Read Parrots Prove Deadly Online
Authors: Clea Simon
Heading toward the shelter, I really didn’t want to be bothered by anyone else. So when my phone rang the first time, I ignored it. I’d check my voicemail when I got to Albert’s, in case one of my regulars was having an emergency. When it rang again, almost immediately, I was a little curious. It was possible that Creighton wanted to apologize, after all. Or that he had something more fun in mind. But with any animal, consistency is the key to training, and the lesson I wanted to teach was that my time was my own, and so I let it go. The third time, I reached to turn it off. But the combination of bite and bandage had made my fingers clumsy, and before I knew it, I heard a familiar voice, calling frantically from inside my bag.
“Miss Marlowe? Pru? Are you there?” It was Genie, her accent making her voice more clipped. With a sigh, I raised the phone to my ear.
“I’m here, Genie. What’s up?” I didn’t slow down, but I heard the touch of guilt in my own voice. I should have left a note, when I left the dog and parrot in the room. She had no way of knowing I’d be back. “If this is about Buster—”
“You have to come. You have to come now.” She interrupted me. “They are going to take the dog away. They are going to call the police.”
“Good luck with that.” I murmured to myself. All the police in Beauville were down at Evergreen Hills, and any call about an animal would be routed to Albert anyway. Still, I had left her—and the animals—in the lurch. “Don’t worry, Genie. I’m on my way.”
This time, I made sure I turned off my phone. I couldn’t imagine what had prompted the panic in the aide’s voice, but it was an excuse to drive fast, traffic be damned.
I’ll admit, I swept into the lot with a bit more flourish than necessary. That might have been why the aides gathered outside for a smoke looked up as I walked up to LiveWell’s main entrance. There was no way Nancy could have heard my squealing tires, however, so it had to be something else that had her eyebrows raised to her bangs.
“Miss Marlowe!” She nearly jumped out of her seat.
“Reporting for duty.” I gave a mock salute. “I hear Buster’s been causing some trouble?”
“That dog’s gone crazy.” She leaned forward, her voice a hush. “Nobody knows what caused it, but it’s scaring all the residents. You’ve got to get rid of him.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” As I’ve said, half my job is training humans. More than half. “With Rose in the hospital, Buster has had a shock, and I’m sure she’s just acting out.” Even as I said it, I wondered. A well-trained service dog does not simply go off without provocation. “I’m going up there now.”
She breathed, what might have been the first time since I walked in, and I realized that maybe my stop here would be useful. “Once I’ve seen Buster,” I turned. The elevator tended to take its time. “I’d love to talk to Dr. Wachtell again.” I really wanted to grill him on Evergreen Hills, but I’d let Nancy think it was about Rose, if that would help.
It didn’t. “He’s not on duty today.” She must have seen the surprise on my face. I’d seen him only that morning. “He handled the overnight,” she explained. “So he won’t be in again until tomorrow.”
“Ah well.” The chime announced the arrival of the elevator, so I got in line behind two walkers and wheel chair. “Maybe you can tell me how to reach him when I’m done upstairs?”
She nodded, but I wasn’t optimistic. The look on her face said that disturbing the doctor on his day off was not something in the LiveWell handbook.
***
As soon as I got off the elevator, I understood the urgency. LiveWell’s walls were probably more solid than those at Evergreen Hills. They only muted the loud, deep barks, however, the sound of a dog in distress. I panicked for a moment, remembering that I didn’t have keys, and then caught myself. Rose never locked her door. As far as I could tell, nobody here did. Which might, I thought, be part of the problem.
The scene that greeted me, though, was not what I had feared. In the few seconds it took me to reach Rose’s unit, I had visions of an intruder, lying dead. Or of Rose herself, returned from Berkshire General, and once more lying unconscious.
“Help! Help! ”
was what I had heard in each round of barks. “
Help! Help! Help! ”
A cycle repeated long enough for Buster to grow hoarse.
“Buster.” As I stepped into the room, she shut up even before I could make the hands-down “silence” gesture. She’d been facing the door, standing, and now she sat. She even wagged that big flag of a tail, as I knelt in front of her, thumping it on the floor two or three times in greeting. “What is it?” I reached out to put my good hand on her head. “Tell me?”
“
Help? ”
she woofed softly, almost a sigh. And it hit me. “Randolph!” I jumped to my feet so fast that Buster scurried backward. Racing to the shelf, I ripped off the cage covering. And found myself face to face with the quizzical eyes of a perfectly healthy parrot.
“Randolph?” He whistled softly. “Are you okay?”
“Mind your own business!” He tilted his head, as if to get a better look at me. “Ignorant slut.”
I laughed with relief, a sound that started the parrot cursing again. “Bugger all! Shut up!” Buster even came up to lean against me, that big tail thwacking against my leg.
“You two gave me quite a scare. You know that?” Randolph whistled again, and I made for the armchair. Buster lay by my feet, undoubtedly exhausted by barking. “Either of you want to tell me what happened here?”
I was talking as much to myself as to them. I don’t have any kind of easy rapport with anyone but Wallis. I certainly didn’t expect a response. But even as I settled into the chair, I realized the dog before me had raised her head. She was looking at the parrot, and Randolph was looking back at her. The room was suddenly very silent.
“Anyone want to start?” I didn’t want to disturb what seemed to be a communication here. I did want in. Leaning forward, I put my good hand on Buster’s back. I couldn’t reach Randolph from here, but I looked up at him, trying not to blink as I met his small black eyes with mine. “Randolph?”
“Hello,” he said, softly. “Hello. Pretty bird.”
“Buster?”
I felt the dog’s response, rather than hearing it. A low rumble, the precursor to a growl, and for a moment I wondered if I had miscalculated. A bored dog might just see a large bird as legitimate prey.
“Hands off!” Randolph squawked, his voice louder. “Hand’s off! Bugger off! That’s mine! Stop it!” He was getting louder, shuffling on his perch. Beneath my hand, I could feel Buster’s growl getting louder. Could almost hear it.
“Hands off! Stop it!” Randolph shrieked. Clearly, Buster’s growl had set the parrot off. “Stop it!”
“Okay, that’s enough.” I stood up and reached for the cage cover.
“
Help! Help! Help!
”
Buster stood too, and began barking.
“Quiet.” I turned toward her, my voice low and firm. “Quiet, Buster.” Using both hands, I motioned for her to sit and be still. Good dog that she was, she sat.
“Sorry about that.” I apologized to Randolph as I began to spread the cover once again over his cage.
“Hello,” he responded, much more quietly. “Hello.” I paused. The dog was no longer barking, nor could I sense that incipient growl. But the cage wasn’t covered yet, and Randolph and Buster could clearly see each other. Still, the parrot had clearly calmed. “Hello,” he said. “Pretty bird?”
Did my command to the dog work with the parrot, too? Was Randolph intelligent enough to have picked up some of Buster’s training? For a moment, I paused, the implications racing through my head. Maybe I did have a future in animal behavior. Maybe there was even a thesis in this.
Or, at least, a content client. Backing carefully out of the room, I went across the hall and knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Jane, sounding more tired than the day before.
“Jane, great news.” The woman I saw sitting cross-legged on the floor looked like she could use it. “Would you come with me?”
Her sigh could have been a jetpack, launching her upright, only it took too long. “I believe we’ve made some progress,” I said, hoping to jolly her along. The look she gave me was both doubtful and confused, and I realized I’d lost her. “Randolph? The parrot?”
She nodded without saying anything, and I realized that she’d disengaged. Granted, she had her hands full, but I needed her to realize that even if the African gray was currently in my care, he was her responsibility.
“He’s really coming along,” I said, glad to have the excuse to reintroduce them.
“Oh, good.” She paused to brush some dust from her sweatpants, and paused again at the door, looking at her sweater.
“He’s right across the hall.” I was doing my best not to lose my temper. “At Rose Danziger’s, remember?”
“Of course.” There was a bit of snippiness in her tone. “I didn’t know if you left him there, after—well, after all that fuss.”
“You were here this morning?” I didn’t remember seeing her. Then again, with everything going on, it would have been easy for someone so pale and nondescript to go unnoticed.
Jane nodded. “I can’t sleep,” she said by way of explanation. Looking back at the boxes behind her, she added, “Sometimes, I think I’ll never be done.”
“Well, one problem may soon be solved.” I was using my happy voice. I really didn’t have time to waste. “Come see.”
With a flourish, I opened Rose’s door and ushered Jane inside. The worn-looking woman took two steps and then started, holding her hands up as if stifling a yell.
“That’s just Buster,” I reassured her. “You’ve met Buster. She’s very well trained.” Just the same, I made the calming gesture with my hands—palms down. None of us needed another barking fit. The dog obliged, tilting her triangular head to consider the newcomer.
“This is who I wanted you to see.” Hands low, pitching my voice in as calm and unthreatening a tone as I could, I drew Jane over to Randolph’s cage, and turned to him. “Hello, pretty bird. Would you say, ‘Hello’?”
There was a moment, I’d swear to it. The bird looked at me, turning that round gray head side to side to examine me with each of those yellow eyes. Then he looked over at Buster, and then at Jane. “Hello?” I tried again. Something was going on. Something I didn’t like. “Pretty bird?” I could hear the hope drain out of my own voice.
“Well, this is better than all that foul language,” said Jane, coming up behind me.
And that was it. “Sqwah!” Randolph flapped his wings. “Hand’s off, damn you! That’s mine!”
“Quiet.” I tried using the same voice, low and commanding, to Randolph. “Be good now.”
“That’s mine!” The parrot was on a roll now. “Screw you! Hand’s off!”
To make matters worse, Buster started barking. “
Help! Help! Help! ”
“Buster, no.” I spun around and caught her in mid-bark. She shut up, but Randolph was still at it. “Screw you! Your own damned business.”
“I’m—” Jane flapped her hands, in a sad mockery of the parrot. “I’ll be across the hall.”
“I’m sorry.” I watched her go. “Randolph really was doing better.” The door closed behind her, and immediately the parrot settled down.
“And what,” I turned back to the bird. “Was that about?”
“Ah, bugger all!” He was quieter, now, as if he’d made his point. “Bugger all and be done, you ignorant slut!”
“Well, that was useless.” I wasn’t talking to Randolph, not really. Nor to Buster, although the guide dog was staring at my face as if trying to make sense of my words. “Worse than useless. And I still don’t know what to do with either of you.”
Both animals were quiet, now that Jane was gone, but my thoughts were anything but. I could understand some of it. Jane was not an easy person to be with. I’m not into psychobabble, but I knew enough about depression to recognize it. And I’d had enough experience to know that the quiet ones were the ones who turned. Jane clearly didn’t want responsibility for her mother’s pet, even though I doubted she’d ever admit that, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the bird had picked up on some of that. Even a big bird, like Randolph, was essentially a prey animal. You see any of your family become dinner, and you learn pretty quick to recognize hostility—and to do what you can to chase it away.
And Buster? Well, the parrot’s voice had sounded enough like an old lady’s—Rose’s, though also, I imagined, Polly’s—that the dog might have been responding as she would if her person had been yelling. She had been calling for help, trying to alert me to a problem. And she had shut up when I’d told her to.
Animals make sense. They don’t know any other way. It’s people who act erratic, and Jane’s mixed messages were the cause of the commotion, of that I was sure. Though as I sat there, being stared at by three inscrutable eyes, I realized Jane’s behavior had raised some alarms in the back of my mind, too. For starters, where had she been that morning? You hear cries for help, you hear emergency techs racing down a hallway, isn’t it natural to stick your head out? Especially when you know that your beloved mother’s beloved pet parrot is in the room where the emergency is happening?
I already suspected that Jane wanted Randolph gone. Unlike her brother, she would never dare voice the words out loud. It was clear, though, that she’d love for me to spirit the parrot away and never bother her again. We still had no explanation for Randolph’s seizure. Come to think of it, we didn’t yet know what had happened to Rose, either. Could Jane be some kind of closet killer? And could Randolph have been yelling his gray head off to save himself—or to warn me? No, I realized. I couldn’t bring that bird back to his old home. Not yet, maybe not ever.
I couldn’t leave them here, though. Buster was clearly too bored, and it wasn’t fair to Genie to expect her to keep cleaning up after a foot-long bird. I toyed with the idea of bringing them over to my house. It was big, and, on paper, it was mine. Well, except that the paper didn’t reflect the reality. Wallis might agree to the parrot being there. Even that was pushing it, I feared, as I thought of the tabby’s “interrogation.” The dog? No way. Wallis had been clear about that, and our old house was her territory. Besides, I had too much to do to try to convince her. Albert had as good as told me the time was running out for that raccoon, and although I had every intention of stalling him, I had to do something for the poor beast. Odds were, if he was getting sick, it was from being stuck in that back kennel for days now.
That’s when it hit me. A little over the top, maybe, but with a little luck, it just might work.
I ran into Genie on my way to the elevator. Buster was leading me, in her fashion, and I saw the wave of relief wash over the aide’s face as she looked down at the now-silent dog.
“Ah good.” She looked up at me with a smile. “Thank you, Pru. This is for the best.”
Something in her wording made me worry. “I hope this is just temporary. Genie, have you heard anything?”
She stared at me, blank faced, for a moment. “About Rose?” I lowered my voice.
“Ah.” She nodded and glanced around. Of course. Aides may wash the residents and dress them, deal with all kinds of intimate care. They’re not officially family, though, and I doubted they were supposed to be privy to much information. However, healthcare workers talk to each other, and clearly someone had said something. “I have heard,” she leaned in, and I did the same. “Our Rose is doing well,” she said quietly. “She took too much of something, and so they want to keep an eye on her. But she will be back.”
Something about Genie’s phrasing, her slightly stilted English, gave her words more weight. Rose would be back—it was almost like a declaration of war.
“I’m so glad.” I meant it. “But, they’re still worried?”
A shake of the head. “You said, they’re keeping an eye on her?”
“Oh, that.” The aide’s contempt was clear. “They think our Rose maybe tried to kill herself. How silly is that?”
I shrugged. Aging, blind, with health and money problems. I’d have thought her aide would see the possibility, but Genie seemed oblivious. “You don’t think she might have?”
Another shake. “Not our Rose.”
“But something happened.” I was weighing the factors. Genie was Haitian. Probably Catholic. Maybe the idea of suicide was inconceivable. Still, working here, with so many old and frail people, she must have known other residents who wanted to end it all. She might have been enlisted. The memory of other cases, of so-called angels of mercy, crossed my mind. “Are they saying it was an accident?”
“They are not saying anything.” Her mouth was set, firm. “Not to me. Not yet.” So she did expect to be blamed. Immediately, I was sorry for my own suspicions. She seemed to sense a change, because she looked down at Buster. “But she will not need her dog for now. She’s a good animal. She works hard. If you can take her…”
“I can. But Genie?” A questioning look. “I’m leaving Randolph in Rose’s apartment for a little while longer. I’ll come by and clean the cage, tomorrow at the latest. Is that okay.”
A nod, as Genie stared down the hall. She was probably used to people dumping duties on her, and I made a silent promise that I’d make it up to her. “I’m not going to stick you with bird care,” I said. That got me a smile—and another glance down at Buster. “I guess we better get going.”
“Goodbye, Buster.” She called softly as we walked to the elevator. “See you soon.”
It was interesting, I thought as we waited. Genie never pet Buster, never got down on her knees, as I would, to greet the dog. Then again, Buster was a service dog, and service dogs should not be pet: it distracts them from their job. Genie had spent enough time with Rose so that maybe this had become second nature. At least she’d praised Buster. Randolph, however, was clearly never going to be a favorite. Poor old guy. I could never let Wallis know, but I was beginning to sympathize with him.