Bird Brained (34 page)

Terri didn’t immediately tell me what that was. Instead, he went to work with my blender, some fruit, and a bottle of seltzer. Kitchen drawers flew open and shut until he located my stash of paper parasols.

“What is it that I’m forgetting?” I asked, trying to remain patient as he placed two glasses filled with his mystery concoction on the table.

Terri removed the purple parasol from his drink and licked the end of the stick. “Wouldn’t it be pretty silly for Elena and Ramon to kill your Everglades cowboy? From what you say, they’d be cutting off their main source for weapons. That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Terri was right. I’d overlooked a huge, gaping hole in my own logic.

“Besides, this whole business about Dominguez being attacked by some rampaging cougar sounds crazy to me,” Terri continued. “Do Elena and Ramon even own one of those cats?”

Elena’s taxidermied pets, Geraldo and Rivera, didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. “No,” I had to admit.

“There, you see? Also, why would they kill a close friend of theirs? They all grew up together, they even came over to Miami on the same boat as children.”

Terri had efficiently decimated my entire theory into a pile of shreds in less than five minutes. I looked at Bonkers, who was dangling by a single toe while chewing a wooden stick to pieces.

“You’re right. It doesn’t make much sense,” I conceded. “Damn!” What kind of an agent was I, anyway? I’d sunk to depending on a bird to solve the case for me.

“Think of it this way: You may have lost a couple of suspects, but you’ve managed to retain one incredibly hot lambada partner,” Terri said consolingly. “Here—sip your drink.” He pushed the glass toward me. “After that, I have a little activity planned for this evening.”

I took a sip, feeling despondent. “Have Sophie and Lucinda gone away?”

“They’re around, but they’re being very mysterious about what they’ve got planned this weekend. Knowing those two, they’re probably rallying Miami’s senior citizens for a protest demanding a female version of Viagra.” Terri emptied the contents of the blender into his glass. “In any case, you and I are going to have a wonderful weekend filled with nothing but R & R. And that doesn’t stand for rest and relaxation; we’re talking reggae and rhumbas.”

My world might be crumbling around me, but I thanked my lucky stars for Terri. “What would I do without you?” I tried to keep my tone light, but a slight quiver snuck in.

Terri covered my hand with his. “That’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about. Don’t you know by now that we’re soul mates?”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I acknowledged. “You truly are the best friend I could ever have.”

Terri wiped a tear from beneath my eye. “Now, perk up, Rach. You’ve been under way too much strain with everything that’s been going on. So what say we go dance our rear ends off? God knows, my butt could use the exercise. My only workout since coming to Miami has been planting my rump down on warm sand.”

Terri was right. I was at the point where gravity was beginning to kick in; loud music and an aerobic workout might be just what I needed.

“You’re on.” I blew my nose into a napkin as the phone rang, sending Bonkers into a tizzy at the commingling of sounds.

“Fuck the commander! Make the call! Make the call!” the bird shrieked.

I cupped one hand over my ear while I pressed the other tightly against the receiver.

“Hello?” I bellowed over Bonkers’s surround-sound screech.

“For chrissakes, Porter, what the hell are you running over there? Some kinda illegal zoo?”

I recognized the voice. “How are you feeling, Tony? Back to business as usual?” I asked, aware that a phone call from him could bode nothing but trouble.

“I feel like shit, Porter! That’s how I feel. That putz next door is at it again!” Carrera exploded.

“Exactly who are you talking about?” I inquired, figuring either neighbor stood a fifty-fifty shot of landing on Carrera’s shit list.

“Langer! Who the hell else do you think? I’m not calling about the Cuban Donny and Marie, even though they’ve got a damn party going on that’s giving me a splitting headache. Unless you’re doing double duty these days, and can handle a complaint for noise while you’re out here,” he groused.

Ramon was having a party and I hadn’t been invited.

For God’s sake! Stop acting like a schoolgirl whose feelings are hurt because you’ve been left out.

The scolding did little good. I still wondered why Ramon hadn’t mentioned it to me the other night.

“Hello? Anybody home? You still there, Porter? Or are you bailing out on me? Just remember—I can still press that lawsuit against you whenever I want, ya know,” Carrera threatened.

I brought my focus back to Mr. Charm. “What do you want, Tony?” I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat when I could be brooding about being left off the Vallardes’s party list. “I’m calling because Langer’s messing with my birds again, and you promised to help,” he reminded me.

“I told you before, Tony, this is something that needs to be handled by a state wildlife agent.”

“And I told you before that I don’t give a damn. So I suggest you get over here right away—otherwise, I swear I’m gonna blow that bastard’s brains out!”

The only thing that kept me from telling Tony to go right ahead was my curiosity about Ramon’s party. While it wasn’t a very noble motive, it did provide the proper dash of incentive.

“All right, Tony. I’ll be right over,” I told him. “Just don’t do anything crazy before I get there.”

“Make it snappy! Otherwise, I can’t make any promises,” Carrera warned.

I turned around, and Terri homed in on me with a questioning expression. So much for his planned diversion. “Sorry, Ter. I’m afraid dancing is out for me tonight. That was a call I have to go on.”

“So where are we headed?” he asked. “And what’s the appropriate apparel?”

I looked at Terri in his beach cover and turban. Carlos would consign me to paperwork hell for the rest of my days if he ever got wind that I’d taken a civilian along on an official call. “It’s work related. Believe me, it won’t be any fun.”

“Of course it will be!” he insisted. “I’ll keep you company. What could be more fun than that? And we’ll find someplace to go afterward.” Terri pulled another curl out from under his turban. “You’d better get used to the idea, Rach. Like it or not, I’m your sidekick this weekend—like Batman and Robin, Miami style.”

The image was good enough to give me a warm chortle. Besides, Carrera’s call wasn’t really all that official. And I had to face facts: Carlos had made it clear that my life was to be relegated to a desk anyway.

“Well, this guy does live near Ramon and Elena,” I teased Terri. “And he did mention that they’re having a party tonight.”

He was instantly on his feet. “What? And you weren’t going to take me along?”

“I’m not planning on going myself,” I informed him. “We weren’t invited.”

“Of course we were. You know the postal service; nothing ever arrives on time,” Terri reasoned blithely.

“Neither of them mentioned it the other night at the Havana Club.”

“It skipped their minds.”

Once Terri decided upon a course of action, there was no talking him out of it. “You’re determined to crash this party, aren’t you?”

“Damned straight,” Terri replied. “I just have to figure out what I should wear.”

“Whatever it is, you’d better hurry. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes,” I warned him. That would give me just enough time to slip into something myself.

“Make it twenty!” Terri shot back, making a beeline out the door.

It was a real brainteaser: What to wear while on duty and at the same time look like a put-together, sexy kind of gal? I pulled out the tightest pair of pants I could squeeze into. Shirts were another matter. I couldn’t prance around in a camisole top while trying to get someone like Langer to take me seriously.

The best shirt I had was the one I’d worn the night of Alberto’s murder, and I hadn’t done any laundry since then. I took a whiff at the important spots. Not too bad; it would pass. My twenty minutes were quickly winding down. I threw on the shirt and slipped into a pair of knockoff designer sandals.

“Be a good boy, Bonkers. I’ll be back later, and let you out of your cage,” I promised.

He tipped his bowl of veggies onto the floor of his cage.

“That’s it, young man. We’ll talk about your manners when I get home,” I said sternly. Grabbing my purse, I headed out the door.

“Candy store! Candy store!” Bonkers called after me.

Maybe he hadn’t been referring to DRMOs after all, but just wanted a chocolate bar all along. I could understand that; it ran in the family.

I headed down the path toward Sophie’s cottage and was pleased to find Terri waiting.

“What do you think, Rach?” he asked, twirling around.

Terri wore an elegant, understated outfit à la Audrey Hepburn. “You look great,” I told him, envious that I hadn’t put myself together half as well.

“Let’s get rolling, then.”

He headed down the walk and pulled on the passenger door of the Tempo. It grudgingly creaked open, sounding like a cat in heat. Terri watched me perform my usual free-form dance as I squeezed into the driver’s side, then turned the key in the ignition. The Ford wheezed to life, the engine finally turning over.

“Remind me to include a new car on that list, when Sophie and I hit it big time,” he said.

We flew over the causeway, being one of the few vehicles to leave South Beach on a Friday night. This was Terri’s first journey into Miami’s burbs, or the “hinterlands” as he called them. Traffic was fine until we hit Miracle Mile where, even at this hour, people were determined to shop till they dropped. Mercedes, Jaguars, and Ferraris clogged the street.

“This neighborhood isn’t half bad,” he observed. “In fact, it could be the perfect spot for our Yarmulke Schlemmer flagship store.”

“You’re thinking of making it a chain now?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Like I’ve always said, if all you do is plan to meet Prince Charming, you’re going to find yourself parked out on a corner with a sign and an empty tin cup in your hand.”

Terri flipped down the visor to check his image in the vanity mirror and dislodged a strawberry seed from between his front teeth, being careful not to smudge his lipstick. “I’m going to need something to fall back on in my old age. Sure, I can do Madonna and Marilyn and Barbra right now. But who am I going to impersonate in a few years? Sophie Tucker?”

He had a good point. If I ended up getting sacked, maybe I could get a job at Terri’s store. Especially if they had a retirement plan.

I was grateful that I’d first gone to Tony’s house during daylight hours. At night, finding it would have been mission impossible. I followed the curves, trying to remember where to turn and managing to avoid most of the unmarked dead ends. Terri took in the sights as we drove past one mansion after another, safely ensconced behind metal gates and imposing stone walls. There was no denying that the neighborhood put on the ritz, even in the dark.

“This guy sells pet reptiles and he lives
here?
” Terri asked incredulously.

“He imports them for the pet trade. That is, when he’s not busy trying to smuggle in something illegal.”

Terri’s wig gleamed in the moonlight, surrounding his head like a halo of gold. “I hate to break the news to you, Rach, but you’re obviously on the wrong side of the wildlife trade. Start sneaking in a few primo items here and there, and in no time at all you’ll have a solid nest egg.”

I was shocked. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to save species—not give them an additional shove toward extinction.”

Terri pulled one of my unruly curls. “Lighten up, Rach; I’m only teasing. I just hope all those furry little four-legged creatures out there appreciate your idealism.”

I gave him a grin. “They don’t have to, Ter. If I can just shake up the bad guys a bit, it helps make my day.”

“Hmm. Very Clint Eastwood. You might want to try softening that with a dash of Julia Roberts,” he suggested.

Carrera’s white brick wall came into view. He was obviously expecting me; the gate was unlocked and stood open a fraction. I drove through, expecting to be greeted by Poopsie, but the dog was nowhere in sight.

The loud pulse of salsa from next door rattled the night, reminding me that we hadn’t made the A-list. I headed to Carrera’s front door and rang the bell, but Tony had either turned hard of hearing or he wasn’t bothering to answer.

I walked back to the car and grabbed a flashlight. “I’m going to head around to the rear of the house and see if I can find Carrera. Why don’t you wait here?” I suggested.

“Absolutely not!” Terri asserted. “I’m your sidekick this weekend, remember?”

“Okay. But be prepared for a large dog to suddenly come zooming toward you,” I warned.

“What’s the dog’s name?” he asked. “They usually like to hear me scream it just once, before sinking their teeth into me.”

“Poopsie,” I replied.

Terri gave me a “you’ve-got-to-be-kidding” look. “I always consider it a personal affront when someone who’s gay has such schmaltzy taste.”

I was about to tell him that as far as I knew, Carrera was straight, but then thought better of it. I’d let Terri decide that for himself.

We were nearly at the back of the house when I heard a noise behind us. I whirled around to catch a dark figure separate from the shadow of night, like a ghoul rising from beneath the earth. I stood transfixed as Terri’s fingers bit into my skin with a grip as fierce as ten scorpions, transmitting his terror through me. The specter clutched a piece of hardware capable of ejecting enough fire power to disintegrate half the neighborhood, pointed straight at our chests.

I abruptly raised the flashlight and leveled it into the demon’s eyes, attempting to blind him to ruin his aim. But there were no eyes—only a large, black protrusion with lenses that jutted out toward me. The terrifying phantom sprang at us in a rage.

“Don’t shoot!” I screamed, hoping it could hear me above the throbbing beat of Gloria Estefan.