Parrots Prove Deadly (21 page)

Chapter Forty-one

As we took off from LiveWell, I opened the window a bit for Buster. I don’t care what their job is, dogs love car rides. Still, the shepherd mix was so quiet during the ride that I felt her thoughts were elsewhere. Maybe it was just as well. I had a crazy half-thought-out plan in mind, and before we reached our destination, I was hoping to work it into a more manageable shape.

“Hey, Albert!” I let Buster lead me into the shelter as if she were working. I could see her nose quivering, the smell of all the other animals that had passed through here playing like a Technicolor movie through her head. She was too well trained to react, though, and with a steady, gliding pace led me right up to Albert’s desk. “What’s up?”

“Huh?” The bearded animal control officer slammed his desk drawer. Porn, I hoped, and not Frank was quickly closed inside. “Pru! You here for the raccoon?”

“Not right now, Al. As you can see,” I nodded down at Buster, “I’ve got some other business to take care of first.”

“What? Oh, yeah.” He looked over his desk as if seeing the dog for the first time, and started back in fear. “What is that, a German shepherd?”

“She’s a mix.” I was scanning Albert’s desk as I spoke, looking for Frank. I could use an ally with what I was planning. “She’s a trained service dog,” I said, trying to reassure him. A nervous Albert was even less attractive than usual.

“Oh, you brought her because of the raccoon?” Albert began nodding, as he settled back into his seat. For a moment, I was concerned. There was no way he could have guessed my plan, could he? Then I realized the nodding was another nervous tick, like the way he kept petting the down vest he wore over this month’s flannel.

“Excuse me?” I’d seen a movement inside Albert’s vest, something too big for fleas.
“Frank? ”
I silently mouthed the words.
“Can you help me here? ”
I could use a hand, even a tiny, clawed one.

“Like those cancer dogs?” Albert was still talking.

“Albert, what are you talking about?” It didn’t pay to be too polite to the man.

“I was just wondering if, you know, the dog was trained to sniff out rabies. You know.”

“Oh, we’re working on it.” I smiled. Out of the mouths of idiots come the best alibis. “Hey, did you bring Frank in today?”

“Why, yeah.” He peeked inside his vest and then glanced nervously at Buster. “You think it’ll be okay?”

“Buster is very well trained.” I had my hand firmly on her halter to be sure. “Hey, Frank,” I called to the small mustelid.

A damp nose inched out of the vest, followed by the rest of the masked face. I could sense Buster’s interest, but true to her training, she held still. Frank, however, seemed doubtful. “
Wolf? ”

“Buster is a good dog.” I was using my command voice, low and calm. I figured it would work on everyone there. Even Albert nodded, and slowly Frank emerged, climbing down to the cluttered desktop.

“Interesting
.” Frank’s nose was as busy as Buster’s, and I’d have given anything just to be able to observe the two animals interacting. I had other plans, however, and Frank could help me. As simply as I could, I visualized what I was going to do. It was straightforward; it should work.

“Okay, Frank?” I smiled at Albert as I said it, hoping he’d think I was talking about the dog. “We’re good here?”

“We’re good here
.” Frank and the dog were still staring at each other, but the ferret had inched forward so that their noses almost touched.
“We’re good
.”

“Good.” I nodded to Albert and headed toward the back of the shelter. “I’m going to have to leave Buster here, temporarily, Albert.” Let him think it was to sniff out disease. The shelter was nearly empty, and this would solve one big problem. It also gave me the perfect excuse.

“Be careful with her
,” Frank’s thoughts caught me by surprise, as Albert buzzed me in.
“She is tryin’; she always tries. But she doesn’t understand
.”

I appreciated it, I really did. Frank’s a good friend. I didn’t need Buster to understand, however. I just needed her to obey commands, and that’s what she did as she led me into the back. “In,” I opened an empty cage, down at the far end of the room. “Go inside, girl.” I shut the door.

“I will be back,” I said, trying to make eye contact. With what I had in mind, I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to keep my promise. I knew I would try.

Buster seemed content, even in the strange setting, and so I walked over to the one other occupied cage in the back room, and gave its resident a good hard look. The raccoon had seen better days, that was certain. A certain dullness in the coat showed that either he wasn’t eating or grooming properly. It could also indicate disease. Without thinking, I flexed my right hand. The swelling had gone down, but when I moved my thumb, I could still feel the deep bite Rocky here had inflicted. What I couldn’t feel was if there were any further damage. Any of the virus multiplying inside me, infiltrating my bloodstream. Making its stealthy way to my brain.

“Hiding, hiding. Burrow—good! ”
The interruption startled me, it was so strong and sudden.
“Dig away! ”

The raccoon was staring at me, his eyes bright. Bright with fever? I blinked, and the bear-like creature brought his hands together. For a moment, I was touched. Those little hands, so human-like, seemed to be praying. Begging me for a chance. But if I were to try this, I would not only be endangering my career—relocating raccoons and other wildlife is against the law in Massachusetts—I would also be putting an unknown amount of wildlife at risk. Yes, rabies was endemic in the raccoon population. However, I was planning on releasing my captive here in a different section of the woods than where he’d been caught. If he were infected, I could be spreading the disease further, or at least exposing an uncountable number of new animals to it. In addition, if this raccoon were sick, I would be condemning him to die alone, a horrible and painful death. Better he should be euthanized, cleanly and without pain.

Those hands came together again. No, I was thinking like a human—a stupid, sympathetic human.
“Away! ”

Then it hit me: this wasn’t a supplicating gesture, the begging of a poor trapped creature. It was a digging motion. This raccoon was acting out what he wanted to do. What he’d tried to do, I suspected, in the still-damp concrete corner of his enclosure. As young as he was, this creature had already learned about fences and since he couldn’t climb over it, he’d been trying to burrow beneath it. Concrete, even damp, wasn’t as yielding as soil, but he’d tried—and now he was letting me know what he wanted to do.

I took a breath. I’d gotten myself in trouble once with this beast already, seeing him in too human terms. It might well be a mistake to assume he was trying to communicate with me now. A deadly mistake: lack of fear can be a symptom of rabies.

“
Away? ”

Or the dullness I had noticed in his coat could be the result of three days of bad food and no activity. Three days of desperation and despair. No, it was no use. What I was about to do might be crazy, but I didn’t really have a choice.

“Try to trust me, okay?” I let my plan run through my head, as simply and as visually as I could, while I assembled what I needed. An old animal carrier, thrown in a corner. A blanket, probably from some rescue attempt. And, because I’m not a complete fool, that long-handled net. In the back, I could hear Buster whining softly. She had enough good dog sense to know that I was taking a risk. If she’d known all of it, she’d doubtless be barking to raise the alarm.

“Quiet.” I said it as calmly as I could. Both Buster and the raccoon seemed to respond.

Within minutes, I was ready. I had the carrier set up by the opening to the raccoon’s cage, and I’d piled the blanket on top. I’d already checked that the back door could be unlocked and that the tiny dog run was empty. The fence would be a problem. At six feet high, it wouldn’t have been much of a challenge for the raccoon, but I had no wish to release the animal right here, in downtown Beauville. Back inside, I poked around, finally finding another, larger carrier that I hoped would support my weight. When I took it outside, I also took a harder look around. The shelter lot was empty, and the adjoining lot—belonging to the police department—seemed quiet as well, our small town force still tied up at Evergreen Hills. I could only hope it stayed that way. As much as I enjoyed Jim Creighton’s company, his sudden appearance would put a crimp in my plans.

Back inside, I took a breath, rehearsed everything in my head one more time. And made my move.

“
Now, Frank! ”
From the front, I heard Albert yell. “Ow!” Good, Frank had nipped him. It was risky, but Albert was fond enough of his pet that there likely wouldn’t be any repercussions, and I needed the distraction. “Ow, stop it! Stop it!”

“Good luck…”
The faint thought reached me, and I smiled as I unlatched the raccoon’s enclosure. The sound of running water reached me. Albert had finally learned to wash his hands after a bite, and I only hoped he’d stay in the small bathroom, with the tap on, for a few minutes.

“Come on.” I didn’t want to use the net. Didn’t want to panic the already distressed raccoon. And as I began to raise the cage door, he responded. With one glance at me, he scurried through the door and into the carrier. I dropped the net and shut the cage, letting the blanket conceal its masked occupant.

“Here’s hoping.” I prayed to nobody in particular, and hefting the carrier, threw my shoulder against the back door. Buster in her enclosure looked up, and I shook my head. She held still, and I was out, the door closing behind me. It was a matter of seconds before I was on the larger carrier and lowering the raccoon’s box over the fence. Back inside, I straightened my shirt and brushed off some stray hairs from the old blanket. Well, that would give the raccoon something to think about. Then, taking a deep breath, I walked back into the main room of the shelter.

“Be quick! ”
Frank, standing upright on Albert’s desk, caught me with his sharp gaze. I nodded.

“Heading out, Albert!” I called over to the bathroom. “I’ll pick the dog up soon.”

The sound of a toilet flushing obscured his response, and I was out. Through the glass double doors, away from the shelter—and away from the front of the police headquarters next door. There was still nobody in the parking lot, as I grabbed the raccoon’s carrier, still covered by the blanket, and slid it onto my front seat.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized softly as I shoved the cage in securely.

“The woods! Into the woods! ”
I had a brief flash of an oak tree, half rotten, a sweet, moist opening high up between its boughs.

“I’ll do what I can, little fellow,” I said, as I gunned the engine to head out of town.

Chapter Forty-two

Finally, things were going right. With the sun out and highway in front of me, I was headed south. In five miles, I could pick up the Interstate and take that to some preservation land where nobody would be building condos, at least not during this raccoon’s lifetime.

Any other day, I’d have taken the local roads all the way. It would have been a nicer drive, but there were too many tourists clogging up our byways. As it was, I’d have to wade through leaf peepers from here to the entrance. Well, once I was there, we’d be home free. The preservation land was twenty miles from Beauville, far enough to keep the raccoon out of trouble. Then, once I set this little fellow free, I’d go get my first rabies shot. I had a good feeling about this animal, but there wouldn’t be any harm in being careful, and four shots was a small price to pay to continue being able to live, breathe, and drive on a day like this. After that, I thought, maybe I’d celebrate. Treat myself to a late lunch. Order two burgers, maybe, and bring one home for Wallis.

Burgers, or maybe a steak. My mouth was watering as I slide past another SUV and back into the lane. I was nearing the turnoff for Evergreen Hills and so I kept my eyes open for Jerry’s truck, but all I saw were more SUVs, most packed with kids, like nature was the latest version of a Disney thrill ride.

I shouldn’t complain. As I passed another slowpoke, I thought of the alternatives. At least they appreciated what we had. At least they’d be spending some of that city money here. My own mother had no patience for sightseeing. She was working too hard, once my father left. Though I did remember her, some evenings, sitting on our covered back porch and staring down the mountain. At the time, I’d thought she was just staring into space. Half the time, I took the opportunity to sneak out—often with her car keys. No, we didn’t have much use for scenery when I was growing up. Family time, either, come to think of it.

I wasn’t sightseeing today, either, I told myself as I sliced by another dawdler. And if I was hungry, I couldn’t imagine what the raccoon was going through. He’d been scratching at the corner of his carrier when I first put him in, but I hadn’t heard anything in a while, so I sneaked the blanket back. Two black eyes blinked up at me, and I nodded. Two miles to go till the interstate, up over one more rise, then a quick shot to that park.

“Oh, hell.” I’d looked up and seen it. A gumball rotating in my rearview mirror. The removable kind, placed on an unmarked car that was right now signaling for me to pull over. Too much passing, too little concern for the moneyed visitors to our fair burg. Shit.

I pulled over, but kept the engine running. For all the day’s beauty, it was cold. And even if I could deal, I didn’t want the terrified animal beside me to suffer. I rolled down my window and smiled as the cop approached. The smile wasn’t hard to manage. The cop was Jim Creighton.

“Hi, Jim.” I looked up at him. “How fast was I going?”

“Pru, I thought it was you.” I didn’t respond. How many baby blue almost fully restored 1974 GTOs are on the road? In western Massachusetts? “Look, it wasn’t your speeding.”

That surprised me, and my face must have showed it.

“It was your driving. You can’t keep weaving around other cars like that.”

“Even when they’re leaf peepers?” I smiled. Creighton often finds my smile fetching.

“Even then.” Today he didn’t. “Look, I know you’re a good driver, but you’re not alone on the road. You drive like that, you could make one of them panic. You could even make a mistake yourself.”

I felt, rather than heard, a rustle in the carrier on the seat beside me. I needed to end this. “You’re right, Jim. I was being careless.”

“That’s one word for it.” He leaned on my car’s roof and looked down the road. I breathed easier. But he didn’t leave, not yet. “I also wanted to talk to you about this morning. What were you doing at Evergreen Hills, Pru?”

“I told you, Jim.” I didn’t want to bring up the raccoon. Not with the carrier beside me. “I was helping Albert, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve got people asking questions. Like, was someone tipped off?”

That was interesting. “Why, what did you find?”

“Nothing, Pru.” He was squinting into the afternoon sun. The lines around his eyes made him look sexy and intense. “Nothing, and I’m having problems finding out about other properties. The place is run by one of those blind trusts, and once the lawyers start getting involved, forget about it.”

“Tell me about it.” I thought about the letter. If there were repercussions for what I was about to do, I wouldn’t be the only one taking the heat. “You wouldn’t know who is really behind it all, would you?”

“Why?” He turned those eyes on me, and then past me to the carrier. “Hey, what is that, Pru? What do you have under that blanket?”

“You don’t want to know, Jim.” I braced. “Trust me.”

“Pru, as an officer of the law—”

He didn’t get a chance. My engine was warm and running, and I slipped her into gear. He jumped back—reflexes taking precedence over training—and I took off, rolling up my window as I drove.

“Please, Jim, don’t do this.” There’d been a lull in the traffic, and I took advantage of it to accelerate, keeping a half an eye on my rearview. “Damn.” His car appeared behind me, gumdrop revolving—and getting bigger.

“Sorry, Creighton.” I leaned back in my seat and we took off. The point of a car like this is its power, and I felt like I was riding a thoroughbred, the way she responded. I slammed into third, then fourth, and we ate up the road.

Only cop cars tend to be pretty good as well. Jim’s might look like some bland K model, but whatever it had under the hood was in top shape—and less than forty years old. Even as I let my foot down, I saw Creighton gaining on me. I could see his face in flashes, between reflections of sky and trees. I didn’t take the time to study it. I could imagine it well enough.

“Hell.” The carrier beside me rustled, the raccoon responding to the acceleration if not the roar of the engine. And then I saw it: as I crested the ridge, a series of minivans, four of them, all trudging down the hill in front of me. Looked like a convoy, and none of them going more than thirty miles an hour. In the opposite lane, a logging truck, heading south with lumber. It was laboring up its side of the hill, the driver distracted, shifting to make the climb.

“Hang on.” It wasn’t a rational decision. I didn’t decide. I simply pressed, and my car responded, bounding ahead. With inches to spare, I swung in front of that lumber truck and back into my lane ahead of the tailing van, slipping into just enough space so as not to scratch anyone. The lumber truck was in my rearview now, and I leapfrogged again. Another minivan gone. Heading downhill now, I could feel them all gaining speed. This was what Creighton had meant—I could drive this way, fast, reckless. These city folk? It wasn’t safe for them. I checked my mirror. Now that the logger was safely gone, Creighton was there again, behind the trailing tourist. Time to make my move.

I looked ahead and saw them: another knot of cars coming my way. Traffic or families traveling together, it didn’t matter. Four cars, no five, all charging up the ridge as we came down. There were two more minivans in front of me, then open road. The approaching convoy was an eighth of a mile away. Less. Creighton was signaling to pass.

So I just did it. Gunning the gas, I slipped into the middle of the two-lane road. One van passed, a brief glimpse of a white face, open-mouthed. The cars were coming on. I pressed harder. Prayed. Slipped in front of the remaining van in time to feel the air from the lead car. Another shocked face, wide-eyed with panic, but the road was mine. I laughed out loud as the highway disappeared before me. That made me breathe again, and I realized I hadn’t been. Sure, I’d have Creighton to deal with at some point. He’d have every right to be furious. For now, I had an open road. I’d reached the turnoff for the interstate with nobody in sight.

“Hang on a little longer, Rocky,” I said to the bundle beside me. “You’re going home.”