by Lori Herter
“She hasn’t wanted to drink from a faucet either,” Tom said. “She likes to jump on the kitchen sink and meow for us to turn on the water.”
“Meow,” the parrot said.
“Can’t you keep him quiet?” Ethel asked her husband with irritation.
“Shh, Hal.” Tom brought his hand to his shoulder so the bird could step onto his fist. He gently ruffled the feathers on Hal’s head, which the parrot seemed to enjoy.
Claudia had gotten out a thermometer and lifted the cat’s thickly furred tail to take her temperature. As this took a minute, she chatted.
“You have a new hairstyle, don’t you, Ethel?”
The thin, angular lady, dressed in wool pants, boots and a Fair Isle sweater, smiled. She fluffed her chin length hair. “I went to a different beauty parlor I heard about. Haven’t worn bangs since I was a teenager, so it’s kind of fun.”
“I like it,” Claudia said, pulling out the thermometer. “Oh, gosh, Jasmine’s temperature is very low.”
“No, really?” Ethel said with alarm. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Her fur is so long and thick, you wouldn’t have,” Claudia assured her. She took the cat’s pulse, observed its respiration, asked the couple some further questions about Jasmine and made notes for Dr. Chandler.
“What do you think might be wrong with her?” Ethel asked, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “She’s been my little pal for almost a dozen years.”
Claudia knew it might be a fur ball obstruction, but it wasn’t her place to diagnose. “Dr. Chandler will probably want an x-ray to evaluate what’s going on. She may need to stay here overnight for observation or treatment.”
“Sounds expensive,” Tom mumbled, lifting the bird to his shoulder again.
Ethel turned to him. “You always think like an accountant. Our beloved kitty is sick!”
“Well,” he said quietly, “I was an accountant.”
“You’re only semi-retired,” she continued. Her sharp voice had a natural hectoring quality. “You still get a paycheck. And when the court decides in your favor, money definitely won’t be a problem.” She turned to Claudia. “Cruella de Ville, the blood-sucking trophy wife—widow, I should say—of Tom’s father is contesting the will. But we have a good lawyer. We’ll inherit what we’re entitled to. Tom’s such a worry-wart.”
As Tom looked down at the tiled floor, Claudia nodded, unsure what to say.
The parrot spoke up before she could. “Smart bird. Smart bird.”
“Oh, shut up, Hal!” Ethel exclaimed.
“Shut up, Hal,” the bird instantly repeated, puffing out its feathers.
Tom petted the bird and spoke softly to it. “It’s okay. She didn’t mean it.”
“Dr. Chandler will come in soon,” Claudia told them as she stroked Jasmine. “He’ll do a thorough exam.”
A while later, Dr. Chandler carried Jasmine back to the treatment room and asked Claudia to take the cat’s blood pressure. While she wrapped the white cuff around the cat’s front leg, he said, “I felt a blockage in her colon. So we need an x-ray, maybe an ultrasound.”
Claudia sighed a half-minute later as she read the monitor that showed the blood pressure reading. “It’s so low. She’s badly dehydrated.”
“Right. She’ll probably need surgery today,” the veterinarian said. “Let’s get the x-ray, then wrap her in a blanket and use the warm air blower to increase her temperature. We’ll insert an IV catheter to get fluid into the kidneys to raise her blood pressure.”
“Will the Radeks be okay with all that? Tom seemed concerned about the cost.”
“I haven’t given them an estimate yet,” he replied.
“Oh, boy,” Claudia said under her breath, knowing the sum would total thousands of dollars.
A half hour later, Claudia saw the Radeks sitting in the waiting room. Ethel looked distraught.
Claudia walked up to them. “Jasmine seems to be feeling more comfortable. We’ve warmed her up and her blood pressure is getting back to normal.”
“But the vet says she needs surgery,” Ethel said. “She’s an older cat. Will she survive?”
“Dr. Chandler has done many, many surgeries. He’s rarely lost a patient.”
“If she survives,” Ethel went on, “how do we take care of her? I comb her, but she still got this fur ball blockage. What if the same thing happens, and she has to have surgery again?”
Claudia listened as Ethel babbled on in an emotional outpouring, inventing awful scenarios about Jasmine’s future. Tom, meanwhile, had a blank expression on his face while Hal sat on his shoulder.
“Well, one thing you can do,” Claudia interrupted Ethel, “is have Jasmine get the lion cut. That way she won’t ingest so much fur. We have a groomer here.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Ethel said. “But then she’ll look like a little lion? She won’t be my fluffy Jasmine anymore.” She turned to her husband. “What do you think, Tom?”
He didn’t respond.
“Tom? Are you listening?”
He lifted his chin. “Huh?”
“Turn up your hearing aid,” Ethel snapped.
“It’s on,” he said.
“If Jasmine survives the surgery, should we give her the lion cut?”
“What’s a lion cut?”
Ethel closed her eyes and shook her head. “You’re impossible! When I’m talking, try listening for a change.”
“Tom? Tom?” Hal said, suddenly flapping his wings. “Tom, you listening?”
Claudia needed to get back to her work. “Did Dr. Chandler give you the estimate of what the surgery will cost?”
“Yes, he did,” Tom replied. “We’re waiting to sign the paper to go ahead.” He glanced at his watch. “Will that take long?”
Claudia looked toward the reception desk. “I’m sure they’re printing it up now.”
“I was hoping to go help out Eleanor,” Tom told his wife.
“Eleanor is clever at coming up with stuff for you to do,” Ethel said in a dour tone.
“She’s got a bad back,” Tom replied matter-of-factly. “She needs help around her house.”
Trudy Avery, the clinic’s office manager, a plump middle-aged blond, approached with a document in her hand. “Here’s the rundown of the cost of the surgery, the x-ray and ultrasound, the blood panel and urine tests, and the medications. She’ll probably need to be here for two or three nights which entails a boarding fee.”
Tom took the paper and perused it. “Holy cow,” he said as he accepted the pen from her.
“Sign it,” Ethel insisted. “Jasmine’s worth every penny.”
Tom smiled. “Yes, she is.” He signed the document.
“I’ll keep in touch and let you know how Jasmine’s doing,” Claudia said. She walked back to the treatment room, where except for the occasional meowing of several confined cats, she enjoyed a few minutes of quiet attending Jasmine. She wondered how Tom Radek had the patience to live with a high strung, verbose wife who constantly demanded his attention.
◆◆◆
“So,” Amy said, after the waitress had taken their lunch order, “anything percolating between you and the handsome Detective O’Rourke? I’ve seen him sitting with you at church every Sunday.”
Claudia glanced out the large front window of the quaint Bumblebee Café where she and Amy Kopecky met for lunch every few weeks. Across the street stood the picturesque First Presbyterian Church with its old-fashioned bell tower, where they both were members.
“Steve and I are just friends,” Claudia said.
“He hasn’t asked you on a date or anything?”
“No.” Claudia took a nonchalant tone. “The last few Sundays he’s taken me to The Old Mill for brunch.”
“He did?” Amy leaned forward with excitement, her red curls bouncing.
“Brunch after church isn’t a date,” Claudia argued, feeling inexplicably uneasy. “It’s just where we go after the service is over.”
“
Come on. The Old Mill? That’s a really nice restaurant.” Amy’s green eyes sparkled. “It’s not like you walk across the street to come here for a burger. Maybe he’s trying to impress you.”
Claudia shrugged.
“And I’ve noticed on Sundays you don’t wear your hair tied back with a barrette.”
Self-consciously touching the tortoise-shell clip that held her long blond hair at the nape of her neck, Claudia said, “So what?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Amy told her. “In high school you wore your hair loose over your shoulders. You used to twist a curl around your finger when you flirted with boys.”
Claudia drew her brows together in irritation. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“Still,” Amy insisted, “letting your hair go free makes you look feminine and available.”
“It does?” She stared at her friend, feeling a little dumb-struck. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to look nice for church.”
“You’ve had your hair tied back ever since Peter died,” Amy pointed out. “You sure it’s not because a tall, seriously gorgeous detective is obviously interested in you? Before you met Steve, you said that you were open to the idea of dating again.”
Claudia did remember saying that. The memory of Peter, Claudia’s deceased husband, flew through her mind. Before he died of leukemia, Peter had told her he hoped she would marry again, that she shouldn’t feel she was being untrue to him. Peter didn’t want her to be alone, especially since they hadn’t had children.
“I don’t know.” Claudia felt antsy, but didn’t know why. “Can’t we talk about something else?”
Amy studied her. “What’s going on with you?”
Claudia sighed. “Nothing. I’ve only known Steve for three months.”
“That’s way long enough to start dating him.”
“Amy, it’s my life and my decision.”
“Okay,” Amy said in a resigned tone. “But even Larry thought Steve looks at you with a certain glow in his eyes,” she added, referring to her husband.
“Don’t be silly,” Claudia said with increasing impatience. “Find some other subject to harp on.”
Amy’s head went back. “Pardon me!”
“Sorry,” Claudia murmured.
Amy took a long breath. “How are things at cat rehab?”
Claudia relaxed. “Fine. Had an emergency surgery this morning. Fur ball blockage.”
“How’s the patient?”
“She went through the surgery very well,” Claudia said. “So I called her owner with the good news. But the woman—Ethel is her name—got so emotional. Couldn’t stop thanking me, and then worrying how to take care of the cat. Talked my ear off. I had a hard time ending the call. I think her husband just tunes her out sometimes. What else can he do?” Claudia shook her head. “Not all marriages turn out as well as yours has. Or mine, until I was widowed.”
“Is that why you’re in denial about Steve O’Rourke’s interest in you?”
“In denial?” Claudia sighed in exasperation. “How did we get from talking about a cat surgery to Steve? Your mind sure makes great leaps!”
Amy nodded, unfazed. “And yours is stuck in the past.”
◆◆◆
About six p.m., before going home, Claudia decided to call Ethel again to reassure her that Jasmine was still doing well. She punched in the number and waited while the phone rang several times. Then the answering machine came on with Tom’s voice saying please leave a message.
“Hi Ethel and Tom. This is Claudia from the cat clinic. Jasmine is—”
“Hello? Claudia?”
The abrupt male voice surprised her. He didn’t sound at all like Tom.
“Y-yes, Claudia Bailey calling to speak to Ethel about her cat.”
“Really?” the man replied in an amazed manner. “This is Steve.”
Claudia blinked. “Steve? Why are you there?”
“I’m on a case, investigating a murder.”
Claudia felt her cheeks grow cold as blood drained from her face. “Who was murdered?”
“Tom Radek. Stabbed.” Steve paused. “Say, do you know how to take care of a parrot?”
CHAPTER two
Bingo
“I’ve interviewed Ethel,” Steve, looking official in his suit and tie, told Claudia. They were enjoying the meatloaf special at the Bumblebee Café.
Claudia assumed this was not a dinner “date.” Steve had suggested they meet for a bite to eat. He’d said that because she knew the Radeks, she might be an asset in his investigation. Still in shock that Tom had been murdered only hours after she’d seen him at the clinic, she earnestly wanted to help.
“What did Ethel say?” she asked.
“Her story is that she went to play bingo at a senior center in Wheaton, and when she came home she found her husband dead on the floor. She called 911.”
“Does Ethel have any idea who killed him?”
“She sounds certain that the murderer must be Tom’s father’s widow, who’s been contesting his dad’s will.”
Claudia nodded. “She mentioned that at the clinic this morning. She called the woman Cruella de Ville. But Ethel was sure that their lawyer would win the court case and Tom would inherit.”
“Cruella de Ville?” Steve laughed, causing pleasing crinkles to form around his brown eyes. “The stepmother’s name is Roberta Radek.”
“Ethel has a way of exaggerating things,” Claudia said. “You should hear how she carries on about her sick cat. I’ve been trying to reassure her the cat will recover and live a healthy life.”
Steve paused while their waitress refilled their cups of coffee. “Haven’t been able to reach Roberta. What was the matter with the cat?”
“Fur ball blockage. Himalayans have tons of long fur. I assisted with the surgery this morning.”
Steve’s eyes widened with what looked like admiration. “You help do surgeries?”
“Monitoring the anesthesia and the cat’s vitals. Handing Dr. Chandler the scalpel and suture packet. Things like that.”
“I’m impressed.”
Claudia looked down, feeling self-conscious, but in an uplifting way. It was odd, but whenever she was with Steve, she felt positive and happy. It was when she was away from him that doubts about her budding feelings crept into her thoughts.
She reminded herself to focus on the murder. “It will be hard for Ethel to live in that house after seeing her husband’s body, knowing he was stabbed to death.”
Steve shook his head, his eyes darkening. “It’s a crime scene. There’s a lot of blood. The knife must have hit an artery or maybe his heart. She’s staying at a hotel tonight. And the parrot is at our police station. The bird has blood on its wing, so we needed to take it in as evidence. Have the blood tested, see if it’s Tom’s or maybe the murderer’s.”
“That poor bird,” Claudia said. “His name is Hal.”
Steve half-smiled. “So that’s why the bird keeps saying, ‘Shut up, Hal.’ He’s a noisy creature. He also keeps repeating, ‘No, don’t!’ in a shrieking tone. Makes me wonder if that’s what Tom said to his killer. Wish the parrot could tell us who stabbed Tom. Hal must have witnessed the whole thing.”
“How awful,” Claudia murmured. “Did you find some parrot food at the house for him?”
“One of our men found some in the pantry, so we took it with us along with the big birdcage. Managed to catch him and put him in it. How often do you have to feed a parrot?”
Claudia lifted her shoulders. “I’m not sure. There might be directions on the bag of food.”
“Good idea.” Steve finished off his last bite of meatloaf and took a sip of coffee.
Claudia wasn’t so hungry anymore and pushed away her half-finished plate. “When will you be able to give the bird back to Ethel?”
“We’ll need to keep it for a few days.” Steve’s eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “The bird could be a flight risk.”
Shoulders shaking, Claudia laug
hed at his joke.
He grinned. “I’m glad to see you smile. It’s been a rough day for you.”
She nodded. “Tom was a very nice man. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him. Where is Ethel now?”
“At the Briarwood Arms Hotel. She said the hotel won’t allow pets, so she can’t take the bird as long as she’s there.”
“Will she ever want to go back to her home?” Claudia wondered aloud, feeling troubled.
“Good question, especially if she’s the murderer.”
“What?” Claudia stared at him. “You think she . . . ?”
His eyes met hers, unblinking. “The spouse is usually the first to come under suspicion.”
Steve’s low voice had fallen into an uncompromising monotone. This was the same way he’d spoken to her the day she first met him, when he’d questioned her about the murder of the church minister whose body she’d discovered. Steve’s deadpan detective manner still unnerved her just a bit.
Claudia swallowed. “But Ethel told you she was playing bingo at a senior center. Can’t that be checked out?”
“You bet. I’ll be heading to Wheaton after we’re done here.” Raising his eyebrows, he took a softer tone. “Want to come?”
Claudia smiled. “Me? On an official investigation?”
“You know Ethel. Might be helpful.”
◆◆◆
Claudia thought it would be fun to ride in a police car instead of Steve’s personal car, the blue Chevy Volt he drove to church and to take her to The Old Mill afterward. She was disappointed when he opened the passenger door of an unmarked black Charger.
She chuckled as she got in the passenger seat. “Didn’t Columbo drive a Peugeot convertible? You have an ordinary Dodge?”
“I don’t wear a rumpled raincoat either,” he quipped as he shut the door.
“You do look more together,” she said as he got in behind the wheel. She eyed his camel overcoat and plaid wool scarf.
Then she noticed police radio equipment by the dashboard and a spotlight on the driver side mirror. The windows had a heavy tint, too.
He drove to the senior center in Wheaton, about twenty minutes away. They entered the one-story brick building and walked around a group of people seated for a lecture given by a woman in a nurse’s uniform. From what bits she heard, Claudia deduced that the subject was prescription drugs.
