Special Delivery! (2 page)

“I’m not positive there was a skunk, Daddy. The lady said she saw one in her flowers, but skunks don’t go out in the daytime. It might have been a cat. So I told him to put out an APB. With the flour.”

“Hmmm, yes. An all-paws bulletin. With the flour. Good idea. I wonder if they’re leaving food around.… That’s usually how it starts.”

“But why would it spray?” Mama wondered. “Something must have been bothering it.”

“Ding-dong,” Mr. Sanders said as he came through the door with his twin boys. “We already had our cereal, but maybe we could find room for just one or two pancakes. We need our energy for later on. Big, big day. New member for Wild 4-Ever, I hear. Big ceremony.”

Razi smiled. He wiggled a little in his seat. Everyone was looking at him, and that’s just how he liked it. “I’m going to say the pledge.”

“Mrs. Sanders has promised to make you a special ‘no bake’ dessert for the occasion. She has weekend college, but the boys and I will be in attendance.”

Saturday was Mr. Sanders’s regular day off. He delivered the mail for the whole Alger Heights neighborhood and his other day off changed each week, but Saturday he was free all day to be with his two boys, Zeke and Zack. Mr. Carter gave them the nickname the Z-Team. They looked exactly alike except that Zack had a chipped tooth.

Alice pulled another big stack out of the oven and Mama got the chairs from the dining room table. Zeke and Zack took their places between Keisha and Razi and spread napkins on their laps. They were always polite at Mama’s table.

Mr. Sanders served himself a single pancake, but Alice put two more on top.

“Alice, you spoil me.” There was nothing Mr. Sanders liked better than to come over and eat the Carters’ food. Mrs. Sanders was in her second year of the botany program at Grand River Community College, and over the winter she made her kitchen sink into a terrarium. The Z-Team ate a lot of frozen dinners.

“I do have another reason for coming over,” Mr. Sanders said, his mouth full of pancake. He held up his finger as he chewed.

“Mmmm. A triumph, Alice. You did it again. How do you make them so fluffy?”

“It’s the egg whites,” Razi said. “You beat them up and then you fold them in with the cheese.”

Zack froze just as his fork was about to enter his mouth. “What cheese?” Zack didn’t like cheese, especially the yellow kind.

“No interrupting,” Mr. Sanders said. “This is about a murder.”

The word “murder” got everyone’s attention. They chewed quietly while Mr. Sanders told his story.

“Yesterday, I was finishing up my route when the strangest thing happened. You know that dilapidated brick house at the end of Orchard Street, boys, the one that sits off by itself? An old woman lives there alone—Mrs. Sampson. Mr. Sampson died last year. I still deliver his mail because she might want it.

“Anyway, she doesn’t get a lot of personal mail, but there’s always third-class stuff, advertisements and catalogs and people asking for money. So yesterday, when I came up the street, a whole flock of crows circled around me as I got near her mailbox. When I went to open the box, they started diving at me! I had to back away. I was afraid I’d lose my balance and spill my mail in the middle of the street!”

“And that’s when you got murdered?” Razi asked, his mouth hanging open, full of half-chewed pancake.

“Hush,” Mama said, leaning over and tapping the
bottom of Razi’s chin. “Or was it a murder of crows, Mr. Sanders?”

“A murder of crows, kids, is what they call a whole group. Strange name. Just like they say a flock of sheep or a gaggle of geese or a parliament of owls.”

“Was it a whole flock?” Daddy asked Mr. Sanders. “Or was it a pair? Do you think they were trying to attack you or were they swooping down around you?”

“When something tumbles out of the sky, it’s hard to pay attention to details,” Mr. Sanders said, patting his hair as if it had just happened.

“It was a murder of crows,” Zeke blurted out, reaching for another pancake, even though his mouth was also still full. Zeke was like Daddy and Mr. Sanders. They had a lot of empty spaces to fill.

“I think we should go get ’em,” Zack replied. “I’ll show those crows they can’t do that to my dad!”

“Mr. Zack, concentrate on your breakfast and leave the crow-catching to the professionals.” Mama didn’t like that sort of talk at her table. When kids started chasing after wild animals, the animals often ended up at Carters’ Urban Rescue.

“You have to think like crows. Why would they attack you, Doug? It’s not normal behavior,” said Daddy.

“Now that I think about it … maybe it was
only two,” Mr. Sanders said as he eyed the last piece of grilled fruit.

“Have you ever been dive-bombed before?” Daddy picked up the plate. “Would anyone like this last piece of pineapple?”

Keisha knew he was doing it so that Mr. Sanders wouldn’t have to ask. She would like it, but guests came first. If only Mr. Sanders didn’t have such a large appetite. No one knew where the food went. He was shorter than Daddy but just as skinny. Mama said he walked it all off on his mail route.

“I do!” Razi said. Hopping up and down all the time gave Razi a big appetite, too, though only if something sweet was being offered.

“I will split it between you and Mr. Sanders, then.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” Mr. Sanders said. But everyone knew he really wanted it. “I’m trying to remember now, about the crows. It was such a surprise. As I got closer to the box, I heard the cawing. I didn’t even get to put the mail in. They came at me from two sides and I just ducked my head and ran.”

“It’s a little-known fact that crows can recognize people,” Daddy said. “I read an article about how scientists banded and released crows on a university campus to keep track of them. The crows that had been caught set up quite a racket when those same men and women
walked past. You haven’t had any run-ins with crows in the past, have you, Doug?”

Mr. Sanders shook his head. “No. Plenty of dogs. A cat or two. Once even a bad-tempered potbellied pig. But no crows.”

“Maybe we could go to Mrs. Sampson’s after breakfast,” Keisha said, “and see if the crows dive on us.”

“Yeah! Let’s be crow bait!” Zeke said.

“I want to go, too,” Razi said. “I want to be crow bait.”

Razi didn’t even know what crow bait was; he just liked to tag along for everything. Which could get a little annoying when you were the older sister. In fact, one of the reasons she suggested it was so she and Zack and Zeke could ride their bikes around without having to bring Razi.

Not too many parents would let crows swoop down on their children. But the Carters were not like other parents. They understood wild animals better than most and they knew Keisha did, too.

“Well, those crows are either trying to protect something or they’re sensing danger,” Daddy said. “If it’s the first thing, we should figure out what it is so they don’t hurt someone else or get hurt themselves. If it’s the second thing, we have to figure out what makes your dad so scary.”

“Our dad isn’t scary,” Zack said. “He was the clown in the Hollyhock Parade.”

“To crows, I mean.” Daddy wiped his face with his napkin and dropped it back on his lap. “If your dad agrees, you three can ride your bikes over to Mrs. Sampson’s house. Keisha will know if it’s a dangerous situation. And you, Z-Team, will have to let Keisha make the decisions. Can you do that?”

“Sure. We have to listen to her lots of times at school,” Zack said.

“What about me?” Razi asked, pushing his plate away.

Grandma Alice put her hand on Razi’s arm. “We will stay here and strip the peas and shuck the corn for dinner,” she said.

“Awww.” Razi started to protest, but he loved taking things apart. From under lowered eyelids, he asked Mama: “Can I keep the silk?”

The last time Razi shucked the corn, there were little strands of corn silk all over the house.

“Yes, but in the back. Not in the house.”

“I can give it to Big Bob for the birds. Corn silk is very comfy.”

“But will it still be that way next spring?” Keisha began collecting the plates from the table. The Wild 4-Ever Club was gathering warm natural materials like
feathers, animal hair and wool to hang out early next spring when birds were looking for soft things to line their nests.

“I’m making a silk present for Big Bob.”

Why argue with Razi? When he got an idea into his head, it stuck like a bur. Everybody liked their club leader, Big Bob. For thirty years, he was a biology teacher at Grand River Community College. He had a full beard that was red where it wasn’t white and lots of muscles for an old guy. Now he had time for what he called his encore career as a veterinary tech at the Humane Society. Big Bob cared for animals, too. Only he cared for the kinds of animals that people kept as pets—puppies, kittens, bunnies … puppies.

Keisha reached for the kitchen towel to help Mama with the dishes, but Mama shooed her away.

“Mr. Sanders and I can do this. He’s very good at wiping dishes. You go ahead, Ada. I want you back in time to practice the pledge with Razi before his big ceremony.”

Keisha nodded. When Mama called her by her pet name, Ada—which, in the Igbo language, meant the first daughter—Keisha knew Mama was asking her to act like an adult.

Mama leaned down and kissed her forehead. “But be careful. Crows are powerful.”

What was it about the Z-Team that made them always need to ride up front? Ever since they got their trick bikes, Zack and Zeke rode side by side. When there was a speed bump, they flew over it together and gave each other a high five. Zack and Zeke got along best when they were on their bikes.

Late summer was Keisha’s favorite time of year. She rode behind the Z-Team, taking in the tall sycamore trees that spread their branches up and over the street. It felt like riding through a leafy green tunnel. Now that it was August, Mrs. Paretsky dressed the plastic goose on her front step in a polka-dot dress with a little scarf tied on its head. Her grandchildren made dandelion necklaces for the goose to wear.

Zack called back to Keisha something about Jorge. They were close to Jorge’s house and riding at top speed. Keisha wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right. Jorge knew a lot about birds, but Mama and Daddy hadn’t said it was okay to bring Jorge.

“Let’s go by ourselves first!” she called out to them.

Zack put his hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you,” he shouted back.

It didn’t help that they were riding past the alley behind Eleanor Street and all the kids outside were screaming. That meant the Vanderests had turned the sprinkler on. Even though they were old, the Vanderests loved children. In the summer, Mrs. Vanderest brought out paint and let anyone who wanted to paint the rocks that lined the street in their front yard. She never said that the rocks had to wear red, white and blue colors for the Hollyhock Parade, but they always did. And when you had to rest from pedaling your heavy decorated bicycle, you could sit on the big rocks and get some Hoggy Doggy Double Dutch Chocolate ice cream. Every little container had a wooden paddle to scoop out the ice cream. There was always enough, even when some kids took two.

Now the Z-Team cut down the alley, making the little ones scream even more as they splashed in the puddles from the sprinkler.

“Jorge!” they shouted up to Jorge’s second-floor apartment, two doors down from the Vanderests’ house.

“Hey.” Jorge stepped out onto the second-floor porch. He had baby Carmelo in his arms. “Where do you think you’re going without me?”

Jorge lived with his grandparents. Jorge was the Z-Team’s best friend. Sometimes he got along better with Zack, sometimes Zeke. Sometimes the twins
fought over Jorge, which made him feel special because Jorge was an only child.

“We were just coming to get you,” Zack said, his bike skidding to a stop. “Get on. We got to go talk to some crows.”

“Let me ask.” Jorge disappeared from view.

“Hello? Who decided this?” Keisha asked the Z-Team as she caught up. “We might get in trouble.”

“I asked you just now,” Zack said. “When we were riding.”

“Didn’t you hear him?” Zeke asked.

“What I said was—”

“I was pretty sure you said yes.”

Jorge opened the front door and Zack jumped to the ground so his friend could climb on back.

If it were anyone other than Jorge, Keisha would have told him to stay home. But Jorge was good with animals, too. He was especially good with birds.

When things got boring on the playground, Jorge would do birdcalls for the kids. All they had to do was point at a bird and he could make the noise. Sparrow, robin, pigeon, crow. Didn’t matter. He could do other birds, too, even if they didn’t come around the playground. That’s because Big Bob had showed Jorge how to look up birdcalls on the Internet one evening after a Wild 4-Ever Club meeting.

Keisha knew a lot about birds and she tried to learn to make their calls, but nobody was as good as Jorge.

“Hi, Keisha,” Jorge said. “I have to be back in an hour to take care of Carmelo so Wita can go shopping.” Carmelo was Jorge’s baby cousin and Wita was Jorge’s name for his grandma. When he was little, he couldn’t pronounce the whole word in Spanish—
“abuelita”
—so he said “wita” and it stuck.