I plucked it from her hand and held it over my head. "No. Come on. I'll drive."
She reached into her purse and pulled out my house key. I'd forgotten about that. A couple years back, I'd given her a key to my house in case I was stuck in the tub or had fallen and couldn't get up.
"What are you doing?" I snatched the key and held it over my head with my other arm.
She looked me up and down. My arms started getting tired. This was a standoff. The last thing I wanted was for Kelly to see that I'd stolen the birds. I would never, ever, ever live that down.
"We are going inside." She used her intimidating nurse voice usually reserved for tall, fat drunk men who'd landed in the ER for fighting.
I thought about this for a moment. "Okay. But I'm going in first to make sure it's safe."
She started to protest, but I held up a finger. "That's nonnegotiable."
The very second she agreed, I unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and squeezed myself through the tiny opening. I looked like an idiot, but she couldn't see in, so I considered it a win. I shut and locked the door behind me, shouting for her to wait there.
Mr. Fancy Pants was on the couch, staring at me. Dickie was flying around the house but thankfully silent. I shooed him into the bathroom and shut the door, silently begging him to stay quiet.
To my utter surprise, the house looked exactly as I'd left it. Nothing was out of place, and there weren't any messes. I was about to grab the vulture to take him into my bedroom when the doorknob turned. Apparently I hadn't locked it!
Standing the bird on the end table, I put the lampshade over his head. He responded by going rigid, which I think helped a little.
"Did you find out what the noise was?" Kelly peered through the doorway before stepping inside.
"Yeah," I said, trying not to pant from chasing the parrot around. "Philby knocked something over. She ran downstairs when I busted her."
My best friend's right eyebrow went up as she turned, opened the curtains, and pointed across the street. "Is there a tunnel between the houses now?"
Philby and Leonard were in the window, watching us.
"Oh! I guess I'd forgotten that she was over there. Must've been squirrels."
I hazarded a glance at Fancy Pants, who remained rigid with the lampshade on his head.
"Why would you have squirrels in your house?" Kelly asked as she breezed past me into the kitchen.
I deflated somewhat as I followed her. "They've been getting inside the walls. I think they chewed a hole in the roof."
From the bathroom, Dickie had started singing show tunes from Hamilton.
"Did you leave a radio on?" Kelly started into the hallway, but I blocked her.
"Yes. In the bathroom. Don't worry about it. It's an excellent deterrent to the squirrels."
This didn't faze her a bit. Just how weird was I that she totally bought my explanation?
Kelly sat at the breakfast bar, staring at the pile of cookie crumbs. I snatched a dishrag and tidied up. I even managed to dump the plate full of beer nuts into the garbage before she spotted it. Unfortunately, it was one of the good plates (which meant it didn't have cartoon characters on it), so I'd have to remember to fish it out later.
"Sharon's just a kid," Kelly started. "Were those shortbread cookies? Do you have any more? I didn't eat breakfast."
Um…
"Why don't we head to the coffee shop? Get you a nice muffin."
Kelly got up and walked over to the freezer, pulled out a box, and opened it as she sat down.
This was bad. Those were Mr. Fancy Pants' favorite cookies, and he knew what the package sounded like. I froze, waiting for him to appear, straddle Kelly's head, and take the box from her.
Nothing happened.
"Kicking the girl out of the troop feels mean. But she's causing some serious discord in the troop," Kelly continued, unaware of the dangerous, cookie-guzzling lamp just around the corner. "I mean, did you see the Kaitlyns? They're copying her like she has the queen bee playbook!"
Kelly fiddled with the packaging and plucked out a single cookie, holding it up and examining it. I felt as though my head was exploding. But there was still no sign of the vulture.
Dickie had stopped singing and was now talking to himself. Fortunately we couldn't hear what he was saying, so maybe Kelly would think he'd gone to a commercial.
"What do you think?" my co-leader asked. "Betty has tried to attack the girl—which is something we definitely need to address. We can't keep her in the troop, can we?"
I was still frozen in place, too afraid to move.
Kelly didn't seem to notice. "And then there's the complication of her being Juliette Dowd's niece."
She brought the cookie to her mouth, but then held it out again.
"You've been so great," she said. "You've really grown up over the past four years. Like a responsible adult. Maybe I should hand this decision off to you."
It happened so fast it would've been almost easy to pass off as a hallucination. With a mighty flapping of wings that Kelly didn't seem to hear, Mr. Fancy Pants flew past her, plucking the cookie from her fingers before flying around the corner out of sight.
Kelly froze as if she couldn't believe what she'd just seen. I was just about to say I'd spiked the countertop with LSD that absorbed through the skin when the screaming began.
"You kidnapped Mr. Fancy Pants?"
"Now…" I held my hands up. "Why do you assume I kidnapped him? Maybe I was asked to bring him here, for his own safety, as a witness?"
Kelly shook her head. She wasn't having it. Any of it.
"Okay, so I borrowed him. They've closed the zoo, and I…"
The sound of talons clawing at the bathroom door was followed by "Let me out of here, you crazy psycho!"
Kelly snatched up her purse and walked out the door without saying a word. That was going to bite me in the butt later.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After calming the birds down, I decided I needed to go to the pet store to find something these guys could eat. It was weird that the zoo hadn't called the police about the disappearance of the two birds, but I remembered that the zoo was closed, and maybe I had some wiggle room until feeding time, when they'd most certainly discover that Dickie and Mr. Fancy Pants were AWOL.
As I drove to the only pet store in town, I was rethinking my kidnapping of the birds. My stomach was squirming—something it did when I felt guilty. After a few blocks, I turned around and headed back home.
I tucked Dickie into a duffel bag and wrapped a blanket around Mr. Fancy Pants.
"Sorry, guys. I really was trying to help. But I don't think this was the best idea."
The drive to the zoo was uneventful, except for Dickie singing the entire album from Hello Dolly from inside the duffel bag while the king vulture sat motionless in the passenger seat, underneath the blanket.
Getting the animals back to the zoo was the right thing to do. Maybe I could offer to be their bodyguard at night. Would they want me to do that, considering I'd kidnapped them? Probably not…if they found out.
Breaking into the zoo during the day had a whole new host of challenges. Since the zoo was closed, I couldn't just walk through the front door and say I found the birds hitchhiking by the side of the road. Scaling the fence would be tricky, considering that most of the zoo perimeter butted up against various neighborhoods. I'd be seen. And heard, what with Dickie singing in the duffel bag. He'd finished Hello Dolly and was beginning with a very dramatic piece from Phantom of the Opera.
There was one spot where I might not be seen. Just outside of town was about a hundred yards of the perimeter that fronted onto a corn field. Since this was early spring, there wasn't any corn to cover me. Still, if no one was watching, I had a 70/30 chance…no, a 50/50 chance of not being spotted. And while I didn't usually go for those odds, I didn't have a lot of choice. At any moment the disappearance could be discovered. Rex might throw me in jail just to teach me a lesson. Maybe he'd le
t the girls visit.
I found the woods near the fence and pulled off the gravel road, taking great care not to be seen. Then I waited to see if anyone had noticed me pulling up. When no farmer came over to ask what I was doing here, I got out of the car.
"Dickie!" I whispered. "Be quiet!"
My pleas had no effect on the macaw as he burst into, "The Phaaaaantom of the Opera is here! Inside your mind!"
Mr. Fancy Pants had not moved. Good bird. Slinging the singing bag over my shoulder, I locked the car and took off for the fence. I'd taken both birds out at the same time, but taking them in would be trickier. No, I'd have to do this one at a time. Starting with Andrew Lloyd Webber, here.
The fence posed no problem, but Dickie's singing was annoying. I let myself down just outside of the red wolf enclosure. For a moment, I hesitated. But then I remembered that no one had ever seen the red wolf. Even as a child, every time we visited the zoo, I never saw it. In fact, I'd never met one person who said they had seen the wolf. We always assumed it was the zoo's private joke.
I was probably safe.
Jogging through the fake red wolf enclosure to the next fence, I climbed up and over and landed near the petting zoo. That was good because there was a six-foot tall fence I could hide behind. Dickie had stopped singing. I could only assume it was intermission.
I made it to the building with no trouble. No one was there. Placing the bird on his perch, I took the now empty bag and headed back to the car.
Mr. Fancy Pants was still sitting, stock still, under the blanket. He really was a remarkable bird. Or maybe he just went into some kind of coma when someone put a lampshade or blanket over his head.
He didn't resist as I gently put him inside the large duffel and shouldered the bag. Just a few more steps, and I was home free. I landed in the red wolf enclosure and started across, when I had the strangest feeling I was being watched.
I was. Just a few feet away, a bush shook. A pair of eyes watched me between branches.
"You're real!" I whispered before realizing that wasn't the smartest move.
The wolf didn't comment.
"I can't believe it!" I said happily. "We always thought you were imaginary."
The wolf took a step out of the bushes, and I could see it in full. Smaller than a gray wolf, this was still a wolf. A carnivore. And while I was probably too big to take down and eat, its prey being something smaller like…a king vulture…
Uh-oh.
The beast seemed fixated on my bag. Silently I willed the vulture to stay very still.
"Nice doggie," I said, hoping that would work.
Leonard, our Scottish deerhound, was bigger than this wolf. Maybe talking to it like a dog would disarm him.
The wolf stepped closer, sniffing the air, its eyes locked on to the duffel bag. He took another step toward me.
"Bad dog!" I hissed as I very slowly stepped sideways. "You go back to your crate!"
Why did I say that? It almost never worked on Leonard. Why would it work on a wild animal? But then again, maybe it would. Animals were weird.
The wolf took a few more steps forward, still sniffing. His hackles weren't up and he wasn't growling, which I took as a good sign. I continued walking. And the damn dog followed me.
I'm no stranger to being assaulted by animals. In Japan it was a monkey who was after a flash drive I'd taken from the Yakuza. In Chechnya I faced a chicken armed with an Uzi through a rather creative application of duct tape. And in Colombia I was accosted by a nearsighted capybara who thought I was withholding lunch.
But I'd never been trailed by a wolf while holding a bag with a king vulture inside. The good news was that Mr. Fancy Pants could fly. The bad news was he couldn't undo the zipper from the inside while I was being eaten.
I stopped, and the wolf stopped. "Go to bed! Back in your bed!" This always worked on Leonard, who was fine with being told what to do. It did not work on the wolf.
The red wolf looked at me quizzically. I wondered if this was the first time he'd had a human in his enclosure who wasn't handing out meat. Maybe he was just curious. Then again, maybe he knew what was in the bag and wanted to find out if it tasted like chicken.
I wasn't waiting to find out.
"I'm going to go now," I said to the animal.
He didn't respond.
Very slowly, I turned and continued walking, turning my head ever so slightly to keep him in my peripheral vision. He continued to follow me. I slid the bag around so that the main part was in front of me. The fence was just up ahead. All I had to do was make it up and over.
The wolf did nothing to impede me. He just followed along like this was the most normal thing in the world. I racked my brain, trying to remember if there were two wolves or one, but decided I didn't need that kind of negativity.
At long last, I reached the fence—a metal, chain link wall about ten feet high. The wolf stopped and sat down, waiting for my next move.
"Good dog!" I said. "Very good dog!"
And then the wolf dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly for a rub.
Spies have to think quickly on their feet. They need to sum up the situation and take whatever steps necessary to stay alive and out of the clutches of the enemy. But a vicious killer had never rolled over for a tummy rub before.
It seemed criminal to ignore the beast but risky to do what it wanted. After all, the animal could be messing with me. I thought about Leonard when he wanted me to do something. The cats always seemed to have ulterior motives in situations such as this, but Leonard was pretty simple in his needs, which were eating, pooping, sleeping, and avoiding Philby's "death attacks from above."
And what was I supposed to do with the bag? Set it on the ground? What if the wolf was faking and the minute I knelt down, he raced around me and attacked the bird inside?
Oh brother, Wrath. It's an animal. Besides, you might need to come back this way. Why not have an ally?
I turned the bag around so that it was behind me and knelt down to the wolf, who didn't move at all. Gingerly, I reached out and stroked the fur on his abdomen.
The wolf wriggled with glee as I scratched. Then he got up and ran off.
Okay then, that was over. I headed back for the fence, when something bounced off my head. I turned to find a very drooly rubber ball at my feet. The wolf was down on his front legs, back end in the air and tail wagging furiously.
Did he want to play fetch? I didn't really have that kind of time. Still, the beast seemed sweet, and I never could resist a happy dog. I picked up the ball and threw it as far as I could. The wolf took off with amazing speed, and I ran for the fence, climbed over, and landed on the other side before he returned with the ball.
The look in his eyes was devastating. The wolf lay down on the ground, his head on the ball as if waiting for me to come back.
"Good boy!" I said before racing off to put the king vulture back.
Somehow I made it unseen. The zoo was like a ghost town. After putting Fancy Pants back into his enclosure, I heard voices and dove behind the porcupine, turtle, and meerkat exhibit.
Robby Doyle entered the room, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt ill-suited to his scrawny frame. He was followed by a short, overweight kid dressed as a wizard. This had to be Stewie. What were they doing here? And, more importantly, how was I going to get out?
"You really shouldn't be here," Doyle squeaked.
Stewie pulled out a wand from someplace I didn't want to imagine. "You know we have to prepare for Solstice Con! It's in two weeks!"
I watched as Robby started feeding the animals. "Dude! I told you this might not be a good time, what with me under suspicion of killing Joel."
Stewie straightened a crooked wizard hat. "But you didn't do it."
"I know that, but I'm not sure the cops believe me."
The fat kid's eyes went open so wide I was afraid they'd pop out. "Do you think Beowulf did it?"
"Don't call her that!" Robby tossed feed in
to the various enclosures. "Dr. Wulf is nice."
"Dude!" Stewie cried out. "You like her! Like, like-like her! Ewwww!"
"I do not!" Robby's face went red and blotchy. "And I don't think she did it! She liked Joel. They were, like, dating and stuff."
Stewie sat down on the edge of the porcupine enclosure, oblivious to the meerkats creeping by on tortoises. "So, who do you think did it? That crazy lady who comes in and talks to that goofy chicken?"
Hey! His name is Mr. Fancy Pants! Oh yeah, and I'm not crazy!
Robby gulped. "I heard she used to be a spy! That's kind of cool."
Stewie blanched. "A real spy? Where did you hear that?"
The answer I was expecting, which would be Betty, was not what I heard.
"My dad told me." Robby finished feeding the animals on that side of the room and was moving to the jellyfish tank in the corner. I slid to the end of the porcupine exhibit as three meerkats were surfing two tortoises at once.
His dad? Who was his dad? My troop knew who I was, and granted, word gets about quickly in a small town. But it seemed odd that his dad would know.
"He would know." Stewie popped his wizard hat back on. "Since he's Russian and all."
Russian?
Robby flushed a deep red. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Stewie shrugged. "Russians are spies."
Before I could step forward to argue with his logic and ask about Robby's dad, the door at the other end of the room opened, and Dr. Wulf entered with a man dressed in a security uniform.
"Have you seen someone on the premises?" she asked the boys, seemingly unfazed to find a wizard there. "We got a report about someone running around with a duffel bag."
I was out the door before they noticed.
As I ran back the way I came, I tossed the bag into a trash can shaped like a lion. There was no time to lose. People were looking for me, and my car was a dead giveaway just outside the zoo.
I heard people behind me. They hadn't seen me, or they'd say Hey, lady! They were just asking if anyone was here. I kept running until I was up and over the fence at the red wolf enclosure.
The wolf met me on the ground, wiggling with excitement. Footsteps were getting close. I had an idea.
Meerkats and Murder Page 15
