would have heard about it already if there was,” Gertie said. “The guys who helped get the body out of the ground aren’t versed in forensics, but you can bet they all recognize bullet holes.”
“True,” Ida Belle agreed. “But that’s also assuming they had a clear look at the head. I assume parts were probably encased in concrete and couldn’t be seen.”
“It’s just like a Mafia movie,” Gertie said. “Except it was a whole body and not just the feet, and the body was in the ground and not the water.”
