Rant of Ravens (8 page)

“How many hotels are there?” asked Rachel.

“Locally, around a hundred and seventy-five. That’s counting the condominium complexes and the ranching operations.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, last summer Elk Park had over three million visitors,” Lark said. “People have to sleep somewhere.”

“Added to Denver’s airport hotels, you’re up to checking about two hundred, then. What are we supposed to do, Sheriff?” Rachel’s voice rose, along with her blood pressure. “Sit around here and wait until you find Aunt Miriam’s body dumped in The Thicket?”

Shortly thereafter, Garcia had shown himself out. After a few more minutes, Eric headed out to lock up the Raptor House. Charles left right after him, and Lark excused herself to “dig up some writing supplies.”

Left alone, stunned by the revelations of the past hour, Rachel sank down on the family room couch and tried to sort everything out.

First, Donald Bursau was dead, and now Miriam was missing, along with three birds from the Raptor House. How were those three things connected? Had one of the birdwatchers been involved in the smuggling scam Bursau was investigating, and killed him to keep things quiet? Had Miriam known who the person was? If so, was she next on the killer’s list?

The thought set Rachel’s heart racing and her tears flowing. Rachel didn’t think she could stand it if anything bad happened to her aunt. Miriam had been like a mother to her the last fourteen years. Perhaps closer, in that she had also been a friend.

Rachel picked up the phone and tried calling her father in Chicago. The answering machine picked up. Rachel didn’t leave a message, afraid that Grandma Wilder might intercept it. As she hung up, Lark returned with two legal pads and a couple of pencils.

“Since it’s obvious Garcia’s going to drag his feet, we’ll have to figure this out ourselves,” she said, sitting down in the chair opposite Rachel. She scribbled something on her pad, then looked up. Concern flashed across her face. “Are you okay?”

Rachel wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “Yeah, peachy.”

Lark reached out and touched her knee. “Hey, Rae, she’s okay. Trust me, I feel it.”

“I’m okay. I just—” A fresh onslaught of tears robbed her of her voice, and she squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flow. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything.

“You’ve just got to think positive, Rae. Keep a stiff upper lip.”

Rachel drew a ragged breath. “You’ve been hanging around here too much, Lark. You’re beginning to sound like her.”

“Maybe so, but she’d expect us to do something. Not just sit around and twiddle our thumbs.”

Rachel straightened up. Lark had a point. Aunt Miriam wouldn’t sit around expecting answers to fall into her lap. She’d dig in like a robin after a worm. “Okay, no twiddling.”

“Right, and since it seems like everything ties back to the murder, the first thing I think we should do is figure out which one of us wanted Donald Bursau dead.” Lark tapped her pad. “I’ve listed the suspects, everyone who was here that night. Now let’s see if we can figure out any motives.”

“You forget something, Lark. I hardly know these people.”

“Okay, so I’ll go first.”

“Great.” Rachel forced a smile. “Exercises in futility.”

Lark ignored her, placing a checkmark beside the first name on the list. “Dorothy MacBean. She’s a spinster. She lives in town with her sister, Cecilia Meyer. Cecilia was married once. She had a three-day honeymoon, then her husband shipped out to Korea and ended up MIA.”

“How sad,” Rachel said, feeling her tears welling up again.

“Yeah, well, she spends all her time trying to fix Dorothy up. She wants her to experience the thrill of love. Dorothy spends all her time running the opposite way.”

“What would be their motives for wanting Bursau dead?”

“Let’s see… Dorothy is involved in planning a new wildlife center that’s going to be built on the other side of Elk Park, near the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. Funding is a little iffy. Money’s always a good motive. Plus, she’s jealous of Miriam.”

“Why?”

“She wants to be president of EPOCH.”

“What about Cecilia?”

“She’d kill to protect Dorothy.”

“The problem with that theory is the timing. We need a motive that goes back over fifteen years.” Rachel realized her mistake instantly, but it was too late to snatch back the words. How could she have let that tidbit of information slip?

Lark’s eyes narrowed.

“I guess you have a right to know,” Rachel said, before Lark could grill her. “Donald Bursau was asking Aunt Miriam questions about Uncle William’s connection to a bird-trafficking scam that took place around 1984.”

Lark frowned. “Dorothy and Cecilia have been around that long, but…”

“Let’s just keep going.” Doing something was making Rachel feel better. “Who’s next on the list?”

“The Hendersons. Andrew and Opal. They live in Glen Haven, about ten miles down the canyon. They’re fairly new to the area.”

“Scratch them, then, unless they have a past we don’t know about.” Rachel made a mental note to see what she could dig up about them on the Internet.

“Then there’s Gertie.”

“Well, that’s obvious.”

“But she would have been only fifteen.”

“True, but she’d want to protect Uncle William from scandal, even if he is deceased. If Gertie had an inkling that her father’s reputation might be maligned, she’d have killed Bursau in a New York minute.”

Lark looked shocked. “So would I.”

Rachel eyed her teenage chum, unable to believe her capable of murdering anyone. “Then write it down under motive.”

Lark stuck out her tongue. “So what’s your motive?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“But suppose you had. What would have been your motive?”

Good question
. “To protect Aunt Miriam?”

“Why would she need protecting?”

Scooping her hair into a ponytail, Rachel clasped her hands at the back of her head, wishing she could kick herself. “Do you promise to keep this to yourself?”

“Sure.”

“Pinky swear?”

Lark tipped her head sideways, then extended her pinky, linking it with Rachel’s and giving a shake. “Satisfied?”

“I’m serious. If Sheriff Garcia knew this, it could incriminate Aunt Miriam.”

Lark’s eyes widened, and she nodded encouragement.

“Bursau implied that Miriam knew about Uncle William’s alleged involvement, which would make her an accessory. If he’d printed that in
Birds of a Feather
, true or not, her reputation would have been ruined.”

“I’ll add that as motive under me, too.” Lark scribbled on the page. “In fact, we could put that as motive under everyone’s name.”

Rachel slouched back against the couch and lifted her feet to the coffee table. “Who on the list haven’t we covered?”

“Forest Nettleman, Eric, Harry, and Charles Pendergast. We can rule out Harry and Eric.”

“Why?”

“We just can.”

Fine
. Rachel made another mental note to do some checking on the side. “So what about Charles?”

“As you well know, he’s an
old
friend of the family. I suppose it’s possible he and William were involved in something together.”

Rachel hadn’t thought of that possibility. It would be reason enough to kill Bursau, and reason enough to marry Aunt Miriam. Wasn’t there a law that spouses didn’t have to testify against each other? “Which leaves Forest.”

“I don’t know about him,” Lark said. “He’s a congressman, so to him reputation means everything.” She frowned suddenly, scratching behind her ear with her pencil eraser. “Though that hasn’t kept him clear of Mike Johnson.”

“Who?”

“The rancher who owns the adjoining property. He’s also a falconer, and has plans for a commercial development that most of Elk Park opposes. Forest seems to think it has some merit, and keeps talking it up around town.”

Rachel turned at the sound of the patio door opening. Eric slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

“Charles went home,” he announced. “I thought I’d come and see if Miriam had checked in before I took off.”

Rachel shook her head.

“What are you two up to?” He gestured toward Lark’s legal pad.

“We were compiling a list of suspects in the Donald Bursau murder,” Lark declared. “Your name came up.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Don’t worry, we dismissed you as a likely, and were just debating Forest’s connection with Mike Johnson as a possible motive.”

Eric’s face blanched.

“What is it?” asked Rachel, convinced he was about to throw up.

“Mike Johnson was here on Monday.”

“What?” Lark said. “What are you talking about?”

“He was down at The Thicket that afternoon. His truck was out of commission, so he caught a ride up here with Harry and me. He came inside, placed a call to the ranch, and had one of his guys pick him up at the end of the road.”

It didn’t take long
for the three of them to reach the consensus that everyone present at Bird Haven on Monday had a motive to kill Bursau. Except, maybe, the Hendersons. But what about opportunity?

“Sheriff Garcia said Bursau was killed between seven o’clock and midnight,” Rachel said. “I stayed here Monday night, but the rest of you were down at The Thicket. Did anyone hear a gunshot?”

Eric glanced at Lark, and they both shook their heads. “Not that I know of,” he said. “Heck, there must have been twenty of us down there, possibly more.”

“That must mean Bursau bought it after we’d called it a night,” Lark said. “I was home by nine.”

“
Ja
, same here.”

“Can anyone vouch for either of you?”

Again, they exchanged glances. “No.”

Rachel frowned. Miriam had arrived back at the house around nine-thirty, then the two of them had hot chocolate and headed to bed. Even Miriam could have sneaked back without anyone knowing. “So everyone had opportunity.”

“Except maybe the Hendersons,” Lark said. “They live pretty far down the canyon.”

It was after midnight when Eric left. Lark insisted on spending the night. Pulling out the sleeper sofa, the two women settled in like teenagers at a slumber party. Lark made popcorn. Rachel poured colas. And they waited for Aunt Miriam to come in or call. She did neither.

The next morning, Rachel woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and fried eggs.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Lark deposited a mug of coffee on the end table. “Man, did you zonk out last night.”

Rachel sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She was surprised she’d been able to sleep a wink. “Did Aunt Miriam ever—?”

“No. She never came home. She never called. Neither did Vic.”

The fact that the sheriff hadn’t called was probably a good thing. If he’d found her, it was apt to be…

Rachel let the thought dangle, unwilling to finish the sentence, intent on switching her train of thought. That Aunt Miriam hadn’t shown up meant she was either being held somewhere or was hiding. But where? And if she was hiding, why hadn’t she gotten a message to Rachel to let her know she was all right?

Lark’s hand touched her shoulder, breaking her reverie. “In case Miriam forgot to tell you, Rae, the first Saturday of the month is EPOCH field trip day. Location changes, but anyone who wants to go meets here promptly at eight. Which gives you less than an hour to shower and dress.”

Twenty minutes later, Rachel pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton T-shirt, then braided her hair, Lark fashion, down her back. By the time she’d laced her hiking boots, grabbed a jacket, and reached the kitchen, the sofa bed was folded up and Dorothy, Cecilia, and Gertie were ensconced in the kitchen, gossiping.

“We heard Miriam stayed out last night,” said Gertie with a questioning look. Rachel shot Lark a glare.

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

Before Rachel could respond, Harry, Forest, and the Hendersons arrived, followed by Eric and Charles, who slipped in through the patio. Lark immediately called the meeting to order. “First order of business. As some of you already know, Miriam never came home yesterday.”

A murmuring rose among the birdwatchers, like a small chorus of hummingbirds.

“That’s not all,” Lark said. “The white gyrfalcon and the two peregrine eyasses are also missing.”

The birdwatchers were stunned. Charles looked like fresh vulture stew. Dark circles rimmed his pale eyes. His face was drawn and gray. “Did Miriam call?”

“No,” Rachel said, watching him worry his earring. She wondered what type of accident had caused him to lose the tip of his finger. He caught her watching him, and glanced away.

The murmuring crescendoed into shouted questions.

“Doesn’t anyone know where she is?”

“Have you called the sheriff yet?”

“What does he think happened to the birds?”

Lark raised her hands for quiet. “Vic thinks Miriam might have the birds, that she might have taken them somewhere. Rachel, Eric and I think it’s more likely that she and the birds were kidnapped.”

“Now how in the world did you jump to that conclusion?” asked Gertie, a smug look on her face.

“Logic,” Rachel snapped. “We couldn’t think of any reason for her to take the birds, so—”

“You concocted a reason for someone to steal them?” Gertie fluffed her bobbed hair. “Seems a bit of a stretch to me.”

Dorothy waved her hand in the air. “What I want to know is, what in heaven’s name is being done?”

“We reported the missing birds to the sheriff,” Lark said. “We can’t file a missing person’s report until tomorrow. Vic’s put out an APB on Miriam in connection with the birds, and he’s checking the car rental agencies and the airport to see if she changed her travel plans.”

“Does he think there’s a connection to Donald Bursau’s murder?”

“Gertie!” Cecilia’s voice shattered the shocked silence blanketing the group. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just asking a question. There are things we don’t know, Cecilia. Like, exactly what did Bursau ask Miriam? And what did she say that made him angry enough to storm out of the barn on Monday afternoon?”

Rachel heard the whisper of voices. Ten pairs of eyes focused on her. “Fair enough,” she said, standing up. “He was asking a lot of questions.”

She recounted the conversation between Miriam and Bursau as she’d heard it, then told the EPOCH members what Miriam had added about Bursau’s suspicions of Uncle William.

“That’s preposterous,” Gertie protested. “My father never—”

“I did some research and talked with Kirk Udall, the new reporter assigned to the story,” Rachel interrupted. “According to him, Bursau had some proof of Uncle William’s involvement.”

Gertie’s face turned a deep shade of red, giving her the appearance of a chocolate-dipped strawberry.

“That’s garbage,” Charles said. “William Tanager was the most ethical man I ever met.”

“I’ll second that,” Dorothy said, raising her hand again. “He was a great man, one of the greatest ornithologists of all time.”

The others nodded.

“That’s right,” Gertie blurted. “How dare you accuse my father of dishonest behavior?”

Rachel placed her hand against her chest, and shook her head. “I’m not the one doubting Uncle William’s integrity. Though, I admit, I’d like to know what Donald Bursau thought he had on him. I hoped it might offer some clue to the killer or birdnapper.”
And Miriam’s kidnapper
. The more Rachel thought about it, the more convinced she was that Miriam had surprised the birdnapper at the Raptor House. And that the killer and the birdnapper were one and the same.

“The first thing we need to do is find Miriam,” Charles said. “We need to check all the places she might have gone.”

“I agree,” Harry chimed in.

“Does this mean we’re not going birdwatching today?” Cecilia asked.

“Cecilia!” Dorothy exclaimed, jabbing her sister in the ribs.

“I’m just asking.” Cecilia batted her sister’s elbow away. “You know, I still need the LeConte’s sparrow for my life list. And did you hear? Andrew spotted a chestnut-sided warbler down by Elk Lake yesterday.”

Andrew nodded. “A singing male.
Please please pleased to meet’cha
. He was a beaut.”

A murmur rose from the gathering.

“Quiet,” shouted Lark. She waited for the din to die down. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine. It’s your choice. Go birdwatching. Otherwise, we need to come up with a plan.”

Everyone stayed.

Eventually it was decided that half of them would check the abandoned cabins dotting the woods edging Rocky Mountain National Park, and the other half would canvass the town, calling on anyone Miriam might turn to for help.

“This is ridiculous,” insisted Gertie once the matter was settled. “If Miriam was in trouble, she’d turn to one of us. Who’s to say someone isn’t already harboring her, or that she hasn’t already fled the state?”

Rachel hated to admit it, but both thoughts had occurred to her. Especially in light of Sheriff Garcia’s revelation, which made it likely one of the birdwatchers had made the call luring Donald Bursau to his death.

Not that Rachel believed Aunt Miriam capable of killing anyone. But if she knew who
had
murdered the reporter, she might have felt a need to go underground. But then why hadn’t she confided in Rachel? Because she didn’t want to place her in danger? Or had she turned to the wrong person? “Doing something—anything—is better than nothing, Gertie.”

Several hours later, the EPOCH members reconvened at Bird Haven. No one had had any luck finding Miriam. However, several had spotted the chestnut-sided warbler, and Andrew Henderson had scored a rufous-sided towhee.

“Anyone have any other bright ideas?” Harry asked, slumping onto the stone hearth of the patio barbecue.

“Brainstorming,” Forest said. “Now there’s a good one.” He was settled into a chair next to the table, under the shade of the oversized umbrella.

Gertie curled her lip. “Oh,
please
! We’ve discussed all our ideas to death. I say we all go home, and wait and see what Vic comes up with.”

“Well, I say we brainstorm,” urged Dorothy.

“Me, too,” Cecilia agreed, her gaze flitting across the meadow. “Oh, look, there’s a male western bluebird.”

“Where?” Ten heads swiveled to where Cecilia pointed.

“There. One o’clock, on the fence post.”

Rachel straightened up, cupped a hand over her eyes, and squinted. So far the only birds she had spotted while birdwatching were the two in The Thicket, the night they found Bursau murdered. “I don’t see anything.”

“There it goes.” Harry pointed, arcing his arm through the air.

“It’s on the Raptor House barn now,” declared Eric. “The eave on the left side.”

A flicker of movement caught Rachel’s eye. A small blue bird with a rust-colored breast ruffled the shadow. “How can you tell what it is?”

Gertie laughed. “That’s rich! She’s taking over for Miriam and she can’t even ID a western bluebird.”

Hot color stung Rachel’s cheeks.

“Leave her alone, Gertie,” Lark said, turning her back on Rachel’s cousin and rolling her eyes. “It’s really simple, Rae. Look at the markings and the size first, then try looking through these.” She handed Rachel a pair of binoculars. “The male western bluebird is small, deep blue with a rusty-colored breast and a chestnut marking on its back.”

It took Rachel a minute or two to find a reference on the Raptor House roof, then lower the binoculars to frame the small bird. She sucked in her breath when the bluebird came into focus close-up. “He’s pretty.”

“Behavior can tell you a lot, too. See how the bird sort of hunches over?”

Charles cleared his throat. “Do you think you can finish the lesson later? I’d like to get back to business.”

Rachel lowered the binoculars. A twinge of guilt gnawed at her conscience. It had felt good to be distracted. “Charles is right. Me three on the brainstorming.”

“Good,” declared Forest, clapping his hands. “Now, there are any number of methods we can try. There’s the arrow method, the bubble method, and the doodle method. Basically, all of them require throwing out ideas, then grouping them into some order based on the problem one is attempting to solve.”

The group buzzed.

“I’ve used clustering,” Rachel said. Her boss, Jack Jaffery, swore by the method for coming up with new marketing strategies. “But we need a chalkboard or some large sheets of paper and markers.”

Lark pushed herself out of her chair. “I think I know where I can find some.”

“You people aren’t serious?” asked Gertie, crossing her arms across her chest and plumping her bosom.

“Dead serious,” replied Forest. “We’re bound to come up with some new ideas on where Miriam is, or on who might have taken the birds and why. It’s sort of a mini think tank,”

“I say it’s worth a try.” Charles’s blue eyes dared any of them to disagree. Rachel felt a rush of gratitude at his insistence. Regardless of her feelings about his relationship with Miriam, it was obvious he cared a great deal about her aunt.

The largest sheet of paper Lark could dig up was the back of a calendar page. She taped it to the patio door, dug a large red pen out of a drawer by the kitchen phone, and handed Forest the marker. He handed it to Rachel.

“Do you mind doing the recording? I think better on my feet.” He paced, pivoted, and said, “Okay, someone toss out an idea.”

“I’ll start,” Rachel offered. She wrote
Miriam, white gyrfalcon, peregrines
, and
missing
in the center of the paper.

“Great. What else comes to mind?” Forest asked. “Anything. How about thoughts on motives?”

“Money,” Charles said.

“Ransom,” Cecilia said.

Rachel scribbled the words at the top of the page. Miriam had confided that all of her money was tied up in Bird Haven. She was land rich and cash poor. Maybe on paper she was worth more than the birds, but no one, including herself, could access the money.

“Escape,” Gertie said, as though reading her mind.

“Really, Gertie!” Dorothy whispered something to Cecilia. Rachel wrote down the word.

“How about danger?” Rachel asked. Even if Aunt Miriam hadn’t been kidnapped, she might have seen something, or discovered something that had driven her into hiding. But if that was the case, why hadn’t she tried to get word to her? And how had she gotten wherever she was? Her car was still parked out front.

Eric scraped back his chair and walked to the edge of the patio. “It sounds like you think Miriam’s guilty of something, Gertie.”

“Maybe I do.”

Rachel fought back another onslaught of tears. “Do you think we could stay focused?”

“
Gyrfalcon
and
peregrines
make me think of falconry,” Andrew said. Opal nodded.

“Propagation,” Eric said.

“Mike Johnson,” Lark said.

Rachel wrote his name on the paper. She had learned last night that Johnson was the owner of Black Canyon Creek Ranch, the spread just east of Bird Haven. He owned four thousand acres of land and catered to the serious outdoor adventure types. A master falconer, he wielded a lot of power in Elk Park.