Bird Brain: A Polly Parrett Pet-Sitter Cozy Murder Mystery (Polly Parrett Pet Sitter Cozy Murder Mysteries)

by Liz Dodwell

  “My suggestion is to bring in professionals. The painting can be done in two to three days and everything else in a day. We can have the property on the market by the weekend; maybe do an open house soon after.”

  “This is sounding expensive.”

  “Not really. Professionals have the equipment, tools and experience needed to do the best job. Do you know what it would cost to rent equipment for Rooster and the guys to use? Do any of them even have a clue how to lay carpet wall to wall?”

  “Uh…” There was more to this than I’d realized.

  “Besides, I’ve already negotiated discounts on your behalf. You’re looking at a total bill of about $4,500. Maybe a bit more.”

  I choked. Concerned, Tyler went to the sink and poured a glass of water for me.

  “I don’t understand how spending nearly $5,000 – that I don’t have, I might point out – is going to help me with this.”

  “It’s going to bring you 10 to 15 thousand dollars more on the sale.” Patiently Tyler explained. “Home buyers want move-in-ready properties. Most of them can’t see potential or simply don’t want to bother with fixing things up themselves. So they’ll pay considerably more for something that’s in perfect condition.

  “As for paying the pros, I’ll handle that for now. We can reconcile the costs when you sell. And with all honesty, if you had to buy paint, carpet and fixtures at retail, and rent tools, you’d probably still be looking at a $4,000 bill.”

  Yowser. I was really out of touch. When I’d bought my little house (where I actually live), Mom had given me several large throw rugs that she wasn’t using to cover the old flooring, and I’d repainted bit by bit. Not that it took much, the place only had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area.

  “Sweetheart. Don’t worry. It will all turn out for the best. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

  Tyler’s voice echoed his apprehension and I realized he must be taking my silence as a bad sign. With the back of my hand I gently stroked his cheek and smiled at him. “You,” I paused for effect, “are amazing. If I had to deal with all this on my own I would make a complete mess of it.”

  “That would never happen. You’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever known. And one of the sexiest.” He pulled me to him. “Maybe the sexiest.” Our lips met. Lucky me.

  Eight

  At seven the next morning I was tucking into fried eggs, bacon and cheesy grits at Mom’s kitchen table. Life is good. I’d brought the dogs along for a ride and Angel and Vinny were now outside playing with Jack. They played rough and it was too much for Coco, so she stayed with me. Elaine just wasn’t interested any more. I looked over at her as she lay on her bed, her head on the raised edge using it as a pillow, and thought how much I loved Rooster’s sweet old pit bull.

  A dog began barking, steadily and insistently. Coco stood up, cocking her head to the side, focused on the sound. Elaine cocked her ears and frowned.

  “There’s another dog somewhere.” I looked questioningly at Mom who gave me a puzzled frown.

  “We haven’t taken in anyone new. Are you sure it isn’t one of ours?”

  “It’s not.”

  The barking seemed to be coming closer. Coco and Elaine both stared at the door, my little toy poodle growling softly. The door opened and there stood a red-faced Mike. He had Polly with him, but this time she was on his shoulder and posturing proudly, chest puffed out … and barking.

  “I can’t get her to stop. Since we’ve had her she hasn’t so much as squawked but she heard Vinny outside and suddenly found her voice.”

  Yikes. If she had to imitate one of the dogs, my yappy poodle was not a good choice. That high-pitched yelping could drive you nuts.

  “Perhaps you could teach her to say a few words instead. Or sing a song. Preferably a lullaby.”

  “What? I can’t hear you over the noise.”

  I dismissed the question with a wave and walked over to the coffee pot to pour myself a cup to go. Leaning against the counter I studied the macaw. She really was coming into her own. As annoying as the barking was, it was obvious the bird was having a good time and I was delighted to see her progress. As I passed Mike on my way to collect the dogs I yelled into his ear, “You’re doing an amazing job with her.” He smiled his gratitude and I made my escape.

  I dropped Angel, Vinny and Coco at home. They’d sleep for the next few hours. Young Jack, on the other hand, still had energy but I’d have some time to stop at the park in between calls and run him through some basic commands.

  The morning passed quickly enough and I figured I’d grab myself some lunch and enjoy it in the town square with Jack, who was finally slowing down. After I’d secured myself a reuben on focaccia bread I was lucky enough to find an empty bench facing the war memorial. It was a simple tower, etched with the names of Mallowapple residents who’d given their lives in service. Ours is a small town, so the list of names was not long. In fact, there was only one name for World War I but it was especially meaningful for me: Fireman First Class George Parrett, lost at sea 1918. He was my great great grandfather.

  “Yo, Polly!”

  Startled from my reveries on hearing my name I looked around and saw Dave Cartwright, an old school chum, waving. I raised my arm in return and he headed in my direction.

  “Hey, Polly. How’s it going? And Jack!” He got down on one knee and scratched the pup behind the ears, talking to him. “What are you doing with Polly?”

  “I’ve got him for the day so … Wait a minute! How do you know Jack?”

  “I never forget one of the dogs we save. Especially when they have as much personality as this one.”

  No way. Dave works at the County Animal Shelter. He must have confused my Jack with another dog, as improbable as that seemed, so I explained my history with the pup.

  “Polly, I’m telling you, this dog was dropped off at the shelter by a family who said they couldn’t handle him. It was the same old story of people getting the adorable little puppy only to find out it takes real work and commitment to care for him. He’s a quality dog so I knew he wouldn’t last long and, sure enough, he was adopted out in a couple of days.”

  “To Delbert Forlong?”

  “Uhhh, Delbert sounds right, but I’m pretty sure his last name wasn’t Forlong.” Dave shrugged. “You know how it is, I remember the pets but I’m not so good with the people.”

  “I don’t understand. How could a homeless man adopt a dog?”

  “Homeless! What are you talking about? The guy had his own business. I remember distinctly because he was a private eye and I thought that was so cool.”

  Hoo, boy! Things just got really weird.

  Nine

  There was the usual exuberance from all the dogs as I pulled up at Welcome Home. From inside the house it sounded as if Polly Parrot was getting in on the action.

  I yelled out as I walked through the front door, “I’m here!”

  “As if we couldn’t tell,” my mother’s disembodied voice replied.

  I found her in the office with Rooster going over plans for the barn renovations.

  “A group of volunteers from the VA is coming over this weekend to work,” Mom explained. “We need to decide how to put them to use and what supplies we’ll need. More truthfully, what supplies we can afford.”

  “Stop worrying about it. Tyler thinks we can expect a quick sale on Miss Ledbetter’s house.” Briefly, I filled them in on our conversation of the previous evening.

  “Enough of that, though,” Mom said. “What about Del?”

  After my chat with Dave, I’d called Sheriff Wisniewski. He’d been unavailable so I’d left a detailed message, then called Mom to tell her what I’d found out.

  “I never heard back from the Sheriff,” I said.

  “I talked to him.” Rooster stood and twisted his torso back and forth to stretch it, commenting, “I can only sit so long before that low back pain starts.”

  I sympathized, but I wanted to hear wh
at Wisniewski had to say.

  “First, I went to the station this morning to report Del missing. I filled out the paperwork but Feliks,” that’s Sheriff Wisniewski, “said there wasn’t much that could be done. No crime had been committed and the man didn’t even have an official address.”

  It had been a rogue cop from Wisniewski’s department who tried to frame Rooster for murder. You’d think that might have created tension but both men were better than that. In fact, as an active member of the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars), it was Wisniewski who had encouraged Rooster to join and they’d found a bond in service to their country.

  “Anyway,” Rooster went on, “Feliks called here late this afternoon. With the information from you, he found out that Del’s real name is Fannin, not Forlong and he runs a detective agency out of Pittsfield. It’s a one-man operation. He uses an answering service company to handle his calls.”

  “Pittsfield? Then what is he doing in Mallowapple masquerading as a homeless man?”

  “He may be close to homeless. It seems he was probably living out of his office. He is state licensed however, which provided some other background details.”

  “Such as?”

  “He actually was in the air force and there is an ex-wife and twin daughters.”

  “As they say, a good con stays close to the truth.”

  “But was this a con?” Mom sounded exasperated. “None of this makes sense. Why would anybody want to con themselves into a homeless shelter? This one in particular. We’re pretty much broke all the time and we have no ties to anyone or anything of importance.”

  I shook my head, equally bewildered. “It certainly seems he was targeting Welcome Home or he wouldn’t have needed a dog. Poor Jack. It does explain why he hadn’t bonded with Del. And that part of Del’s story was a total lie. That really ticks me off. He used the puppy and he was using us and I’m gonna make sure I tell him what I think about it.”

  “Calm down, dear. It doesn’t help to get upset.” Grr, I hate when my mother uses that placatory tone, even – no, especially – when she’s right.

  Still, I took a deep breath and managed to ask in a normal tone, “Was there anything else that Feliks could add to the equation?”

  “If there was, he wasn’t telling me,” Rooster said, and the conversation petered out.

  I offered to help Mom with dinner but I guess she could see I was still irritable, so she suggested Rooster give me his thoughts on sprucing up the furniture.

  We walked in companionable silence to the barn, Rooster throwing wide the doors to allow the fading evening light in. Although the structure was fairly sound, tarpaulins had been laid over the pieces, “Just in case there’s a roof leak or two,” Rooster said. He caught hold of the corner of a tarp and peeled it back to reveal a solid wood dining set. “This is pecan wood.” He rapped his knuckles on the top. “Those scuffs and scratches can all be buffed out and it will look like new. And there’s two of these.” He showed me a dresser with six curved drawers. “A little elbow grease and some new hardware and they’ll be good to go.”

  With a flourish he tugged at the next cover. “And wait ‘til you see this.”

  A dead body?

  My mind couldn’t quite wrap around the image of a man face-down and spread-eagled on the floor. Maybe it was because the back of his head was a mess of blood and bone. Rooster’s military training kicked right in, though. He darted around me and knelt next to the body, placing his fingers on the neck where there should have been a steady pulse. Looking up, he shook his head.

  “Call the police.”

  My cell phone was in my pocket. I knew I should reach in and dial 911, but my arm didn’t seem to want to obey the commands my brain was sending. Instead, I began to shake uncontrollably. Realizing my distress, Rooster yanked the cover back over the man and, holding me firmly by the shoulders, led me outside where I sagged against the wall.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “Right pocket.”

  “Are you gonna be OK while I make the call?”

  I nodded as he stepped away to talk. I caught snatches of his conversation, “…head wound…old barn…don’t know…” and then, “Delbert Forlong.”

  In the fuzzy recesses of my mind it registered that the body was Del. In some keener part of my brain, however, my thought was, “What about Jack?”

  As if he sensed he was on my mind, at that precise moment Jack came loping up, head high, proudly holding a big stick, which he promptly deposited at my feet and waited for me to throw.

  “Oh, you poor puppy,” I whispered and sank to the ground, taking him in my arms. That was when I noticed blood on the stick, and burst into tears.

  Ten

  Several hours later I sat at the kitchen table with Tyler holding my hand. Mallowapple is a small community and there’s not much that escapes Tyler. As soon as he heard there was a problem at Welcome Home, he rushed out to do what he could to help. I’d spent nearly an hour being interviewed by the police. Sheriff Wisniewski was leading the investigation.

  Unsettled by the activity, all the dogs were sticking close to us while Mom made another pot of hot tea. I’d had more than enough already and really needed to go to the bathroom but I wasn’t ready yet to relinquish my hold on Tyler.

  “I don’t know why I’m such a wreck. It’s not like this is the first murder I’ve been involved with.”

  “It’s the first where you’ve known the victim,” Tyler put things in perspective as the Sheriff walked into the room, Rooster at his side.

  “The body has been taken away and my men are now sealing the crime scene. Polly, I’ll need you at the station as soon as you feel up to it, to read over and sign your witness statement. Meanwhile, if any of you think of anything else, even if it seems trivial, call immediately.”

  “Do you have any suspects?” Tyler looked worried. “A man has been murdered practically on the doorstep and the killer is still out there.”

  “Are we safe?” I was particularly concerned for Mom. “Can you leave someone here to keep an eye on things?”

  “I don’t have the manpower for that. You do need to be very vigilant, though. Keep doors and windows locked, even during the day, and don’t go out alone.”

  “That’s not very encouraging.” My tone was sour. “Do you at least know if this was a random murder or was Del targeted?”

  “I hope to know more tomorrow.” With that, Wisniewski turned and left.

  “Well that wasn’t exactly helpful. For all we know there’s a crazed killer on the loose just waiting to take pot shots at us.”

  Rooster squeezed my shoulder. “Give the man a break, Polly. If he thought we were really in danger he’d figure something out. And I’ll keep watch tonight. After this, I’m not sure I could sleep anyway.”

  “Rooster, I hope you’re not staying up for my sake. I can take care of myself,” Mom said. “I’ve ridden 1200 pound horses over five-foot-high fences, given birth to three babies, even hiked the Appalachian Trail. I have a gun and I know how to use it. Don’t let these wheels fool you.” She patted the wheels on her chair.

  “Edwina, I know you’re one tough lady,” Always the diplomat, that Rooster, “but for my own piece of mind I want to be sure no-one messes up all the good work we’ve done around here.”

  “Maybe none of us needs to worry.” Tyler reached for his phone. “I have an idea.” He walked away from us as he appeared to peruse his contacts then turned, leaning against the counter and holding the phone to his ear.

  “Hi, K9 Security, Tyler Breslin here. I know it’s getting late but we have something of a crisis at Welcome Home and could really use your services. Call me, please, as soon as you get this message.” He left his contact details then hung up, nodding at us with a satisfactory air. “We’ll have the professionals take care of safety. And before any of you object because of the cost, it’s on me. Consider it a donation to the cause.”

  Within a couple of hours Jake from K9 Security was a
t the farm with Moe at his side. We all listened carefully as he talked. “We’ll set up a nightly schedule for you with a handler and a dog. It’s a small area to patrol so I don’t think you need more than that. For tonight, I’ll be here, but we have half a dozen other guys we might rotate through.

  “First thing I want to do is scope out the area with one of you so Moe and I get familiar with the lay of the land. It’s important that when we’re on patrol you don’t come outside without alerting us first. All our guys carry handguns and the dogs are pretty much lethal weapons so…no surprises, OK?”

  Moe didn’t exactly look lethal at the moment as he lazily scratched his nose with a paw. Jake noticed the direction of my gaze. “I haven’t given him the work command yet.”

  I put my hands up in a defensive gesture. “No need to explain. I’ve seen one of your dogs in action, remember, and it was awesome. I’m just really grateful that you’re able to help us out.”

  “I second that,” Mom said. “Now, tell me what I can get for you? Coffee? Treats for the dog?”

  “No ma’am…”

  “Edwina,” Mom interjected.

  Jake smiled. “That’s nice of you, Edwina, but we have everything we need, and the dogs are not allowed treats when on duty. That’s something they get from their handlers for a job well done.”

  “OK, then,” Rooster stepped forward. “How about Mike and I show you around?”

  The three of them moved off, leaving me with Tyler and Mom.

  “Are you going to stay here tonight, Polly?”

  “I can’t, Mom. I’ve got to get home to take care of the cats.” Amber, Taz and Ditto could be pretty self-sufficient if need be, but I really didn’t like leaving them alone for too long.