Jude Devine Mystery Series (91 page)

Pippa considered this sleazy sales pitch. “Here’s the deal. I’ll see what I can do to help him connect, but he’s not testifying in court. I won’t put him through that.”

Jude didn’t get into discussion about the unlikelihood of a parrot taking the stand. She turned off before Towaoc and bumped along the driveway that led to Eddie House’s place. “I can promise you Oscar won’t go before a judge. I would never do that to an animal.”

“Okay, then.” Pippa offered her hand once Jude had parked. “Deal?”

Meeting her determined eyes, Jude agreed solemnly, “Deal.”

Chapter Nine

While Oscar the parrot repeatedly professed his love for Maulle, Pippa, and nuts, Jude took a call from the sheriff. The feds were in town and she’d drawn the short straw. It was her job to take Special Agent in Charge Aidan Hill to dinner. Pratt thought this would cement mutual respect. Failing that, Jude might be able to get the agent drunk and influence the way chain of command would function. Pratt was gnashing his teeth over the turf issues already.

“You’re our interface,” he reminded her. “You know how they think.”

Jude didn’t bother to object. As far as her boss was concerned, she was in the loop. She stared out the window, across the prairie toward the Mesa Verde. The ancient Puebloans had once wandered the lowlands stretched before her. Wild horses had found grazing. Buffalo roamed. This year the fire-scorched mesas bloomed with yellow rabbitbrush and purple tansy after unusual rains. Montezuma County saw more lightning than almost any other place in the nation, but the storms often passed without leaving a drop of water.

Jude glanced up at the bruised clouds rolling in from the east. Today would be no exception.

“Don’t ask me to believe this terror plot was all new information to you,” Pratt said, letting her know he wasn’t stupid. “Ricin. My God.”

“You’re right, sir. I’ve been monitoring the ASS for some time now. I guarantee you, these individuals will be in custody before they even make it to Telluride.”

“Tom Cruise is building a bunker under his place, you hear about that? Ten million bucks. Some shelter, huh?”

“A lot of wealthy people build secure rooms.”

“It’s for protection against an alien invasion. That’s what they think, the Scientologists.” Pratt let go of a barren snort. “The evil Lord Xenu is supposed to attack any day. Instead it’s going to be a bunch of Jew-hating dipshits.”

“Which is exactly my point,” Jude said. “We’re talking about a few losers driven by an agenda of hatred.”

“Containment,” Pratt said. “That’s all I’m asking for. How far does it travel by air?”

“Sir, it’s not going to come to that. Like I said, airborne contamination is well beyond a bunch of amateurs.”

“What if they found someone with brains?”

“Let’s wait and see what the FBI can tell us.”

“Here’s the thing. If it comes down to a choice, that town gets cut off.”

“What are you saying?”

“Lock it down,” Pratt manfully insisted. “In dire situations, we’re mandated to make the tough choices. The loss of a few hundred lives, while terrible, could be a necessary sacrifice to protect the rest of the population. Do you understand me?”

Jude decided Pratt had been overdoing the antihistamines again. They made him fixate on negative outcomes. She said calmly, “I get the picture.”

“I was thinking it through last night. You know those movies when the doctor asks the husband to choose if he wants to save the mother or the baby?” Pratt didn’t wait for her thoughts on that regrettable patriarchal quandary. “You save the mother, of course.”

“I’m not sure how that relates to the Telluride scenario.”

“She can always have more babies,” Pratt explained. “
And
there will always be more actors. But if no one’s left to pay for movie tickets because they all died from ricin poisoning, what then?”

Jude watched the African Grey rest his head beneath Pippa’s chin. “Fortunately, we’re not facing such a dilemma.”

Pratt huffed. “I made certain promises when I was reelected.”

Jude remembered them well. A crackdown on public shirtlessness. The upgrading of the posse’s saddles and tack. Extra deputies for the greased-pig event at the county fair. “I can see this is weighing heavily on you,” she said.

“Our community counts on its leaders to lead when the need arises.”

“If my colleagues had any doubts about a positive outcome, the bad guys would be under arrest now. I’m sure they’re just building a strong case before conducting a raid.”

It entered Jude’s mind that her boss could go off half-cocked. If he ignored FBI instructions and rushed in to make arrests and look like a hero, he could blow the lid off a lengthy operation. In the scheme of things the ASS counted for little. They were simply an untidy loose end. Arbiter thought they’d probably poison themselves trying to figure out how to disperse their stock of ricin.

“Sir,” Jude said in a soothing tone. “I promise you, I’ll personally tear the VIP parking passes from the cold dead hands of every man, woman, and child in Telluride before I allow a whiff of that chemical to choke a gnat in Montezuma County.” She met Pippa’s startled gaze and placed her hand over the phone, whispering, “Cop joke.”

Pratt said, “This is no time for jackass comments, Devine.”

“I hear you,” Jude said.

Eddie and Zach came back into the room, trailed by Hinhan Okuwa. The gray wolf came over to her, wagging his tail, ears slightly flattened. Jude lowered her head so he could lick her mouth. In the two years she’d known Eddie, she’d reached an understanding with most of his animal companions. Hinhan Okuwa was not an alpha by nature or experience. His demeanor was serious and watchful, but he loved to play. He deferred to Eddie and Jude, and seemed to see Zach and other friendly adults as pack equals. He lifted his tawny gaze to Oscar and the two creatures inspected each other.

“Don’t get too close,” the parrot warned in an astonishing imitation of Eddie’s voice.

Zach grinned. “That’s what Dad says when Hinhan Okuwa tries to sniff Oscar.”

Jude was impressed. Any parrot that could repeat verbatim what it heard would make a more reliable witness than half the public. It was time to choke Pratt off. “Sir, I have a witness to interview,” she said diplomatically.

“Just remember what I said,” her boss insisted.

“Got it.” Jude closed her cell phone and set it on the table.

Oscar crowed, “What’s happening, baby?”

“Human stuff,” she replied dismally. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

Eddie asked, “Beer?”

“I wish.” It had been a long day and the end wasn’t in sight. “But make it a ginger ale for me, thanks.”

Zach took several sodas from the fridge and handed them out. He and Eddie sat a few feet away in the adjoining room. Jude had asked Eddie to be present. He took in injured wildlife and restored them to health in a small-scale sanctuary on his property. His success with birds had made him famous among protection agencies. Rangers were always showing up with orphaned baby raptors and adults with broken wings.

Jude had told him what she was hoping for from Oscar. Eddie, highly sensitive to the moods of birds, said the parrot was traumatized and had hardly spoken since the deputy dropped him off. They needed to relax him and reassure him that he was not going to be left alone. Bringing Pippa out had been a good move. Oscar was excited to see her and had started talking immediately. Jude wondered if the parrot understood that Fabian Maulle was dead. Or was the concept of death only comprehensible to human beings?

She set up her tape recorder and flicked it on. Nothing would ever be admissible or even accepted as evidence, but if the parrot said anything useful she would be able to listen again. “Pippa, you’ve known Oscar since he was a baby, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Uncle Fabian bought him and his mother from a breeder. Unfortunately she died when Oscar was five.” She addressed the bird. “Sad about Loulou.”

The parrot made a low sound in his throat. “Loulou can’t come back.”

“Where’s Fabian?” Jude asked.

Oscar bobbed his head and made sounds like he was about to spit up. After a few seconds he stared straight at her and said, “Sad about Fabian.”

Jude gazed into the flat, pale yellow eyes. “Fabian can’t come back.”

“He knows,” Pippa murmured. “I can feel how upset he is.”

“I wish there was some way to access his memories.” Even if he started talking about a person or repeating words from a conversation, they couldn’t be sure he was recalling the day of the killing and the people involved.

“He remembers his toys,” Pippa said. “And he always remembered where Uncle Fabian put his keys and pens. Things like that. Even a week later, he would remember.”

“That’s great.” Jude got up slowly so she didn’t startle him, and went into the kitchen. She found a knife that fitted Carver’s description of the murder weapon and returned, holding it behind her back. “I don’t want to scare him, but I can’t think of any other way to tie his recollections to the scene. I have a knife.”

“Keep your distance,” Eddie said. “Otherwise he’ll see you as a predator.”

Jude halted a few feet away and displayed the knife, lying flat on her open palms. Oscar screeched and flapped his wings, then huddled into Pippa.

“Maybe we should forget this,” Jude said. “It seems cruel.”

Pippa shook her head. “No, let’s try for a few more minutes. If he’s still distressed we’ll stop.” She took a bag of nuts from her pocket and Oscar brightened up immediately.

Eddie wheeled Oscar’s cage over from the corner of the living room, positioning it a few feet away and leaving the door wide open.

“Good idea,” Pippa said. “If he wants, he can go in there. Want cage?” she asked Oscar.

He nestled against her and crooned, “Want purée.”

“Dad made some sweet potato for him,” Zach said. “He went crazy for it.”

Eddie took a Tupperware container from the fridge and set it on the table with a spoon. Oscar hopped down onto the table and wobbled from one foot to the other.

“A hungry parrot is a dead parrot,” Pippa said. “That’s how they think in the wild. It can make them greedy.”

When Oscar had sucked down some sweet potato, he stared intently at the knife, then at Jude’s face before announcing, “Wrong one.”

“Where’s the right one?” Jude pictured herself explaining how she located the murder weapon:
There’s this parrot, see…

But Oscar had no answer. He was suddenly engrossed with Jude’s cell phone and burst into speech she couldn’t decipher.

Pippa stifled a gasp. “Oh, my God. He’s speaking Russian. Something like ‘Shall I finish him off?’ I could be wrong. It’s not my best language, but I recognize
grokhnut.
That’s Russian for
kill
or
shoot
.”

“Did your uncle speak Russian?”

“Not really. Just a few words. He traveled there sometimes.”

Jude had always been amazed by people who could pick up foreign languages. The only one that stuck in her mind was Latin, not the most useful for twenty-first-century law enforcement. She’d spent ten years trying to become fluent in Spanish, but Latinos at a crime scene still looked like they wanted to crack up when she said, “Policía. Había algunos testigos?”
Jude had no idea why a request for witnesses would engender instant hysteria. Her attempt to vault the language barrier no doubt led to mispronunciations. She hated to think what she was really saying in her attempts at conversation with the local Hispanic population.