Cockatiels at Seven (26 page)

Karen was lying across the front seat—evidently she’d unhooked her seat belt and had been moving to jump out the passenger side when Freddy rammed her car.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“He’s the one who did it, isn’t he?” she said. “Don’t let him get away.”

I heard an engine rev, and then the blast of the shotgun, followed by screeching brakes. The sedan shook as Freddy clipped the rear end before landing in the left-hand ditch with one of his tires in shreds.

“I’ve got another barrel,” Mr. Early said. “Next one goes right into your thieving head!”

“I think Mr. Early’s stopped him,” I said. “Are you all right?”

I reached over to check her pulse, as Dad would have ordered. A little rapid, but not bad.

“Where’s Timmy?” she asked.

“Safe at home,” I said. “You don’t think I’d bring him along when I was chasing murderers and driving like a maniac?”

“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “I knew you’d take care of him. And when I saw you come to Uncle Hiram’s house, I knew you’d find the killer.”

“You saw me? Where were you?”

“I hid in the old Airstream trailer in the woods near Uncle Hiram’s,” she said. “When I found Jasper’s body, I was afraid whoever killed him would think I knew something and come after me. Jasper’s been involved with some very dangerous people. So I packed up all Timmy’s stuff and left him with you, for safekeeping, and then I realized I didn’t have anyplace safe to go. I just went back to Uncle Hiram’s place and hid my car with all the other old wrecks, and holed up in the trailer. I figured it was the last place anyone would look for me.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The poison ivy alone was better than a ten-foot wall topped with razor wire.” Though I suspected Chief Burke would have a few sharp words to say to his officers when he learned that they’d let poison ivy keep them from doing a thorough search. “You fed the dog, too, didn’t you?”

“Scout? Yes, poor old thing,” she said. “It’s not his fault I’m allergic to him. Anyway, I thought maybe the killer might come back. They do that sometimes, don’t they? To make sure they haven’t left any clues? But the only person who kept showing up was you. They’ll know Freddy’s guilty, though, now that he’s made a run for it, won’t they? And they’ll lock him up.”

“You bet,” I said. I didn’t feel as confident as I tried
to sound—after all, Freddy hadn’t yet admitted his guilt, and for all I knew, whoever he’d been calling on his cell phone might be the actual killer. And there was still the whole college embezzlement issue—how did that fit into the picture? But Freddy wasn’t going anywhere, and I had every confidence that Chief Burke and the DEA would get the truth out of him. And Karen was alive, if a little battered.

“What was with those files on the thumb drive, anyway?” I asked, as I checked her pulse again.

“They were embezzling from the college,” Karen said. “I saved the files in case Jasper could get in to cover it up, but then after I found his body—can you take them to the police?”

“Already did,” I said. Her pulse was better, and her color and breathing were good. Not that I was a doctor, but over the years, Dad had drummed a few basics of first aid into most of the family.

“Do you hurt anywhere?” I asked.

“I think my leg’s broken,” she said. “Or at least sprained. I’d get out if it wasn’t for that.”

The police would be here soon, though they seemed to be taking forever. And once they got here, no doubt it would take forever to answer all their questions.

And that bothered me, I realized. Because even though Freddy wasn’t going anywhere, he had known that Dad and Dr. Blake had taken his birds. What if he’d told that to whomever I’d heard him calling, back at the barn? I’d assured Karen that Timmy was safe, but I wasn’t sure Sandie would be a very effective guardian if some truly desperate finch launderer showed up at the house looking for his birds.

I dialed 911 again.

“Debbie Anne?” I said. “We’ve had—”

“Hang on,” she said. “The Chief wants to talk to you.”

And then the chief’s voice broke in.

“What the dickens is going on? Are you still chasing Freddy Hamilton?”

“No,” I said. “He heard sirens ahead of him and tried to turn around, but Karen and Mr. Early and I stopped him.”

“Stopped him how? Did you—Karen? Karen Walker? I thought you hadn’t seen her in days?”

“I hadn’t, but it turned out she was the third car I told Debbie Anne about. She was hiding in Hiram Bass’s Airstream out in the poison ivy jungle. She was injured when Freddy rammed her car—can you send an ambulance?”

“Make that two,” Seth Early said, from out in the road. “I think Freddy banged his head, too—he’s not looking too lively.”

I could hear the chief barking out orders on the other end of the phone.

“Look, chief,” I said. “I need to get home. Timmy—”

“You stay there till I get there!” he snapped, and hung up.

“But what if—”

I stopped myself. I’d just assured Karen that Timmy was safe. I didn’t want to upset her.

Seth Early circled around so he could look in on Karen while still keeping his shotgun pointed at Freddy.

“I can handle things here,” he said. “If you want to take off and check back home.”

“The cops are coming from both directions,” I said. “They won’t let me pass.”

“There’s a dirt road about a quarter mile back,” he said, nodding his head toward Caerphilly. “An old logging road from Civil War days. It’s not on the maps. I doubt if most of the cops even know it exists. You take that till it dead-ends at Route 313, then turn right. Should get you home in no time.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Karen, Mr. Early is going to look after you.”

“That’s right,” he said. Then he paused for a moment, and added. “And that’s Seth. Now go along before those state troopers get here.”

I would have liked to take the time to savor this sudden small gesture of acceptance from our reserved and rather formal neighbor, but I could see the flashing lights in the distance now. I scrambled into my car, backed it out of the roadblock, and raced along until I found the dirt road. Then I turned my headlights off, so my escape wouldn’t be as easy to spot, and didn’t turn them on again until I was several miles down the dirt road.

I took it slow, but even at twenty miles an hour, it was a rough ride. And it didn’t help my anxiety that as I drove along, I called both Michael and Dad without getting an answer.

“Damn it, what are they doing?” I muttered.

Just then, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Chief Burke. I let the phone ring. I could pretend I still had the phone on vibrate and hadn’t heard it. In fact, I flipped it over onto vibrate, just for good measure.

I’d call him back as soon as I got home and saw that everything was okay. Or got home and dealt with whatever
wasn’t okay. I was probably being hyper, I told myself.

But I had a bad feeling about what could be going on at home. I kept trying to remember exactly what Freddy had said on his cell phone call and wondering who he’d been calling. Trey—that was the name he’d used. One of his confederates? Surely there had to be confederates—I had a hard time imagining Freddy and Jasper running even a moderately successful criminal enterprise without some kind of competent help. Maybe even a boss who would want to tie up loose ends. Why did Rob have to mention that Dad and Dr. Blake might have taken the finches? What if this Trey knew who they were and where they might have gone?

I slowed down when I reached the ridge that gave me a view of our house. Only the one car, Sandie’s, parked there. But that didn’t mean Dad and Dr. Blake weren’t there—they could have hidden their car. Or they might not have turned up yet.

I kept on till I reached Seth Early’s driveway, where I turned in and parked. I locked the car, made sure I had my flashlight and that my cell phone was still on vibrate, and set out walking along the road toward the house.

When I reached our yard, I watched from behind the hedge. All was quiet. I crept along the edge of the yard to the barn and slipped inside. No contraband birds or vengeful thugs there or in any of the various outbuildings. The only birds I found were the ducks, roosting in their shed. Another shed still contained a couple of terrariums of snakes, which meant that Dad and Dr. Blake hadn’t taken my diatribe on our need for a reptile-free environment as seriously as I’d have liked. The rest of the sheds were unoccupied.

I heard a noise from the house. A noise that sounded like a bunch of birds squawking. I glanced up and saw that light had come on in one of the third floor bedrooms. The squawking seemed to be coming from there. Then the light blinked out and the squawking subsided.

Aha! Had I caught Dad and Dr. Blake in the act of smuggling more birds into our house?

I was creeping up to peek in the back door when I heard a shriek inside.

“
Want Kiki!
”

I hurried the rest of the way up the steps and peered
in. Timmy’s car seat was on the floor. He was strapped into it, flailing as hard as he could with hands and feet. His face was streaked with tears and snot.

Kiki was on the floor nearby. What was left of Kiki. She lay, limp and empty, with little piles of stuffing all around her. All my careful repair work had been undone, and she looked worse than she had after Spike had finished with her.

“
Kiki!
”

I controlled the impulse to rush in without thinking—that might not be the best thing for Timmy, or for me, either. Why had someone been eviscerating Kiki? To find the thumb drive, of course. Which probably meant that the person who’d ripped open Kiki was looking for evidence connected with the embezzlement. But only someone who knew Karen and Timmy reasonably well would think to look inside the stuffed cat.

Sandie. I backed away from the window, reaching for my cell phone, I’d call the police and—

“Don’t move.”

Sandie was standing at the foot of the steps, holding a gun.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you make that call,” she said. “Drop the phone, now.”

I stared at her, pretending to be stunned into immobility. Actually, I was fairly stunned, but my brain was racing, making and discarding plans to rescue myself.

“Now,” she said, gesturing with the gun. Then she giggled. “Wow, that sounded so dramatic. Like something out of the movies.”

“Sandie—”

“It’s too bad shooting people’s not at all like in the movies. They don’t get blown half across the room or spurt blood everywhere. They just die.”

I dropped the phone.

“Now go inside.”

She followed me up the steps. Timmy redoubled his efforts to get out of the car seat when he saw me.

“Auntie Meg!” he shrieked. “Want Auntie Meg!”

“It’s okay, Timmy,” I said. I went over to the car seat and hugged him.

“Out! Out!”

“Don’t let the miserable little brat out,” Sandie said. “I had a hard enough time getting him tied up in that thing.”

“I’m sorry, Timmy,” I said. “Sandie won’t let me let you out. If I try, she might hurt me.”

“Don’t like Sandie,” Timmy muttered.

“I don’t either,” I said.

“Well, pooh,” Sandie said. “I’m just so broken up about that.”

Bad enough that she was holding a gun on us, but did she have to be so . . . perky about it?

I swallowed my irritation. The thing to do was stall her. If Dad, Dr. Blake, and Michael were not here, they’d show up sooner or later. And surely Chief Burke would be mad enough to come looking for me before long. If I could just stall her.

I handed Timmy the limp shell of Kiki. He clutched the tattered bit of fur eagerly and began talking to Kiki in a low tone.

“Good thinking,” she said. “Keep the brat quiet.”

I turned to face her.

“You shot Jasper, didn’t you?” I said. “Was it because of the finch-laundering?”

“The what?” she asked. She sounded puzzled.

“No, I didn’t think so,” I said. “Then it was because of—” I stopped myself. Probably not a good idea to admit that I knew Jasper’s inside person in the embezzlement scheme wasn’t Karen or Nadine but Sandie. And that she’d probably killed Jasper when he got greedy and hit her up for a bigger share of the cash. And set up Karen to find the body so she’d look guilty.

I saw, very fleetingly, a smug smile cross her face. Then she frowned, and steadied the gun.

“Knock it off,” she said. “You think I’m going to stand around bragging about how clever I am until some of your family shows up? I want the thumb drive. I know Karen hid it in the brat’s stuffed toy—that’s where she always used to hide stuff from Jasper. And now it’s gone, so I know you took it. Where is it?”

“With the cops,” I said.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “You spent the last couple of days running around playing Nancy Drew, and when you find a hot piece of evidence, you turn it over to the cops.”

“I didn’t just turn it over to the cops,” I said. “I made a copy and then turned it over to the cops.”

Her face fell a little.

“Honest,” I said.

“Where’d you copy it?”

Great. Now she’d try to trash my laptop.

“And then I e-mailed it to a friend who’s a cyber expert,” I said. “To see if he could decipher it. So there’s
no sense trying to find the thumb drive and collect all the copies, because they’re not even all in the state by now.”

Actually, they probably all were, unless Chief Burke had sent a copy to someone in Washington, but no sense getting her fired up to hunt down my cyber expert.

“How could you do something like that to me?” Sandie asked. Clearly she was a few ants short of a picnic.

“I wasn’t trying to do it to you,” I said. “I thought I was doing it to Nadine. In fact, with Jasper dead, there’s no one else who knows you were in on it. Blame Nadine.”

She shook her head. Ah, well; it was worth a try.

“I haven’t got much time here,” she said. “I want you to—”

We heard a knock on the door.

“Don’t answer it,” Sandie said.

“Fine,” I said, with a shrug. “That’ll look real normal, all the lights on and no one answering the door.”

She thought about it for a moment.

“Okay, answer it, but if you try anything—remember, I’ve got the kid.”