Parrots Prove Deadly (15 page)

“Hi Rose, Genie.” I stood to greet them. Rose took my hand in her cool, wrinkled one. Genie nodded. Buster just panted. I didn’t need to be a psychic to know that they’d come back from a walk, and that she found the small suite to be overheated.

“Hi, dear.” Rose looked up at me. “How are you—and how is Randolph?” I noticed she didn’t address Jane.

“He’s doing much better, thanks.” I moved over to lean against the sill, and let Buster guide the old lady to my chair.
“One step, turn—box. Stop!
”
The service dog was good at her job, and I wondered how much Rose picked up, at least subliminally. “The vet couldn’t find out what was wrong with him. It could have been an irritant. Or simply age and stress.”

“Poor old bastard,” said Rose, settling into the armchair. “None of us likes the changes here.”

“Changes?” I was watching Genie, but she’d kept her face blank. That could have simply meant she’d heard all this before.

“Oh, the usual. There’s always something they want to treat you for.”

“Are you having health problems?” I remembered what Genie had told me. It didn’t seem to me that Rose needed to be medicated, but I didn’t know her that well.

“I’m old, that’s all.” She waved her hand to dismiss it. I also remembered what Genie had said about her finances. “Just like Buster: two old bitches making do!”

The dog didn’t seem elderly to me, but I smiled in acknowledgment of her joke—and her stoicism. So did Genie, I noticed. Jane only opened her mouth and quickly closed it.

“Well, I’m happy to tell you that Randolph seems to be doing fine. In fact, I was just talking to Jane about his future.” I looked over to see Jane standing up, and realized that we’d been joined by Marc. “Hello, Marc.” I didn’t want Rose to be taken unaware.

“Miss Marlowe.” He didn’t, I noticed, acknowledge Rose or Genie. “Jane, I need to talk to Miss Marlowe.” He paused, as if suddenly taking in his surroundings. “When you’re done. I’ve got a half hour.”

“I’m glad we’re all here.” I had my own questions for Marc, but I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. “Jane and I were talking about Randolph’s future.” I’d used the bird’s name deliberately, to stress his individual identity. Marc looked blank, however. “The parrot?”

“Yeah, mom’s bird.” Marc nodded. “Go on.”

Well, that was interesting. If the bully brother hadn’t come over to talk to me about his mother’s pet, what was on his mind? I’d find out, I was sure. For now, however, I plowed on.

“I have temporarily taken the parrot over to my house. He was released with a clean bill of health by County, the animal hospital, and I obtained Jane’s permission.” I didn’t trust Marc, and I really didn’t need to be accused of anything. “And I would like to keep working with him. He’s an intelligent animal, and I know he can be retrained to everyone’s satisfaction. However, that isn’t going to happen overnight. And I don’t think that coming back to this suite, what with the dust and fumes of packing and cleaning, is the best thing for him.”

“Why not? He lived here as long as Mom did.” Marc said. I knew he was intentionally ignoring what I’d said, but I tried again.

“Either the dust or a cleaning product—
”

Jane interrupted me. “It’s not healthy for him, Marc. He could have
died
.”

“Well, if you think I’m going to take him, with that mouth on him, you’ve got another—
”

“I’ll take him.” A soft voice broke up what was building up to be a battle royal.
“He’s spent enough time in my place, and I’m not packing. He’ll be safe there, while you work with him.”

It was Rose. I turned, and realized we were all looking at her. Even, I noted, Genie.

“Oh, we couldn’t.” Jane was flustered, I could tell. Genie, her mouth set tight, was simply shaking her head. “He’s such a bother.”

“I like hearing him talk.” Rose was warming to her theme. “He’ll keep me company when Genie’s off duty. We can curse like old sailors together.”

I looked at Genie. She’d be the one stuck cleaning up after the bird. She shrugged, ever so slightly, and I nodded back. I’d try to do some of the work.

“It would have to be temporary.” I looked at Jane and Marc. No way did I want them unloading the bird on Rose, not without at least making some financial accommodation for his care. “I can provide what he needs, and add it to my bill. I’ll bring everything over with him later today, if that’s acceptable.”

Nods all around. “And I’ll need both of you to be available to continue his training.”

“Is that really necessary?” Marc was close to whining.

“Yes, it is. Unless you want me to start making other plans for surrendering the bird.”

“Marc.” Jane’s voice had a little steel in it, something I’d never heard before.

“All right.” The kid brother actually kicked the carpet.

“How about five this evening. Does that work for you two?” They nodded. “Rose, Genie?”

“We’ll be at dinner then,” Genie answered.

“That’s fine; they’ll have the place to themselves,” Rose said, then turned to me. “The door’s always open. Who’s going to break in here, anyway?” She laughed a short bark of a laugh. Buster looked up at her, ears alert.
“Ready to go? ”
Sure enough, she was beginning to push herself up on the arm of the chair. Genie rushed to help her before I could. “You just bring him by anytime, dear,” she said to me, as she made her way toward the door. “I’ll be watching my stories all afternoon. Jane,” she nodded to her neighbor’s daughter as she made her way. “Pru. We’ll be talking.”

“Blind old bat.” Marc said, even as the door closed behind her. “Always fishing around.”

“Seems to me, she’s helping you out of a jam.” I stood, too, wiping my hands of the sill’s dust. “Now, do you want to talk here, or shall we go over to the coffeehouse?”

Chapter Thirty

I wanted privacy. I had my own questions. The way he looked at his sister, though, that answered some of them right away. “Starbucks,” he said. “I gotta get out of here.”

We walked to the corner in silence, and I let that continue. He was the one who’d called this meeting. I could let the pressure build.

“Can’t believe we finally got one of these out here.” He forced a chuckle as we waited for our drinks. I’d let him pay. “About time, huh?”

“You’re not from here, are you?” I didn’t know if it mattered. But he was uneasy, for a change, and I thought I’d take advantage of that. The way he was concentrating on his coffee—half and half, then some skim milk, then enough sugar to make my teeth hurt—made me wonder what was really on his mind.

“Not for years.” He said, with a touch of wistfulness in his voice. “Moved back for the kids.”

“Uh huh.” If he’d grown up here, he knew it wasn’t paradise. I rescued my coffee before he could dump sugar in it, too, and followed him over to a table. Then I watched him stir his oversweet mess. Finally, I broke.

“You wanted to talk?” This was a Marc I wasn’t used to. My questions would wait. I needed to get a handle on what was going on first.

“Yeah.” The coffee must be thrilling, the way he was staring into it. I sipped my own—black and bitter—and waited for him to go on. “It’s about the bird.”

I nodded. Drank some more. I hadn’t thought it was about my taste for fast cars.

“You see, I’m trying to cut back on unnecessary expenses.” He looked up. I doubt he liked what he saw on my face.

“Unnecessary? Marc, unless you’re willing to adopt Randolph the way he is now—”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that.” He was quick to cut me off. “I just mean, well, it’s just a bird, you know? Couldn’t we just, maybe, have it put down?”

“A healthy animal? For no reason? Randolph is not just any bird, Marc. He’s an African gray parrot. They’re extremely intelligent and long-lived animals.” I could imagine Wallis’ response to that, but I wasn’t talking to her. “In addition, Randolph was your late mother’s beloved pet. Besides,” I was warming to my topic, “you’re not footing the bill. Jane is.”

He looked at the door as if dreaming of escape. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

I waited, actually curious. Besides, unlike Marc, I was drinking my coffee.

“You see, Jane isn’t paying you out of her pocket. She’s paying you out of my mother’s bank account. We had our names put on her accounts early on when she went into LiveWell. It just seemed to be the safe move.”

I bet,
I thought. Out loud, I said nothing.

“LiveWell,” he continued, “is a top of the line facility, as I’m sure you’re aware. And my mother had one of the nicer suites.”

I put down the paper mug. I knew what he was getting at, but I didn’t like it. “I gather the place is pricey, Marc. But really—this was your mother’s pet, and my rates are not that high.” Hell, the few weeks’ work I’d sketched out probably cost less than one of the old lady’s prescriptions. “Surely, there’s enough for Randolph’s care. Jane certainly isn’t worried.”

He was squirming now. “Jane isn’t the best with money. She just, well, she just doesn’t have the head for it.” I bit back my thoughts on that. Marc was still talking. “You see, I’m in business. I was with one of the big firms before we moved back, but for the sake of my family, I decided to go independent. Investments, financial planning. You know.” I nodded. I did. More than he knew. “But it’s hard getting a new venture off the ground.” He paused and seemed to realize that it was time to make eye contact. “I won’t lie to you,” he said. “I’ve had some reversals. And my mother, bless her heart, was helping out me out.”

He stopped there. Drank some of his milky mess as if he were giving me time to digest what he’d said. I didn’t need it. What he’d said was clear: baby brother had drained mom’s accounts, and big sister didn’t know. I thought of the check I had already deposited and wondered if it would clear. He had given me an opening, however, and peeved as I was about his financial finagling, I had no mercy about pressing it.

“Does this have anything to do with Evergreen Hills?” I was watching his face. Sure enough, he blanched, his ruddy complexion turning pasty.

“Did Jane say something?” He ducked down into his drink, which had to be cold by now.

I wasn’t going to rat her out. “This is a small town, Marc.”

“Don’t I know it.” He put down the cup with a little moue of disgust—I’d been right—and started staring at the door again as if it would call to him. He wasn’t getting off that easily.

“So, is that one of your ‘reversals’?” He shrugged. I thought it was as much of an acknowledgment as I was going to get, and was going to move on when he started talking.

“Five years ago, it seemed like a win-win, you know?” His voice sounded soft. Dreamy. “People needed housing. The area needed the jobs, needed development.”

“So this is purely altruistic, huh?” Another thought hit me. “Is that why you moved up here?”

“I had multiple business leads in the area. Plus,” he backtracked, remembering his story, “I love the area. Fresh air. The mountains. I’m a family man now.”

A family man who steals from his mother and sister. I nodded. “So who are your associates?”

“Excuse me?” He’d blanched again, his face going pale before a wave of color rose up his cheeks. “My who?”

“The people you’re doing business with—the ones in charge. You know, the general manager, board of overseers over at Evergreen Hills?” I watched as his color began to normalize. I’d missed something, so I pressed on. “Who knows? I might be ready to downsize. Buy a condo myself.”

“Evergreen Hills is a professionally managed consortium—”

“Yeah, but who runs it?” I cut him off. “Who’s on the board of overseers, the condo board? Whatever you call it.”

He sputtered a bit. Took a sip to cover up.

“I can go down to the county clerk and look it up, you know.” I was reasonably sure of that. At any rate, the bluff worked.

“Several prominent local citizens are on the board.” Marc looked hurt, as if he’d forgotten how this conversation had started. “I am, of course. Dan Weatherby of Weatherby Real Estate. Mal Jones from Jones Construction.” He listed a few other locals—all in the building trades or real estate—and then hit on a name that surprised me. “And George—George Wachtell from LiveWell.” He said it like it was an afterthought, but I wasn’t buying.

“So that’s how your mother ended up here? Or did her move come first?” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I could see a web of connections forming. An investor, a builder, a realtor—and now the doctor who had treated Marc’s mother. Some of these players had an obvious vested interest. The others may have been roped in, I didn’t know.

“George Wachtell—Dr. George Wachtell—is a prominent medical practitioner. And Beauville is, as you’ve said, a small town.” Marc was getting back into bully mode, a mix of smarm and force I didn’t care for. “I don’t know what you’re implying.” He started to stand up.

“I’ll spell it out for you.” I stood too—sick of this verbal dancing. I also had the nasty feeling that I’d asked the wrong question. Let him get loose somehow. “You’ve had money problems. So bad that you want to euthanize your mother’s pet rather than care for it. I get it: the bird’s a big responsibility. But your sister hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do that job. If you want to tell her you’ve bilked the estate, that’s up to you.”

I stood up, looking down as Marc flushed with rage. When he didn’t respond, I figured he couldn’t. Well, he was in a public place. If he had a coronary, someone would call over to LiveWell. With a nod at the glaring little man, I tossed my empty cup into the trash and walked out.

I’d enjoyed my little outburst. Marc needed to be put in his place. Of course, the truth was more complex. It always is. But I’d talked to Jane about rescue groups, about giving Randolph up for adoption. She was the client, not this minor league bully, and she’d rejected the idea—at least for now. Besides, I hadn’t wanted to give Marc any ammunition to go after his sister. From what I’d seen that morning, she was at the end of her rope, and I didn’t want to be responsible for it snapping. Which reminded me: I’d promised to bring Randolph over to Rose’s. If this was ever going to be resolved, I needed to spend some time with the big bird. Besides, now that I had more experience with Marc, I was looking forward to talking to the old lady again. Rose Danziger might be blind, but she had seen enough to know what was going on.

As I walked back to my car, I looked into the wide glass doors of LiveWell. I had no real idea how long the assisted living residence had been around, or who had been behind it. Was it the same shoddy construction, I wondered? Or had changing times justified cutting some corners in a new development, to be marketed more at out-of-town yuppies than the local elders? As I stood there, I saw a white coat walk up to Nancy and say something that started her laughing. When he turned, I saw it was Dr. Wachtell, smiling at his own wit.

Or maybe I was simply feeling bitter. Either way, his exit was a reminder that some of us did have work to do. With more questions than I had answers for, I went to pick up the parrot.