Bickering Birds

by Mildred Abbott

  Katie’s expression darkened as I told her about what Alice said regarding Benjamin and Silas. “It sounds like we can definitely assume there’s a lot of cheating happening, if nothing else. Not to mention that Henry wasn’t half as crazy as he seemed. And if Benjamin is willing to lie to the police to cover for Myrtle, I’d say Alice’s accusation is not too far a stretch.”

  “I agree.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” Katie smacked her thigh. “It was the very first thing Myrtle said to me, but I was more taken aback by how she responded about Benjamin. She says the kakapo pin wasn’t hers. She had never seen it until the police showed it to her during questioning.”

  That made absolutely no sense. “Really? I’d swear it’s the exact same style as the one she gave you.”

  Katie nodded. “It is. She said that it was done by the same artist who creates her pins. A Native American artist in Santa Fe.”

  “She honestly expects people to believe she collects those pins yet doesn’t have one of her favorite bird?” Maybe I was reading Myrtle wrong.

  “According to Myrtle, she hasn’t earned it yet.”

  “She hasn’t earned it?”

  “No.” Katie shook her head, and her tone softened. “It’s kinda sweet. Or something. Myrtle only allows herself to get pins of birds she’s interacted with. She’s never seen a kakapo in real life. She’s saving up for a trip to New Zealand to visit a sanctuary for them. She was going to get the pin after that, sort of like a reward, I guess, or memento.”

  It was plausible, I supposed, but still…. “A woman who charges ten grand a year to be part of a bird club doesn’t have enough money to take a trip to New Zealand?”

  Katie shrugged. “I think that simply proves she’s not mismanaging the money. She’s dogmatic about raising funds to save birds, Fred. I don’t think one penny goes to anything else. Even the check she used when she paid for me catering the other night was from her personal account. Not the bird club or her shop.”

  Though it was hard to believe, if the pin truly didn’t belong to Myrtle, that did change things. It seemed too much of a coincidence for someone else to simply be wearing one of Myrtle’s style of pins, losing it, right by the scene of Henry’s murder. Although, if they were attempting to frame her, why didn’t they put it closer to the body?

  “Hey! There you two are!”

  Katie and I both looked toward the voice, and saw Sammy leaning out the front door of the Cozy Corgi.

  “What in the world are you two doing? I’m dying in here. I’m having people bring books up that they want to buy to the bakery, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Katie sprang up. “I’m so sorry! I’ll be right there.”

  Sammy slammed the door without any further response.

  Katie grinned at me. “Did you hear that? People are buying books.”

  “Apparently, all it takes is for me to not be there.” I stood, and we took a few paces toward the shop, when I paused. “You know, if you don’t mind handling things for a little bit longer, I think I should go talk to Benjamin right now. If my instincts are right, Alice has already called the police, telling them I’m harassing her or something. And it’s only a matter of time before Branson shows up. I don’t want to miss my chance.” I held out Watson’s leash. “Would you take him with you? I’m pretty sure if we go anywhere else, he’ll murder me in my sleep tonight.”

  “Of course. Good idea.” I could tell from her expression that Katie was disappointed she wasn’t getting to go to Benjamin as well, but she took Watson’s leash. “Come on, buddy. I’ve got a dog bone with your name all over it.”

  I started to object as they walked away; he’d already had two sizable treats in the past hour. But he’d probably earned it. And I could give him the equivalent of a doggy salad that evening to compensate.

  Yeah, right. Only if I truly did want to get murdered in my sleep.

  I started to check my phone, figuring I’d already missed a call from Branson, then decided to leave well enough alone. That way I could claim genuine ignorance if it all blew up in my face. As if feeling him hot on my trail, I glanced around. The coast was clear, so I hurried down the sidewalk toward the camera shop.

  As I entered Shutterbug, Benjamin noticed me instantly. He was demonstrating a camera that looked about a foot long, to a couple of customers, and his spiel faltered. He swallowed and then forced a smile and continued showing the couple the features of the camera.

  My heart sank a bit. This wasn’t going to go well. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my foot in my mouth, and he already looked one step away from kicking me out.

  I considered leaving. Why waste more time, or possibly have one more person making complaints about me to the police? But it felt like my only chance to talk to him.

  His gaze flitted my way as he closed the sale and began to ring up the customers. Benjamin looked on the verge of bolting.

  For him to be having such a strong reaction, someone must have alerted him that I might show up. Maybe Alice had called him the minute I left. However, I doubted it. The way she’d told me about him helping Silas cheat hadn’t felt like she cared enough to warn him. If it got any attention off her and her son, she might happily throw Benjamin under the bus to do it. Maybe Owen had called.

  I worked my way closer as they finished up the transaction, hoping it would make it less likely Benjamin would turn and hightail it out of the store. I nearly choked when I heard the final price of the camera equipment they bought. It suddenly made a lot more sense why he might pay ten thousand a year if he had a steady stream of camera sales from the bird club. Although it seemed to me once a person bought a camera, they were probably done for several years, if not forever. But maybe they were now like cell phones, with constant updates and endless demands to have the newest and best in technology.

  As soon as the customers were gone, Benjamin turned to me. Though younger, there was something about Benjamin that reminded me of Branson. Nearly as handsome, and I got the feeling, typically as charming. Though it seemed he hadn’t quite mastered that aspect yet, at least when nervous. Maybe give him a few years. “I heard you were making the rounds.”

  That was all the confirmation I needed. “I’m simply trying to figure out what happened.” This time I opted for a combination of truth and fiction. Or at least an exaggerated version of the truth. “I’m the one who found Myrtle’s pin, and I feel responsible. I don’t think she’s a killer, and I’d hate for something I did to implicate her if she’s innocent.”

  His shoulders sagged in relief. “It won’t. She was with me. Haven’t you heard? I talked to the police this morning. Myrtle’s probably at her store right now.”

  I leveled a gaze on him that I’d used during my years of being a professor when I was certain a student was lying about why they couldn’t complete a project or had been caught cheating. “Benjamin, everyone knows that’s not true. Well, not the police, yet; give them time. But like you said, I’ve been making my rounds. Your name has come up more than once.” I moved a little closer, drawing up to my full height, not necessarily to look threatening, just authoritarian. “About several things.”

  Like it had with my students, the move worked. “Several things?” His voice squeaked.

  “Yes. One of which is that you were seen with other people at the time of the murder. With Petra, I believe. Not Myrtle.”

  He licked his lips but didn’t speak. The wheels in his brain were turning so quickly I could nearly see them behind his eyes. In that moment, Benjamin seemed even younger than I’d thought, and I decided to use a touch of intimidation. “I don’t know how much you know about me, but I’m fairly close to Sergeant Wexler, and my father was a detective. I’ve seen how this plays out many times throughout my life, Benjamin. It never ends well when you’re lying to the police.”

  “What happens?” His eyes got so wide, I almost felt guilty. Benjamin shook his head, as if realizing what he’d said. “Not that I was lying.”

>   “The thing is”—I leaned against the counter, this time trying to take on a motherly tone—“it’s kind of like with your parents when you’re a kid. When you’re caught, things go easier for you if you’re honest about it as opposed to continuing the lie. That only makes things bigger and bigger.”

  “But this wasn’t a bad lie. Myrtle wouldn’t kill anybody. She didn’t.”

  His admission was so sudden that it nearly threw me off, and it didn’t even seem he’d realized what he’d implied. “Then who did, Benjamin? If you know Myrtle didn’t commit murder, who did?”

  “I don’t know!” He threw up his hands. “I really don’t. But Myrtle wouldn’t do that. Maybe I wasn’t with her, but she wouldn’t kill anyone.”

  “So you were simply trying to protect Myrtle?”

  He swallowed. “Yeah.”

  His hesitation was long enough to let me know he was lying, again. “Tell me the truth, Benjamin. Who told you to be Myrtle’s alibi?”

  “He did it because he loves her. He couldn’t handle seeing her taken into custody.” Benjamin’s words were nearly slurred in his panic. “And it’s not a crime, at least not a bad one. He and I are both certain that Myrtle wouldn’t kill anyone.”

  “Who, Benjamin? Who’s in love with Myrtle?”

  “Silas.” He looked at me as if the answer was obvious, and then his eyes widened once more, finally realizing how much he’d shared. “I swear, Fred. It really is okay. Silas loves her. He was trying to protect her, and you said yourself, you know Myrtle would never do anything like that. I’m not lying to cover up a murder. Just to… protect the innocent.”

  I was so thrown off at the revelation that Silas was having a relationship with Myrtle that I nearly lost my train of thought. I wasn’t even sure why the couple seemed like such an odd pairing to me, but they did. For whatever reason, I couldn’t picture Myrtle in a relationship with anyone. But I could think on that later. I’d cracked Benjamin. I needed to keep pounding, as uncomfortable as it was, to see what else I could get. “Speaking of Silas, I also heard that you assist him, and maybe even some other members when they require certain photo work done to help them earn badges.”

  At that, he relaxed, and waved me off. “That’s not a big deal either. Silas really has seen all those birds. I simply doctor the photos a little bit. That’s not cheating.”

  “Doctor them? If Silas has seen the birds, why doctor the photos?”

  For whatever reason, that question changed everything. Benjamin straightened, and his eyes grew cold. “I think I’ve said too much to you the way it is. This isn’t your business. And no harm has been done. Myrtle wouldn’t do that. If I thought she could kill someone, it wouldn’t matter what Silas offered. I would never cover for a murderer. Ever.”

  Whether he was right about Myrtle or not, I heard the truth in his words, but I caught something else as well. “Why? What did Silas offer you to cover for Myrtle?”

  He flinched, and I thought he was about to crack again, but he didn’t. “Nothing. I didn’t say he did. I was… saying that it wouldn’t matter what he might offer. I wouldn’t cover for a murderer.”

  “Benjamin, I think it’s in your best interest if you’re completely honest right now. What did—”

  “No.” Benjamin shook his head. “I think you need to leave. And if you believe that Myrtle is innocent like I do, like you said you did, you’ll leave it alone.” The way his voice quavered at the end led me to believe he was more worried about the police showing up to talk to him about his lying than he was about Myrtle.

  For the second time in less than an hour, I walked back out into the January afternoon after being kicked out of another store. The shadows were growing long, and the charming little downtown suddenly felt ominous.

  It was too much at once. The phone call I’d overheard from Owen, the revelation that Silas and Myrtle were in a relationship, Petra and Alice’s reactions, and the constant confirmation that most of Henry’s claims were true after all.

  My cell vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

  A glance at the screen revealed the call I’d expected. Just a little later than I would’ve anticipated.

  I hesitated with my thumb hovering over Branson’s name, then hit Decline and put the phone back in my pocket. I had to figure things out before I spoke to him. All I needed now was him lecturing or threatening, and not only would I lose my temper, but I might miss my chance to try to arrange the puzzle pieces in a way that made sense while the information was clear.

  As my phone began to buzz again, I knew what Branson’s next step would be. Ignoring the cell entirely, I hurried back toward the Cozy Corgi. I should pick up Watson before Branson showed up at the bookshop. I probably wouldn’t go home either, as he’d likely show up there as well. Whatever. I’d figure that out later. Right now I’d grab my corgi, hop in my car, and avoid the police.

  Branson called and texted nearly ten times in the next half hour. I started by driving randomly around Estes Park, then realized I had a high chance of accidentally running into him as he drove to the Cozy Corgi or to my house. So Watson and I made our way into the national park. It was a stunning night for a drive to clear my head, and I highly doubted he would look for me there.

  Though I still couldn’t picture Myrtle as a murderer, she truly seemed the most likely of suspects. She was the founder of the club, a group with a limitless supply of secrets and cheating. Her story about the pins to Katie was rather sweet and something I could see someone with Myrtle’s disposition doing, but all fingers pointed to her. The solitary reason to believe otherwise was my gut instinct. And as much as I’d learned to trust my gut recently, I didn’t believe it was infallible.

  If it had been Myrtle, I highly doubted she’d acted alone. There were too many secrets in the club for it to come down to one person. But then again, that was another gut feeling without much basis in anything substantial, besides endless rumors and gossip and accusations. Which in the Feathered Friends Brigade, seemed like it led to getting killed if you talked about them too much.

  If nothing else, it seemed Owen had a reason to cover for Myrtle. And Silas as well. I wasn’t sure what deal Silas had struck with Benjamin, but I was certain the kid hadn’t done it out of his own pure heart. Though I did believe he wouldn’t cover for Myrtle if he truly thought she’d killed Henry. But there I went again, nothing but gut instinct to back that up, and I’d had even less interaction with Benjamin than with Myrtle.

  Then there was Alice and Petra. Surely Alice wouldn’t kill someone because they knew her son was helping her cheat to get badges. And I couldn’t imagine what secrets Petra might be keeping, but she’d been so clearly uncomfortable in my presence. They both had. Although, maybe that was more about me than about either of them.

  Atypically, Watson wasn’t curled up napping in the front seat, but sat up tall, which put his gaze right at the edge of the passenger-side window, allowing him to see the dark silhouettes of the snowy trees as we passed. Maybe he’d enjoyed the snowy moonlight hike the night before and hoped we were going to do it again.

  The night before… had it only been twenty-four hours ago? It felt like days. I’d talked to so many people and been kicked out of so many stores. I chuckled at the thought, causing Watson to glance over with a look that asked, “Why is my mother such a nut ball?” before turning back to stare out the window.

  And in those twenty-four hours, and the whirlwind of questions to everyone, all I had to show for my effort was alienating myself further from Branson, and Susan, for that matter, not that it took much. That, and a whole bunch of loose ends that didn’t seem to lead anywhere.

  When my phone rang again, this time from an unknown number, I’d had enough. Keeping my eyes on the road, I hit Accept and lifted the phone to my ear. “Seriously? It’s not enough to harass me from your own number, now you’re trying to trick me?” Even as I said the words, I heard the ridiculousness of them. The trick had worked. Though maybe not so much
a trick as him simply knowing at some point my temper would take over.

  “Winifred Page?” The voice was not Branson Wexler.

  “Oh… sorry.” I couldn’t believe I could still speak after shoving my foot in my mouth on so many occasions in one day. Surely this had to be a record. “This is Winifred. I thought you were someone else. Sorry about that.” Then I realized it might not be Branson, but I had no idea who I was talking to. “Speaking of, who is this?”

  “Silas Belle.” There was laughter in his tone. “Sounds like you’re having a harassment issue. Might need to call the police about that.”

  I pulled the phone back and looked at the screen. That had been an odd thing to say, an oddly apt thing to say, letting me know that Silas knew exactly what he was talking about. I brought the phone back to my ear once more and focused on not letting the wary sensation I felt sound in my voice. “Not a bad idea. What can I help you with, Silas?”

  “I hear you’ve been all over town today, asking a lot of questions about Myrtle and the club.” Impressively he was able to say the line without losing an ounce of warmth.

  If he could be blunt, so could I. It seemed pointless to deny anything. Doubtlessly, Benjamin had called him. Alice, I wasn’t so sure of, but possibly. “That’s true. I have.”

  “Anything you want to ask me, Fred?”