Free Just Add Trouble (Hetta Coffey Mystery Series (Book 3)) by Jinx Schwartz Page A

unearthly screech, followed by earsplitting, recognizable, lyrics, “Oh, ya got trouble, folks, right here in River City…”
    Trouble was on my doorstep. Starts with a T, ends with an E.
    Flummoxed, I bribed the DHL guys with a beer, and slugged one down myself, all the while trying to figure out how to get rid of Trouble. Several Tecates later, between my Spanish and their almost non-existent English, I finally obtained a phone number in Hermosillo. Since getting a Mexican cell phone was on my list for the next day, I was forced to fire up my million peso a minute satelitte phone.
    “ Day Hache Elle ,” a woman answered.
    “Do you speak English?”
    “ Si .”
    “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve received a shipment I don’t want. I want to send it back.”
    “Back?”
    “ Si .”  
    “ Momentito, por favor .”
    Very expensive dead air ensued. I ticked off the ka-chings while watching the delivery guys raid my refrigerator for more Tecate. I signaled for them to get me another. It was half gone when there was a click. I thought maybe the connection was cut and was poised to hang up when a hearty, unaccented voice boomed, “Can I help you?”
    “Oh, thank God. Yes, you can. I just received a shipment that I don’t want. I want to send it back from whence it came.”
    “Bill of Lading number?”
    I grabbed my copy and read off the numbers.
    “Can you hold?” he asked, but didn’t wait for my answer. Kaching! More expensive Satfone time, with the added insult of elevator music.
    One of my new best friends in yellow popped another top and handed me the bottle.
    What seemed an eternity later, I heard, “Miss Coffey?”
    “That would be me.”
    “You are in Mexico?”
    “Yep.”
    “Why is it that you don’t want the box of jerky?”
    “Jerky? I didn’t get jerky, I received a parrot.”
    “A parrot? I don’t understand. We have suspended bird shipments temporarily, what with the bird flu thing.”
    “Look, buster, I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull off here. These two guys showed up with a damned parrot and I don’t want the little bugger.”
    “Miss Coffey, there’s no need to get upset. What does your manifest say you received?”
    I squinted at the blurry writing, rummaged for a pair of reading glasses and finally made it out. “ Caso de la machaca .”
    “What’s that?”
    “Hell, I don’t know. Hold on, I’ll get my Spanish to English dictionary.”
    I did. Machaca : dried meat. “I found it. A machaca is a rare Mexican parrot.”
    “Miss Coffey, I don’t think so. However, you only have to refuse the shipment.”
    Now, why didn’t I think of that ? “So if I do, will these guys take the, uh, machaca back to Hermosillo? I mean, they won’t just put it in a warehouse somewhere, will they?” I conjured a vision of Trouble dying a slow horrible death by starvation, and starvation is something I cannot abide.
    “How would I know? I’m in New Jersey.”
     
    No amount of beer would convince the guys to reload Trouble into their truck.
    After all, they pointed out, I had signed for the shipment and they must go, now that I was out of Tecate.

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
     
     
    “Mother, what on earth were you thinking? That…that… bird is here.”
    “That’s nice, Hetta Honey. Did he have a good flight?” She giggled at her own lame joke. I, on the other hand, was unamused and my feelings were hurt. The manifest wasn’t completely wrong, for along with the bird, Mama sent an entire case of Oh Boy! Oberto Habañero Jerky, my favorite, with a note telling me to keep my paws off, the jerky was for Trouble.
    “How could you do this to me?” I wasn’t sure whether I was talking about the bird, or her callous disregard for my own Jerky fetish.
    “Well, dear, we couldn’t very well ship Trouble to you when you get back to California. Monk parrots are illegal as pets there. Sooo, what with you being in Mexico, and on a boat, your father and I