Never Murder a Birder

by Edie Claire

  “Don’t worry about it,” Leigh proclaimed. “I think the time may have come, Bev. Where is he now?”

  Bev paused a beat. “You’re not thinking of confronting him?”

  “Only in a safe place,” Leigh assured. “Look, my running and hiding isn’t accomplishing anything, is it? Why shouldn’t I tell them straight out that I’m not the person they’re looking for? Until I set them straight, they’re just going to keep probing. And putting my family in their crosshairs is not acceptable!”

  “Well, at least let me send Hap down to be with you!” Bev begged.

  “I’d be happy to have the backup,” Leigh agreed. “But only if Russell doesn’t know he’s there. Think about it… the more afraid I act, the more likely the Finneys will be to think I know something about their criminal activities. But if I act more annoyed than anything, they’ll be much more likely to buy the idea that I am a completely clueless bystander. In which case they can safely leave me alone!”

  Bev muttered under her breath. “I suppose.”

  “Where is Russell now?”

  Shuffling noises sounded in the background. “Last report he was driving around over by the south entrance to the preserve,” Bev replied. “But he seems to cycle between there and the busier shopping areas in town.”

  Leigh considered. Neither place was an easy walk from her current location, and now that she’d made up her mind, she didn’t want to miss him. “You know anyone who could give me a lift into town?”

  Bev sighed. “Sure. Go and wait out by the pier entrance. Best chance of catching Russell’s eye would be to go get a cup of coffee at the Cocoa-Nut and park yourself on one of the tables outside. I’ll make sure Hap’s nearby. You talk to Russell if you want, but don’t you dare go anywhere with that man or anybody else, you hear?”

  “No worries,” Leigh promised. She ambled back down the pier at a leisurely pace, hoping that Hap would not be asked to abandon his post at the hotel desk for her sake. When she reached the parking area she leaned casually against a post and pretended to be studying her phone. When a truck pulled up and stopped within a few feet of her, she looked up expecting to see her cousin or one of the women she knew. When she did not, she quickly buried her face in her phone again.

  “Hey there, toots!” a creaky voice called out. “Wanna go for a spin?”

  Leigh looked up again. The vehicle in front of her was a dilapidated pickup that looked and sounded like it was held together with wire and duct tape. The individual driving it was a tiny, shriveled man who could be anywhere from eighty to a hundred-and-three. He was wearing faded dungarees, a once-plaid shirt faded to near white, and a cap with a picture of a fish on it and the words “Size Matters.” He smiled at her with minimal teeth and gestured for her to get in.

  Leigh hesitated.

  “How about them ivory bills?” he grinned.

  Leigh grinned back and opened the door. “Never say never,” she returned. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Eh, I was already here,” he admitted cheerfully.

  Leigh hopped inside. The truck reeked with an interesting combination of fish, dog, and some other aroma she couldn’t quite identify… until she noted the assortment of distinctive round tins rattling around in the console. Ah. Chewing tobacco.

  After a round of introductions and five minutes’ worth of a surprisingly intriguing discussion about whether or not the tarpon were staging a comeback, Leigh thanked her chauffeur profusely and then hopped out of his truck in front of the coffee shop. She went in and bought an herbal tea — having discovered that finding bathrooms could be an issue on a walking day — and then planted herself at an outdoor table as instructed. She checked in with Bev and learned that although Hap should be arriving any second, three other “operatives” in the area already had her in their sights. Furthermore, by total coincidence, a local Port Mesten police officer happened to be getting his hair cut in the barbershop across the street.

  Leigh relaxed in the metal armchair, feeling quite safe. She had removed her headgear and sunglasses, and the feel of the warm sun on her face was bliss. Everything would be fine. Whatever trouble the Finneys were in, Leigh Koslow Harmon was not, and never had been, involved. All she had to do was convince Russell of that.

  She had been sitting no more than ten minutes when a Porsche 911 Carrera came cruising down the street with Mr. Handsome at the wheel. He spied Leigh immediately, as least as far as she could tell by looking at the mirrored lenses of his designer sunglasses, and then he continued down the street to park. Leigh sat tight while he made his way back to her on foot. She watched with amusement as he sauntered down the street looking everywhere but at her. Only when he reached the coffee shop and pretended to be going inside did he pull off his sunglasses and “notice” her. He lifted a hand to rub at the beard on his rugged, square jaw and gave her a dazzling smile.

  Leigh smiled back.

  He dropped the door handle and closed the distance between them. “Well. We meet again,” he said smoothly.

  “I noticed you staring at me again,” Leigh said matter-of-factly, cutting to the chase. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I promise you, I’m not that person. You are totally mistaking me for someone else.”

  Russell’s smooth brow furrowed slightly. His head cocked to one side. Her words clearly confused him, but the expression did not last long. His blue eyes soon sparkled with understanding, and his lips drew into a sardonic smile. He scanned up and down the street, appeared to see nothing alarming, then pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her.

  His efforts at precaution made Leigh grin. She could see at least three people with binoculars pointed their way, and Hap was now inside the coffee shop with his back turned. But it didn’t matter, because there would be nothing to see. Russell would apologize now and move on.

  The millionaire-heir relaxed in his chair and threw her another thoroughly practiced, drop-dead sexy smile. “Listen,” he said in a low, husky voice. “I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing. But whatever’s happened… if you have what I want, there’s no reason we can’t still work together.”

  Leigh’s bubble of happiness burst into a puddle. She looked straight into Russell’s eyes and he stared straight back into hers. The idiot man was entirely serious.

  He didn’t believe her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Leigh blurted, her voice sounding way more desperate than she wanted it to.

  Russell’s expression went from calculating to annoyed. He leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “What happened with the old guy? What’s going on?”

  Leigh’s metal chair scraped on the pavement as she pushed it back and stood. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she repeated, not bothering to be quiet anymore. “I’m a freakin’ tourist!”

  Russell stood up with her. He wasn’t being quiet anymore, either. “Just tell me what you want, will you?” he replied angrily.

  “I want you to leave me alone!”

  Russell’s face turned red. He did not seem to notice that Hap had come outside and was standing a few feet behind him. Preferring the two men make no connection, Leigh quickly retreated the opposite direction down the street.

  She had walked more than a block when heavy footsteps hurried up behind her. She whirled around, expecting to see Hap. She nearly collided with Russell instead. He stopped short and laid a hand gently on her wrist. His unnaturally handsome face was sweating and his eyes caught hers with a beseeching look. “We can get you out of this!” he said earnestly. “I can help you!”

  “Hey, Russell!” Hap called from behind them, his booming voice artificially pleasant. “Hold up, there! I got a question for you.”

  Russell dropped his hand and stepped back, exhaling with a huff of frustration. Leigh suspected he was about to say something else to her, but she didn’t care to hear it. She dodged away from him, jaywalked, confirmed that Hap had successfully embroiled the moron in
some suitably pointless conversation, and then weaved her way out of sight.

  Chapter 17

  Russell didn’t believe her.

  Leigh stomped her way through town until she realized she had no idea where she was. Then she stomped some more. How dare he not believe her? Where did the overgrown playboy get off, thinking he knew better than her who the hell she was?

  It was maddening.

  What was even more maddening, she realized as his words replayed in her head, was that he not only seemed to think that she had something that belonged to him, he had the gall to suspect that she… SHE was responsible for what happened to Stanley!

  Leigh felt a strong desire to go back and wring Russell’s attractively tanned neck, but despite her rage and indignation, she was aware of the hypocrisy in that fantasy.

  She kept on stomping instead.

  Eventually she realized that her phone was ringing. She paused long enough to see that the call was from Bev, then took a deep breath and slowed her steps. “Hi, there.”

  “Are you okay, honey?”

  “I’m fine. Just annoyed. Is Hap all right? Please tell him thanks for me.”

  “Of course Hap’s all right. But where are you trying to go? They say you’re headed for the wastewater treatment plant.”

  Leigh stopped walking. “I am?”

  Bev chuckled. “Just sit tight and Hap can pick you up.”

  “No,” Leigh said quickly. “I don’t want any of the Finneys to see me with him. Or you. I don’t want my family involved in this any more than you already are, just because of this stupid face of mine.” She scowled. When and if she ever met this trouble-making doppelganger, she might just ring her neck.

  She gave Bev a brief summary of her exchange with Russell, remembering to put her disguise back on as she talked. The headgear wouldn’t fool Mr. Handsome as long as she was wearing the same outfit from the neck down, but it should protect her from the other three nightmares, none of whom she was up to meeting at present. What she wanted most right now was to relax and make the most of what little time she had left on her rapidly dwindling vacation. Bev had promised them a grilled shrimp dinner tonight, and tomorrow was Saturday and Warren didn’t have to work. Leigh would have a singularly fantastic time from here on out, dammit!

  “I don’t suppose I’m anywhere near the beach where I’m supposed to meet Sue and Bonnie?” she asked.

  Bev chuckled again. “Um… no. But I’m sure someone can give you a lift. That is, if you’re sure you still want to do a patrol? You really don’t have—”

  “I want to spend time at the beach on a beautiful day,” Leigh assured. “And if I have company, no one will pester me.”

  A half-hour later, after having been picked up on the street by Sue herself and given a ride to the rendezvous spot, Leigh kicked off her walking shoes and socks and wiggled her toes in the sand. She had known exactly what she was doing in signing up for this particular shift. Bonnie’s sore heel would keep the group moving at a leisurely pace, and Sue was rumored to make amazing fruit smoothies.

  Besides which, Leigh found the women amusing. As eager as they were to help with “the project,” neither seemed curious enough about Leigh’s personal situation to pepper her with questions. They did not even ask her about her encounter with Russell this morning. They were far more interested in the birds. As the threesome came upon a black bird picking through some trash, Leigh described the Hitchcock scene that had greeted her and Warren when they first arrived in the Silver King’s parking lot.

  “Great-tailed grackles,” Bonnie said with disgust. “You’re lucky you only saw one truck’s worth of ’em. Some places in Texas, they roost by the thousands. They take over whole parking lots like a cloud of locusts. Only they’re a hell of a lot bigger than grasshoppers. And messier!”

  “All birdlife is of equal moral value,” Sue chided.

  Bonnie made a rude noise. “Speak for yourself, Pollyanna. You’ve obviously never come out of a mall after a long day’s shopping to find your brand new Taurus buried in two inches of guano!”

  Leigh lowered her eyes and stifled a grin. Catching sight of another one of the strange giraffe-spotted shell fragments, she scooped it up and held it out. “Isn’t this interesting? I’ve never seen a shell like it before. Do you know what kind it is?”

  Sue pulled down her binoculars for only a fraction of a second. “That isn’t a seashell,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a piece of a crab.”

  Leigh dropped it.

  “Hold the phone!” Bonnie said suddenly, just as she was, ironically, checking her own phone. “Crested caracara sighted!”

  Sue pulled her binoculars down again and swung around. “Where?”

  Bonnie pushed up her glasses and adjusted the distance between her phone and her eyes. “It’s Clem and Jean. They’re on the observation tower at the north entrance.”

  Sue’s look of excitement dampened. “Oh, that’s… Poor Stanley. He waited so long to see one. And then it happens the day after he dies? Right where he was? That’s not right.”

  “Well now, we don’t know that he didn’t see one!” Bonnie replied. “In any event, there’s one there now. Actually, two! And a whole venue of vultures, they say.”

  Both women turned and looked longingly up the road. “We can come right back here,” Sue decided. “It’s not that far out of our area, and we haven’t seen anything here, anyway.” The two looked at each other with eager anticipation. Then they looked at Leigh.

  “Um… just let me get my shoes back on,” she replied, faking accord. She had no desire to go anywhere near the spot where Stanley had died. “I don’t care to go back in the preserve, myself,” she admitted once they began walking again. “But I can wait for you at the pavilion or something.”

  The women looked contrite. “Oh, how stupid of us,” Sue apologized. “We didn’t think.”

  “Don’t you worry, we won’t go… there,” Bonnie assured. She was typing away on her phone as she walked. “We won’t need to. Jean says the birds are circling pretty far away from them, kind of off to their northwest. So we can probably see them just as well if we keep walking down the main road outside the place.”

  “Let’s go, then!” Sue proclaimed, raising her binoculars back to her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, get a move on, Bonnie! How long’s it been since you saw a caracara?”

  Bonnie harrumphed. “At least two RVs ago. But if they’re feeding, they’re not likely to rush off, you know.”

  Leigh got a sudden, sick feeling in her gut. “Feeding?”

  Sue turned to Bonnie. “Did they say for sure it’s not a kettle?” At Leigh’s confused look, Sue explained. “That’s where a group of vultures spiral around on the same thermal current. Just because you see several in one place doesn’t mean they’re hovering over a carcass.”

  Leigh’s spirits rose slightly.

  Bonnie putzed around with her phone a moment. “Jean says they’re definitely feeding on something.”

  Leigh felt ill again.

  “They’ve been watching the birds dive down,” Bonnie continued, “but they’re landing on the other side of some tall grass or something where they can’t see them anymore. They can’t see that area at all except from up on the tower, but Jean’s thinking we should have better luck from the road here.”

  The women continued walking down the beach highway past the pavilion and parking lot that marked the north entrance to the preserve. “I see them!” Sue exclaimed, her gaze focused on the sky ahead. “Oh, look! There’s two caracaras!”

  “Well, son of a—” Bonnie began, stepping forward with her own binocs pressed to her face even as a Mack truck rolled up toward them. Leigh grabbed her arm and Sue’s and pulled them further back onto the shoulder. “We hear it,” Sue insisted, still looking through her binoculars.

  “Haven’t got flattened yet,” Bonnie corroborated.

  Leigh kept her mouth shut. When the truck had passed by, the women lowered their binocul
ars just long enough to look both ways. Then they crossed the road and lifted their lenses again.

  “It must be something big,” Bonnie drawled. “Look at all of them! I don’t see any black vultures, though, do you?”

  “No, only turkeys. Blacks are rare here,” Sue answered. “But you’re right, it must be at least a deer. Maybe a wild boar?”

  Leigh was definitely feeling sick now. “Maybe we should stop here.”

  The women lowered their field glasses and looked at her. “Are you okay?” Sue asked.

  Leigh didn’t know how to answer that question. Her rational mind knew that whatever the vultures had found, its fundamental substance couldn’t alter based on whether or not she continued walking forward.

  But it still seemed like a bad idea.

  “I’m just… trying not to overdo it with my blisters,” she said lamely. Her blisters had healed up nicely and she’d been walking all morning without complaint. She looked down the road, and inspiration struck. “Besides, once we get to the next bend, the road starts moving off the other direction. So it’s not likely we can get much closer than this without stepping in the mud anyway.”

  “Oh, but look,” Sue replied, pointing. “There’s a gravel road turning off just up ahead, see? I bet you anything it goes right along the edge of the preserve. We’ll just walk up it a little bit. It looks like it may take us right by that area where the deeper water is!”

  Leigh’s resolve crumbled. The women desperately wanted to see the birds up close. She had no legitimate reason to refuse.

  It was still a bad idea.

  They began walking down the gravel lane, and sure enough, after a brief detour through some scrubby trees, the tire tracks wound back around to the edge of the preserve. As the cackles and grunts of the squabbling vultures became louder, Leigh grew more queasy.