I knelt and lowered my forehead to Watson’s as I ruffled his flanks. “Want to go for a walk in the snow, buddy?”
I spent the rest of the day helping Katie in the bakery. By the time noon arrived, Sammy had on an apron and was officially employed by the Cozy Corgi bakery. And by closing, I’d managed to sell a whopping three books.
Leaving Katie to explain the ropes and her vision for the bakery to Sammy now that they weren’t bombarded by customers, I loaded Watson into my burnt-orange Mini Cooper and drove to my little cabin in the woods. As we passed the new McMansion development, I wondered which house belonged to Silas. Even considered attempting to find out so I could see if he wanted to go along. He seemed calm and capable, and since he was an avid bird-watcher, was obviously observant. I knew it wasn’t smart to go hiking in the woods alone, even if I had a dog. The other option was Leo, but there’d been enough romantic conflict for one day.
Within half an hour, I was bundled up in winter gear, having traded my broomstick skirt for snow pants. I attempted to put a scarf on Watson, but he wasn’t having it.
I was relieved it wasn’t Leo at the ranger station as we drove through and entered the national park. Within another twenty minutes, we arrived at the small parking lot at the beginning of the hikes that started with Bear Lake. Though it was a little after six, the sun was already gone and the sky nearly nighttime black, but it was brighter than the night before. Not a cloud to be seen, the moon full and glowing.
I checked to make sure I had a water bottle, my cell, and a flashlight. Then Watson and I took off.
Though not overly playful, every once in a while, Watson enjoyed being in the snow. I hadn’t figured out the difference—half the time he acted like the white stuff was the biggest annoyance in the world, and the other half, like on this occasion, as if he was a five-year-old kid eating at Chuck E. Cheese’s for the first time. Not even minding being on a leash, Watson buried his nose in the thicker piles of snow by the trail and bulldozed through as we walked, reminding me of the old Disney cartoons of chipmunks burrowing under the ground and leaving a trail behind them.
I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to find the location where Henry was killed, but that part turned out to be easy. Maybe I should’ve expected it. There hadn’t been fresh snowfall that day, and while many trails and footpaths crisscrossed all around Bear Lake, it was clear where the most traveled path was. It had been walked over so much in the hours since the murder that most of the snow was gone, revealing the dirt and rock beneath.
No police tape marked the scene. I had been prepared to walk right past it, mentally sticking my tongue out at Branson as I did so, but it seemed the police had gathered everything they needed. Surely they’d searched the entire area. So not only was I being childish, I was also being ridiculous, thinking I’d find anything they hadn’t.
The spot where Henry’s body had lain was mostly clear, with patches of snow here and there, and a small amount of bloodstain still visible.
For a second, I considered releasing Watson from his leash and giving him free rein to use his powerful dog nose to find things I couldn’t see. But Leo had warned me when I first met him that it wasn’t uncommon for mountain lions and coyotes to snatch family pets right out of the yard, even with people nearby. I might want to prove that Branson couldn’t tell me what to do, but not at the cost of risking Watson.
We traipsed over the area for probably half an hour, Watson clearly most interested in the site of the killing. All the smells. But neither of us uncovered anything other than displaced rocks and broken twigs in the underbrush.
By the time a quarter after seven rolled around, I was freezing. It seemed colder than the night before, but maybe that was simply because I wasn’t distracted. I was about to give up, when I remembered Leo’s directions to Katie and me from the night before. I leaned against a large barren aspen and closed my eyes, letting the stillness of the evening blanket me. Like before, for a few minutes I heard nothing, and then it changed, slowly. Again, the wind was the first thing I noticed, with the rustle of branches overhead. Then Watson’s breathing and his quiet footfalls as he padded around me. After a few more heartbeats, I heard scampering through the twigs and scraggly plants near our feet.
Then a quiet chirp.
I opened my eyes. At first I didn’t see him, but then he moved. A mountain jay, its shiny black head glistening in the moonlight as it pecked at the ground where Henry had been killed. I didn’t let myself think about what he might be pecking at.
Maybe he sensed my attention, because he looked over in my direction and tilted his head. He then hopped a few feet farther away. Though jays were almost as common as pigeons in the city, I paused at his beauty, the rich blue of his feathers visible even in the dim light. He hopped several more yards, still inspecting Watson and me every couple of leaps, and then came to rest a short distance from where Henry had been killed. He began to peck the ground below another tree. He pecked again, and something glinted in the moonlight at his feet. Another chirp, another peck, and then Watson rushed toward him, moving so fast his leash slid off my wrist and dragged after him through the snow.
“Watson!”
He didn’t listen, and the bird flew away before Watson was even halfway to it.
Watson stopped where the bird had been pecking, and I finished my rush to him and snatched up his leash. “What in the world are you doing? Trying to get eaten? Since when do you chase birds? Or play, for that matter?”
Watson gave me an unapologetic glance and then sat down in the snow with a huff.
A chirp from above made me glance up, and I found the jay looking down at us from a branch overhead. He was clearly mocking, though whether his judgment was aimed at me or Watson wasn’t so obvious.
Remembering the flash I’d noticed as the jay had been pecking away at something, I searched the ground. I found several rocks, limitless pinecones, and just as many broken twigs and branches. Then, half-buried in snow, it caught the moonlight.
Slipping off my glove, I reached down and picked up the cold metal, then wiped the snow off against my jacket before lifting it to the light.
A silver pin. Similar to the one Katie now owned. It was a strangely-shaped bird with glistening greenish brown stones acting as feathers. I had no idea what type of bird it was, not that it mattered. I didn’t need to know the bird. I already knew whose it was, which was much more important. Though I didn’t think I’d seen this exact pin on her, it matched the style of ones Myrtle wore.
Watson whimpered in anticipation as I knocked on the apartment door. He sniffed all around the base and looked up at me in excitement. That made one of us. I was torn between feeling nervous and wondering if I was being stupid.
Leo opened the door and cut off my concerns. Actually, Watson’s frantic barking was probably what cut off my thoughts. Leo attempted to say hello to me, but wisely lavished his attention where needed most by dropping to both knees and giving Watson the belly rub of his life.
“You’re going to find corgi hair in the most random places in your apartment for weeks now.” I stepped past the two of them into the warmth. “Welcome to my life.”
Leo grinned up at me, looking nearly as happy as Watson. “Small price to pay for getting love lavished like this.”
That was true. I wasn’t one of those who thought because a dog liked someone it meant they were a good person, or that dogs innately knew if people were evil. I’d be willing to bet Watson would forgive an intruder two minutes after murdering me if they had a big enough dog treat. But on the whole, I figured it was a good sign when my little grump was accepting of someone.
To my surprise, when Leo stood, shut the door, and led us into his apartment, Watson reclaimed his spot by my side, managing to pad along without tripping me. Though he kept his adoring gaze on Leo.
“Welcome to my home. It’s not much, but better than some.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “Would you like a drink? I’m not a big alcohol kinda guy, b
ut I have water…. And maybe some pink-lemonade mix.”
“Pink-lemonade mix?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think I’ve gotten an offer for that since I was ten.”
He shrugged. “It’s pretty good. Nothing but sugar, but it brings back good memories.”
Talk about a different experience from the three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine Branson had ordered for our first meal together. Chances were high my class level put me at more of a pink lemonade kind of gal. “I’m okay, thanks, but if you don’t mind a bowl of water for Watson?”
“Of course. Be right back.”
As Leo headed to the kitchen, I took the time to inspect his apartment. I wasn’t sure if it was because Leo was younger or just a stereotypical man. The space was clean… spotless, but there wasn’t much to it. The furniture seemed more for complete convenience than any aesthetic design. There were some pictures scattered here and there of people I assumed were family, but little else to make the place feel homey.
Leo was back in less than a minute, set a bowl at Watson’s feet, and then motioned toward the couch. “Want to fill me in? You sounded a little flustered.”
I sat on the edge of the couch closest to Watson, and Leo took the other side, leaving an empty cushion between us. I decided not to clarify the “flustered” comment. Better let him think my discovery on the moonlight hike had affected me. In truth, I’d been torn about calling Branson to show him the pin, but figured it would end in another argument. Leo seemed a more natural option, though for some odd reason, part of me felt guilty for dragging him into it.
I opted to cut to the chase and pulled the pin out of my pocket. “Watson and I did a little snooping around where Henry was killed last night. We found this.”
Leo lifted the pin from my hand, his honey-brown eyes going wide. “Myrtle’s.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. I don’t know if I’ve seen her wear this exact one, but it’s definitely her style.”
“You know, I can’t say that I have either. But she has a ton of them.” He inspected it again. “It’s a kakapo. Native to New Zealand and critically endangered.”
“Well, that definitely sounds like a bird Myrtle would care about.”
Leo gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t think there’s a bird in existence that Myrtle doesn’t care about.” He chuckled softly. “She’s nearly as concerned about those already extinct as she is the ones we have now.” He twisted the jewelry, a sad expression crossing his face. “You found this where Henry was killed?”
I nodded. “A few yards away, but basically, yes.” For some reason, the next thought hadn’t entered my mind until that very moment. I wasn’t sure how I missed it before. “A mountain jay found it for us. Seems fitting for Myrtle, doesn’t it?”
He chuckled again. “That it does. Although if you are thinking what I think you’re thinking, it would be kind of sad that a bird, of all things, would be Myrtle’s undoing.”
I wasn’t sure what I was thinking anymore. So many possibilities had flitted through my mind on the drive over that I couldn’t land on one in particular that seemed to make sense. “You know, when I picked it up, that’s where I went instantly. That Myrtle must’ve been the killer, or at least been there when Henry was murdered. But the pin wasn’t the murder weapon, and it wasn’t right where he lay either. By the time the police got there, the entire Feathered Friends Brigade had all stomped around that area. It could have easily fallen off her coat.”
That realization had bothered me the night before as well, once I got home. I was a policeman’s daughter. The least I could’ve done was a better job at securing the scene. Of course, I also realized on my way over to Leo that I’d messed up again. I’d picked up the pin with my bare fingers and removed it from the scene. Though, in my defense, it had already been cleared and was no longer a crime scene. Either way, my prints were all over it, as were Leo’s now.
“I take it you’re investigating Henry’s murder?”
I paused for a second, trying to determine if I’d heard judgment in Leo’s tone. I didn’t think so. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t have a reason to. No one I know very well or care about is under suspicion. I’m probably being stupid.” I couldn’t bring myself to admit to Leo that at least some part of it was simply due to Branson telling me that I couldn’t. Though, that honestly wasn’t the largest part.
An expression crossed Leo’s face that I couldn’t name. Not nervous, but… something…. Finally he licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I know you and Branson are close. So please don’t take this as a slight against him, but I haven’t had the best experience with the police department in this town.” He winced. “Maybe that’s not fair to single him out. I’ve had a few interactions with him, to be sure, that haven’t gone well, but the same is true for many of the other officers. It’s not just Branson. Every concern I’ve had about poaching was dismissed. You finding the owl was the first breakthrough we’ve had. And I know the members of the bird club have had similar experiences.”
“Well, yes, but you can’t blame Branson for that. I’ve attended two functions with them—including the blowup at the opening night of the bookshop, three—and every single one involved accusations against its own members. Granted, those were all from Henry, but it’s hard to take it seriously.”
It was easy to see the walls beginning to form behind Leo’s eyes.
I rushed ahead to try to stop the damage I’d accidentally done, and in so doing reached out and touched his thigh briefly without meaning to. “I didn’t say that to defend Branson. We had a disagreement about all of this. And I’ve seen enough to know that even if the Feathered Friends Brigade brought the entire case solved on a platter that there’s so much bad history between the bird club and the police department, they probably wouldn’t even give it a second thought.” A twinge of guilt bit at me for betraying Branson, which was ridiculous. I wasn’t betraying him, nor did I owe him anything.
The walls crumbled just that easily. “Yeah. Exactly.” Leo laughed again, the ease truly back. “Don’t get me wrong, I can’t entirely blame Branson or the police. There’s a limited number of times you can experience the cry-wolf effect before you quit listening. Even me—Henry was trying to tell me his thoughts on the poaching that very night. I didn’t listen. Not that it means he was right this time. But when you accuse everyone under the sun, at some point, maybe you finally land on the right person.”
I sat up a little straighter. I’d not thought of it like that. “So you’re thinking maybe he truly did know the poacher this time, and that person killed him.”
“Maybe. Though I can’t see the poacher in that group. Most of them genuinely have a strong passion about birds. There’s a couple, like Paulie, who I think are just there for the social aspect, but that’s rare.”
Excitement buzzed through me, and if there’d been any question whether I was going to continue, that faded away. “Who was the last person Henry accused? Owen, right?”
He scrunched up his nose as he thought. “Yes, I believe so. Two days before had been Roxanne, and last week he was accusing Myrtle again.” He held up the kakapo pin once more, as if seeing Myrtle’s face on it. “The two of them had a strained relationship. Or at least Henry had a strange relationship with her. One minute she was nearly like a savior to him who deserved worship, and the next she was a traitor who was using the club for her own gain in power.”
“What do you think?”
He came back to the moment and grinned at me, his fondness clear. “Interviewing witnesses, Detective Page?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to treat you like that.”
Leo laughed and shook his head. “I’m teasing. Well, kinda. It’s a good look on you.” At that moment, Watson leapt from the floor onto the cushion between us.
“Watson! Get down. You’re not at home.”
Though he glowered at me, he started to oblige, but Leo placed his hand on Watson’s head.
“As
long as he’s not breaking rules from your house, it’s fine with me. I kinda love the little guy. Although, how could I not? I rarely get such rock-star treatment. Basically it’s just Watson and my mom.”
My heart warmed suddenly, though I couldn’t quite say why. I focused on Watson instead. “Fine. Enjoy the couch. Try not to completely cover the cushions in your fur.”
In way of response, Watson rolled over on his back, accepted belly scratches from both of us, and made a Watson-size cloud of hair billow around the three of us.
Leo grinned over at me. “He’s not exactly subtle, is he?”
“You have no idea.” I offered a grimace. “Maybe he gets that from me. So, I believe you were getting ready to tell me your thoughts about Myrtle?”
He laughed again, and I realized I was getting used to that sound. “She’s a trip, to be sure. And I wouldn’t completely disagree with Henry. She likes her power and being in control, but I honestly don’t think it’s about her. She’s obsessed with birds, but not owning them or collecting them like so many. She wants to save them.” He started rubbing Watson’s paws. I was pretty sure the earth had stopped moving—Watson didn’t let anyone do that. “But if I’m being honest, I have to fully admit I have a blind spot where Myrtle’s concerned. It’s rare for people to feel as passionate about animals as I do, or in Myrtle’s case, even more so. At times it can feel like there’s a handful of you trying to make a difference. And she is. She’s trying to make a difference. So I can’t see her in a bad light. The only reason I could ever picture her killing somebody was if she found out they were poaching her birds.”
I sucked in a breath, and Leo looked over at me. “Maybe that’s it exactly. Maybe Henry was the one poaching and he spent all his time accusing everyone else. What’s that saying? The lady doth protest too much? He wouldn’t be the first one to try such a thing.”
Bickering Birds Page 6