“Oh, dear,” she said. “Look what he’s doing to your rug.”
Yes, the Gouldian finch was doing what most birds do when stressed or excited. Assuming I figured out a way to survive whatever unpleasantness Sandie had planned, I’d worry about the rug tomorrow.
“Do you want me to help you catch him?” she asked.
“No, you go on home,” I said.
The finch tired of circling the lamp and flew into the kitchen.
“Birdie!” Timmy exclaimed from the kitchen.
“Stop!” Sandie yelled.
“Get out and get help!” I said, giving Rose Noire a shove out the door and slamming it behind her.
In the kitchen, Sandie shrieked, and then a shot rang out.
“Oh, my God,” I muttered and headed for the kitchen.
The finch flew out, leaving another white streak along the hallway floor, and I almost collided with Timmy.
“Run away!” I said, and ran to open the front door for him.
“Stop right there!” Sandie said.
Instead of running outside, Timmy continued up the stairs after the finch.
I followed Timmy.
When we reached the second floor hallway, we met a flock of Gouldian finches coming down from the third floor. To judge by the number of droppings they were producing, none of them were too happy about the situation.
“Birdie! Birdie!” Timmy called, and jumped up and down, trying to reach the brightly colored finches.
“Keep running,” I said.
Our arrival spooked the finches, and they wheeled and headed back up toward the third floor. Timmy gave chase and I followed.
“Stop!” Sandie called. She fired another random shot, and I heard breaking glass.
It occurred to me, halfway up the stairs to the third floor, that I should have stayed on the second. The second floor was more completely furnished, which meant I’d have had a better chance of finding something to use as a weapon. On the third floor, the only two rooms that contained anything were the bedroom at one end of the hall, where Rob had been stashing his stuff, and the bedroom at the other end, where I’d seen the cage of tropical birds.
When they reached the third floor, the finches swooped in a circle around the light fixture a couple of times and headed for the room they’d presumably come from. Timmy followed, thus narrowing down my choices.
The first thing I saw after bursting into the room was a cloud of brightly colored birds whirling in front of my eyes. Some were Gouldian finches, but there must have been several other species as well.
Then I spotted Michael, Dad, and Dr. Blake. They were all three trussed up, hand and foot. But apparently Sandie was less experienced in bondage than Freddy, and hadn’t thought to anchor them to anything. Michael was hopping from birdcage to birdcage, opening the cage doors with his teeth. Dr. Blake was hunched over by the window, trying to dial a cell phone with his nose. Dad was in one corner, and appeared to be attempting to stuff himself into the dumbwaiter, in preparation for a Houdini-like escape.
They all three greeted my arrival with glad cries. At least I assumed, from the expressions on their faces, that it was glad cries they were trying to utter through the neckties Sandie had used to gag them.
She had also used neckties to tie them up. I felt a twinge of irritation at her lack of consideration. Totally irrational, but I knew how much Michael’s ties cost, and for that matter, how pricey it was to clean them. I spotted Michael’s tie rack on the floor nearby—apparently she’d wrenched it off the wall and brought it in here. It only had a couple of ties left. Couldn’t she have used something else? Because clearly I was going to have to slice the ties off to free everyone and, assuming we all survived this, replacing Michael’s entire tie wardrobe was going to be expensive and troublesome.
I’d worry about that later, I thought. I realized that I still had the utility knife stuck in my pocket and reached for it.
Timmy seemed to think the hopping was a wonderful game, and was hopping around madly. Bad enough that I was thinking of waylaying a gun-toting criminal when the only weapon I had was a utility knife. Doing it with Timmy in harm’s way—
“Dad!” I said. “Let’s send Timmy down in the dumbwaiter. Rose Noire’s calling for help.”
Dad wriggled out of the way and, to my immense relief, Timmy was charmed with the dumbwaiter and crawled in without even being asked. I quickly sent him down ten or fifteen feet and was pulling out the utility knife to begin slashing ties when—
“Stop that! Hands up!”
We turned to see Sandie standing in the doorway, pointing the gun at us. Well, waving the gun all around in her attempt to cover all four of us.
“Drop the knife!” she snapped at me.
I followed orders.
“Get over there,” she said to Michael, waving him in our direction. “You too,” she added to Dr. Blake.
Michael hopped over to my side. Dr. Blake used more of a slow shuffle.
“Sometime today,” Sandie said.
“He’s over ninety,” I said. “That’s as fast as he goes.”
Dr. Blake gave Sandie a look that ought to have felled her, and growled something through his gag.
“Where’s the kid?” Sandie asked.
We all looked innocent. I shrugged. Sandie looked around. We might have gotten away with it if Timmy hadn’t chosen that moment to giggle.
“What’s that—a secret tunnel? Get away from there!”
We all obediently hopped, walked, or shuffled away from the dumbwaiter door. I tensed to jump her—surely while she examined the dumbwaiter and figured out how to raise the platform Timmy was on, she’d have to take her eyes off us for a few seconds.
“Uppie!” Timmy shouted from the shaft. “Want uppie!”
Sandie began shuffling around the perimeter of the room toward the dumbwaiter door. She didn’t take her eyes off us. Nor did I take mine off her. Sooner or later—
Suddenly she screamed, and leaped into the air. This sounded more like panic than anger. I looked down and realized that the missing Emerald Tree Boa had reappeared, and had slithered over Sandie’s foot on the way to the birdcage.
“Snake!” she shouted. She leaped back, fired a wild shot at the snake, and knocked over one of the birdcages in her flight. Panicked birds fluttered around the ceiling and fled the room. Michael, Dad, Dr. Blake, and I all hit the floor as she continued whirling about and firing wildly.
It could only have been a few shots—she’d already fired several at the finches and the snake—but it seemed to go on forever. When I finally heard the click that meant she was out of ammo, I leaped over, tackled her, and sat on her.
“Is everyone okay” I asked.
I heard the distorted sound of Michael, Dad, and Dr. Blake trying to talk through their gags. I glanced over. Dad and Michael were nodding vigorously. Dr. Blake was scowling, and appeared to be scanning the room for something.
Holding Sandie’s arm in a hammerlock, I dragged her with me over to where the tie rack was and used two of the remaining ties to bind her hands and feet.
Then I raced over and managed to pull the gag out of Dr. Blake’s mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “But it’ll be a miracle if she didn’t hit any of the birds. Is the boa all right? Untie me so I can check.”
“The boa’s fine,” I said. “I’m going to—”
“Put the gun down!” I turned to see Rose Noire, hair wildly askew, standing in the doorway holding a pitchfork.
“Relax,” I said. “She’s tied up. Are the police on their way?”
She nodded, eyes still darting left and right for enemies.
“Great,” I said. “Start untying everyone, will you? I’m going to put the snake back in the hall bath, before he eats any of the birds. Then I’ll come back and help you.”
“Uppie! Uppie!” came Timmy’s voice from the dumbwaiter.
“Oops,�
�� I said. I draped the snake over my shoulders, the way I’d seen Dr. Blake do it, so I’d have both hands free to haul the ropes. When Timmy’s head appeared in the dumbwaiter doorway, his eyes lit up.
“‘Nake!” he said. “Want ‘nake!”
“This is Dr. Blake’s snake,” I said. “If you behave yourself until we get everyone untied, I’ll find you a snake of your very own.”
Timmy sat down in a display of ostentatious good behavior. He stayed that way for a good ten seconds. Then he popped over to look out of the window.
“‘Leese cars!” he exclaimed.
Thirty-Four
Two hours later, we were all still answering questions from Chief Burke, the DEA, the USF&WS, the state troopers, and even a few stray Clay County sheriff’s deputies who’d followed the state troopers over to our house and hadn’t quite given up hope that some of the excitement might have strayed over onto their turf. But I could tell that the end was in sight. Not that anyone was running out of questions, but I could see that Chief Burke was running out of patience with the various interlopers.
And also running out of patience with my questions.
“Yes, we’ve got Freddy’s accomplice in custody,” he finally said, the fourth or fifth time I asked. “It was another one of his cousins. Trey Hamilton. You didn’t really need to skedaddle back here in such a hurry. Trey’s no killer. We picked him up halfway to Richmond with a flat tire and a van full of foul-mouthed parrots. And if he and Freddy give us a whole lot of information about the higher-ups in the smuggling business, they might get out of prison in time to collect social security.”
He also got a little irritated when I asked if Sandie’s gun was the same one that had killed Jasper.
“We can’t just eyeball it and tell, you know,” he said. “We have to send the darned thing down to the crime lab in Richmond, and overworked and backed up as they are it could be weeks before—”
“I understand,” I said. “But is it at least the same caliber?”
“Yes,” he said, as if he begrudged even that one syllable.
The proverbial last straw landed when a grim-faced woman from the county social services department showed up to take charge of Timmy.
“Ms. Walker is refusing to talk any more until she can see for herself that her son is safe and sound,” the social worker said. “I’m supposed to take him down to see her.”
I glanced down at Timmy, who was sprawled across my lap. He was fast asleep. So was my left leg.
The social worker looked at her watch.
“They told me to hurry,” she said.
I shook Timmy awake as gently as I could.
“Wake up,” I said. “You’re going to see Mommy!”
“Mommy?” he said, sleepily. He slipped off my lap to stand on the floor and look blearily from side to side, but he kept one hand on my leg while the other held Kiki in a death grip. Kiki was overdue for another round of major repairs, but thanks to the safety pins, cotton wads, gauze, and adhesive tape from my traveling first aid kit she probably wouldn’t fall apart until things quieted down enough that I could get to work with the sewing kit.
Or would it be Karen wielding her sewing kit? She hadn’t looked all that seriously injured at the accident scene, so maybe she’d be able to go home and take Timmy with her.
“Yes,” the social worker said, cheerfully. “I’m going to take you to see your mommy!”
She came closer and bent down to pick him up.
“No!” he shrieked. He scrambled back into my lap and threw both arms around me.
“But I’m taking you to see your mommy,” the social worker said.
“No!” Timmy wailed. “Want Auntie Meg!”
I stared at him in astonishment. Okay, so over the last few days, Timmy had no doubt gotten used to me, but I assumed he’d drop me like the proverbial hot potato the minute Karen turned up again.
“We see that sometimes,” the social worker said. “They feel abandoned by their parent and cling to the caregiver. He’ll get over it.”
I found myself frowning. Cling to the caregiver? Get over it? Wasn’t it possible that Timmy had become just a little fond of Auntie Meg? And for that matter, wasn’t it even more probable that Timmy was objecting not to the idea of seeing Mommy but to the prospect of some stranger tearing him away from the place and people who had become familiar over the past few days? Not even a very friendly looking stranger, though I suppose I should make allowances for the fact that she’d been awakened well past midnight to come and get him.
And she was trying to reunite Timmy with Karen—the same thing I’d been working on so hard over the last several days. And it wasn’t as if I’d never see him again. Odds were he’d need a place to stay for another night or two. After all, even if they didn’t detain Karen for some reason, she couldn’t very well go home to her trashed apartment at the ghastly College Arms. She could come to stay with us—plenty of room—and let me and Dad and the rest of the tribe look after her and Timmy for a bit.
“Come on, Timmy,” I said. I pried his arms loose and then took a firm grip on the hand that wasn’t holding Kiki. “We’ll go down together to see your mommy.”
“But we’re not finished with her,” the DEA agent and the USF&WS agent said in unison.
Chief Burke exploded.
“Not finished!” he roared. “Damn it, these are honest, God-fearing, law-abiding citizens of my county. They’ve been answering your questions for three hours, and if you want the continued cooperation of the Caerphilly Police Department, you treat them properly, you hear?”
“Don’t worry, Chief,” my grandfather said, popping out of the dining room where another set of agents had been interrogating him. “A little persecution from misguided authorities will make for a much better story when I’m editing my special on the finch-smuggling ring.”
The chief scowled at him.
“And the excellent cooperation from the Caerphilly police will make such a wonderful, enlightened contrast,” Michael added, popping in from wherever they’d been interrogating him.
“Definitely,” Dr. Blake said.
“Sammy,” the chief shouted. The young deputy also popped in, as if he’d been waiting for his cue. “You take Ms. Langslow and Master Timothy down to the station to see his momma. The rest of us will be coming along as soon as we can.”
“But Chief—” one of the Feds began.
“And anyone who has an objection is welcome to leave now, and file a complaint with his or her agency head and the Caerphilly Town Council in the morning.”
Nobody cared to voice an objection, so the various interrogators and suspects began shuffling out to the cars. Scout, the hound dog, came over and thrust his head at the chief to be petted. Scout had arrived with the police and followed the chief from room to room for the past couple of hours. From the calmer look that came over the chief’s face as he was petting Scout, I had a feeling the dog had already found a new home.
“I’ll need to pack some things for Timmy,” I said to the chief. “Everything’s upstairs in his room.”
I picked up Timmy and headed for the stairs.
“I hope you’re not expecting to offload your little charge immediately,” he said, following me. “I don’t think Ms. Walker did anything wrong—well, nothing criminal, anyway. Stupid, yes, all that running around and sneaking and making it harder for us to figure out what was going on, but if stupid was a crime, the town would be out of jail space. But it might take a few days for all these Feds to figure that out. Of course, the contents of that thumb drive you gave me should do the trick. Apparently Ms. Walker got some pretty conclusive evidence that this Sandie person was the embezzler.”
“I thought the thumb drive files incriminated Nadine,” I said “Did I just interpret that wrong or—”
I suddenly realized that I was confessing to something the chief might consider tampering with evidence.
“I should have expected you’d be messing with that thing,” the
chief growled.
“I made a copy,” I said. “In case something happened to the original before I got it into your hands.”
The chief snorted.
“But what about Nadine?” I asked again. “If she’s not in on the embezzling scheme, what was she running away from?”
“Dust,” the chief said. “Her house was empty because she’d put all her furniture in storage so Duke Borden’s decorating shop could come in and redo the floors. Which, as you probably know from all that construction you did on this place, kicks up a heck of a lot of dust. She was going on a Caribbean cruise till the floors were done and Duke’s crew had given the whole place a white-glove cleaning from attic to cellar.”
“Does that sound reasonable to you?” I asked. “That she would have someone doing that much work without being there to see that it was done right?”
“Doesn’t sound reasonable to me, no,” he said. “But she’s a Pruitt by birth and you know how those Pruitts are.”
“She’s a Pruitt?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? It explains how she can afford a two-million-dollar house in Westlake. Though not why she’s working at the college.”
“No idea,” the chief said. “Except those Pruitts always think they know best when it comes to running the college. Incidentally, I didn’t mention that you had anything to do with making her miss her boat.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I can just see her sabotaging Michael’s paycheck for the next decade out of spite.”
“She is spiteful,” the chief agreed. “Keeps threatening to sue the department. Well, she has the right.”
“Talk to Dr. Driscoll,” I suggested. “Nadine’s boss. I’m sure he could convince her that if she sues the department, it will all come out about how she never noticed the embezzlement going on right underneath her nose. I suspect that will cool her urge to sue.”
“Now that’s a right smart idea,” the chief said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Getting back to Karen—”
“As I said, I don’t think she had anything to do with the murder or the embezzlement, but she’s got a lot of explaining to do. Why didn’t she just turn in that thumb drive herself? And why did she hide from us?”
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