Bickering Birds

by Mildred Abbott

  While not exactly a revelation, I felt a sense of relief and vindication that my gut had been right. Mine, Myrtle’s, and Katie’s. “You do?”

  Benjamin nodded and sighed in frustration. “I don’t like the guy. But he doesn’t deserve this. He’s enough of a mess the way it is.”

  Suddenly I remembered who I was talking to, and I allowed some of that authoritarian professor past to slip back into my tone. “Is someone paying you to do this? Like they did with Myrtle?”

  He snorted, then laughed. “For Paulie? Who would do that?”

  He had a point.

  “No, no one is paying me. In fact….” Benjamin twisted and glanced out the windows, then seemed satisfied and turned back around. “Me saying this is going to ruin a lot of things. A lot.”

  “You know who killed Henry?” The words slipped out before they’d even fully formed in my mind.

  “No.” Benjamin looked insulted. “Of course not. I told you before, I wouldn’t cover for a murderer.”

  “Sorry.” I brought what I hoped was a motherly tone back into my voice. “Then what’s going on? How do you know Paulie didn’t have anything to do with the birds?”

  “Because, even though I don’t know who killed Henry, I do know who’s doing the poaching. At least, I think.”

  “You think you know who’s poaching?”

  He nodded and glanced at the windows once more.

  He might honestly think he didn’t know who the murderer was, but Benjamin was obviously scared. Which to me, meant he probably did know who the killer was, even if he didn’t quite realize it. I reached out again and lightly touched his knee, bringing his attention back. “Who do you think is doing it, Benjamin?”

  Once more, he studied me for a long time, clearly debating. From how serious he was taking it—he looked like he was debating jumping off a cliff—he must be fairly certain. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “Owen. I think. I only know of one illegal bird he’s been involved with, but maybe he’s done more.”

  Owen. The name was almost like a relief, after the way he’d looked at me when I overheard him on the phone the day before. Then I remembered Myrtle’s claim about him a few hours ago. The one person in the group who paid double the membership fees to help the birds. “Are you sure? Myrtle thinks he’s trustworthy.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know if he’s the poacher, the one the entire bird club seems obsessed with. He might not be, but I know he’s done it once. And given what Silas asked me to do for Myrtle, I’m betting this is connected. No way Paulie has the backbone to be involved in poaching. The man jumps at his own shadow.”

  I agreed with Benjamin’s assessment, but it still didn’t make sense. “Why don’t you tell me what you know? The whole story.”

  This time, he didn’t hesitate before he began to talk; apparently having made up his mind, it was final. “I was paired up with Petra on the hike the other night, not for any real reason other than how it worked out. While we were in the woods, we ran across Owen. Petra pulled Owen off to the side but wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was. She was mad, telling him that the bird he’d gotten her was sick. That she hadn’t paid good money for a sick bird. She was starting to lose her temper, but Owen told her to be quiet and they’d discuss it later.”

  I replayed his story, trying to put the pieces together and needing more details. “Did Petra actually say that Owen procured an illegal bird for her, or simply that she bought a bird from him?”

  Benjamin looked at me like I was daft. “Owen doesn’t run a pet store. Why would he be selling a bird to Petra?”

  Fair question, but it still didn’t necessarily mean it was poaching or even that the bird was illegal. “What does Owen do?”

  He shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Did anything else happen? Are there any other details, even if you think they’re not important?”

  “I don’t think so. Petra was definitely mad as we walked away, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Not that I asked any questions. Wasn’t much longer before Alice screamed and everybody came running.”

  One more bit of proof, however thin it was, that Henry had been right about Owen.

  Maybe Henry had been nearby during the exchange, had heard, then confronted Owen about it.

  “Doesn’t necessarily clear Paulie, but maybe it gives enough reasonable doubt.” I slipped back into professor mode once more. “You definitely should tell the police this. Maybe if they know it’s Owen who they’re looking for, that will help prove Paulie had nothing to do with it.”

  “I know. That’s why I want you. Chances are, somehow, it’ll come out that I lied about Myrtle. I need you to have my defense with Sergeant Wexler.”

  Maybe if I handed it directly over to him and didn’t try to get more details on my own, Branson would listen to me. Although, I wasn’t sure how much I was willing to go to bat for Benjamin. I thought he was telling the truth, but the only thing my gut told me about the kid was that I couldn’t fully trust him. “I’ll do my best.” I pulled out my cell before Benjamin could object and tapped Branson’s name.

  He didn’t answer. I didn’t want to leave a voicemail in case that startled Benjamin. Instead I called the police station. A voice I didn’t recognize answered and asked if I was in the state of emergency. “No, I have some information about some possible poaching going on. I’d like to speak to Sergeant Wexler, please.”

  Benjamin flinched, realizing that I was on the phone with the police station instead of directly to Branson, and I covered the mouthpiece of the phone to whisper to him. “It’s fine. He wasn’t answering his cell. It’s still Branson. And if you bolt, it’ll make you look guilty.”

  The dispatch put me through.

  Branson answered on the second ring. “When they said you were calling, at first I thought it was because you’d forgiven me. But apparently you have information about a case?”

  I was a little surprised he’d been worried about me being mad. But I didn’t have time to focus on that. “Benjamin is with me at the bookshop. And no, I didn’t go snooping this time. He’s got a story for you about a possible poacher, one that may prove Paulie is innocent.”

  Branson hesitated, probably thrown off by me not responding to his question about forgiveness. “Benjamin has information about a poacher?” His voice was cold suddenly. Clearly hurt, or something, that I called him for professional reasons instead of personal.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, be right there.”

  It took nearly twice as long for Branson to get to the Cozy Corgi as I’d expected, and by the time the police cruiser pulled up in front of the shop, Benjamin was pacing the floor. To my surprise, Branson hadn’t come alone. Officer Green came with him, and from both their expressions, it was clear they’d been arguing on the way over. Branson attempted a smile as they entered the shop, but it fell flat.

  Susan glowered as he leaned close enough to me to not be overheard.

  “Sorry. I was planning on talking to the two of you here, but Susan got wind of it and apparently we’re going to do this by the book. She made a whole scene of it. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m the superior officer or if she is.” He turned to Benjamin. “You’re not under arrest. I’m simply going to request you come with us to the station. You can even follow us in your own car if you’d rather. We’ll take your official statement there.”

  Benjamin looked at me in a panic, then back at them. “Is Fred coming too?”

  Susan snorted. “Is she involved in this case, or part of what you witnessed? Something more than simply being nosy, obviously.”

  He shook his head, and Susan grinned. Branson’s features darkened.

  I watched from the window with Watson at my feet as Benjamin got in his car and followed the police cruiser out of sight.

  “Well, look who it is.” Leo grinned as he opened his apartment door, and though his tone was teasing, his eyes had a flash of heat. “It’s feast or famine with you, isn’t it?”

 
Watson let out a happy yelp and reared upward, bashing his forepaws into Leo’s knees.

  As with every other interaction they’d had, Leo gave in to whatever Watson demanded, sinking down onto one knee and rubbing Watson nearly silly, like he was a joyful little puppy inside of the cantankerous old soul that he was.

  Watson loved it.

  I stepped around them and shut the door, glad to be out of the cold. “Thanks for letting me come over. I wasn’t sure if you’d be available when I called.”

  “Today is one of my days off.” He finished lavishing affection on Watson and stood. “You’re always welcome, but you said you had news. Gotta say, I’m curious.” He motioned toward the sofa where we’d sat before. I’d not even crossed the room before Watson raced past me and leaped onto the couch, automatically taking the center spot.

  “Well, Watson feels at home.” Leo sat down beside him, and instantly began stroking his fur as he waited for me to begin.

  I sat and didn’t waste any more time. “Benjamin came and saw me. And he left with the police probably less than half an hour ago.”

  Leo jerked, startling Watson. “Sorry, buddy.” He started petting him again and refocused on me. “Benjamin? Benjamin killed Henry?”

  “No. He wasn’t arrested. He went in for questioning. He kinda volunteered. He thinks he knows who the poacher is.”

  This time Leo went stone-cold still.

  A phone vibrated over on the kitchen counter. I motioned toward it. “You can get that if you want.”

  “Are you crazy? Like I care about the phone right now.” Leo’s eyes were wide, and he was pale suddenly. “I know there’s more than one poacher, but we’ve not been able to pin anybody in forever. Who did he say?”

  That was why I’d come to see Leo in person. I knew how big this was for him. And maybe some part of me was looking for an excuse to see him. Possibly, but I wasn’t going to consider that aspect. “Owen.”

  “Owen?” A laugh burst from Leo, but it trailed off quickly, his expression growing serious once more. “You’re serious?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I called Myrtle before I came over here. She and I talked earlier in the day. She doesn’t believe it. She thinks Benjamin’s lying. Which, he seems prone to do.”

  Leo didn’t speak for a little bit, and his gaze grew distant, but his fingers never quit dragging through Watson’s fur, a pile beginning to grow in the crease of the couch cushions.

  I started to ask if he was okay, then thought better of it.

  “Owen. I never would’ve considered Owen. Nobody in the bird club would, except Henry, and he suspected everyone. Which, if Owen is the poacher, would’ve made things pretty easy on him.” Though his eyes were narrowed, I could already see he was accepting the possibility. “What proof did Benjamin have?”

  “Apparently Petra bought a bird from Owen, and now the bird is sick. Benjamin heard them arguing about it the night of the snowshoe hike.”

  “Petra?” One of his hands left Watson and touched his heart. He looked wounded. “She’s crazy about birds. I can’t believe she would do that.” Leo shook his head and mumbled to himself. “I bet it’s a forest owlet.”

  “A forest owlet?”

  “Yeah, cute little thing from India. Critically endangered. She’s nearly as obsessed with them as Myrtle is with the kakapo.” Leo sank back into the cushions, finally breaking contact with Watson and looking utterly devastated. “Right in front of my eyes. This whole time. Right in front of my eyes.”

  “None of this is confirmed. I’m not telling you this so you’ll beat yourself up.” I reached over Watson and gripped Leo’s forearm. “And even if it is true, you’re not a member of the bird club. You’re only there occasionally. You’ve got the entire national park to think about. Myrtle does this full-time, and she’s as shocked as you are. The last we spoke, she didn’t believe it. About Owen or Petra. She barely let me finish before she cut me off. I wanted you to know, but I also thought with the new information and you knowing the members of the Feathered Friends Brigade much better than I do, that maybe this news would trigger something for you. Can you see Owen as the poacher? And if so, as a killer? Or Petra?”

  He laughed again. It burst from him in an almost crazed fashion. “Petra? Can you picture Petra murdering someone?”

  The idea of the little Asian grandmother slitting a man’s throat in the woods did seem a little farfetched, but you never knew. “She wouldn’t be the first little old lady who’s killed someone in the past couple of months.”

  Leo sobered. “Well, that’s true. But no, I can’t see Petra doing that. I also can’t see her being a poacher. If she is involved, then maybe she’s nothing more than a buyer. It happens sometimes. People love a certain animal so much that they can no longer love it from afar. They have to possess it.”

  “Sounds like a bad romance. At least a bad one-sided one.”

  “It’s a pretty apt description.” Leo shook his head again and sighed, sounding utterly defeated. Then he put his hands on his knees and shifted to a standing position. “I found the canister of pink-lemonade mix so I made a pitcher. Want a glass as we see if we can figure this out?”

  I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “You know, that sounds pretty good.”

  Leo walked around the couch, through the small living room, and into the kitchen. I watched as he pulled the pitcher from the refrigerator and set it on the counter by his phone. He picked up his cell, his eyebrows creasing, then glanced my way. “I have a text from Myrtle.”

  I stood instantly and made my way over to him. No way was that a coincidence.

  “Myrtle says she thinks she knows who the poacher is. She wants me to come to the shop and see what she’s found.” Without waiting for a response, he tapped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. Several seconds passed before he lowered it. “She’s not answering.”

  My skin prickled, but I ignored it. “She could be with a customer.”

  Leo glanced at his cell. “It’s almost five. She could be.” His honey-brown gaze lifted and met mine. A few more moments passed. “Should we go to her?”

  “If you don’t, I will.”

  Leo grinned.

  The sun was setting by the time we parked in front of Wings of the Rockies. The snow was thicker than before, and the downtown was empty of people. Leo waited for Watson and me to exit the Jeep and then hit Lock. There was still an Open sign in the window, and the three of us walked in. The chimes chirped overhead like always, but the store was silent.

  Watson growled in the back of his throat.

  Leo and I looked at each other. My skin prickled once more.

  “Myrtle?” Leo’s loud voice caused Watson and me both to jump, and I instinctively threw out my arm, as if he was in the passenger seat and we were about to wreck.

  I shook my head. Maybe I was being silly, but I could feel it. All three of us could. Something was clearly wrong.

  We made our way through the store, glancing behind little nooks and crannies as we walked, and then behind the counter. There was nothing. No one.

  I glanced at Leo. “Try calling her again.”

  He did. After a couple of silent seconds, we heard the sound of songbirds in the distance. Leo motioned toward the door in the back. “Over there. That’s her ringtone.”

  We walked to the door, and I suddenly wished we’d brought a weapon of some sort.

  Leo threw open the door and cursed. This time he held out his arm. “You don’t need to see this.”

  I stepped past him and into a large room. Over half of it was simply storage and merchandise; the other side was a makeshift office. Desk, computer, shelves of books. In front of the desk, lying in a pool of blood on the floor was Owen. Like Henry in the forest, his eyes were sightless. I could see two knife wounds, and it was easy to tell which one had killed him.

  Watson growled, but I didn’t try to shush him.

  Leo started to walk over to Owen’s body.

  “Leo, what are you doing?
”

  He paused and looked back. “I need to check and make sure he’s not alive. Maybe he—”

  “No, he’s dead. Don’t touch him. Don’t check.” I was surprised at the steel in my voice. It didn’t quaver in the slightest. Although this was my fifth dead body in three months, and by that point, I should be perfectly clear I wasn’t the fainting type. “It’ll mess up the scene. And possibly get you brought in as a suspect.”

  For a second he looked like he was going to argue, but then he didn’t. “No Myrtle.”

  I’d forgotten. “Call her cell again.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I saw it. “No, never mind. It’s on the desk.” The phone was lying on a stack of papers, but Myrtle’s peacock-feathered purse was on the ground, the contents strewn over the floor, beside a gun I’d not noticed before. “I don’t think Myrtle did this, and I don’t think she left willingly.”

  Leo followed my gaze and nodded. “Call the cops?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  Branson answered. “Don’t tell me you have another witness or person with information.” He sounded stressed, but there was a slight playful teasing in his tone.

  “A dead body, actually. At Wings of the Rockies.”

  There was a heartbeat. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Myrtle?”

  I shook my head again, then realized he couldn’t see it. “No. Owen.”

  “Owen?” His voice shot up, clearly shocked.

  “Yes. And I’m pretty certain Myrtle’s been taken against her will. At least her phone is here, and her purse is spilled all over the place.”

  “I’ll be right there. And Fred?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t touch anything.” I could almost see him roll his eyes. “The last thing I want is to have to waste time trying to keep Susan from locking you up because your fingerprints are on something.”

  “Got it.” I ended the call and looked at Leo. “They’re on their way.”