by Annie Jones
“Sure thing, Dot,” LuAnne said, obviously still confused, as she gathered the pitcher and tray. She came to a stop at Kate and Bonnie’s table. Kate introduced the two women, then LuAnne took their orders and told them she’d be back with drinks.
Dot dug into her pie. Although all eyes in the diner were on her, she didn’t offer any insight into why she wanted the cream. And nobody seemed inclined to pry.
LuAnne returned a few minutes later with their drinks. While Bonnie went to the ladies’ room to freshen up, Kate sipped her sweet tea and let her eyes wander around the room.
Dot was eating as though she thought someone might come in and grab her pie away at any minute.
LuAnne, ever an attentive waitress, refilled Dot’s coffee cup between sips. When Dot finished her pie, LuAnne whisked the plate away and had the bill ready.
At the most prominent table in the diner sat Renee Lambert, who was in her early seventies but insisted she wasn’t a day over thirty-nine. Renee, dressed in bright pink from the bow in her bold bottle-blonde hair to the tips of her pointy-toed high heels, paused from drinking her tea now and again to coo at her Chihuahua, Kisses, whom she had tucked under her arm.
Near the back of the restaurant sat a couple Kate didn’t recognize. They had deep tans, and when the man spoke to LuAnne, Kate noticed he had a strong Southern accent clearly different from that of the local area. Long limbed and lean, he had a ready grin and a stylish haircut. He wore sunglasses, though when he spoke to his companion, he looked over the top of the frames. The couple seemed to be enjoying their meal and each other’s company.
Bonnie sat back down at the table, got out her notebook, and flipped it open. The map from the Joanie’s Ark Web site slid out onto the tabletop.
Kate unfolded the paper and said, “We can get something much more detailed at the library later, but for now, why don’t we mark off the places where we saw the most and the least birds?”
Using her notes, Bonnie circled the places they had stopped during the day, then wrote a big X in the places where they’d seen ten or more birds. A pattern quickly began to emerge.
“There’s no denying it.” Kate traced her fingertip along the edge of the roughly drawn border, indicating the thirty-plus acres of Best’s land. “When you get close enough to Best Acres to see the trees and bushes lining that land, the bird sightings all but stop.”
“What do you know about this place, Kate?” Bonnie tapped the large shaded section on the map.
“Paul and I have driven along Best Acres Line Road a few times on Sunday drives.” Kate moved her finger along the unmarked road that crossed Pine Ridge Road and made up one side of the Best’s land. “I’ve only seen the trees that line the acres and acres of pasture lands lying to the north, east, and west of Artie’s home.”
She studied the drawing and tried to match it to what she had seen with her own eyes. “The main part of the land, where the bird barns and house sit, is marked off with a lovely old split-rail fence, and kudzu has crept all over it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw LuAnne heading in their direction with a tray.
Kate scooted the map over to make room for their plates and said, “I really wish now that we’d taken the time to stop, but it seemed weird to just drive up to someone’s home unannounced, honk, and ask him to give you a tour.”
Bonnie agreed. “It’s still so strange to me that that’s how it works. If it were me, I’d have hours of operation posted.”
“Hours of operation? At a person’s house?” LuAnne sidled up to the table and placed their orders down with a plunk. She gave Bonnie a quick grin and teased, “Is that how they do things in Texas?”
“We’re talking about Artie Best and the wildlife preserve he has,” Bonnie said to fill LuAnne in on their conversation. “I don’t understand how people could just show up at his home and expect him to drop everything to give them a tour.”
“Well, I’ve heard that he does accept donations in return to help with the care of the birds,” Kate explained.
“It’s not so strange.” LuAnne set down the last of the plates and stepped back. “Out in the country, if folks end up with too many vegetables, or a surplus of firewood, they stack them up on the front lawn and put a For Sale sign up. If passersby want to buy them, that’s what they do.” LuAnne smiled. “Isn’t that nice to know people still feel they can do that kind of thing? Just honk.”
“Only don’t go trying that with Artie Best. Not anymore,” Dot spoke up.
Kate, Bonnie, and LuAnne all turned to look her way. So did Renee. Even the couple in the back got quiet and seemed interested.
“I’m sorry to have eavesdropped.” Dot checked the time, then patted her new hairdo and said, “It’s just that you don’t hear the name Best Acres crop up too often around here, and when you do, well, it just naturally draws attention.”
“That’s all right, Dot,” Kate assured her. “So, what were you saying about Artie Best?”
“As of a day or so ago, he has a new sign on the gate that goes across his drive. Says ‘visitors by appointment only,’ or something like that.”
LuAnne adjusted her glasses, then cocked her head. “You live out that way, don’t you, Dot?”
“I live in the general vicinity, yes.” Dot pursed her lips but didn’t offer any more information.
“Well, all I can say is you couldn’t pay me to go out there, appointment or not. I know he’s a harmless old goat, but that Artie Best gives me a case of the willies.” LuAnne glanced at Dot’s table. “Let me get you that cup of cream, Dot.”
Kate gave Bonnie a wary look. If Artie Best made everyone feel like that, it was no wonder the Sparrowpalooza organizers didn’t want any guests messing with him.
“This is all so perplexing,” Kate said as they dug into their pie.
“Yes, and problematic,” Bonnie said, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at the map on the table. “A bird population doesn’t just shift away from one particular spot for no reason, especially a spot where they’ve found sanctuary for years. Something isn’t right in the trees and skies around Best Acres, Kate.”
Chapter Four
LuAnne gave Dot the to-go cup of cream, then moved over to Kate and Bonnie’s table with a pitcher of sweet tea. She stood with the pitcher poised above Kate’s glass. “Something wrong with the birds at Best Acres?”
“Not as far as we know,” Kate hurried to clarify. “It’s just beginning to look like fewer birds are out there than Bonnie thinks there should be.”
“But not being from here, it’s too soon for me to be certain,” Bonnie reassured them.
“Well, the only birds I know anything about are the kind you’ll see on our menu.” LuAnne refilled Bonnie’s glass, then gestured with the tea pitcher. “But like I said earlier, Dot’s from out there.”
A slight scowl crossed Dot’s features as she paused, her coffee cup hovering in midair.
“So tell us, Dot,” LuAnne urged, “have you noticed a change in the bird population out your way?”
Dot wrinkled her nose to show that she didn’t exactly know how to answer such a question.
Bonnie fixed her gaze on Dot as if expecting a riveting reply. Kate noticed Renee also watching the exchange with interest.
“I don’t know.” Dot frowned, clearly wishing she had a better answer. She fiddled with the cup in her hand and shook her head. “I’m not a bird person. I can’t say as I’ve paid them any mind. And this last week or so, I’ve been all caught up in...well, let’s call it a pet project of mine.”
Kate tilted her head as she studied Dot. She’d always liked the affable, talkative woman, and it wasn’t like Dot not to have something to contribute to a conversation, even if it was pure speculation.
“Sorry. I have to run.” Dot picked up her take-out cup, then headed to the door and pushed it open. “Best of luck getting to the bottom of all this.”
And she was gone.
Kate and Bonnie finished eat
ing, then paid their bill. The early dinner crowd would begin sifting in soon. Kate thought it best that they not wait around and possibly have LuAnne steer the conversation back to this topic, even in her friendly chatting way. It really wasn’t something to get the town worked up over.
Before the women got up to leave, Kate glanced back at the table where the couple she’d noticed earlier had been sitting. She’d planned to introduce herself, but they’d already left.
“Where did those people go?” Kate asked.
LuAnne shrugged. “Left the money for their bill on the table and slipped out while we were all gabbing.”
“Hmm.” Kate wondered if the couple had heard them talking about Artie Best. “Did anyone know them? Are they from around here?”
“Never seen them before in my life, but if it matters, they were pretty nice.” LuAnne moved to the table where the couple had been sitting. She gave the tip a quick once-over, looking impressed, then tucked their bill and payment in her apron pocket. “Oh, except that the man had a kind of ugly habit. He kept digging into this little green and orange foil packet of fancy black sunflower seeds.”
She lifted one plate and peered under it, then set it in the crook of her arm. She did the same with a second plate. “Hmm. Must have taken the packet with him. I wouldn’t have paid it any mind, except that she got onto him a bit about it, saying he’d better go easy on them because they weren’t for him, and they didn’t know when or if they could get more.”
A man with sunflower seeds in a local diner in the days leading up to a big bird-watching event?
“Maybe they were in town early, like Bonnie, for the Sparrowpalooza?” Kate wondered out loud.
“Or maybe they were traveling, just passing through. Wouldn’t it be lovely to go off on an adventure with a loved one?” Bonnie sighed.
“They didn’t say if they were traveling or if they were here for the bird thing.” LuAnne gathered the plates and glasses up, then headed toward the kitchen. “I only know he said he couldn’t help himself with those sunflower seeds, but he promised to try.”
“Well, you were right, Kate. That sure did hit the spot.” Bonnie folded her napkin and looked at Kate expectantly. “What next?”
“Next?” Kate thought it over, though she didn’t have to take long. She wanted to get to a computer and do a little research. There was a very good chance she could find some facts about the local bird population and their habits with a few well-worded Web searches. And while she was at it, she’d put the name Artie Best into the search engine and see if she couldn’t come up with a little more useful information on the local bird wrangler as well.
Chapter Five
Paul Hanlon reluctantly got up from his comfy chair to answer the ringing phone in the kitchen. He’d been enjoying an article he was reading in the Copper Mill Chronicle titled TOWN AFLUTTER OVER RARE BIRD SIGHTING.
“Hey, Paul!” a chummy voice on the other end said.
Paul smiled to hear Lucas Gregory, the priest at St. Lucy’s Episcopal Church, on the line. He leaned against the counter and replied, “Hi, Lucas, what can I do for you today?”
“I have a question for you.”
Paul glanced out the small kitchen window at the long shadows made by the late-afternoon sun. “Okay,” he said, laughing. “But I warn you, Lucas, it’s after five on a Thursday afternoon, and I just came up with a fresh angle to work into Sunday’s sermon. So if you want to get ecumenical on me, it may take me a minute or two to shift my mind into that gear.”
“Fair enough.” Lucas chuckled. “How about you let me do the shifting into gear, then? I’ve called to ask if you’d like to finally go flying with me.”
That took Paul aback, but only for a split second. Lucas, a pilot who owned his own plane, had been promising to take Paul up for a flight for a while. They just never seemed to get around to it. And a September flight with the leaves beginning to change? Paul couldn’t think of a better time to seize the opportunity.
“Sure! I’d love to.” He looked around for a pencil and paper, found both, and tucked the receiver between his head and shoulder so that he could make a note. “When?”
“Well, that’s the catch. I need someone who can go up with me a few times in the next four or so days.”
“I have a pretty flexible schedule this week, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” Paul was happy to do it, but the sense of necessity behind the proposition intrigued him. “What’s up? Besides us, of course.”
Lucas chuckled. “Sparrowpalooza.”
Interesting. Not only had Paul just been reading an article on the rare bird sighting, but it had also gotten him thinking about the connections people made between God and nature. “I’ve been reading about that. But what does bird-watching have to do with you flying?”
“I just got a call from the young lady who runs Joanie’s Ark. Seems they’ve gotten a bigger response to the festival than they expected, and they’re trying to come up with some last-minute activities to expand the appeal.”
“And they want you to offer flights?” Paul liked the idea. He’d been reading about how Joanie’s Ark, which had its roots in finding homes for stray cats, had expanded its efforts over the past few years, taking up the cause of the rare sparrows. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“I want to help out by donating my time and skills. The animal-rescue folks are just hoping to raise enough money to see them through the end of the year.”
“That’s great, Lucas. But why do you need someone to fly with you this week?”
“Without going into too much detail, there are very clear guidelines on what constitutes a private aviator, which is the kind of license I have, and a commercial one. I want Joanie’s Ark to make some money off this, and they have some very specific ideas about where they want me to fly. So, to get the details right, I need to make some practice runs. For instance, I need to know how much fuel the flights will take so I know what to charge per flight. To do that...” His voice trailed off.
“You need a passenger,” Paul concluded.
“If it makes you feel less like a guinea pig, I can try to come up with a few theological or ecumenical questions for us to wrestle with while we’re plotting out a flight plan up there,” Lucas offered in good humor.
Before Paul could come back with a truly awful joke about them just winging it on that front, the sound of a car engine in the drive caught his attention. “I’ve got to run, Lucas. Give me a time and a place for our first flying session, and I’ll be there.”
BONNIE AND KATE WENT BACK to the Hamilton Springs Hotel, where Bonnie had insisted on staying so she wouldn’t be a bother to her former pupil. They parked next to Kate’s car, which she had left there that morning.
Before they parted, Bonnie said, “I hope you don’t think I’m blowing this whole missing-bird situation out of proportion, Kate.”
Kate put her hand on the older woman’s back.
“Not at all, Bonnie. There is something off about all this; I can see that. And with so many people coming here in about a week, it just makes sense to try to get to the bottom of whatever is going on.”
“Thanks.” Bonnie gave Kate a hug. “You see, this is the first time since I was a child that September has come, and I haven’t headed back to the classroom. I really do appreciate your not dismissing this as the imaginings of a teacher who’s spent too much time with her head in a book.”
“Bonnie, I’d never dismiss anything you said. And if you say you think the birds are missing in the area around Best Acres, I believe you.”
Chapter Six
Kate mulled over everything she and Bonnie had learned so far as she drove home, eager to get more to go on. If there were something wrong in the environment, that would be important to know. It didn’t take much imagination to make the jump from missing birds to a possible threat to other animals in the area, perhaps even to people. If the problem was man-made, well, that would be a different matter. She’d have to remember to discuss that in
more detail with Bonnie later.
She had just rolled into her driveway when her cell phone rang. She turned off the engine in order to talk, thinking she’d pull into the garage later.
It was Renee Lambert on the phone. Given Renee’s penchant for involving herself in other people’s business, Kate suspected that the call might have something to do with what she and Bonnie, Dot, and LuAnne had discussed in the diner.
“Hello, Renee.”
“Oh, Kate, I’ve been debating whether to call.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Kate smiled. Renee loved a mystery and often came at solving one with a unique perspective. “This has something to do with the missing birds around Best Acres, I’m guessing?”
“Yes! I went out that way last Sunday afternoon. Kisses had been acting a bit peevish, and I thought a drive in the fresh air might do him a world of good.”
There was a rustling on the line, and Kate knew Renee was snuggling the small dog.
Kisses yipped. Renee cooed to her beloved pet, then went on. “Kisses gets restless when he’s cooped up for too long, so I thought he might want to stretch his legs a bit.”
Kate leaned back in her seat and grinned at the thought of the teacup Chihuahua needing to stretch his legs.
“And when we got out to take a walk along the side of the road, Kisses got awfully quiet and, I thought, a bit confused.”
Kate wondered how Renee would come to a conclusion like that, but she didn’t ask. When Renee got going on a story, there was usually no stopping her.
“That troubled me, so I scooped him up and headed straight away to the vet, but he couldn’t find a thing wrong with my Little Umpkins.”
“Are you saying you think there might be something in the environment that’s harming the birds and animals?” Kate asked, going back to her thoughts moments before.
“Oh no, my dear. I would never presume anything as reckless as that.” Renee made a few smooching sounds, and Kisses whined. “No, I’m saying that I didn’t know why my Kisses reacted so strangely. But I’ve been thinking after hearing all that talk in the diner about birds and Artie Best, and now it’s all so clear.”
