by Liz Dodwell
Mom and Tyler exchanged a look. I knew that look. They thought I was being rash. Before either of them could say a word, though, I made my feelings known.
“There’s nothing to suggest I could be in any danger. Everything points to Welcome Home or something personal in Del’s life. Besides, I have an attack cat.”
The dogs could only be relied upon to kiss someone to pieces but Ditto, my tuxedo cat, was very territorial and could be meaner than a junkyard dog if he felt threatened.
“That is true,” Tyler conceded. “But I’m following you home so I can check out the house before I leave you there alone.”
Of course you are, my knight in shining armor.
Eleven
Polly the parrot had really come into her own, and as she shed her fear so Mike began to shed his shyness. To distract her from the annoying barking, he’d decided to teach her to talk. Already she was saying “hello” and “pretty girl.” Right now she was entertaining the volunteers from the VA who’d come out to help work on the barn conversion. There were also a few who’d responded to our email plea after signing up at the jamboree a few weeks ago. All in all we had about fifteen helpers, which was fabulous.
We were taking a break for lunch. Long ago my dad had built a big old brick grill outside; now Tyler’s dad was wielding tongs over hot dogs and sweet sausages that he was dishing out to the helpers. Foil-wrapped potatoes were cooking in the hot coals and Mom had made up a huge batch of her homemade coleslaw along with one of my favorites, oatmeal apple crisp. We may not be able to pay people for the work but we could sure feed them.
“Hey, Polly! Give me a kiss!” How rude.
I looked around to see who was being so forward before it dawned on me the words were not meant for me. Polly Parrot’s admirers were throwing kisses at her. In turn she was making kissing sounds back while lifting one leg and waving it. I couldn’t deny, she was darn cute.
Mike had her on his shoulder. He must be clipping her wings so she couldn’t fly away. I really should chat with him about her care and condition. I was feeling a bit guilty for leaving him to take charge of her. After all, Naomi Ledbetter did specify me as her care-giver.
Noticing me watching, Mike lifted his chin in salutation and headed my way. The day, as well as the work, was quite warm so this was the first time I’d seen him wearing shorts. Because of the artificial limb his gait was just slightly off, but I marveled at the technology and his ability to use it.
“You know,” I said as he neared, “with long pants on I doubt anyone would know you had a prosthetic leg.”
“Yep. Things aren’t always what they seem.”
“Not what it seems. Not what it seems,” chanted his feathered friend.
“Gracious.” I was astonished. “Did she just pick that up?”
Mike shook his head. “I can’t take credit for her verbal skills. I think Mrs. Ledbetter must have taught her quite a vocabulary. That’s the first time I’ve heard her say that.”
“She’s becoming a real chatty Kathy, then. Or, I should say Polly.”
Mike chuckled and immediately Polly mimicked him. He reached up to scratch her neck and as he did so I noticed an unusual tattoo on his arm, partly hidden by the sleeve of his t-shirt. It looked like some sort of bird with bared teeth.
“What’s the meaning of the tat?”
His face turned hard. “Nothing.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just unusual and …”
“I said it’s nothing!”
His words were like a verbal slap. I took an involuntary step back and, of course, stepped in one of the holes the dogs had industrially been digging. My already bum knee gave out on me and I crashed down onto my hip.
“Ow!” I sucked air through my teeth as a stinging pain embraced my rear. Mike’s mood did another one-eighty as he crouched beside me, evoking nothing but concern.
“Are you OK?” Obviously not. I bit back the words, though, not wanting to trigger “Menacing Mike’s” return, and accepted his assistance getting back on my feet. Well, foot actually. I could only put my weight on one leg – again.
You’re probably thinking I’m a real klutz. Honestly, I don’t know why this stuff keeps happening to me. As a kid I was in Miss Rispin’s ballet class for a long time so I’m well-trained in balance and… Oh! Come to think of it, Mom pulled me from the classes when Miss Rispin suggested I might be more suited to clogging.
Mike helped me to the picnic bench where my half-eaten sandwich waited for me. It had become a little chewy but I was hungry so I gnawed on it while wondering what the heck was wrong with the young veteran. There wasn’t much time to ponder the question, however. Rooster, who was in charge of operations, called the helpers to order and everyone returned to their duties of sanding, scraping, painting, hammering and whatever else was needed.
Doing my best to ignore my discomfort, I rose to the occasion and, by the end of the day, we had ourselves a pretty nice bunkhouse with six areas blocked out for individual rooms. They weren’t actual rooms because the walls didn’t go all the way to the roof, but at least they would give the residents some privacy.
It was thrilling to see such improvement and the mood amongst the workers was downright elated, with plenty of back-slapping and high-fiving as they said their good-byes and headed home. For a while, I even forgot about the murder.
An arm came across my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “I think we deserve a major pat on the back.”
“More than that,” I said, hugging Tyler’s sister, Suzette. “I see a big glass of wine in my future. Care to join me?”
“You’re on!”
Suzette is a couple of years younger than Tyler. She’s beautiful to look at and has a beautiful personality to go with it and I thought the world of her. She tucked her arm in mine and together we strolled to the house. Well, I sort of stumbled. The dogs all fell in behind us as if we were a pair of pied pipers, including Frank, Tyler’s big, goofy bloodhound mix.
“Where were you all day?” I asked. “I hardly saw you.”
“Working with Mike cutting wood for framing and sub-flooring.”
“Don’t you find him a little unsettling?”
“In what way?”
“Let’s get our wine and find a quiet place to talk.”
So we did, and while we sipped I told Suzette about Mike’s reaction when I mentioned the tattoo, and his reluctance to talk about his family.
“Have you talked to Rooster about this?”
“Sure. He says to give Mike more time, but his mood swings really worry me. We know he has PTSD and it scares me that he could have an episode and harm Mom in some way. In fact,” I leaned in close and dropped my voice to a whisper, “I can’t help but wonder if he had anything to do with Del’s death.”
“Polly, that’s a shocking thing to say. Do you have any evidence?”
“No, and I feel guilty for saying it. But you hear stories of people who have been hurt by someone with post-traumatic stress syndrome. There was that young war veteran not long ago who beat his girlfriend to death. He said she just set him off but he doesn’t remember how.”
“You’re over-thinking this, Polly. I’ve seen no evidence of anything but a gentle soul. As I recall, drugs and alcohol were involved in the incident you’re talking about and Mike doesn’t drink or have access to drugs, at least as far as I know. Seriously, Welcome Home is all about helping people like Mike. Let’s find a way to do that before we condemn him.”
She was right, of course. I was just about to say that when I glanced up and realized Mike was watching us. We’d settled ourselves on the back patio. Mike’s room was on the second floor above us. His window was closed, but I had no idea if he could have heard our conversation. Weakly, I waved a hand at him. He didn’t move and his face remained completely impassive. Rats.
Twelve
It had happened again. Someone had disappeared from the farmhouse. This time, it was Mike. Polly, the macaw, was gone,
too.
A mid-morning call from Mom alerted me while I was walking Chester, a Newfoundland Rottweiler mix who was one of my new clients from the pet-sitters’ jamboree. Technically, Chester was still a puppy – a 130-pound puppy. He may have seemed as big as a grizzly bear but he had the heart of a teddy bear. For nearly an hour he’d been romping round with a high-energy fox terrier who went by the not unlikely name of Pistol.
I’d planned to use the afternoon to spy on my crew. That sounds terrible, I know. Here’s the thing, though, my first obligation is to my clients and their pets. To ensure my staff are fulfilling that obligation I make it a point to check on them unexpectedly from time to time. The crew I have now is pretty great, but you can never be too careful. I once called a walker and asked where she was. Blithely she announced she was walking her charges as scheduled. That was a lie. I was sitting in my car down the street, saw her arrive at the client’s house and not leave. She was pretty red-faced when I knocked on the door. She was also without a job.
Anyway, the point I was meaning to make is that I was able to free up the rest of my day to help look for Mike. I just had to get Chester home. Wouldn’t you know, however, that wasn’t going to be so easy?
Chester was tired and ready for a nap. Problem was, he was ready for his nap now! He flopped down, closed his eyes and was asleep in an instant. I nudged him, shook him, called his name and he unconsciously rolled onto his back exposing his belly for a rub.
I bobbed around acting excited and shouting in a high-pitched voice, “Walkies! Treats! Cats! Good boy! Come on!” None of it had any effect, but the dog park contingent was highly amused. Unfortunately, they consisted of two elderly ladies and a wizened old man. At this time of day during the week all the young muscle was at work.
Crouching down I tested the feasibility of carrying Chester to the car. Holy smokes! Even without my knee and hip problems, there was no way. I was going to have to call in the cavalry.
You’re thinking I’m referring to Tyler, aren’t you? Wrong! I scrolled through my contacts list and found K9 Security. “Um, Jake? Do you think I could hire you for just half an hour or so?”
“Polly, don’t ever change,” Mat Abaroa said. “Who else would give us so much to smile about?” He and Jake had both come to my rescue and between them, lifting Chester had been a breeze. The dog park oldsters had cheered as they carried him to my car, still firmly in the land of slumber. The guys had then followed me to Chester’s home and reversed the procedure, depositing the pup on his bed in the laundry room, which was his pseudo crate. I tucked his favorite toy between his front paws, made sure the door was closed and locked up the house, meeting Mat and Jake outside.
Putting on a business air to hide my embarrassment I asked how much I owed for their services.
“We don’t want anything. We had the time to spare and it’s always fun when we see you.” Did I detect a hint of sarcasm there? I decided to ignore it.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I really need to get to the farmhouse – Mike has gone missing.”
Of course, then I had to tell them what happened.
“Who did we have on patrol there last night?” Mat asked of his partner.
“It was Samson, with Delilah.” For real?
Both men looked concerned.
“They’re a good team,” Jake assured me while Mat stepped away from us, his phone to his ear, dialing Samson.
“I don’t doubt it.”
Mat was pacing as he talked. Snatches of words floated our way but they were no more than dust in the wind. After a few moments he strode back to us.
“Samson is adamant no-one left the house before his shift ended at seven. He says Rooster came out with coffee just before he and Delilah headed home, and that’s it.” Looking back and forth between Jake and me he added, “I think we should consider extending the patrols.”
Mat’s words made feel a bit panicky. When Del disappeared he ended up dead, and I was beginning to have visions of Mike with a bloody head and Polly Parrot stiff and cold beside him.
“Let’s not panic,” I said, pretending to be cool-headed and reasonable. “Before anything is decided I need to speak with Mom and Tyler. Besides, Mike could have left of his own accord. The word is out he’s missing and, let’s face it, how hard should it be to find a one-legged man with a parrot on his shoulder?”
Mat bit his lip and looked at Jake who dead-panned, “Aargh, we be lookin’ fer Long John Silver.” At which they both burst into laughter.
“This is hardly a laughing matter!”
“Don’t you realize what you just said? A one-legged man with a parrot on his shoulder. It sounds like a pirate.”
“Oh, my.” Indeed it did, and I recognized the silliness and joined in the laughter and felt much better for it.
A little later, hysteria aside, we became serious again.
“Honestly, I’m just so confused right now. The most important thing is finding Mike, but I’m also responsible for the bird. Then there’s a murder to solve, a killer is still on the loose, I’m worried about Mom and I need to figure out what to do with Jack.”
“Anything we can do to help, anything at all, just name it,” Jake said.
“Have I told you how glad I am to have met you two?”
“Aw shucks,” Mat quipped. So I slapped him on the arm. It was like hitting steel tubing; my hand stung and my fingers wouldn’t bend. So when my phone rang an instant later I had to contort my body to try and reach into my right jeans pocket with my left arm. Mat offered to help but I figured it was time I showed I could be independent. It wasn’t easy but I managed to retrieve the device. By then it had stopped ringing and gone to voicemail but I saw that it was Mom and hit redial.
“Thank goodness,” was Mom’s urgent greeting. “There’s been a sighting on the Old South Road. Mamie Soames called the sheriff’s office and said she’d seen an alien creature walking there. Ruby Peach took the call and was going to hang up when Mamie said something about the alien giving birth to a multicolored babe. That got Ruby’s attention and she got from Mamie that the alien was carrying something brightly colored in its arms. She figured it might be the parrot and called here.”
“How did Ruby know about Mike and Polly being missing?”
“I called the hair salon.”
That explained it. Drop a word at Combing Attractions Salon and it would become a tsunami in no time at all. The whole of Mallowapple would know about Mike by now.
“Right. I’ll get going and see if I can spot them.”
“Should you be doing this alone?”
“I think I’m covered,” I said, smiling at Mat and Jake.
Thirteen
The K9 Security duo were more than willing to provide backup for me but one of them needed to get back to their own business. So it was decided Mat would ride along and I’d drop him off later, which gave me an opportunity to tell him about Mamie Soames.
“No-one knows just how old she is, including Mamie. She’s as nutty as a fruitcake and pretty much blind as a bat. In her whole life she’d never been to the movies, so several decades ago she upped and decided to go. The movie happened to be Alien, and it changed Mamie’s life. Since then, she sees people birthing bioforms about once a month.”
Mat gave me one of those “you’ve got to be kidding” looks.
“Honestly. It’s a real problem when kids knock on her door at Halloween holding baskets of candy in front of them.”
We were on the Old South Road now and Mat was silent. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was concentrating on looking for Mike or if he just didn’t know what to say after the Mamie revelation.
The road was pretty typical for this part of Maine; narrow and winding, uninhabited for miles at a time and flanked by pines with a few broadleaf trees mixed in. If you followed it long enough you’d eventually get to a major highway that would take you all the way south to Florida. Mamie would have been driving it because she was going to pick up
a bottle of Pop Stegall’s herbal remedy, which was really corn liquor flavored with wild horseradish. Whatever. It seemed to be working for her.
We’d passed the turn-off to Pop’s property now and I slowed down so we could eyeball through the tree line in case Mike was trying to hide from traffic. Somehow I didn’t think he’d try and flag down any passing vehicles.
Mat pulled the sunglasses from his face and pressed his head against the side window.
“See something?”
He grunted and sat back again. “I guess not.” Then he shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense that Mike would just up and leave like this. What could possibly have caused him to run off?”
“Uh, dunno.” Except he might have heard me suggest he was a potential murderer.
We lapsed into silence, me dwelling on my guilt for being suspicious of Mike and worrying what might become of him and Polly.
“There!” Mat’s shout jerked me from my absorption. “Straight ahead; it looks like someone on the side of the road.”
Sure enough, as we drew closer, the vague shape morphed into a human being. A little closer still and we saw it was Mike, sitting cross-legged on the berm. I say cross-legged but that wasn’t strictly true as his prosthetic leg was bent at a crazy angle.
I pulled off the road and parked. Mike didn’t even look our way; his whole posture was of defeat. Mat reached for the door handle but I tugged on his arm. “Let me do this.” He must have seen the determination in my expression so gave a brief nod and let me go.
As I closed the van door I realized I was trembling, and it occurred to me the demon I was about to face was the fear of rejection by this young man who I’d rejected when he needed all the friends he could get. And where was Polly? Please, Lord, don’t let something have happened to her.
“Hello, hello!”
I laughed in relief. There she was tucked inside Mike’s shirt.
“Polly, you beautiful girl. I am so happy to see you.” I softened my voice. “And Mike, I’m even happier to see you.”