Fine-Feathered Death

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Dare I ask your reason for teaching her that tune?”

  She gave a shrug that set her colorful robe swaying. “I was here the day Jeff Hubbard started his investigation of everyone who was around this office even occasionally. I had to turn things around on him to get him to stop. He’d gotten a call on his cell phone, so I knew what it sounded like. I downloaded it from the Internet onto my digital music player—I couldn’t find it as a ring tone. I took Elaine Aames’s set of office keys from her purse one day when I was here, had them duplicated, and put them back the next time I was around. And each time I came on my own, I played that damned tune over and over again till Gigi finally started repeating it. I just needed the cops to understand the implication, even from a macaw. They don’t reproduce sounds exactly, you know.”

  I nodded. “You got your wish,” I told her. “The primary detective on the case understood what it meant.”

  “Detective Noralles? Yes, I made sure he knew. He called me in as an expert to help with Gigi, you know.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” I flung at her.

  “Ah, but did you know you gave me the idea to teach Gigi that cell phone ring? That day you asked whether birds can repeat things they heard in moments of emotion—well, it started me thinking.”

  Damn! I’d have to tell Darryl … “And you recognized Jeff’s sports coat so you ensured he’d be implicated in Corrie’s murder, too, by decorating it with a dab of her blood.”

  Polly nodded. I noticed that one of her hands had disappeared into her oversized tote bag. A bad sign. Was she fumbling for a weapon?

  I had a trick or two of my own up my slightly less massive sleeve, but I still had to stay observant. “All this is interesting,” I said, “and somewhat as I surmised, but what made you decide to murder Ezra in the first place?”

  She stopped scrounging and stared down at me with sadness in her small eyes. “I’d done such a fine job for his friend Bella Quevedo—Mrs. Jetts now. Her beautiful Amazon parrot, Pinocchio, was such a dream to teach. When Bella, who was so nice, referred me to her friend Ezra Cossner, who’d just adopted a macaw, of course I had to try to help him out.”

  I wriggled back in my booth when Polly’s expression turned thunderous.

  “He was mistreating poor Gigi, encouraging her to do terrible things, like screech and bite,” Polly stormed. “I tried to be professional in the way I criticized him for causing her problems, and at the same time I tried to teach them both what was right. But Gigi is stubborn and smart.”

  I nodded. I’d experienced her obstinacy firsthand.

  “When she didn’t respond right away and behave better,” Polly continued, “Ezra yelled at me. Threatened to expose me as a fraud so I’d never be respected as a parrot expert again.” My neck was growing cramped, yet I still nodded. I’d heard a little of Ezra’s attempt at intimidation. “He said he’d do all he could to see I never was invited to speak again or work with parrots anywhere in the world, and that I’d never sell any more books. He was a lawyer. People listened to him. I was afraid he’d ruin me. And so … that awful night, when Gigi was so upset, he ordered me to come back here even though it was late. He yelled at me again, even as Gigi shrieked and bit at us, and, well … I somehow grabbed the gun from my purse and shot him.”

  “Oh, yes. The guns. I know the cops used them to assist forming their conclusions that Jeff was guilty. A P.I. would be aware of places supplying weapons with no questions asked. But a parrot person?”

  “I am highly aware of security issues,” Polly replied primly. “I visit people in their homes at all hours, alone with them except for their birds. In my many travels, I’ve gained access to weapons of self-defense from others who understand the need for discretion. I was sorry to have to leave them behind, but that was ever so much better than having them found on my person, with all the questions that would engender, even after I’d only used them as they were intended—in self-defense.”

  “How—” With the self-righteous way she regarded me, I bit back my angry inquiry about how she’d convinced herself of that insane conclusion. I even forbore from retching at that ridiculous interpretation of reality. Instead, I said softly, “You needed more than one gun to protect yourself?”

  “Why, yes,” she responded smugly. “I’m a great believer in belt and suspenders in duplicate, triplicate, and more. But now, sadly, there are two missing guns from my collection. I will need to replace them.”

  “You knew enough to eliminate your fingerprints,” I stated, still keeping my criticism to my outraged self.

  She nodded slowly, appearing exhausted now that she’d confessed her first crime. “I love those TV shows about investigating crime scenes. I figured that it was okay if my prints were around otherwise, since people knew I came here to help Ezra train Gigi.”

  “What about the ammunition?” I asked. “No prints were found on bullets or casings. If the killing wasn’t premeditated—”

  “I certainly wasn’t going to let anything so nasty come in contact with my skin,” she interrupted with a grimace. “I always use gloves when I load.”

  I recalled her use of her own cup when visiting here, and other acts of eccentric primness, like personal preparation of parrot treats, which proved she was probably telling the truth. “And Corrie? Why did you kill her?”

  Again Polly’s features contorted into a furious frown. “She knew Ezra had called me to come in that night. She suspected what had happened and came to my very own home to accuse me. She said she’d been planning to give up her career as a paralegal, and I was providing her with the perfect opportunity—or I would, when I paid her not to tell what she knew about me.”

  “Blackmail.” I nodded knowingly. I’d suspected something like that but had hoped Corrie wasn’t really that kind of person.

  Of course, a lot of people are opportunists, even accomplished paralegals.

  “I went along with her the first time, figuring that would be that. Only that wasn’t that. She wanted more. I still had my office key, so I sneaked back in that night when she expected me, only later. And I did what I had to, to shut her up.”

  “And shot at me!” I couldn’t help exploding.

  “Only when you looked out the window. I was wearing ugly and drab, dark clothes, so I doubted you would recognize me, but even so …”

  “And that’s also when you took advantage of Jeff’s jacket being abandoned here.”

  She nodded. And then she drew a scary-looking silenced handgun from her handbag.

  My heart started hammering so hugely that I was afraid it would get bruised beneath my rib cage. I swallowed, then said, “So how do you think you’ll be able to blame this one on Jeff?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said with a deep sigh. “And I’ve hated having to deal with all that blood. I know from the shows that there’s likely to be some residue in my car no matter how much I scrubbed it, though I was careful to dispose of my clothes from those nights by burning them. At least no one has suspected me. I think I may have to wreck my car, though, and buy a new one. And here goes yet another gun.”

  “What a shame,” I snarled.

  I shuddered in anticipation, yet even at that I felt surprised at the suddenness of her move. She drew the gun up and aimed it, even as I attempted to shoulder my way away from her and the bar booth.

  Pudgy Polly was fitter than she appeared, and her strength, partly born of desperation, was enormous. I threw one hand up in a gesture of defiance …

  And suddenly a loud siren screamed throughout the room.

  “No!” Polly wailed as, startled, she failed to stop me as I shoved her out of the way.

  I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a pistol of my own, as the siren continued—rather raspily, emanating from the mouth of the beautiful Blue and Gold Macaw. I ensured that the safety was off and aimed it at the cowering parrot shrink.

  “Gorgeous girl,” I gasped to Gigi, who had come through with the sound I’d instructed her on ov
er the last few nights.

  Only then did two male humans insinuate themselves into this latest crime scene—also with weapons at the ready.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” I shouted shakily to Detective Ned Noralles and his temporary partner of this night, Private Investigator Jeff Hubbard.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  I WAS WIRED, of course, and I’d worn a bulky protective vest beneath my big sweater.

  I’d had to practically tap dance to convince Detective Noralles to participate in what he called my latest “hare-brained scheme.” But he knew that, as a pet-sitter, I revered all species of domestic animals and therefore didn’t mind—much—being compared with a hare. I had, after all, tended bunnies near the beginning of my pet business.

  He’d at least listened to me as I’d laid out my suspicions, and much as he hated to admit it, he saw where they’d started from and couldn’t completely discount them.

  Ned had always acted fair to me—except when he’d considered me his main murder suspect—so even though, if I turned out to be right, he’d lose his big chance at avenging himself on Jeff for besting him way back when in L.A.P.D. history, Ned went along with me.

  Jeff, too. He was harder to convince, since he asserted how much he abhorred the idea of my putting myself in so much danger. But with the borrowed vest and firearm, I’d felt pretty much protected.

  Now, after Polly had been Mirandized and taken into custody by a couple of local L.A.P.D. detectives, including Candace Schwinglan, the three of us sat in the same booth where I’d been with Polly. Despite how late the night was now, Ned wore his typical suit. He didn’t appear particularly uncomfortable in it. In fact, I’d come to think of suits as part of this dynamic detective’s persona.

  Jeff, on the other hand, had shown up in snug jeans and a denim jacket in a different shade of blue. He looked damnably luscious in them. Too bad we weren’t talking to one another.

  “So you figured it was Ms. Bright how?” Ned demanded. I’d given him only pieces of the puzzle when I’d phoned and pleaded for his participation tonight.

  “It was last week, when I met with Bella Quevedo-Jetts. Bella liked Ezra, even though she admitted he took great enjoyment out of threatening people, particularly regarding their livelihoods. Of course, Bella said that those who knew Ezra well knew better than to take him seriously.”

  “But why Polly Bright?”

  “Weren’t you listening to this?” I gestured toward the gadget they’d stuck on me to record the conversation.

  He nodded.

  “Well, then, you know. Bella mentioned how much Polly prided herself on being considered an expert. Polly didn’t know Ezra well. And I don’t know how thickly Ezra laid on his threats, but even I heard him threaten Polly’s future. She’d been around this office enough to get to know the players here, including some of our occasional visitors, like Jeff. Jeff started to get nosy when his own nose was on the line as a possible suspect, so to get him off her case, Polly decided he was the perfect person for her to frame. She stole Elaine’s keys one night and had them copied. And who better than a parrot person to train a macaw to make an unusual sound?”

  “Damn,” Ned said. “We interviewed her, of course, but she appeared to lack motive and opportunity. And the means, guns—who’d have thought this crazy civilian would have a collection?” He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, and stared at me, then smiled. “Hey, counselor. And Ms. Pet-Sitter. Care to take on a third career as an L.A.P.D. detective?”

  I laughed, knowing full well he wasn’t serious. Was he? “I’m busy enough with two, but thanks, Ned.”

  “Thank you, Kendra.” He stood. “Only, since you refused my offer, how about staying away from murders from now on?”

  “Amen,” I answered fervently … while I wondered whether I meant it.

  When he was gone, I was left in that same booth with Jeff. He reached across and took my hands in his, and it felt too damned good. I let mine rest there for a few moments, then gently pulled them away.

  “Thanks aren’t adequate, Kendra, for all you did. But … thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I sensed wetness welling up in my eyesockets and scowled. “So now that I don’t have to feel sorry for you anymore, I think it’s time we made it official. Goodbye, Jeff. Have a good life—you and Amanda.”

  And with that, I stood and stalked off, figuring he could find his own way out.

  LEXIE WAS NATURALLY waiting for me in our apartment. She seemed sleepy but pleased to see me. Not frantic, so I figured Rachel had done a good job tending her this evening.

  “It’s over, girl,” I told her. If she’d spoken English, I knew she’d ask what was over, so I explained the whole murder scenario, with Jeff as suspect. “And now that I’ve cleared him, I figured I didn’t need all the confusion in my life. I’m still a mess about picking men,” I ended with a sigh.

  Lexie wasn’t in my life when I’d made the miserable mistake of sleeping with Bill Sergement at my old law firm. I’d hoped I’d made a better choice when I’d fallen—hard—for Jeff Hubbard, but now I knew the sad truth about that sexy fiasco, too.

  “Who needs a relationship anyway?” I asked Lexie when I was in bed and she’d nested at my feet. “I’ll settle for some good, nostrings sex again one of these days, and that’ll be enough.”

  Or it would be when I finally erased Jeff from my system.

  THE NEXT MORNING was Wednesday. I knocked on the door to my main house, and Rachel responded, ready to go pet-sitting at my side. I brought Lexie along, and after we’d visited and cared for all of my charges, I dropped Rachel back at home.

  “My dad’s here,” she said. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

  “Okay,” I said, only slightly reluctant. I liked Russ. Maybe I’d target him for that nostrings sex one of these days.

  The Yurick firm was abuzz with rumors about last night’s arrest of Polly Bright. It had hit the news, too, but fortunately my role in it hadn’t been found out by the media vultures. At least not yet.

  But Corrie’s body would soon be released for burial. Unlike with Ezra, we’d all be given the chance to say goodbye. Whether or not she’d become a blackmailer by opportunism, she hadn’t deserved to die.

  “You’re okay, Kendra?” Borden demanded.

  “I sure am. And I owe an awful lot to Gigi.”

  That beautiful macaw was back in Elaine’s office. I told her what a brave bird she had, and the older attorney smiled. “I think she’s settling down now, don’t you? I’ll try taking her for rides soon, and then I’ll see how she does at my home.”

  “As long as you bring her here often for visits. She’s part of the firm family now.” I approached Gigi and grinned. “Gorgeous girl,” I said.

  Which was when Gigi started shrieking her new noise: the siren that I’d taught her by repeatedly playing the sound of a toy police car to her at night.

  Elaine covered her ears. “Thanks a lot, Kendra,” she said with a laugh.

  “Any time,” I replied and escaped from her echoing office.

  In my own, I found a message from Brian O’Barlen. “You did it!” he exclaimed.

  “Well, it wasn’t just me, but the police—”

  “What do the police have to do with it?”

  That got me realizing that our ramblings were on different topics. He wasn’t calling to congratulate me on my part in Polly’s arrest.

  “Let’s start over,” I suggested. “What did you call about?”

  It turned out that the T.O.-VORPO discussions I’d suggested had come to pass and had turned out better than either side had envisioned. They’d come to an agreement about how dense the density would be, how beautiful and abundant the buildings would be, nearly everything. And all pieces of property would be part of the development.

  “So no more legal fees on this one,” he said with a self-satisfied chortle.

  “Well, a lot fewer,” I agreed. “You still need to have the se
ttlement agreement written to memorialize your accord. That way both sides can review it in black and white to ensure they’ve got a true meeting of the minds.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said snappishly. “Go ahead and deal with the details.”

  “Sure will,” I said. I called Michael Kleer. “Have you heard?”

  “On the news?” he said. “Oh, yeah. You’re one brave lady, Kendra.”

  He sounded admiring, but I didn’t want to take time to preen. “No, I mean about the T.O.-VORPO accord.”

  “No. Really? They’ve reached a settlement?”

  “Sounds that way. Go ahead and check with your client. Oh, and is it okay with you if I call Millie Franzel? I won’t push her, of course, but I’m eager to find out if she’s been included and voluntarily agreed to sell her site.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, and I did.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful, Kendra,” Millie said when I had her on the phone. “I’ll be provided a temporary, rent-subsidized shop across the street in one of the empty stores. Then, when the project is built out, I’ll lease another, prettier store at a low rent for years. Plus, I’ll live in one of the penthouse apartments—also at a low rent. I’m so pleased. Thank you. Come to my shop, and I’ll give you a special treat for Lexie.”

  I beamed as I hung up. There was even a pet-happy ending in my non-pet law litigation matter. And I’d helped to end Polly Bright’s reign of macaw-involved mayhem. I rocked!

  MY DINNER THAT night with Russ and Rachel went well. Rachel’s dad had bought her a new, used car that day, so my pet-sitter protégée now had wheels.

  “I’ve got an audition for a small role in a play tomorrow, Kendra,” Rachel said with an overjoyed glow in her big brown eyes. “But whether or not I get the role, can I do some pet-sitting for you on my own? I mean, now that I’ll be able to drive, I can do all the work for some of your customers. And you’ll be able to take on more, if you’d like.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I replied with a smile. I swiveled my head so that smile landed smack on her dad. “Thanks, Dad,” I told him.