Dead Canaries Don't Sing

by Cynthia Baxter

  Nick’s expression changed the instant he saw me. The cool confidence of a handsome young stud out on the town, with his filly in tow, vanished. Suddenly, instead of looking like he was trying out for a western, he looked like he was auditioning for a horror movie.

  A look of total confusion followed. I knew he was debating whether to ignore me or come over and say hello. Personally, I voted for A.

  Predictably, he chose B.

  “Well, look who’s here!” he said with false cheerfulness. He was Cowboy Joe again as he headed over to our table. His friend followed, looking a little confused herself.

  I glanced over at Jimmy, wondering what he thought of all this. But he didn’t have a clue about the awkwardness of the situation unfolding before him. As far as he knew, Nick was just a neighbor or a pet owner who just happened to have the same taste in night life we did.

  “Hello, Nick.” Involuntarily, I tossed my head, suddenly the picture of womanly self-assurance. “What a surprise!”

  He glanced at Jimmy. “Surprise is definitely the word.”

  “Uh, this is Officer Jimmy Nolan. Jimmy, Nick Burby.”

  The two men shook hands, studying each other as they did so. I’d seen that look many times before— most recently on the Animal Channel when two male penguins were checking each other out to see which one looked bigger, stronger, and more capable of winning a fight if a question arose about who owned that particular ice floe.

  “Yeah, we met,” Nick said. “At Atherton Farm. Tommee Frack?”

  “Now I remember. You were at the wake, too, right?”

  “That’s right. Terrible thing.”

  “Awful.”

  We all turned our focus to Nick’s date, whose Good Sport look was starting to fade.

  “Oh, sorry,” Nick said belatedly. “Everybody, this is Tiffany Fisk. Tiffany, this is Jimmy and this is Jessie.”

  Jimmy and Jessie. Way off the cuteness scale.

  But Tiffany? Geez.

  She, too, deserved a place in the Cuteness Hall of Fame. Her perky smile, her pearly pink lipstick, and her bare midriff, peeking coyly from between the top of her tight jeans and her even tighter nylon shirt, also placed her in good stead. Of course, the thick, glossy chestnut-brown hair hanging to her waist didn’t hurt, either.

  You’re just jealous, I told myself. My inner voice sounded cranky. Even so, I had to admit she was actually kind of pretty. If you like the thin, graceful type with the extraordinary cheekbones of a supermodel.

  “Well,” Nick said heartily, “I guess we’ll go hang out at the bar. I had no idea this place would be so crowded. Do you believe there’s a twenty-minute wait for a table?”

  “Hey, sit with us!” Jimmy insisted. “At least while you’re waiting.”

  “No!” I cried, without thinking. The other three turned to stare at me.

  “I mean, I’m sure they’d rather be, you know, just the two of them—”

  “Right,” Nick piped up quickly. “Thanks for the invitation, but we’ll just—”

  “Don’t be silly.” Jimmy had already slid across his seat, making room for another butt. I suspected the butt he was hoping for was Tiffany’s. “The bar is so jammed you’ll never get a seat.”

  I looked at Nick pleadingly, begging him to come up with a stronger counterargument. But unexpectedly, it was Tiffany who took charge.

  “I’d rather wait here.” She positively flowed into the booth beside Jimmy. “This is much more comfortable.”

  Nick cast me a forlorn look.

  “Guess I’d better move over, too,” I muttered lamely.

  Nick sat down next to me. Even though my hip practically merged with the wall, we had no choice except to sit arm to arm and thigh to thigh. I tried crossing my legs to create a little more room, but the table was too low.

  “Do you think you could move over?” Nick asked through a clenched jaw.

  “Not without sitting in the parking lot,” I snarled back. “Remember, this wasn’t my idea.”

  “So how do you and Nicky know each other?” Tiffany flicked her hair off her shoulder in that way I thought only movie stars and other women who were paid enormous amounts of money to look good had mastered.

  “Nicky and I met about three years ago.” He refused to look at me. “Yes, Nicky and I go way back. In fact, Nicky is one of the—”

  “We should probably order a drink,” he interrupted. “I’ll try to flag down our waitress—”

  “Are you a private investigator, too?” Tiffany persisted. Her eyes were the tawny color of a lioness’s.

  “No. Actually, I’m a veterinarian.”

  She nodded approvingly. “I adore animals myself. I’m one of those people who’s always had, oh, like, three cats and two dogs at a time. I don’t even know where they come from. They just seem to find me.”

  “I’m not much for pets,” Jimmy interjected. He smiled at Tiffany in a way that told me he was enjoying himself. And in the process, losing a few points in my book. “My work schedule is too irregular. It wouldn’t be fair to the animal.”

  “What line of work are you in?” Tiffany looked absolutely enthralled, as if she were inquiring about one of life’s greatest mysteries.

  “I’m a cop.”

  “Wow! That is totally cool.”

  “Norfolk County P. D. That’s me.” He took a sip of his beer, clearly basking in the admiration of the little lady at his side.

  “What about you, Tiffany?” Since we were all identifying ourselves by our line of work, I figured there was no reason we should let her off the hook. I was imagining all kinds of answers that suited my need to feel superior: supermarket checkout girl, manicurist, examiner for the Internal Revenue Service . . .

  “I’m an attorney,” she replied, dashing my hopes. “An associate with Givens, Doyle, Peet, and White.”

  “Ah,” I said, reaching for my beer. “Then you’ll be able to give Nick lots of pointers.”

  Tiffany giggled. “I already have.”

  I glanced over at Nick, intending to cast him a meaningful look. But he was clearly so pathetically uncomfortable that I actually felt sorry for him.

  “In fact,” Tiffany told me, “we were up practically all night last Friday. We started around nine, and by the time we finished, it was, like, four o’clock in the morning.”

  “Poor Nicky,” I crooned.

  “It was worth it,” Tiffany assured me cheerfully. “I think all that cramming really helped Nicky with the LSAT. He took it today. Don’t you agree, Nicky?”

  “I think I did okay.”

  “Well, that’s certainly good news,” I said brightly.

  The waitress finally acknowledged our existence, and Nick and Tiffany each ordered a drink. I hoped the conversation would move on to something neutral.

  Instead, as soon as the waitress left, Tiffany said, “You still haven’t told me how you two know each other.” I’ll give her one thing: she was persistent.

  “Nick—Nicky—was investigating a dogfight ring that was based in Corchaug,” I replied. “Pit bulls. I’d treated some of the dogs, and somehow he got hold of my name.”

  And he came to what was then my office to interview me, and we ended up going out to dinner, then making plans for the following evening . . .

  “Wow. And you kept in touch ever since.”

  “You could say that,” I said lightly.

  “You two are waiting for a table, right?” said a voice from nowhere. “It’s ready. I’ll bring your drinks over there.”

  Our waitress clearly had no idea what a relief her sudden reappearance was. I was tempted to tip her a twenty.

  Tiffany actually looked disappointed. “It was fun talking to you two. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “You, too.” I even managed to smile as she and Nick stood to leave. “Nice meeting you, Tiffany. And, uh, it was great seeing you again, Nicky.”

  “Right.” I thought I could detect real agony in his eyes as he cast me a parting glance. B
ut what the source of that agony was, I couldn’t be sure.

  “Seems like a nice guy,” Jimmy commented after they left. “Her, too.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed sullenly. “Very nice. The two of them should be very happy together. Lawyers deserve each other.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d much rather talk about us. And what we’re going to do later.” He leaned forward so that our noses were only inches away above the remaining buffalo wings.

  I jerked back, hitting my head on the back of the booth.

  “Yeow!” I yelped, sounding just like Cat.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I rubbed the back of my skull, wishing the bar wasn’t so crowded that asking for ice would have been a waste of time. “Sometimes I’m such a klutz—”

  “Here, let’s see if this helps.” Jimmy reached across the table and began massaging my neck. I had to admit, it felt good. His hands were strong, and he knew exactly what to do. In fact, it felt great.

  “That’s okay,” I said hastily. “I’m feeling better already.”

  “You sure?” He frowned. “Maybe we should get out of here. I could take you home—”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  I managed to get through dinner, even though, across the crowded bar, I could see Nick and Tiffany cuddling together in their booth, yukking it up. At least she was. To watch her, you’d have thought she was having a cheeseburger with Robin Williams.

  As for Nick, he looked miserable. Probably because he didn’t like having me along on his hot date as a chaperone.

  Finally, mercifully, dinner was over. When Jimmy and I headed out the back door of the bar and found ourselves in an icy downpour, I broke the bad news.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to postpone the car thing.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I don’t know if it was that second beer or banging my head, but I’ve got a killer headache . . .”

  “Then why don’t we just go back to your place? You can take something for your headache. In twenty minutes, it’ll be gone.”

  “Thanks, but I just don’t feel up to it.” I really did feel lousy. The part about the headache was true, too.

  “But it’s not even eleven o’clock yet!” He added, “And I’m not on duty tomorrow. I can stay as late as you want.”

  I knew what he meant. And I realized that, given my mood, I didn’t feel like having him stay late at all.

  “Sorry about the change of plans,” I said as we pulled up in front of my cottage fifteen minutes later. It was at least the hundredth time I’d apologized since we’d left the bar.

  “That’s okay.” He said the words, but I could tell by his tone that it wasn’t really okay at all. “You take care of yourself.”

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” I said. “It’s pouring,” I added, as if he hadn’t noticed the blinding fury of drops pelting the windshield.

  As I opened the car door, Jimmy sat studying me. I figured he was considering whether or not to kiss me good night. I guess I looked pretty terrible, because he just took my hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then let it go.

  I really am turning into a wet blanket, I thought miserably, dashing through the rain to my front door. I can’t even go on a normal date with a normal guy.

  Nick Burby has ruined me for the entire male gender.

  I was still cursing Nick as I lay on the couch with Cat curled up on my chest, the two of us watching Saturday Night Live. Max and Lou snoozed on the floor, lying beside us like two mismatched throw rugs.

  Damn him, I thought, distractedly stroking Cat’s soft gray fur. Why is that stupid man always getting in my way?

  But instead of being angry, I was overcome with an emotion that was much more confusing. And that stupid pain in my heart was back.

  At least the throbbing in my head was beginning to fade, thanks to the wonders of Advil. I could feel my muscles relaxing, and my eyelids were starting to droop.

  The sound of a soft knock at the door made me jump. Cat leaped off my chest with an enraged, “Meow!”

  Max, vegged out on the floor beside me, glanced up, for once only mildly interested in who the interloper might be. Lou, meanwhile, dragged himself over to the door, uttering halfhearted woof-woof sounds.

  And then his tail went into fourth gear, a clue that whoever had come to call was somebody on his A list.

  “Who is it?” I called.

  “It’s me. Nick.”

  “At midnight?”

  I tried to sound irritated, but deep inside I knew it wasn’t Nick I was trying to fool. My heart fluttered like a Victorian maiden’s as I unlocked the door.

  He stood on my doorstep, illuminated only by the sickly light of the single bulb overhead. He looked pretty pathetic. His hair was slicked down, and big fat raindrops slid down his face. His jacket was splattered with wet splotches, except for the shoulders, which were soaked.

  Under one arm he carried a cardboard box.

  “It’s Leilani,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Oh, my God!” I cried. “Bring her in!”

  The dogs had started up, but through some miracle they actually responded when I ordered them in no uncertain terms to behave. Something in my tone of voice must have warned them I was serious.

  As Nick set the box on the table near the kitchen, I stepped into the bathroom to grab a towel. When I returned, he had unfolded the flaps that had been keeping Leilani out of the rain and Cat was trying to sneak a look inside the box.

  I peered at the sweet, funny little Jackson’s chameleon we’d adopted in Hawaii. One of her eyes was closed and bulging out.

  “What do you think it is?” Nick asked anxiously.

  I tossed the towel on the chair, then picked up the lizard and studied her. “She probably got something in her eye. A dust particle, most likely. I’ll take her in the kitchen and mist it with some water. That should wash it out.”

  “That’s all? I was afraid it was something serious.”

  “No worse than you or me getting something in our eye.”

  “So she’s not going to die?”

  “Not unless somebody runs over her.”

  He didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked so traumatized that I was tempted to reach over and squeeze his shoulder as a show of support.

  “What about you?” I asked as he followed me into the kitchen.

  “What about me?”

  “You don’t look very good. Didn’t you have fun tonight with Miss America?” The tenderness I’d felt for Nick only moments earlier evaporated. I focused it on the chameleon instead, spraying her eye and feeling relieved when she opened it and began swirling it around.

  “It’s not what you think,” Nick said, watching Leilani closely.

  “How do you know what I think?”

  “Because I know you. Believe me, Tiffany is just somebody who’s been helping me study for the LSAT.”

  I snorted. “Right. Don’t tell me—you two are just good friends.”

  “Look, it’s over, okay?”

  “I get it. She dumped you tonight.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. As a matter of fact, she practically jumped on me as soon as we walked into her house.”

  I stalked back to the living room and put Leilani in her box. Cat was still sniffing around. “I’m sure that was terrible for you.”

  “As a matter of fact, it was.”

  “Why, for heaven’s sake?” I demanded, swinging around to face him. “Even though she has a name that belongs on a jewelry store instead of a birth certificate, she’s not bad looking, if you happen to like the type that looks like she spends two hours in front of the mirror just to—”

  “Because it’s you I want, damn it!”

  His words stopped me cold. I gaped at him, experiencing one of those rare moments in my life when I was actually speechless.

  “It’s not as if you don’t already know that, Jess.”

  “I thought
you’d gotten over . . . us. That you’d moved on.”

  “I’ve sure been trying. But to be perfectly honest, I haven’t exactly done a great job.”

  My head was spinning so hard I probably couldn’t have put together a sentence, even if I’d known what I wanted the point of it to be.

  Nick must have interpreted my silence as horror. I watched his face crumple.

  “Look,” he said brusquely, “I’d better go.”

  “It’s pouring rain out there.”

  “It’s not going to get any better.”

  “At least let me dry you off.”

  I grabbed the towel off the chair and held it up. But instead of letting me pat his hair, he took hold of my arm and pulled me close.

  “Maybe I’m crazy,” he said softly, “but I get the feeling you still like having me around. At least a little.”

  His warm breath brushed my cheek. The sensation made me dizzy.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “At least a little.”

  “Maybe a lot?”

  I hesitated. “A lot.”

  The familiarity of his mouth on mine, the way my hand fit so perfectly against the curve of his neck, the feeling of his arms closing around me . . . it reminded me of being back in a place I’d missed terribly and couldn’t quite believe I’d returned to.

  “What do you want, Jess?” he asked. “Is this the part where you decide this is all a mistake? Or is this the part where you tell me you really don’t want me to leave?”

  I don’t want you to leave, I thought. But that doesn’t mean I’m certain your staying isn’t a mistake.

  I was still listening to both voices in my head, trying to decide which one to go along with, when something outside the window caught my attention. Big, white flakes were drifting downward against the backdrop of the jet black sky.

  “It’s snowing!” I cried.

  “Wow! Look at that!”

  The two of us stood in silence, still clinging to each other as we watched the first snowfall of the season sneak up on us when it thought everyone was asleep.

  “What do you think?” Nick asked quietly. “Could this be a sign that we should snuggle together under the covers and keep each other safe and warm?”