by Nikki Attree
Annie nods. “Yes, there are Edna. But don’t you worry. Like they always say at the end of ‘Crime Watch’: “sleep tight!” We’ll get Gertrude back safe and sound. I’m on the case now!”
She finishes her cup of tea, says goodbye, and makes her way thoughtfully back home; cogs turning all the while.
* * *
The next morning Annie visits a few local pet shops, shows them the photo of Gertrude, and asks if anyone has brought in an African Grey parrot. Alas, no-one knows anything, but one of the owners tells her about a new place that only just opened.
"Yeah, this bloke opened a new shop just round the corner from me. Really pissed me off actually. He started selling pet food and a few fish, hamsters, birds ...”
Annie looks up sharply. “What’s this shop like? Is it as professional as yours?”
The pet shop owner looks chuffed. “Well, that’s the thing. Once I had a look at the place I wasn’t so worried. Some of my customers checked it out, and they told me that it’s a bit of a dump really. They don’t have much stock, and the bloke doesn’t seem to know ‘is stuff. He doesn’t seem to like animals much neither, which you’d think would be quite important in this game, wouldn’t you? I mean, we’ve been ‘ere on the High Street since my old mum bought the shop in the sixties, bless ‘er. It’s more than a job y’know. It’s a vacation ...”
“I think you probably mean ‘vocation’” she thinks to herself, smiling politely. The owner rabbits on for several more minutes about how tricky rabbits can be, for instance, but Annie isn’t really listening. As soon as she can, she thanks the man, and asks him for directions to the rival shop.
She only has to walk a few yards around the corner, and there it is, hidden away in a somewhat seedy cul-de-sac: 'Da Mutt's Nuts - Stoke Newington’s Newest and Wickedest Pet Shop!’ A sign in the window boasts:
‘No animal is too large, or too small, for Da Nutts. Talk to us, and we’ll find a way to get you what you want. Need to turn your unwanted pet into ready cash? Talk to us. Specialists in sourcing snakes and parrots.’
Annie enters the shop, and she can see straight away that the other owner was right: this place is a tip. There are half empty bags of dog food spilling on the floor; out of date medicines on the shelf; chewed-up squeaky toys that have lost their squeak; a distinct whiff of urine coming from the hamster cages; and everything is covered in a layer of dust.
She approaches the small, wiry man behind the counter. He’s in his early forties, with sideboards, glasses, and sporadic hair. There’s something reptilian, slightly snaky, about him. He has headphones on, and she can hear the tinny plink-plonk-splat of techno. He nods his head in time to the music, and smokes a dubious looking roll-up.
Annie coughs politely. There’s no response from Mr Snake. She tries shouting over his music: “excuse me. I’m looking for ...”
She’s stopped in mid sentence by a shrill voice coming from a cage on the counter: “let's get on down and boogie, baby!” Annie has heard this clarion call before. Many times in fact. It’s the same catch phrase that Edna’s parrot used to repeat ad nauseam. “Thank goodness that Edna’s deaf” she used to think to herself, whenever she visited her neighbour.
Mr Snake finally realises that he has a potential customer. Removing his headphones, he turns to her, and points at the bird in the cage. "She’s a beaut in't she? Difficult to find a parrot with that red colouring, ya know. They’re quite rare actually. This one just came in yesterday. Anyway, how can I help you love?"
"Oh, umm, I’m looking for some flea tablets for my cat. Just wondered if you stock them?"
"I'll ‘ave a look for you darlin.”
He rummages around in a box behind the counter, and produces a selection of medicines. None are what Annie has asked for.
"OK, no worries" Annie says. She decides it’s probably best to leave the shop, and think through her next move. She’s not quite ready to open a can of worms (although such a can is no doubt lurking somewhere on Mr Snake’s shelves), by accusing him of having a stolen bird. Not yet, and not without backup anyhow.
As she opens the door to leave, Snake calls out to her: “look love, if you’re interested in that bird, you can have it for a knockdown price. To be honest, the little bleeder is drivin me nuts. It keeps repeating ‘let's get on down and boogie, baby!’ non stop, all day long. That's why I ‘ave to keep the ear phones on. A few more days of it, and I might ‘ave to open the cage and let the bugger fly away.”
“No, no, please don’t do that. I'll think about it, and come back tomorrow.”
“Alright darlin, I’ll keep the bird till then. After that, I can’t promise that it’ll still be ‘ere. Know what I mean?” he says, leering at her menacingly.
On her way home Annie pops into the internet cafe on the High Street. She sits down with a coffee, and starts to research parrots. One newspaper article grabs her attention immediately. It alleges that some unscrupulous pet shops have been dyeing parrots to increase their value, by making them seem more exotic.
“Aha, gotcha Mr Snake!” she thinks. “Now all we need is some proof.”
She just needs something to divert Snake’s attention for long enough, while she gives the bird a wipe to see if any dye comes off. Then she plans to take a quick snap on her mobile, and show it to the police.
* * *
The next day Annie visits Da Mutt's Nuts with a decoy: her blonde, and very curvy friend Ruth, who is something of an expert at diverting a man's attention. Sure enough, it works. Ruth does an excellent job, and while Snake is fawning and drooling over her, Annie manages to gently wipe the bird’s red feathers. Hey presto, a grey parrot begins to emerge! She takes a photo.
Interrupting Ruth’s expert flirtations, she confronts Snake: “excuse me, but can you tell me where you got this bird from?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s from a friend of mine who breeds ‘em” he replies, avoiding eye contact.
“Well, unless I’m very much mistaken this is an African Grey, and they only come in one colour ...” Pause. Annie looks straight at him. “... and funnily enough, it’s grey.”
Mr Snake is beginning to look agitated, albeit in a furtive, snakey kind of way. His head does a little oscillating dance as he continues to avoid her gaze. He picks up the cage and shoves it in a cupboard under the counter, from where there’s a muffled “let's get on down and boogie, baby!”
“So, you’re some kind of expert then, are you darlin?” he shoots back at her.
“Well, not really” Annie replies, still looking straight into his eyes. “It’s just that a very good friend of mine has an African Grey. Or, at least, I think she still has her ...” Annie leaves the sentence hanging.
The first signs of panic appear in Snake’s eyes. “Look, love, the bird is legit, if that's what you’re asking. I got it from an authorised dealer, right? It's just an unusual colour for this type of parrot. Got it?”
“Ah, right. Yes, the colour is certainly unusual.” Annie briefly considers showing him her photo of the ‘two tone’ parrot, but decides not put all her cards on the table just yet. “So, how much are you asking, for such an unusual bird?”
Snake is on more familiar ground now. “Well, like I say, it’s a very rare example, so the price would normally be eight hundred quid, but I can let you have her for two-fifty. How does that sound? Can’t say fairer than that.”
Annie shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry, but I can’t afford anything like that.”
Snake has had enough. “Suit yourself” he hisses. “Like I said, I’m going to release her in a couple of days anyway. I’ve had it with her f-ing squawking. Shame really, such a pretty bird, but she won't last long this time of year. It's so cold, and apparently we’re due for some snow tomorrow.” He says the last bit with a real hint of menace in his voice.
Annie is outraged. "That's horrible! You really care about the animals in your shop, don’t you?”
Snake takes a drag from his roll-up, blows the smoke back in he
r face, and hisses: “yes, that’s right darlin. I’m an animal lover. You give me the two-fifty, and the parrot won't freeze to death."
That does it for Annie. She storms out of the shop, thanks Ruth for her help, and makes her way straight to the nearest police station. Marching up to the desk she announces that she wants to report a stolen parrot. The officer on duty hands her a form, without looking up from his copy of The Sun.
Annie: "no, thank you. I don't need a form. I think I’ve found the bird - for sale, in a local pet shop."
The officer finally looks up, winks, and mutters: “well that's good news, madam. At least it isn't a 'Dead Parrot' or 'Pining for the Fjords'.” He chuckles to himself, rather pleased with his sparkling wit, and turns back to his newspaper.
Annie doesn’t move a muscle. She stares unsmilingly at the officer. More people enter the police station and form a queue behind her. Eventually he looks up, sighs, and addresses her again: “well madam, since you’ve already found your feathered friend, and we’ve established that it isn’t an ‘Ex-Parrot’ or ‘Gone to Meet it’s Maker’, you won’t be needing us, will you?”
“Look, I can’t be certain yet, but I do know that the pet shop owner is dyeing the feathers of the birds he sells."
"So, madam, what do you propose we do about this?"
"Well, I took a photo to prove that he’s dyed the feathers of one particular bird, and I’m pretty sure that it’s my friend’s parrot, which went missing a few days ago.”
“I see. And you can make a positive identification then ... if we round up some parrots for an identity parade?” He winks at Annie.
“I recognised her voice. Or rather her catch phrase. I think she got it from a James Brown track” Annie says, beginning to blush.
“I see. Well then, we’ll get all the birds in the ID parade to strut their stuff while we play them the King of Funk, shall we, madam?” he says, winking at her again.
Then he notices the queue rapidly forming behind Annie. “I’m terribly sorry madam, but missing parrots are not a top priority for us right now. What with chasing terrorists, gunning down suspected armed robbers, that kind of thing, we’re a bit busy. So if you wouldn’t mind allowing me to get on with my job ...”
“But I have proof!” Annie insists, interrupting. “Photographic evidence, from my own surveillance, that this man is dyeing feathers. Surely that must be illegal?"
“Your surveillance, madam?” The policeman gives her a rather more severe look. The people in the queue behind her are shuffling their feet and muttering now. “OK. As I advised originally: fill out this form, and if we have an officer free, we might be able to send someone to visit the shop in a few weeks time."
“But that’s no good. The bird will be gone by then. The owner said he was going to release her tomorrow!”
The duty sergeant sighs. “I’m sorry, madam, I’ve done all I can. Please fill out the form, and post it in the box on the counter. And then I’m going to have to ask you either to leave voluntarily, or I‘m going to have to accompany you out of the station.” With that he turns his attention to the next person in the queue.
At this point Annie considers mentioning that her brother is a detective in the Met, but two things stop her: 1 - she’s never been a name-dropper, and 2 - she doesn’t want to get the duty officer into trouble, despite his annoying condescension and sarcasm. It’s just not her style to pull rank.
She leaves the police station, frustrated, but even more determined to uncover the truth and get Gertrude back to Edna. As she sees it, she has two options left: buy the parrot from Mr Snake, or pay Tommy a visit. She decides to try the latter.
* * *
Annie drives straight round to Tommy’s house and rings the bell. His mother answers the door. “Oh, hello. You’re Edna's neighbour aren’t you? What can I do for you?"
“Yes, that’s right. My name’s Annie.” She shakes her hand. “I just wondered if I could have a word with Tommy please."
The woman immediately looks worried, and asks defensively: “what’s it about?”
“Well, Edna's parrot is missing, and I just wondered if Tommy has seen it. I know it's a bit of a long shot, but you never know."
"OK, I think he's out the back. Come in, Annie. I'll call him. I’m Karen, by the way."
Tommy slouches into the kitchen. He’s about sixteen, but he’s a big lad, tall with broad shoulders, impressive muscles, and he looks older. He’s wearing frayed jeans, muddy trainers, and a hoody that’s seen better days.
Annie asks him if he saw a parrot when he picked up the bag of clothes from Edna’s house.
“Nope. Didn’t see no parrot” he replies sullenly, avoiding eye contact.
“She might have been in her cage? Or perhaps even flying around in the house?”
“Like I said, I didn’t see nuffin.”
“Her name’s Gertrude, and she keeps going on about getting on down and boogie-ing?”
Karen flinches and stares at Tommy, but he just shrugs, and says nothing. Annie gazes at him intensely, taking in all the clues a la Sherlock Holmes. She notices what looks suspiciously like bird shit on his hoody, and stuck to it there’s a feather.
“Well, thanks for your help” Annie says, with a hint of irony in her voice. As he turns, she adds: “oh, do you keep pet birds yourself then Tommy?”
There’s a brief look of panic. “What d’ya mean? Umm no. OK, I mean yeah. Mum gave me a budgie for a birfday present, didn’t ya?” Her stares pleadingly at his mum, then slouches out the back door.
Karen looks down at her feet. “Well, if that’s all then ...?” she asks, warily.
“Yes, thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” Annie opens the front door. “That’s a lovely birthday present to buy your son: a budgie” she says, as she turns to leave. Karen keeps looking at her feet and says nothing.
As Annie closes the front gate, she hears angry voices from the back yard: “Tommy, what the ‘ell ‘ave you been up too, you bugger? You said you was lookin after them birds for a friend!"
Annie smiles to herself. “You better get your story straight, Tommy, before I come back with Edna, and have another little chat to your mum” she thinks. But first she has to go to work at the shop.
* * *
After another tedious shift selling dubious products to gullible customers, she gets home to find a note has been put through her letterbox.
It’s from Tommy’s mum:
Dear Annie,
After you left I got the truth out of Tommy, and I’m ashamed to tell you that my son did steal Edna's parrot. As soon as you mentioned the ‘boogie’ thing I knew he’d done it. I got so sick of that bloody bird’s squawking. He’s been stealing birds and selling them to 'Mutt's Nuts’ pet shop.
Please, please don’t report him to the police. I’m begging you. I know he’s got in with a bad crowd but I promise I’ll make sure he doesn't do anything like this again.
Karen.
Annie has a dilemma to resolve now. She’d like to get Gertrude back to Edna as soon as possible, but she’s in no rush to turn Tommy in to the police. Annie has a big heart. She believes in ‘communities’ and neighbours helping each other. Ideally, she’d like to give the lad a second chance. If he gets a police record, it will probably just give him more status with the gang, and lead him into more trouble. He’ll end up with a life of crime. So she comes up with a cunning plan (again, just like Jack). She’ll take Tommy to see Mr Snake, and demand that he buys back the parrot.
She goes back to Tommy’s house, and with Karen, confronts the teenager. He tries to bluff his way out, but quickly realises that the game is up. Annie tells him what he must do to put things right. He’s not exactly happy with the plan, but his mum is so angry that it leaves him with no choice. The alternative is a visit to the police station, and although he pretends to be ‘chilled’, that does scare him. So he gets into Annie’s car, and she drives to the pet shop.
They enter Da Mutt's Nuts. Annie strides confide
ntly up to the counter, with Tommy skulking along behind her.
“I think you know this young man” she announces to Snake. “I believe that he sold you the bird in that cage” she says, pointing at Edna’s beloved parrot.
There’s a pause, and the air crackles with tension.
“Let's get on down and boogie, baby!” says Gertrude. Nobody smiles.
Snake looks at Tommy and shrugs. “Yeah, maybe. So what?” he hisses. “Your point is ...”
Annie pushes Tommy forward. “Well, he’s got something to say to you. Haven’t you Tommy?” she says sternly to the sullen teenager.
“Umm, ‘spose so ...” says Tommy, reluctantly. Long pause. “The thing is mate, there’s been a mistake. The parrot I sold you is my neigbour’s bird, like, and she’s missing it real bad, like. So here’s the money you gave me for it, and we’ll call it quits eh?”
He plonks the hundred quid on the counter and edges towards the cage. Snake moves to block him.
“Just ‘ang on a minute lad” he hisses, his head doing the snakelike dance it does when he’s agitated. “It's not as easy as that. I‘ve been looking after that bloody bird for three days now, and it's cost me. I want some compensation for the stress caused by all that ‘get on down’ squawking nonsense. And I had to buy some new headphones. So here’s what I’ll do for yer. I'll give you the bird back, but you’ll ‘ave to give me two ‘undred for it, right?"
Tommy picks up the money and snarls: “you ‘avin a laugh mate? You only gave me a hundred quid! I remember, you said that was all the bird was worth cos it was such a common variety ..."
“And then you dyed the feathers, and wanted eight hundred for it!” Annie says, disgustedly.
"Not my problem” Snake says, with a shrug. “It’s two ‘undred or nuffin. Maybe your posh lady friend ‘ere can fork out the rest” he hisses, smirking at Annie.
