Parrots Prove Deadly

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Authors: Clea Simon
this. I heard the snarl in my voice, though, and decided I should give him something. “It’s an animal issue, Jim. I’m helping Albert.”
    “Albert, huh.” He nodded, and I wondered what I had just confirmed. “You know Joey Gaffney?”
    “Sort of. I mean, I remember him from high school.” He’d been a troublemaker then. From what his cousin, Jerry, had said, he wasn’t doing much better now. Though it sounded like he was at least trying his hand at honest employment. “I gather he’s doing some work up there?”
    “You talk to him?” Creighton was asking the questions, not answering them. No matter what Growler might think, I do have my own internal sensors, and they were on alert.
    “I talked to his cousin, Jerry.” I waited. Nothing. “On an animal matter.” I repeated. “For Albert.”
    “Uh huh, good.” He nodded again, in confirmation of I knew not what. “Good to hear it, Pru.” He put the car in gear.
    “Wait.” I kept my hands on the door. “What is this about?”
    “Timing, Pru. That’s all.” He looked up, those baby blues cool and innocent. “And for once, maybe it really is better off that you don’t know anymore.”
    Jim Creighton knew me. He drove off before I could work up a comeback, leaving me openmouthed. A slight pressure on the side of my leg, and I looked down at Growler.
    “What?” I didn’t mean it to come out that way. “Seriously, you have any thoughts?”
    He tilted his fluffy little head. If I’d been anyone else, I would have been overwhelmed by his cuteness. Instead, I waited.
    “Didn’t get much, ”he said finally. “ Car was too cold for good scenting. There was something though. Something besides mating. ”
    He was having trouble, I could see it in the way his whole body trembled. Tension, not fear, was what I was picking up from the little dog, but I wasn’t sharp enough to get at the root of it.
    “Fear, that’s it, ”Growler said finally. I started to correct him, to explain that he was picking up on my perception. He barked once, short and sharp, to cut me off. “It’s the poison, isn’t it? ” The little head tilted up toward me, the button eyes holding me in their stare. “There’s some danger around the poison, and car man is thinking you’re involved. ”
     

Chapter Eleven
    Creighton—and Growler—were right. I was involved. And although I wasn’t afraid of Jerry Gaffney, I wasn’t enough of a fool to take him on alone. For once, the law was on my side, and if I had to get a court order to stop Jerry and his numbskull cousin from slaughtering wildlife, so be it.
    I’d kept Growler out longer than usual by then, so I walked him back to the Horlick house, my other questions still ringing in my head. Knowing now that the bichon’s perception was sharper than I’d thought, I tossed some of these at him as we walked.
    “That parrot—is he telling me something, or just repeating words and sounds he’s heard?” That was the big one, and I thought the little dog had paused as he considered it. That he’d paused by a particularly well-used hydrant brought me back to reality. This was Growler’s one outing of the day. He had his own needs, his own social agenda to fill.
    “Huh. ”The chuff again, as he sniffed open-mouthed at the hydrant. “That’s a fight waiting to happen. Someone’s going to the vet again. ”I didn’t want to interrupt as he catalogued the various scents. I did hope, however, that the object of Growler’s interest wasn’t another of my clients. “No trusting that one. Not him. ”
    “You are talking about another dog, aren’t you, Growler?” Something about the vehemence worried me. That on top of Creighton’s cop-like reticence made me curious. “Or are you talking about ‘car man’?”
    He lifted his leg and then with a sigh that carried a wave of resignation, he plowed ahead toward his inhospitable home. “Women .” That I got, loud and clear. “Don’t see what’s right in front of

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