Parrots Prove Deadly (22 page)

Chapter Forty-three

The Beauville Area State Reservation Land is not much of a park. No restrooms, no picnic area, and not much of a lot, it spreads from the interstate exit to the county line. As I turned down a service road, I remembered when I’d first discovered it. A little too far out of town for drinking, my gang rarely came out here. I’d found it on my own, one evening, when my mother had come home in a rage. I’d bought the Pacer by then, not much of a car but it was mine, and I took off, just looking for peace. I’d turned down this very road, not sure what lay at the other end. Just ahead, I’d found a slight widening of the dirt road—a turnaround for the staties who patrolled the area. That’s where I was heading now.

I took a moment for myself, once I’d parked. The air was different here, moist and full. It was funny, I thought, how quickly I’d become a country girl, losing my urbanite’s tolerance for the smoke and the noise. Well, I’d lost my tolerance to a lot of city things. Back when I’d first developed my so-called gift, I couldn’t take the close quarters: rats, pigeons, the inane inbred pets of all my neighbors. It had been too much for me. Out here was hardly quiet, but the din was softer, falling into patterns that had formed themselves millennia before we interposed.

“I’m here! I’m here! I’m here! ”
A wren, unseen, called.

“
Hide it! There! ”
A busy squirrel secreted another acorn away.

I stood still for a moment, taking it all in. Then I opened the passenger-side door and took out the carrier. Inside, the raccoon scrambled around, aroused by the motion and, probably, the wealth of scent. When I pulled the blanket off, he blinked around. Late afternoon would still be early for him, but here, under the shade of trees, the muted light wasn’t too harsh.

I waited a minute. I wanted to let the little fellow process, maybe figure out from the smells and sounds around him where to go or what to do next. It was, I confess, a self-congratulatory moment. A validation. Maybe I hadn’t gotten to the bottom of Polly Larkin’s death. Maybe I’d never understand what Randolph the parrot was squawking about. But I could do this, at least. I felt good.

When I bent down to the carrier, I wasn’t expecting the look I got in return. I’d thought the raccoon would be staring into the trees, eager to run out. Instead, I faced down two button-black eyes that seemed to burn with intent.

“What?” I asked. It was an automatic response. This animal had never really spoken to me before.

“Watch out
.” The message came loud and clear.
“Don’t trust
.”

“Well, you can this time, little fellow.” I sighed, remembering my past foolishness, and stepped back. I’d rigged a shoelace on the carrier top and, now that I’d unlatched it, I managed to pull it open from several feet away. Just because I was due for a cycle of rabies shots didn’t mean I wanted to get bit a second time.

“What? ”
A flood of some emotion that could only be described as curiosity washed over me as the raccoon ventured out, sniffing the air furiously. I watched, a little intrigued myself. I’d have thought the animal would bolt, desperate to escape after so many days of confinement. He was being careful, though, checking out his surroundings before he leaped.

“Don’t trust…careful”
Well, that made sense. New place, new rules. New rivals, probably, though a young male, out on his own for the first time, would have to battle for his turf anywhere.

“Be alert! ”
New alpha predators, as well, and for a moment I doubted myself. Was it really fair to remove this animal from everything he had ever known? There were reasons for the rules about transporting wildlife. Even beyond the possibility that I was spreading a fatal disease, I might be condemning this raccoon to a short, miserable life. There were many threats to a small animal; humans were only one variety.

“No!
”
The voice in my head was so loud, I turned. The raccoon was out of the crate and facing me, whiskers twitching. He must be reacting to my thoughts, I realized. To the memory of Albert and his trap. Maybe he’d even picked up the idea of poison from me
.

“It’s okay now.” I spoke softly, doing my best to think calming thoughts as I did so. “You’ll be okay. Just find your way.”

“Don’t trust. Be careful
.”
I had the damnedest impression that the raccoon was talking to me, shaking his head ever so slightly.
“Stay alive! ”
And with that he turned and lumbered off.

***

I watched him go, his woodland coloring fading swiftly into the fallen leaves and shadows. Even after I lost track of the slight movement, I stared after him as the dusk deepened. It must be because of Wallis, I told myself when, finally, I bent to retrieve the carrier. At some level, I expected every animal to want to converse. Even Growler showed me that wasn’t true often enough. He’d talk, but I was a poor substitute for the smells and signs of his own kind.

Swinging the empty carrier into the car, I was reminded again of the price of folly. Last time I’d tried to communicate with that raccoon, he’d bit me. Now, walking around to the driver’s side, I flexed my bandaged hand. Maybe it was just as well. I’d relearned a lesson I shouldn’t have forgotten. And if I could get over to Berkshire General, I wouldn’t pay too steep a fee for my foolishness.

Backing out of the turnaround, I paused for one last look at the darkening woods. This place had been my refuge, back in the day, and then it hit me. I’d brought that poor lost raccoon here for the same reason. Peace. A little privacy. A chance to be oneself.

I could imagine what Wallis would make of that and heard the conclusion as clearly as my own thoughts. Didn’t matter how much I learned, she’d say. At heart, I was as sentimental as any human. At least I wasn’t a prey animal, I answered back as I pulled onto the road. That kind of weakness could get you killed.

Chapter Forty-four

Sunday morning, I woke with a start. The excitement of the day before had kept me going, and I’d crashed like a dead thing, barely making it home from the preservation land. I needed to start those shots today, however. It had been three days: enough was enough. But my belly was growling louder than my engine, and so halfway to Berkshire General, I pulled off at the Blue Diner, a greasy spoon that had been around since before I left.

“Eggs over easy, home fries.” I gave my order as I was sliding into my seat. “Coffee, black.” Once that was done, I checked my phone. Three calls—all from Creighton. Well, that wasn’t a surprise. I could only hope there wasn’t also a warrant out for my arrest.

“Pru.” He sounded pissed. “That was not cool. Call me.”

The waitress brought my coffee, and I took a long hit before I clicked through to the next one. “Damn it all, Pru. Where are you?” I nodded. She topped me off.

“Pru, don’t think that just because we—” That was it. I had the distinct feeling that whatever he’d been about to say might not happen again soon. Might not happen at all.

I should have called him then. I knew it. All I really needed to do was come up with a story that wouldn’t cost Albert his job—or land me in jail. But while I was thinking one up, my breakfast came.

By the time I had finished the last fry, the urge to confess had gone. Besides, I had more pressing concerns. Let me just get my first rabies shot and I’d call Creighton back. Once the series was started, he could throw me in jail, even, as long as he agreed to look in on Wallis.

My tabby was on my mind as I drove over to Berkshire General. I knew she’d think I was crazy for what I had done. An animal had lacked enough common sense to avoid a trap, and here I was, putting myself out on a limb for him. An animal who had bit me, no less. She might accuse me of being soft. Correction, she
would
accuse me. But I had to keep in mind that Wallis saw things in black and white. Some animals were predators, others prey. Who was what might change depending on the circumstance, but within any particular scenario, the roles were clear.

She never had to deal with some of the gems I met. Jane Larkin, for example. My newest client seemed at first glance like prey—easy pickings for anyone who wanted to take her down. But not only had she resisted her brother Marc, she’d pretty much pawned her mother’s parrot off on me. Maybe Wallis would call that a case of protective coloration, I wasn’t sure. Or what about Tracy Horlick? That woman was a predator, for sure. She needed me, however. Needed her daily fix of gossip, if not dog walking. I amended my classification: some animals were predators. Some were prey. Others were scavengers. I thought of old lady Horlick as a vulture, the saggy skin on her neck would fit.

Even Rose Danziger might be more complicated than she first appeared. As I got closer to the hospital, I found myself mulling over what I knew of the blind old lady. She was prickly, that was for sure, and I liked that about her. Was that the only reason Marc Larkin talked dirt about her? Actually, as I thought about that one, I figured it probably was.

I’d go visit, I decided as I pulled into Berkshire General. Get my first shot and then go look for her. Hell, the hospital already had me listed as her niece. I might as well take advantage of that.

“Name and nature of your emergency?” The attendant behind the glass didn’t even look up.

“Pru Marlowe, animal bite.” I figured I’d save the rabies part for when I saw an actual doctor.

“Have a seat. The triage nurse will see you soon.” Funny, he didn’t even check to see if maybe I was bleeding out. Then again, the fact that I’d managed to make it up to the window by myself might have been the first stage of triage. Looking around the half-empty room, I figured the wait couldn’t be that long. Two rough-looking types glared at each other in a corner, mud and what could be dried blood on their denim and work boots. I figured they were the survivors of a Saturday night bar fight, though neither looked too cut up. A few seats away, a mother was rocking a toddler. The kid was silent, which I appreciated until I started to wonder what that meant. The remaining waiters looked like a couple of tourists, the color-coordinated L.L. Bean outfits were the giveaway, who seemed to be in the midst of their own little drama. He was pacing; she was hunched over in her seat. Had he punched her, or had a bout of stomach flu disrupted his vacation plans? I really hoped I wouldn’t be here long enough to find out.

“Irma Wallace?” A stout woman with hair the color of steel wool stood in a doorway. “Come with me please.”

Good, the triage nurse. I counted the cases. I’d be out of here in no time.

“It’s Wallitz,” the mother said. “Irma and Troy Wallitz.” I saw a teary face look up from her shoulder as she walked past. At least the kid was conscious.

In the quiet that followed, I considered reading a magazine. I don’t often get to see
Nursing Today
, after all. Or
BP: Happy, Whole, and Bipolar.
Instead, I pulled out my phone. Now that the raccoon and I were both, presumably, on the verge of being safe, there was no reason not to tell Creighton everything. He already knew about some of my idiosyncrasies. Besides, I’m bad at lying. I always forget what my story was.

I flipped my phone open.

“No cell phone use in the waiting area.” I glanced around. The attendant, or whatever he was, hadn’t even looked up. I turned toward the wall.

“If you’re going to use your phone, you have to leave the waiting area.” There was a peevishness in his tone that made me look back. He still hadn’t raised his head, so I walked over, phone in hand.

“Can you tell me how long it’ll be?”

“Excuse me?” He had a Sudoku game book open before him. Obviously, it was fascinating.

“My wait.” I held the phone up like an explanation, just in case he did have eyes on the top of his head. “I’m wondering if it makes sense to cancel an appointment.”

“Average wait time is determined by a variety of factors, including time of day. Priority is given to urgent care patients and those with life-threatening injuries.”

I was about to argue, to ask what exactly the difference between those two classifications were, when the ambulance pulled up. Lights swirling, the wail of its alarm was enough to make even the window boy look. Not that the EMTs needed him. As we watched, the ambulance backed up out of sight, and seconds later, we could hear it. Technicians, calling to each other. Somewhere behind the gatekeeper, a door had opened and the pop and rattle of a gurney, maybe two, rolling down a hall. Behind the attendant, I caught a flash of blue as a woman in scrubs ran by.

“It might be a while,” the attendant said to me, nodding toward my phone.

“Got it,” I turned to go. “Don’t take me off your list though.” I said as he went back to his puzzle. “I’m just going to make one phone call. One call.”

He nodded, or maybe that was just a reaction to his puzzle, and I stepped outside. From here, I could see the ambulance, a big white van with a red stripe down the side. The siren had been turned off and the doors closed, but the engine was still ticking as it cooled. Someone had driven fast. An emergency call, a real one.

To hell with Creighton, I thought. I was here, and clearly I was going to be here a while. I went in search of Rose Danziger.

Chapter Forty-five

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a Rose Danziger on our patient list.” The blue-haired matron at Patient Information adjusted her half glasses and scanned the computer screen.

“That’s impossible. She was brought here yesterday—early in the morning.” I tried to peer over her shoulder and was rewarded by a stern look.

“Well, maybe she hasn’t been registered yet. One moment please.” The matron pulled a clipboard toward her and ran her finger down a page. “No, I’m sorry.”

I opened my mouth to argue—blue hair doesn’t scare me—when I heard a voice behind me.

“Pru Marlowe.” It was Creighton, in the flesh. With his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, my sometime beau looked hot. Angry, but hot. “I assume your phone’s broken?”

“I was just going to call you.” I held up the offending device as evidence. Somehow, I’d never put it away. “You could’ve come by, you know.”

“I—No.” He shook his head. I could tell he was weighing his words. “Last night turned crazy, Pru. There have been some developments. And now we’ve had a fire, of sorts, over at Evergreen Hills.”

“Of sorts?” That last message. He hadn’t hung up; he’d had a call. “What happened?”

He shook his head. It looked like it was bothering him. “I let most of the team go for the night. We had a guard set up but…. People got hurt. Two of the weekenders were there.”

The ambulance. “They okay?”

“Smoke.” He shrugged, and as if in response, I heard a discreet, and clearly fake, cough.

“I’ve found it.” I’d forgotten about the patient services matron. I turned back to her as she blinked up to me. “R. Danziger, with a ‘D.’” She looked at me as if it were my fault. “She’s was released this morning to the LiveWell rehab unit. That’s over by—”

“Thanks, I know where it is.” I looked over at Creighton. Shrugged. “I was about to call you. I multitask.”

He waved off my explanation. “I’m going with you.”

“Excuse me?” I’d already figured that I wasn’t going to see the ER doctor anytime soon. But, still…

“By coincidence, I’m going to LiveWell, too.”

There was a little too much emphasis on the beginning of that sentence. An emphasis that changed my priorities. “Am I under arrest, Jim?”

He snorted, the first sign of humor I’d seen in a while. “You should be. God knows, Pru, if you were anyone else. Hell, if
I
were anyone else.”

“I pride myself on being a bad influence.” I liked the humor. I was also relieved.

“Don’t get too cocky, Pru, I have to think about it. As it happens, I do have to follow up with something over at LiveWell. Shall I drive?”

“Jim, I can’t leave my car here.” He knew my GTO. He knew it was my baby. “Besides, I’d be stranded. You’d have to drive me back. Or ferry me around.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t happy. “Okay, but you follow behind me. You don’t drop back. You don’t peel off. Pull any funny stuff, and I swear, Pru…”

“Gotcha.” We’d already given the information lady enough of an earful to keep her in gossip for days. With a brief pang of regret—maybe I’d only have had another hour to wait—I followed Creighton out the ambulance entrance and let him drive me to my car.

This hadn’t been my original plan, but I needed to go back to LiveWell at some point, anyway. I had to do something with Randolph. I thought about the options as Creighton drove out of town, doing a steady forty, even as we pulled onto the highway. It was annoying, driving this slow, but it had its charms. I loved watching the tourists brake as they recognized the unmarked car for what it was.

Randolph…Depending on how long Rose was going to be in rehab, I probably needed to find another place for him. Polly’s unit was out of the question. Even if Jane didn’t have avicidal leanings, the dust and commotion of packing weren’t good for him. I could take the parrot back to my place, I figured. That is, if we ever got to LiveWell. Well, I had wanted to check in on Rose. Whatever else was going on, I liked the tough old bird.

Buster! I nearly slammed on the brakes. I had meant to collect the service dog as soon as I’d got my first shot. I couldn’t leave her alone in the empty shelter. Besides, Rose would want to see her dog.

Okay, “see” wasn’t the right word, but I still thought a visit from the loyal mixed-breed might do her good. If only I could get out of this slow-motion parade. I reached for my phone and then dropped it. What was I thinking? Creighton wouldn’t answer, not even while driving like that blue-haired matron we’d left twenty minutes before.

“Creighton!” I called his name and waved, in the hope that he might be looking in his rearview. I flashed my lights, and then honked—ever so briefly—trying to catch his eye. Either he was ignoring me, or he had a lot else on his mind, because we were nearing the turnoff for Beauville before I made my last attempt.

I’d had my lights on for a good quarter mile, my blinker, too. Finally, I simply pulled over to the side of the road. Let him think I had engine trouble, I didn’t care. I needed to stop.

He must have been aware of me at some level, because after about thirty seconds on the shoulder of the road, I saw dust and taillights. He was backing down the shoulder. He had his sunglasses on as he walked over to my car. They didn’t make him look friendly, and I had to fight the urge to reach for my license and registration.

“I said, no bullshit, Pru.”

“Rose’s dog.” I wanted to be sweet and to the point. “I left Rose’s seeing-eye dog at the shelter overnight. She hasn’t been fed or walked, and I want to bring her back to Rose.”

A sigh, while he looked down the road. Already the tourists were speeding up. “You could have gone and gotten it after.”

“I know. But then I’d have to make two trips, and we’re right near the turnoff.” I tried to make out his eyes behind those dark lenses. “Please, Jim?”

He nodded. He wasn’t going to say yes. “Remember, I know where you live.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I was hoping you’d recall that, one of these days.”

He slapped the roof of my car and walked off. I waited till he was a good half mile down the road before I tore off. It’s not good for my engine to drive that slow.