Bickering Birds

by Mildred Abbott

  Leo shrugged. “Maybe. Although he was pretty passionate about birds as well. Perhaps he’s the kind who liked to collect them? I can’t say. In a lot of ways, he was as crazy as Myrtle about it all. But there is something with Myrtle that lets you connect. Whatever that thing is, it was missing with Henry.”

  Both our gazes traveled to the pin on the sofa by Watson.

  Leo picked it up once more. “You going to take this to Branson?”

  “I suppose I have to. Although I don’t know how he’s going to handle it. He made it very clear to keep my nose out of it this time.”

  Leo considered for a moment. “I can take it. Say that I found it when I went back to the scene. In fact you can take me there now and show me exactly where you found it so I can show him. That way you’re not in danger of being shut out of the case or getting in trouble.”

  And look at that—he brought up one of the very options I’d been considering on the way over. Words I hadn’t been sure how to bring myself to ask. Now I didn’t have to. He offered it up like the easiest thing in the world.

  And as the words left his lips, I knew my answer. I prided myself on being Charles Page’s daughter. No child of his would lie about a murder investigation. “No. But thank you. That’s something I’ll have to do myself. I can handle him.”

  And once more Leo’s lovely laugh filled the space between us. “Oh, Fred, I have no doubt of that. I can’t imagine anyone you can’t handle.”

  The last time Watson and I had entered the police station, we were running for our lives. Technically, I was running and Watson was in my arms, a position he detests. One might think once a location became a safe haven there was no way it could ever be anything other. But nothing about walking through the front doors of the police station this time came close to feeling like relief.

  After my last conversation with Branson, I could already feel my temperature rising. I wasn’t breaking any laws, wasn’t impeding an investigation, and it wasn’t my fault that I’d done a better job of detective work than the entire police department since I’d moved to Estes. And I was done being told what to do.

  After I held open the door for Watson and glanced toward the front desk, another surprise flitted through me. Officer Green was talking to the policeman at the desk, who I believed was the same gentleman Watson and I had burst in on the last time we were there. And upon seeing her, a twisted miracle happened. I was glad it was Officer Green and not Branson. I never would’ve dreamed of that happening in a million years.

  As always, when Susan Green looked at me and sneered at Watson, I could swear I heard Miss Gulch promising threats, followed by, and your little dog too….

  “Hello. Good to see you, Officer Green.” I nodded toward the other policeman but didn’t attempt to recall his name.

  Susan flinched, confusion washing over her features. Neither of us had ever said it was good to see the other. From our first meeting on, there’d been nothing but hostility. And while I considered her the bigger perpetrator, it went both ways.

  “Winifred. It’s good to….” Clearly unable to say the words, she turned her solid bulk to look at me full-on. “Are you needing police assistance?”

  This was going better than normal as well. I pulled the pin from my pocket and started to close the distance to the counter but was jerked up short by Watson’s leash. Looking back, apparently some snow had fallen off his fur and he was having a little snack on the go. I gave a pleading yank to his leash, and he huffed, clearly affronted, then with narrowed eyes took a final lick of the melting treat and uncharacteristically followed directions.

  Officer Green’s sneer was more pronounced as I turned back. Her pale blue eyes clearly revealing that she would spit-roast a corgi if she got the chance.

  Okay, maybe this wasn’t going better than normal.

  “Watson and I found this on our—” I cleared my throat. “—moonlight walk through the national park. I thought maybe this could be important evidence.”

  Susan didn’t reach for the pin—simply studied it for a second, glared at me, then repeated the pattern several times. After a moment, Officer What’s His Name stretched out his hand for it, only to have Susan grip his wrist and shove his hand away.

  I should have been upfront. Although in my defense, there was no way I could’ve played this out that would’ve ended pleasantly.

  “Moonlight walk through the national park, huh?” She finally took the jewelry, studied it for less than a heartbeat, and then gave me the cold ice of her stare once more. “You know, Miss Page, normal people don’t traipse back through the woods alone in the dark, even with their guard dog that’s more the size of a fat hamster, and parade through a crime scene that’s less than a day old.” She smiled, sort of. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a smile at all. “Of course, I should’ve stopped when I said normal people.”

  I cleared my throat again, and to my surprise once more, I decided that I preferred this interaction to anything I would’ve had with Branson. Susan and I weren’t exactly cordial to each other, but neither of us were expected to be. “You’ve got me there, Susan. One thing I’ve never claimed was being normal. And this wasn’t exactly at the crime scene; it was several yards away. And… there was no tape.”

  “Right.” She looked like she was enjoying herself finally. “Because you don’t see walking through yellow police tape like somehow crossing a finish line.”

  I started to object, but the description was apt. One I wouldn’t have thought of, but she was spot-on. Especially this time, with my desire to solve it before Branson or anyone else.

  Officer Green held the pin up between us. “You know, Fred, while not overly impressed with your attempts to play Nancy Drew, at least with the evidence you found at Christmas, you had the sense to put it in a Ziploc bag. How much show-and-tell did you do on this little ditty before you brought it to me? Should I expect to find half of the town’s fingerprints on it?”

  I nearly pointed out that I most definitely did not bring it to her, but I reminded myself that I was a thirty-eight-year-old woman, and there was no reason to return to schoolyard cattiness. “I’ll agree with you there. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I picked the pin out of the snow.”

  She leaned forward, barely enough to be decipherable, but I could feel the hunger in the action. “Goodness. That’s embarrassing. Wasn’t your daddy a police officer?”

  It didn’t matter that we were in a police station, nor that she would happily throw Watson and me into separate cells in the back. Susan had hit a nerve, and she was about to see the unleashed fury that all redheads share, no matter what the shade, when Sergeant Wexler appeared as if by magic from the hallway beside the counter.

  “Fred. I thought I heard your voice.” Branson smiled at me like our last interaction hadn’t been tense in the slightest. He even went so far as to walk around the counter, squeeze my arm gently, and pat Watson, who allowed it to happen for about two whole seconds. Then he refocused on me, his handsome face easy and approachable. “What brings you in?”

  Officer Green didn’t give me the chance to respond. Leaning over the counter, she thrust the pin between us. “Our local busybody bookshop owner brought us the evidence we need to crack the case of who killed crazy man Henry. And due to her considerate nature, she didn’t want us to spend police resources fingerprinting the thing, so she passed it around town.”

  Though Branson winced at Susan’s tone, his green eyes cooled, then hardened. Despite myself, I straightened a little under the weight of his glare. “I thought I made myself clear, Fred. You said you understood.”

  His voice was low but not low enough that Susan and the other officer wouldn’t be able to hear. For his part, the officer who was nameless had the grace to look uncomfortable. Susan appeared to be experiencing Christmas for a second time a few weeks later.

  Well, if Branson wasn’t going to have this conversation in private, I wasn’t about to cower. I straightened to my full height. “You’re right.
I did say I understood, but I didn’t agree to anything. And if we’re pointing fingers….” I demonstrated by pointing my finger at the pin still in Susan’s hand. “It’s a good thing I did. As your department had already scoured the area and seemed to overlook something.”

  He didn’t so much as miss a beat, not even to look at the pin. “So please tell me how to do my job, Fred. What would you like me to do? Doubtless you’ve deduced that the pin is more than likely Myrtle Bantam’s. Do I take it to her and ask if she shoved it into Henry’s throat before the knife? Do I assume it’s hers because, out of all the people the officers found traipsing around the dead body when they arrived, she is Henry’s killer? Or perhaps only the killer would be fool enough to drop some perfectly placed clue for you to stumble upon?”

  “My guess is that her dog found it. Isn’t he the real detective? After all, he found the candy that cracked the case when Opal was killed.” Christmas had indeed come for Susan Green. I knew there wasn’t any love lost between her and Branson, but clearly she couldn’t help herself. “And it was him that got a craving for pizza which led to the most heart-stopping car chase through town that’s ever happened with people who weren’t on mopeds.”

  Branson flashed her a look, one that said to be silent, but that was all. He turned back to me and folded his arms. “Well? You obviously don’t respect what we do here, nor me requesting nicely for you to let me do my job. So you might as well tell me what to do next.”

  Once more, my indignation flared. I decided to leave with as much dignity as I could muster. “I’ve never told you how to do your job, Sergeant Wexler. And if I thought you weren’t able to do it, I wouldn’t have brought you the pin, which was apparently overlooked at the site. What you do next is up to you.” I turned to leave, hoping Watson wouldn’t stop at the puddle that was between us and the door.

  “No more moonlight strolls, Miss Page. Otherwise it might be considered police interference.”

  I didn’t look back at Susan. I knew if I did, I genuinely would lose my temper. “Last I checked, the national park belongs to all people, Miss Green.”

  Thankfully Watson decided the puddle was beneath him. Not only wasn’t he tempted to eat it, but decided he was too good to walk through it. He took the wide way around, and then we walked proudly out the front door.

  Things weren’t quite as hectic at the Cozy Corgi the next morning. Even so, there was a decent rush for coffee and pastries, but it seemed more people simply wanted breakfast than gossip about the latest murder. I didn’t even get to talk to Katie very much, no more than to fill her in on the previous night’s events. She was still busy between customers and training Sammy.

  Strangely, I was a little sad about Sammy. Obviously Katie and I both needed help, but it had been nice adjusting to our store with only the two of us. Although, even upon the second meeting, I was blown away that Katie had somehow managed to find her doppelgänger. It was uncanny.

  That was a quality I most definitely was not going to look for when I decided to hire someone for the bookshop.

  It had been at least an hour since I sold a book, or since anyone had done more than wave as they made the trek from the front door to the stairs leading to the bakery. I studied Watson as he slept in the rays of the sun pouring through the large windows. He’d claimed a spot closer to the front door than I would’ve predicted, now that we had people coming and going. He was surrounded by books and looked so charming there, his orange fur shiny, the hardwood floor gleaming, with the backdrop of rows and rows of novels.

  That was one more reminder of why I was in town. Not to get my heart dashed by Branson Wexler, which was not happening, nor to have it comforted by Leo Lopez, which was not happening either. I was here for the Cozy Corgi and to enjoy life.

  Well, I was going to do just that—even if I did have to keep reminding myself.

  I wandered into the mystery room, picked up a reprint of Agatha Christie’s A Body in the Library, and plopped myself down on the sofa in front of the fire. From where I sat, I could look over my shoulder and see Watson napping away, could still hear his soft snores.

  Yes, this was why I was here. And with the soft sounds of chatter, clink of dishes, and hum of machines joining the heavenly aroma wafting from above, it was even better than I’d pictured.

  I barely made it three chapters in before Katie appeared in the doorway. “Fred! There you are.”

  I shut the book and started to stand, but she motioned for me to stay where I was, then plopped down beside me.

  She sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair, leaving trails of flour or icing behind. “I needed a break, and I wanted to tell you the gossip.” She glanced around the base of the sofa. “Where’s Watson?” Without waiting for a reply, she glanced over her shoulder and chuckled. “Working hard, I see.”

  At that moment Watson let out a quiet little bark and his paws twitched.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s either dreaming about especially large dog treats when he does that or possibly dreaming about another nap.”

  “Sounds about right.” She turned back to me. “I might be tired, but even this, simply being able to walk downstairs and talk to you for two minutes is an improvement. Sammy is going to be worth her weight in gold.”

  “I’m sure I should follow your lead and start looking for someone to help me out in the bookstore, not that it’s been an issue today.” I shook my head at the thought of an assistant without a single thing to do. I’d have to find someone who didn’t like mysteries so they could read in a different room and leave me to my sofa, lamp, and fireplace in peace. “Perhaps I should worry about selling books before I hire someone.”

  Katie patted my knee. “Don’t feel bad. Books are a different thing than pastries. People need sugar every day. But when they need a book, they’ll come here.” She leaned closer to play-whisper, “Well, forget about Amazon for the moment.” She winked. “At least when the tourist season arrives, you’ll be busy.”

  I wasn’t going to admit that I wasn’t overly worried about it. Simply sitting here by the fire reading was about as perfect as things could get. “So what’s the gossip?”

  Katie’s brown eyes widened. “Well, Benjamin was upstairs. He’s the one who owns the camera shop down the way. He’s a member of the Feathered Friends Brigade, remember?”

  “Yeah, the handsome young one who seemed like he was making a sales pitch.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. I kinda think that’s why he’s there. He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that. He tried a sales pitch on me and Sammy, saying that we needed a high-quality camera so we could post photos of all the pastries online, to bring in more customers.” She gave a dismissive wave with her hand. “Like I have time for that. And that wasn’t my point.” Before launching in again, she glanced around to see if anyone had wandered near as we spoke, a laughable thought considering no one was in the bookshop. “Well, according to Benjamin, the police brought Myrtle in for questioning this morning. I’m still not clear on how he found out about it so quickly, but he said he drove straight there and told them that she was with him at the exact same moment Henry was killed.” She narrowed her eyes. “Which I suppose could be true. Honestly, I lost track of time when you, Leo, and I were watching the elk, but the last I’d seen of Myrtle, she was with Silas, not Benjamin. Though, I don’t remember seeing Benjamin much at all. I mean, obviously he was there, but I never saw him around Myrtle.”

  I wished I’d been upstairs devouring another pastry I didn’t need instead of reading by the fire so I could have judged Benjamin for myself. “You got the impression he was lying?”

  She shrugged. “No, not necessarily. It doesn’t match what I remember, but again, there’s nothing for me to remember—we split up, and then the three of us saw some elk.” Another shrug. “Plus, not that I know Myrtle, obviously, but I can’t see her and Benjamin chatting it up. You know what I mean? I don’t think he’s a true bird lover like the rest. I kinda think he’s there to sell
camera equipment more than anything about birds.”

  “I had a similar thought, actually, but at the tune of ten thousand a year, is that intelligent advertising?” Camera equipment was expensive, so maybe he only needed a few sales a year to make it up. “What’d he say about Myrtle? Did he know how the police questioning ended up?”

  “That’s what I’m getting at. Benjamin said as soon as he heard about them taking Myrtle in, that he drove straight there and let them know that they were together.”

  “So with him as her alibi, they couldn’t hold her. Especially if all they had on her was the pin I told you about earlier.”

  “Exactly.” She cocked an eyebrow and gave an excited grin. “So, I was thinking you and I should leave Sammy here, and we can go up to Wings of the Rockies and get Myrtle’s version.”

  “You’re determined that I’m going to play detective on this, aren’t you?”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “No more than you are, and don’t tell me otherwise. I know you and I haven’t known each other all that long, but there’s one thing I’m certain about—Winifred Page doesn’t let a man tell her what she can or cannot do, even if that man happens to wear a badge.”

  As so often was the case in my conversations with Katie, I was reminded of one of the many reasons I loved her so. “I’m sure I shouldn’t admit it, but you’re right. I can’t say I’m certain my father would approve of going against another officer’s wishes, but I’m not letting this go.” At the thought, I started to stand to head straight to Myrtle, but then logic took over and I sat back down. “However, if you’ll remember, it was Myrtle Bantam who called and complained about me when I was trying to clear Barry’s name. Basically told Branson I was harassing the storeowners. I can’t imagine a conversation with her going well right now, especially if she knows I’m the one that turned in the pin. And while I don’t think Branson would tell her that, if she came in contact with Susan Green, I guarantee you that would get passed on.”