“You’re probably wondering why I’m so adamant you date Levi when I know you still have a thing for Skeeter. Especially since I’m seein’ Jed now,” Neely Kate said. “You must think I’m a hypocrite.”
I didn’t say anything.
She glanced away. “You and I are different.” When she turned back, there was a new fire burning in her eyes. “You have a moral code that Skeeter Malcolm can never live up to.”
I gasped. “Are you insultin’ me?”
She laughed. “Only you would think bein’ called moral would be an insult.” Her merriment faded. “I’m sayin’ he is firmly entrenched in a world you can never condone. Do you really want to subject yourself to that?”
She wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already told myself. “This isn’t about me. This is about you and Jed. Have you figured out how to tell Joe? How do you think he’s gonna handle you datin’ Skeeter Malcolm’s right-hand man, even if he is retired?”
“I’ll deal with Joe when the time comes. For now, Jed doesn’t want anyone to know . . . not that he’s ashamed of me,” she hastily added. “He’s worried I’ll be a target. Especially with Scooter missin’.”
“He asked you to keep it from me?”
She made a face. “No. That was me. I’m really happy, and I was worried you wouldn’t approve.” Tears filled her eyes. “But it was hard bein’ happy when I couldn’t share it with my best friend.”
“I know.” I grinned. “And I suspected something, so you’re not as good at keeping secrets as you might think. Just don’t try to hide it from the world forever.”
“We won’t,” she said. “Who knows, he might get tired of me.”
“Not likely.” She blushed. “Just be careful with your heart, Neely Kate,” I said softly. “You’ve been hurt so many times. I know Jed would never purposely hurt you, but with his world . . .”
“I know,” she said. “I’m willing to take my chances.”
I wasn’t, because at the end of the day, Neely Kate was right. I might be attracted to James Malcolm, but we could never be together. Not really. He’d been right to put a stop to our kiss before it got out of hand.
Maybe looking for a lost parrot was exactly what I needed. That and time.
“Is this how you investigate a case?” Kermit shouted from his front porch. “Who the heck taught you?”
Neely Kate shot him a glare, then turned to me. “Let’s go find a parrot.”
Chapter 6
We got in the truck and drove to Chuck and Cluck to get a snack and discuss what was on the paper.
“Squawker is a twenty-year-old blue-fronted Amazon parrot and lives with Boomer T. Whipple,” Neely Kate read.
“Twenty?” I asked in surprise. “I wonder how long they live.”
“A long time, I think,” she said, looking at the paper again. “This says he was last seen Saturday morning at the park.”
I nodded. “Squawker loves the park. He also loves carrots and Wheel of Fortune.”
Neely Kate did a double take. “Wait. How do you know that?”
“I saw a flyer at Levi’s office this morning.” I pulled in behind two cars in the drive-thru of the Chuck and Cluck. “It said there was a five-hundred-dollar reward. Does that sheet say anything about how much Kermit’s getting paid?”
She looked it over. “No.”
“You know, if you really want to investigate this case, we could just do it on our own and collect the reward money. Shoot, I saw the flyer in Levi’s waiting room this morning, and I was gonna ask if you wanted to investigate.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We could probably find the parrot in time to collect the award money before the carnival tonight.” I lifted an eyebrow. “If you were going to the carnival instead of havin’ your secret rendezvous with a certain someone . . .”
She ignored my comment. “This doesn’t say much. Mr. Whipple put up flyers and got a few calls, but his bird is still missing. That’s why he hired a private detective to look for him. And sure, we could get the reward out from under Kermit, but what we really need is for a P.I. to sign off on the hours for us.”
“And you think that man is gonna help us?” I asked in disbelief. “I’m pretty doggone sure we have to know things for that test, things he’s supposed to teach us. What if we spend two years doing free work for him, only to find out it was a gigantic waste of time?”
“We’ll handle this one case and see how it goes.”
I had a feeling the next time wouldn’t be any different, despite what Kermit had said about teaching us. Besides, I wasn’t so sure there’d be a next time. He hardly seemed like he had a booming business.
I shrugged my shoulders in concession. “Let’s focus on this case. How about you call Mr. Whipple and see if we can meet with him this afternoon?”
I checked my phone while she placed the call. Violet had sent a selfie of herself, Mike, and the kids all snuggled on the sofa watching a movie with a one-word text.
Home.
She looked content. She looked happy. So why did I still feel like something wasn’t right? I almost texted her back asking her to call me, but I wasn’t going to steal this from her. My concerns could wait.
Levi had sent me a message reminding me to send him the details, so I texted him to pick me up at six from the office. That would give Neely Kate and me a couple of hours to start working our case.
Working our case. Neely Kate was rubbing off on me.
A half hour later, I parked my truck in front of Boomer T. Whipple’s white bungalow-style house. It was in my old neighborhood, it turned out—three blocks from my childhood home, but I’d never met Boomer Whipple, let alone heard anything about him. The yard was pretty sparse, and the maple trees and yews in front of the windows needed trimming in the worst way. I shook my head. Since I’d started my new profession in earnest, I couldn’t help noticing people’s landscaping.
“I think I should warn you,” Neely Kate said as we walked up to the front door. “Mr. Whipple thought I was Kermit’s secretary when I called.”
“Okay . . .”
She stood on his front porch, rang the doorbell, then glanced back at me. “He’s not too happy we’re girls.”
“What?”
The front door opened, revealing an elderly man on the threshold. He curled his upper lip in disgust the moment he saw us. “You two are gonna find my bird?” His gaze lingered on me. “Or are you planning on takin’ him on a date?”
In hindsight, I realized I probably should have changed, but he was being rude, so I gave him a hard stare. “We’ve nailed bank robbers, kidnappers, and murderers, Mr. Whipple. Finding a bird shouldn’t be that hard, but if you find us lacking, then maybe you should get someone else. Come on, Neely Kate. He’s wastin’ our time.”
She gave me a look of disbelief . . . but then the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “You’re right. I knew we should have taken that smuggling case instead.”
We’d only made it a few steps from the house when Mr. Whipple called out, “Wait. Where are you goin’?”
I stopped and pivoted to face him. “To find a real case.”
“Squawker is a real case!”
“And we’re real detectives, so we expect you to treat us like we are. If you can’t do that, there are plenty of clients who can.”
His frown expressed his dissatisfaction at being put in this position, but he waved us toward his house. “Come on.” It was the last thing he said before stepping inside and letting the storm door slam behind him.
Neely Kate shot me a mischievous grin.
I grinned back. “I can be devious when I want to be.”
“I’ll say.”
We followed Mr. Whipple into the house and found him standing next to a large bird cage in his living room. He looked so sad I almost felt bad about what I’d just done.
“Is that Squawker’s cage?” Neely Kate asked in a gentle voice.
He nodded, then glanced over his shoul
der at us. “Is it true? Did you really do those things?”
I took a step closer. “It’s all true and then some. I promise you that we’ll do our best to find your parrot.”
He nodded again and walked over to an armchair. Neely Kate and I moved to the sofa, and she pulled her pink sparkly notebook and pen out of her purse.
Mr. Whipple’s eyes grew round, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’m Neely Kate Rivers, and this is Rose Gardner. We’re working with Kermit Cooper.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
I noticed that Neely Kate had given her maiden name but kept the observation to myself.
“Now, Mr. Whipple,” Neely Kate said, glancing down at the list of questions we’d come up with. “The information we have says the last time Squawker was seen was last Saturday at the park. Was that by you or other people?”
“My neighbor said he saw him. He knew Squawker was missing. But I’m not sure I trust him.”
“Why not?”
“He and I don’t get along.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” she asked.
“Last Thursday night.”
“Did he escape?” I asked.
“No. Someone broke in and stole him.”
I glanced at Neely Kate in surprise, then leaned forward. “Did you call the police?”
“Of course I called the police!” He flopped back in his chair. “But the responding officer didn’t seem all that concerned. He was more interested in their attempt to steal the TV.”
“Do you remember who the police officer was?” I asked. The city of Henryetta had hired the worst group of police officers in the state, but there were varying degrees of ineptitude and belligerence.
“Not his name. He was a tall, skinny guy with a chip on his shoulder.”
“Officer Ernie,” Neely Kate said.
Mr. Whipple looked up in surprise. “Maybe.”
He was the worst one of all. If he’d investigated the robbery, I had no doubt he’d missed things. “Do you know what time the robber broke in?” I asked.
“It wasn’t all that late. Maybe ten? I go to bed early, so I was asleep. Whoever did it came in through the back door.”
“You heard the break-in?” I asked.
“I heard Squawker havin’ a fit. I jumped up and ran into the livin’ room, and the front door was wide open with my TV layin’ in the grass.”
“So the only thing they took was Squawker?”
His lips pinched into a tight line. “The officer said they didn’t take him either. That he escaped out the open front door.”
“But you still think he was stolen?”
“I believed him at first. But Squawker didn’t come back.”
“So he’s gotten loose before?” Neely Kate asked.
“Yeah, and he always came home.”
I shifted on the sagging sofa. “You said a neighbor claims to have seen him in the park?”
“Uh-huh. At first I wasn’t surprised. I take him for walks in the park. He likes to fly into trees so he can watch the kids play. He’s a people watcher. That’s part of the reason he likes to go to the park.
“There was no sign of him when I went to look, so I made the flyers.” He licked his bottom lip. “If he’s loose, he’s bound to be scared and hungry. I just want to bring him home.”
I waited while Neely Kate made more notes. A moment later, she asked our next question. “Do know who might have taken Squawker?”
“No.”
“You took him out in public,” I said. “People saw him. A parrot is an unusual pet. Maybe someone liked him and decided they wanted him as their pet.”
“Huh,” he said as though considering it.
“Did anyone ever express an interest in him on your walks? Make comments that he was cute and they wanted a parrot like him?”
Mr. Whipple shook his head. “I don’t remember anything like that happening.”
“When was the last time you took him out?” I asked.
“It’s been a couple of weeks since we went to the park, but I let him hang out in the backyard all day on Wednesday. He likes it out there.”
“And he doesn’t fly away?” Neely Kate asked.
“No. I built him a big cage. I’ll show you.” He got up from his chair and hobbled through his small kitchen to a back door.
As soon as I walked onto his patio, my mouth dropped open.
“Holy moly,” Neely Kate said as she tilted her head to look up. The cage—about twenty feet wide and deep and over ten feet tall—filled up most of the small backyard. There were multiple perches and swings and even a couple of small trees.
“Squawker is happier out here than inside. I had a couple of appointments on Wednesday, so I left him outside.”
“Wasn’t it too hot for him?” I asked, trying to remember what the weather had been like last Wednesday.
“He’s a blue-fronted Amazon parrot. His ancestors were born in the heat. And besides, I have a mister I turn on for him.” To prove his point, he turned a knob next to the cage, and a fine mist started spraying from a plastic tube and hitting me and Neely Kate in the face. If Mr. Whipple noticed, he didn’t let on.
“You thought of everything,” Neely Kate said, patting the moisture off her cheeks with a tissue she dug out of her purse.
“Not everything,” Mr. Whipple said with a sad look. “I didn’t get him a chip. Otherwise, I could track him.”
“Um . . . I don’t think they work like that,” I said to ease his guilt.
He glared at me. “So what good are they?”
I started to answer, then thought better of it. Instead, I pointed to a lawn chair in the cage. “Is that for you?”
“We hang out together,” he said defensively.
I held up my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything offensive. It just proves you two are close.”
His glare fell. “We are.”
“So you let him out Wednesday, came home, and then what?” Neely Kate asked.
“He seemed anxious.”
“Birds get anxious?”
“Squawker does. Just like people do.”
“Do you know what made him anxious?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure, but he kept saying, ‘Shut up, you stupid asshole, and clean up the blood.’”
My eyebrow shot up in alarm. “Does he usually talk like that?”
“No. But I let him watch a show he shouldn’t have watched—one of them Law and Orders—and I’m pretty sure that’s what upset him.”
“So he mimics what he hears?” I asked.
“Yeah. He doesn’t say anything original. You can’t ask him what he ate for lunch, ’cause he’d have to reason that out. He just repeats what he hears someone else sayin’. He’s said worse than that from watchin’ TV.”
“But you didn’t hear anything like that from him in the morning?” Neely Kate asked.
“No, not until I came back.”
Neely Kate wrote something in her notebook, then asked, “Is there a Mrs. Whipple?”
“Not anymore,” he said, looking longingly into the cage. “She died ten years ago.”
“Any girlfriends?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No one can compare to my Angela. So I got Squawker.”
“Where did you get him?” I asked. “There aren’t any pet stores in Henryetta. Did you buy him from someone?”
He shook his head. “I got him from a breeder in Little Rock.”
“Can you give us the name?” I asked.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I’m not replacin’ Squawker just like that! He’s like my baby!”
I’d already figured that out. “That’s not why I want it, Mr. Whipple. If you’re certain someone stole Squawker, then we need to figure out why they took him. I want to call the breeder to ask if he’s heard of any other birds being taken. It’s a stretch, but we’re coverin’ all the bases.”
“Oh.” He looked down at a ball in the bird cage. “That’s a
good idea. Sorry, I—I just miss him.” His voice broke, and Neely Kate walked over and gave him a hug.
“We’ll do our very best to find him, Mr. Whipple. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
He clung to her for several seconds, then cupped her cheek as a tear fell down his face. “God bless you.”
She pulled a business card out of her pocket and placed it in his. “This has our numbers. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
We let ourselves out and stood in his front yard.
“What do you think really happened to Mr. Whipple’s parrot?” I asked.
“I think Mr. Whipple’s right. I think he was stolen.”
“Me too. We just need to figure out why.”
Chapter 7
I checked the time on my phone. “We still have an hour and a half before I meet Levi. Want to talk to some neighbors to see if they saw or heard anything?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
We started with the house to his right and knocked on the door. A frazzled woman about my age answered the door. “I’m not buyin’ whatever you’re sellin’.”
“Oh,” Neely Kate said. “We’re not sellin’ anything.”
“Well, I ain’t goin’ to church either. I done already accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior eighteen years ago, then nine years ago, and then five. I don’t know how many times y’all think it takes to make it stick.”
“Uh . . .” I said. “We’re not here about goin’ to church either.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, Lord. This is about that contest I entered, ain’t it? You’re here to award my prize.” She reached a hand up to her head. “Floyd! Get down here! I won!”
“Actually, Ms. . . . ?” I said.
“Smith. But you can call me Anita.” She giggled. “But then you already know that.” She leaned her head out the door and looked around. “I don’t see the camera. Just hold tight.” Then she slammed the door shut in our faces.
“Crappy doodles. What does she think she’s won?” I asked, feeling guilty that we hadn’t told her the truth.
For the Birds: Rose Gardner Investigations #2 (Rose Gardner Investigatons) Page 6