The Money Bird (An Animals in Focus Mystery)

by Boneham, Sheila Webster

  George threw a tennis ball, and Drake and the puppy ran after it. Jay looked at me as if to say, “I’m not getting into that mess.” We all watched while George and Tom tossed the ball a few more times. Drake always got there first and picked up the ball, then let the little guy take it from his mouth and carry it. Finally the puppy’s battery seemed to wind down and he flopped down next to Jay. He fought to keep his eyes open but was out cold in about two minutes.

  We filled Jo in on all the things we had learned.

  “I’d like to necropsy the dead bird,” said George.

  Jo looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I think we can arrange that. Today, if I can clear it?”

  “Perfect,” said George.

  Jo looked at her watch and said, “Right. I’ll get this guy,” she nodded at the pup, “squared away and meet you there, make a few calls on my way.”

  Before she could stand up and wake the puppy, I said, “So, Jo, I thought you didn’t want a dog yet? How are you going to manage a puppy?”

  She smiled at me. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you.” If you saw Jo in law-enforcement mode, you wouldn’t think her capable of squealing, but excitement launched her voice about three octaves higher as she said, “I’ve been accepted into the SAR program!” Meaning Search and Rescue. Jo gave the sleeping puppy a loving look. “He’s my partner. We’re going to train together.”

  “Really?”

  “I know, you’re wondering about the breeding. They take a lot of mixed-breed dogs in this program. Often rescued or shelter dogs, if they have the drive. One of the instructors, you know, high-ranking SAR guy, heard about this litter and thought the cross would make for good workers. They passed the temperament and other tests with flying colors, so the owner donated him and his sister to the program. When I picked him up she said she felt guilty about not keeping her dog, you know, the mama, secure, and she thought this might turn a bad mistake to something good. And now he’s mine.”

  The dogs got up when we did, but the puppy was groggy. Tom picked him up and carried him like a baby to Jo’s car, rubbing his chest and cooing to him, and something in my own chest did a little dance. Tom slid the little guy into the crate in the backseat of Jo’s car. The pup turned around in circles until he found the perfect spot, then flopped and went right back to sleep. Jo took off and we went back into the house long enough to grab what we needed, settle Jay and Drake, and lock up. Tom and George were off to have a closer look at the dead parrot. I had questions about living birds, although I didn’t tell Tom how I planned to find a few answers.

  forty-four

  I glanced at my phone where it lay on the passenger seat. The screen was lit, the “new message” signal flashing. It was working again.

  “Janet, I’m sorry I didn’t call on Sunday.” I had expected Giselle to be upset that I hadn’t called her. One of us obviously mis-remembered the plan, but this worked for me. “I got really busy for a while, and, you know, I got my bird, you know, the one I told you I might get? I mean, she’s not really mine, I’m a, you know, guardian. Just for a while.” There was a pause, then, “So, Janet, can we meet, maybe, you know, maybe today? This afternoon? I sort of need to, you know, need to talk?” Pause. “To you?” Pause. “About something?” Giselle may have looked a lot better than she did four months earlier, but her self-confidence still had a long way to go.

  I ran through my mental list of things I really needed to do. Laundry was number one, unless I wanted to buy more undies. On the other hand, Giselle said she had her bird, the one placed in her “guardianship” by Treasures on Earth. I wouldn’t mind getting a look at him or her. My phone hadn’t been plugged in long enough during lunch to get more than a low charge, but I was pretty sure it had enough juice to get at least one photo of Giselle’s parrot, assuming it was a parrot, for George to look at. My camera would be better, but if I pulled that out Giselle might have a nervous breakdown, so the phone would have to do.

  I made the call.

  “No, not there. I mean, I’m not at home,” said Giselle. My first impulse was to try to talk my way into her house, but something in her voice stopped me and we agreed instead to meet at my house in half an hour. That gave me time to stop at Kroger for laundry soap. I spent a few minutes looking for the phone charger for the car, digging around under a pile of magazines, a towel, a rain poncho, and three sweatshirts on the back seat, then searched under all the seats. That turned up my missing stopwatch, half a dozen pens, and a bent paperback on organizing stuff. I tried to flatten it out, thinking maybe I should read it. There was no sign of the charger. Don’t forget to plug it in as soon as you get home, I thought.

  Kroger was busy. I grabbed the detergent and decided to hit the bakery as well. The carrot cake cupcakes called to me, but when I thought about how hard Giselle had worked to take off the weight and how I should be doing the same, I decided to pick up a bag of pita chips and some grilled red pepper hummus instead. I was just reaching for the hummus when a brain tingle made me look around. At first I didn’t see anything, but at the end of the aisle a curved mirror mounted high on the wall caught my eye. The image was distorted and small at that distance, but I was sure someone was standing at the end of the row of freezers behind me. The figure was still at first, but as I watched, it seemed to lean in my direction. Someone peeking around the corner? Or just looking at products on display? I shifted my gaze from the mirror and was sure I saw something. Or someone. Hair? A face? It was such a fleeting image that I couldn’t be sure, and when I looked back at the mirror, whatever it was had disappeared.

  I dropped the hummus into my basket and scurried toward the end of the freezers. There was no one there. The image in the mirror was vague, and the memory of it even harder to hold. A blue shirt? Or gray? I walked as quickly as I could, given the crowd of shoppers, weaving between shopping carts as I crossed the back of the store. I looked down every aisle, and finally spotted someone in a blue shirt and baseball cap. Tall. Something familiar in the walk, but I couldn’t place it. Whoever it was walked between the check out lanes and turned left toward the exit, then was gone.

  I stood there for a moment, watching out the front window. My view was partially blocked by the displays spread across the front of the store, and I was partway down the aisle, but still I thought I might catch another glimpse. I was about to give up when I saw a blue shirt pushing a cart into the cart garage.

  Rich Campbell. He always seemed to wear blue shirts. Or was it? A little shiver in my shoulders said yes, but my rational mind told me that was just silly. For one thing, would he be civil enough to put the cart away? That small courtesy was enough to make me think I really was overreacting. And even if it were Campbell, he had to eat, right? Had to buy groceries? This far from Treasures? a little voice asked me. And then another little voice told me not to be stupid, it wasn’t him, and if it was, well, there were all sorts of reasons for him to be in town. Get a grip, Janet.

  Giselle was sitting on my front porch when I pulled into my driveway. She had on a poncho, but not one of the old ratty-looking ones she used to wear. This one was a heathery blue blend, and looked good on her, if a bit out of season.

  “Giselle! Am I late?” I glanced at my wrist but I’d forgotten to put my watch on when I dressed. Still, how could I be late? I hadn’t dawdled that long in the store.

  “No, I’m early? I just, you know, I didn’t have anything else to do so …” She let the thought trickle off.

  “Are you okay?” She didn’t look okay, although sometimes it’s hard to tell with Giselle.

  “Oh, sure, you know, I’m fine?”

  “Where’s your car?” Giselle’s hard-to-miss old Yugo was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, I, umm, …” Giselle swayed from foot to foot and pushed a hand through her hair. She looked down the street toward the subdivision entrance. “Can we go inside?”

  Leo met us at the door but ignored me to stand up with his paws on Giselle’s thighs and meow
at her poncho.

  I grinned and said, “He’s fine with dogs. You can put Precious down.” I should have guessed the little guy was with her. Giselle goes few places without her Maltese, especially if she can tuck him under a piece of clothing. Hence the poncho in August. “Come on, let’s sit in the kitchen. Let me drop a load in the washer, okay?”

  Precious froze when Giselle set him down, and she said, “He’s never been close to a kitty.”

  Leo extended his neck and sniffed experimentally at the little dog.

  “I guess they’re even,” I said. “Leo’s never been close to a dog that’s smaller than he is.”

  Precious looked up at Giselle and Leo looked up at me, and then they both seemed to relax. By the time I got the laundry going and came back to the kitchen, the two of them were taking turns chasing each other to the living room and back.

  “Aren’t they cute?” Giselle put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “I didn’t know Precious liked kitties.”

  “They are cute, yep,” I said. “So Giselle, what’s up?”

  “Oh, you know, I wanted to talk to you?” I waited for her to continue. “It’s just, you know, it’s been a long time.”

  Ho boy. I was starting to lose patience, but knowing Giselle, I might as well settle in for the ride. Directness is not her middle name, but something was definitely on her mind, and it wasn’t the months since we had our last heart-to-heart.

  “How about some iced tea and hummus with pita chips?” I asked, getting to my feet and wondering whether I was becoming one of those have-a-cuppa old-lady sleuths. Nah.

  “Tea would be nice. But hot, if it’s not too much trouble. No food, please. And no sugar.”

  The interlude while I put the kettle on seemed to buck her up a bit, and when I sat down again she started a rapid-fire delivery.

  “Janet, I’m so worried. There’s something, I don’t know, something wrong I think with the birds, you know, the bird I’m taking care of, you know, I’m a guardian now for the birds for Treasures, you know, for Mr. Moneypenny and them, and, I don’t know what’s, I mean …”

  “Whoa, Giselle!” I reached across the table and laid my hand on hers. “Giselle, slow down.”

  She stared at me as if I’d slapped her and said, “Okay.”

  Silence. I waited. And waited. The kettle whistled. I filled the pot. Precious chased Leo into the kitchen, barked three times, then spun and took off with the cat right behind him. I sat back down and looked at Giselle, but didn’t say anything.

  Giselle finally spoke, and seemed a bit more relaxed. “Okay. I don’t know what’s going on, Janet, and I don’t know who to talk to.”

  “So you called me.”

  “Yes. Well, I think you sort of called me.” The corners of her mouth lifted and she looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “Right.”

  “Okay, well, I think there’s something bad going on.” She paused. “You know, with the birds?”

  Avian flu? “Is your bird sick, Giselle?”

  “What?”Her eyes widened. “No! Oh, no, I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, they’re doing something wrong. Not the birds. I mean, you know, people there?”

  “Like Moneypenny?”

  Giselle’s shoulders sagged and her voice shifted down half an octave. “I don’t know.”

  I poured the tea and set a mug in front of Giselle. She wrapped her fingers around it and inhaled the steam.

  “This smells really good. Sort of relaxing.”

  “Blackberry sage, my favorite brew.” She was right about the fragrance, too. It always calms me down. “So why do you think something bad is going on?”

  “Okay, I got my bird. You know, the one I’m taking care of. Mr. Campbell brought her to my house with the cage and food and all, you know?”

  “Okay.”

  “He told me, you know, gave me a bunch of weird rules. Oh, look at them!” She pointed at Leo and Precious, who were both tanking up at the water bowl. It’s big enough for a party of critters their size, since it’s really Jay’s bowl. “Maybe I should get a cat instead. The bird doesn’t like Precious much.”

  I watched Leo and Precious lie down side by side on the cool vinyl. “I’d say they’re having a good time. So, Giselle,” I turned my attention back to her, “what kind of weird rules?”

  “Don’t take pictures of her. Isn’t that weird? I mean, if they want to find her a home, why not let people know she needs one?”

  “Does she?”

  “What?”

  “Does the bird need a home? What’s her name, anyway, and what kind of bird is she?”

  “Oh.” Giselle seemed confused by at least one of those questions. “That’s another thing. I asked what kind she is and he said ‘parrot,’ and I said, ‘yes, but what kind of parrot,’ and he acted like that was a dumb question and said, ‘just a parrot.’” She shook her head and scowled. “That’s like ‘just a dog.’ I mean even a mixed breed is a mix of something, right, not ‘just a dog’?”

  I sure wouldn’t argue with her about that.

  Giselle went on, “So I tried to figure out on the computer what kind of parrot she is but I don’t know, you know, there are a lot of them that kind of look alike?”

  “I know someone who would know. Would you let him have a look?”

  Something like fear moved across Giselle’s face, and her voice rose again. “No, I mean, I can’t, he said not to let anyone see her, and, I don’t know …”

  “Moneypenny?”

  “Mr. Campbell.”

  “Giselle, did he threaten you?”

  “Not really.” She stared into her tea.

  “What’s that mean?” I asked. “Did he or didn’t he?”

  “Really, not really. But, I don’t know, I sort of felt like he’d do something if I didn’t follow the rules.”

  “How about if you break just one little rule and take a picture of your bird? And then give it to me?” I asked. If she would do that, George could have a look and no doubt identify the bird.

  Giselle reached into her poncho and produced an envelope. She handed it to me, a nervous twitch working on her eyebrow. Inside were three photos of a lovely blue parrot with yellow edges to her wings, like epaulettes, and a green band across her throat.

  “Oh, she’s gorgeous!” I spread the photos on the table in front of me.

  “I know.” Giselle’s fingers were tapping quick time on her mug. “She’s really pretty. But not too friendly. Really, I think she’s kind of scared.” I looked at Giselle. “I feel sad that she has to be in the cage but she’s so scared, I’m afraid if I take her out I’ll never catch her.”

  “Poor thing.” I tapped a photo. “May I keep these for a few days?”

  “No. I mean, they’re for you. You can keep them.”

  “Giselle, you’re doing the right thing, you know.” At least I hoped she was. Mostly I hoped she wasn’t putting herself in danger. If I was right about Rich Campbell, he wasn’t a man to be crossed lightly. I couldn’t see Giselle fighting back effectively if he attacked her, and although I was sure that Precious would defend her to the death, at his size, he couldn’t really do much.

  “Janet, do you think they’re doing something with these birds? Something to hurt them?”

  “I think they may be doing something illegal, yes.” How much should I say? “Giselle, you can’t talk to anyone else about any of this, you know. Not yet, okay?”

  “I know.”

  “Really, Giselle. If they’re up to what I think they’re up to, there’s a lot of money at stake, plus federal crimes. So hush hush, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I remembered that I hadn’t seen Giselle’s car out front so I asked her how she got to my place.

  “I drove. I parked over at the embroidery shop.”

  I had to think a moment. “The embroidery shop in Georgetown Square?” That’s a shopping center at least a mile from my house, and I couldn’t think of a direct walking route. “Why
?”

  “In case …” She didn’t finish the thought, but I did.

  “You think you’re being watched?” I flashed back to the figure at the grocery store, and suddenly was positive it had been Campbell.

  Giselle shrugged.

  “Let me drive you back.”

  “No, I’ll walk. I mean, if he, you know, someone, is watching me, that would sort of blow my cover, wouldn’t it?” She grinned at me.

  “Your cover?” Somehow the idea of Giselle as a spy or secret informant struck me funny and before I knew it I was in a full-blown laugh attack and Giselle followed suit. Leo and Precious jumped into our respective laps to see if we’d lost our marbles, and somehow that just spurred us on.

  When we finally came back down, I said, “Okay, at least let me drive you partway. I know a back way through the neighborhood that will land you a lot closer to the back of the shopping center.” I glanced at my wrist, still bare, and asked, “How long have you supposedly been shopping for thread?”

  Giselle looked at her watch. “An hour.”

  “Is that even possible?” I’ve never been good with a needle and hadn’t been in a stitchery shop since I was about ten.

  “Yeah, I’m in a class in their back room.” She pulled a plastic bag with the shop’s name and logo out from under her poncho. “See?”

  “Giselle, how much stuff do you have under there?”

  “That’s it. Well, you know, Precious’s sling.” At which she flipped the front of the poncho over one shoulder and lifted Precious into a contraption much like a baby carrier. “Okay, ready to go.”

  I drove her to a path I knew that led to the back door of the embroidery shop and left her with a caution to be watchful and not to talk to anyone about the situation at Treasures on Earth. “Not even your cousin Persephone, okay?”

  Giselle blew a raspberry and said, “Oh, man, she’s the last person I’d talk to. She’s seeing Mr. Campbell, and I’m not sure which one is creepier.”