Murder Flies the Coop

by Jessica Ellicott

  “You stay here and we’ll see how well we can see each other from one spot to the next,” Beryl said as she strode towards the Blackburns’ allotment. Edwina held her hand to shield her eyes and looked up and down the whole space. Much of it was open to view, but here and there, sheds and trellises and water barrels stacked one upon the next, as well as the odd chicken coop, blocked the view. She watched as Beryl stopped at the Blackburns’ patch and let herself in through the small gate in the wire fencing. Beryl called out in her booming voice, “Can you see me?”

  “Clear as day,” Edwina said. “Can you see all of me?”

  “Yes, as long as you are standing right there,” Beryl said. “Move around a bit though to make certain I can see you from every spot.” Edwina did as she was asked and tried angle after angle. After several moments the pair determined the only place it would be impossible to see Mr. Scott from the vantage point of Norah’s allotment was if he had entered his own shed or stood directly behind it. Beryl returned to Gareth Scott’s allotment.

  “It isn’t as though I didn’t believe Norah, but it was best to check to be sure. It seems that she was entirely within reason to say she had seen him,” Beryl said. “If he was here, and she had looked up at all, she couldn’t have missed him.”

  “I agree. Now the next question is how easily do you think Mr. Scott could have seen Lionel Cunningham’s allotment?” Edwina asked.

  “We shall have to conduct same sort of test to find out,” Beryl said. “This time you hide and I’ll seek.” Edwina picked up her skirts and headed towards the unfortunate Mr. Cunningham’s allotment. It was farther from Gareth Scott’s than Norah’s had been but when she turned back around she could still see Beryl standing next to a trellis smothered in early peas. She waved and Beryl waved back.

  “Move about a bit and I’ll let you know if I can still see you,” Beryl shouted. They conducted the same experiment they had between the first two allotments, and after a few moments time Beryl joined her at Mr. Cunningham’s pigeon loft.

  “Mr. Scott could absolutely have known Mr. Cunningham was here. There are more places to hide or to just be obscured from view, but on a quiet morning with very few other people here, he would have been likely to notice the movement of another person,” Beryl said. “Especially one he disliked as much as he did Mr. Cunningham.”

  “While we’re here I think we should take the opportunity to take a look inside Mr. Scott’s own pigeon loft, don’t you?” Edwina said. “After all, he isn’t here and there’s no one else to see what we are up to either.”

  “Wonderful idea,” Beryl said. “I think it’s a testimony to my good influence that you would consider breaking and entering.”

  “I’m not sure a good influence is what you would call it. But if we wish to solve the case and collect our fee, needs must,” Edwina said. The two of them looked furtively around once more to be sure they were not observed then hurried to Mr. Scott’s pigeon loft.

  It was far more spacious than the one Mr. Cunningham had constructed. It was more like a toolshed than an elevated chicken coop. There were two steps leading up to a full-size door fastened with a sturdy latch. Edwina took the lead and Beryl seemed happy to let her. For all Beryl’s adventures with creatures in the wild, Edwina was sure she was the better acquainted with animal husbandry.

  Despite her experience with domesticated birds, she was surprised to find her heart hammering inside her chest as she pressed the door closed behind her. The warm air and gentle cooing of the birds gave her a sense of claustrophobia. The smell of straw mixed with dried corn feed and pigeon droppings made her feel slightly sick and dizzy. The sooner they could leave the loft, the happier she would be. Beryl also seemed eager to complete the job at hand as she methodically glanced around from pigeon nesting box to pigeon nesting box.

  “While we are here I suppose we ought to take a look for the jewelry,” Edwina said. “Perhaps Mr. Scott not only killed Mr. Cunningham but took the opportunity to rob him as well.”

  Beryl let out a sputtering sigh. “I can think of nothing I would rather do less than to grope about beneath all these birds. Still, I am sure you are right. We would be foolish not to check.” Beryl took one side of the loft and Edwina headed for the other. Slowly, and carefully, they reached under the straw in each of the boxes before looking in the corners of the loft and peeping under tools and crates. After a few moments it became clear that no jewelry was there to be found.

  Edwina realized that some little nugget of an idea was tickling away at the back of her head. She was an avid bird-watcher and had spent many happy hours observing the birds that flitted about her garden in the growing season as well as those that appeared at her feeders during the winter months. When she was a child her family had kept chickens and she had always been able to tell the members of the flock apart at a glance. She paused and looked more closely at the pigeons in the loft. One by one she looked them over carefully.

  “Beryl, have you noticed something odd about all of these pigeons?” Edwina said.

  “I can’t say as I have.” Beryl raised her shoulders in a shrug. “They just look like a bunch of pigeons to me.”

  “Take a close look around and see if you see similarities between them,” Edwina said. “For instance, see that grey one over there with the two stripes below its eye?”

  “What about it?” Beryl said.

  “Look over in the corner,” Edwina said. “Do you see another grey pigeon of approximately the same size with two black bands beneath its eye?” Beryl turned her head from one bird to the other then back again.

  “Yes, as a matter fact I do see that. What about it? Don’t all pigeons look grey and black or white and grey or some such thing?” Beryl asked.

  “They do have similarities, but if you look, you’ll see that there are pairs of birds that look almost identical even though there are all different sorts. There is a white one with grey speckles. And another white one with the same markings. From what I can see, the only pigeon in here that doesn’t have a twin is that silvery colored bird with no markings at all,” Edwina said.

  “What are you suggesting?” Beryl said. “Are you saying there is a reason for that?”

  “If Mr. Scott has been cheating in order to win so many races perhaps he’s substituting one bird for another,” Edwina said. “What if he has a second set of birds that he releases much closer to the loft with an identical band to the bird that is released at the official start of the race? And what if the reason that bird has no double is that Mr. Cunningham made off with its twin the day he disappeared?”

  Edwina was gratified to see Beryl’s eyes widen and her mouth drop open. It wasn’t often that she was the one doing the shocking instead of finding herself the one being shocked. Although the feeling was novel, it was entirely gratifying.

  “What a remarkable suggestion. But how can we be sure?” Beryl asked. Edwina walked softly towards a sleek white pigeon. She plucked it from its perch and tucked it under her arm. She grasped the pigeon by the leg and read the number on the band secured just above its clawed foot. She returned the bird to its perch and reached over a few feet for its twin. She glanced at the second bird’s leg band then gave Beryl a wide smile.

  “They have the exact same number on their identification bands. Didn’t Prudence tell you the birds all have identification numbers officially registered with the club in order to prove their times?” Edwina asked.

  “That is what she said when I asked her about her job as the keeper of the keys,” Beryl said.

  “Then I can’t imagine there is any reason for Mr. Scott to have birds with duplicate number bands other than to cheat,” Edwina said.

  “Edwina, you are a genius,” Beryl said, grasping her friend by both arms and shaking her slightly. “We must head to the vicar immediately and ask him if he thinks such a swindle would be possible.”

  Edwina looked about the loft and spied a rectangular, lidded basket used to transport pigeons to the races. S
he made short work of plucking two almost identical birds from their roosts, and stowing them carefully inside. “We’d best take evidence along with our suspicions. I shouldn’t think the vicar will be in a hurry to accept our theory without proof.”

  With a backwards glance at the rest of the fluttering birds, Edwina hoisted the basket in her arms and followed Beryl quickly out the door. She pulled the door behind her firmly to be sure none of the evidence could escape and rushed along the street towards the vicarage.

  Chapter 36

  The vicar looked as doleful as ever sitting behind his wooden desk strewn and heaped with books and papers and bits of string. Beryl could not imagine living the sort of life she imagined Vicar Lowethorpe did, surrounded by dust and close air and the burdensome needs of his congregants day after day after day. Just stepping into his small office made her feel an itch to take off for parts unknown. If he had not been a man of the cloth she might have invited him to join her. But even she had some lines she had drawn for herself and vicars were on the far side of them.

  “Are you here with news of the pigeon club’s missing birds?” the vicar asked, with a hopeful glance at the basket. “Or are you in need of spiritual counsel?” He indicated the seats opposite his desk and Beryl waited for Edwina to settle herself and the basket of birds into the nearest before seating herself in the remaining chair. Beryl had decided not only were vicars more in Edwina’s wheelhouse, but that as the person who had figured out the puzzle, Edwina should be the one to take the credit with the vicar for bringing the cheating scheme to light.

  “Although we have not recovered your birds we are here about Mr. Cunningham and some irregularities in the pigeon racing world,” Edwina said. “I hope you have some time to answer a few questions for us.”

  “You won’t be charging me, will you?” the vicar asked. “My good lady wife has my finances on quite a tight leash lately.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Too many losses with Chester White lately. Although I ought to let you know you can stop concerning yourselves with the missing funds. Chester returned the exact sum missing from the club. He said that he suspected it rightly belonged to the club.”

  “I thought you were eager not to let anyone know about the missing money,” Beryl said. “How did Chester know to give it back to you?” The vicar tugged at the collar of his shirt.

  “I might have made mention of our difficulties when I was in the pub placing a bet. A bit too much imbibing, I’m afraid. Still, the money is back in the club’s coffers so no harm done,” the vicar said.

  “We have no intention of charging you, Vicar,” Edwina said. “We are simply following up on behalf of another client.” The vicar looked relieved and then curious.

  “Another client. I see that your business is really taking off,” he said. “I’d be happy to assist you in any way that I can so long as it does not compromise any confidences shared with me by one of my congregants.”

  “We understand. Our line of enquiry has more to do with confidence you have bestowed upon one of your pigeon racing club members,” Beryl said.

  “Then please, go ahead with your questions,” Vicar Lowethorpe said.

  “We have strong reason to believe that Mr. Scott has been cheating at the races,” Edwina said.

  “That sort of rumor has been floating around for quite some time, but I do say, ladies, that I have put it down to envy rather than any real evidence,” the vicar said.

  “I rather think it amounts to a good deal more than envy,” Edwina said. “I believe that we have discovered how he’s been doing it and that we have the evidence to back our assumption.”

  “Really? Then I suppose you had best tell me what you think you figured out,” the vicar said.

  “How likely is it that he would have two birds of several sorts that look almost identical?” Edwina asked.

  “To the untrained eye pigeons can look very much alike,” the vicar said.

  “While I am not a pigeon fancier, you know that I am an avid bird-watcher,” Edwina said.

  “Well, yes, you do have that reputation,” the vicar said slowly. “What makes you think he has two birds that looked remarkably alike?”

  “Because we’ve just seen them with our own eyes,” Beryl said impatiently. She promised herself she would not take over the conversation but it was difficult to wait. She felt how close they were coming to the end of the investigation and it irked her to think they could not just get on with it. Edwina shot her a restraining glance and she took a deep breath.

  “We were just up at Mr. Scott’s pigeon loft having a look around. I happened to notice in the loft that he had several pairs of birds that each looked remarkably similar. The markings were the same, the sizes were approximately the same, and at a quick glance I don’t know that anyone would have noticed that they weren’t the same bird,” Edwina said.

  “Still, my dear lady, I cannot be a party to you bandying about such wild accusations without real proof.” The vicar clamped his thin lips together tightly.

  “We have the proof,” Beryl said. “Show him, Ed.” Edwina placed the basket on the vicar’s desk.

  “Go on and see for yourself,” she said. Vicar Lowethorpe loosened the latches holding the basket lid in place and lifted it just enough to peek inside.

  “These birds do look remarkably similar but it still proves nothing. It could be no more than a coincidence.”

  “Indulge us, Vicar, and inspect the leg band on each bird,” Edwina said. The vicar slipped his hand into the basket and withdrew first one bird and then the other, inspecting the bands carefully. His pale blue eyes widened and he slipped the second bird back into the basket.

  “I regret to say, I see what you mean. I assume you are suggesting Mr. Scott is in some way substituting one bird for another during a race?” the vicar asked.

  “That is just what we decided he must be doing,” Edwina said.

  “That would be dashed un-sporting of him.” The vicar appeared distressed. His cheeks grew even paler and his voice cracked as he spoke.

  “But it would explain how he kept winning much more easily than any amount of fruits or vegetables, wouldn’t it?” Beryl asked.

  “How do you propose that he’s been making the switch? And how do you think it’s helping him?” the vicar asked.

  “We think he’s releasing the second set of birds much closer to their own loft than where the start of the race would be. I think that he’s placing the bands from the second set of birds into the official clock in front of witnesses. Those witnesses then go on to some other place before the second bird returns,” Edwina said.

  “But that’s monstrous,” the vicar said. “He would be banned from pigeon racing for the rest of his life should he be convicted of such a thing.”

  “But it would be possible?” Beryl asked.

  “Yes, I suppose it would be, now that you come to mention it,” the vicar said. “I should never have thought of something like that myself.” Beryl thought that that said much more about the vicar’s lack of ingenuity rather than his level of morality, but she prudently kept that thought to herself. Edwina took another tactic.

  “One would never expect a man of God to behave in such a devious manner. It’s no wonder you did not think of it before. I shouldn’t have myself if I hadn’t seen the birds with my own eyes,” Edwina said.

  “I suppose he must be hiding the second set of birds anytime anyone visits his pigeon loft,” the vicar said.

  “That would make sense. Have you ever been inside his pigeon loft without an invitation?” Beryl asked.

  The vicar cast his gaze up towards the ceiling as if searching his memory banks. “I can’t think of a time that I have. Generally, we meet at the village hall or some location other than the vicarage, but not at the lofts themselves. Most racers prefer to spend their time with their own pigeons rather than someone else’s,” the vicar said.

  “So you would agree that it is a possible explanation for his duplicate birds a
nd for his unprecedented string of wins?” Edwina asked.

  “It pains me to say it but I would have to agree that it is not only possible, but given the evidence of the identical bands, it is the only plausible explanation. While it would be an extraordinary coincidence for him to have pairs of identical birds, there is no legitimate explanation for the duplicate bands,” the vicar said.

  “I’m afraid that I agree with you,” Edwina said.

  “It looks like you’re going to need a new vice president for your club,” Beryl said.

  “That makes two openings in less than a week,” the vicar said. “I only hope we can find people willing to take over those positions.”

  Beryl thought it likely that if they had opened their membership to the miners from Hambley, they would have had plenty of takers for any of the positions the club wished to fill. But she kept her thoughts to herself and was glad she did so when the vicar spoke again.

  “I suppose you came across this information in the course of your investigation into Mr. Cunningham’s death?” the vicar asked.

  “Yes, we did. While we are no longer investigating his disappearance we have been asked to look into something else connected with the case,” Edwina said. The vicar opened his mouth as if to speak then closed it again. He looked back and forth between Beryl and Edwina as though he were trying to make up his mind about something.

  “We are conducting ourselves and our investigation with the utmost discretion,” Edwina said. “If there’s something you think we should know you can trust us to be responsible with the information.”

  “I shouldn’t like to ruin anyone’s reputation,” the vicar said.

  “You know that I am never a malicious gossip,” Edwina said. She nodded encouragingly at the older gentleman and he seemed to reach a decision.

  “It’s just that I go out for a walk every morning, quite early. It’s the only time I really have to myself every day, you see,” the vicar said, glancing quickly at the door. Beryl thought he must have been thinking of the demands of his wife rather than the demands of his congregation.