Free The Aviary by Wayne Greenough Page B

he? As if in answer to his unsaid question, the phone rang.
    “Hello.”
    “This is Turner, Stacey. Drop by my office.”
     
    Stacey eyed Turner’s slick blonde receptionist and caught her erotic scent as she ushered him into Turner’s office. For a second her blue eyes locked with his and delivered a sultry bedroom invitation. He smiled. Turner noticed.
    “She can wait, Stacey. Sit down and listen to what I have to say. We have had a lucky break. Dame Fortune has smiled upon us.”
    “Okay, Turner, okay. Stop writing a novel with your mouth and tell me the facts. I’ve been sitting on my ass for a whole week going nuts. What’s the pitch?”
    “Calm your nerves down, Stacey. Guzzle the whiskey I just put in your hand and listen to what I have to say. Today I visited Doris Meadows with more fabricated legal business. We were sitting on her patio having coffee and cake while chatting about nothing in particular, when the man who takes care of the grounds and the bird menagerie appeared seemingly from nowhere. He’s all messed up with bird dung on his boots and a frantic look in his eyes. He says the birds are driving him crazy and he’ll have to quit because he can’t stand another minute of hearing them chirping and screeching at him. So the Meadows dame paid him off.”
    “Well, I’ll be damned. Turner, she’ll have to hire another person. And that’s me.”
    “Wait a couple of days. I encouraged her to advertise. It’s in the bag for us. We’re rich, Stacey.”
    “Yeah we are. Now tell me what you aren’t telling me.”
    Turner gave Stacey a half-smile. “You can sure read me like a book.” He took a long drag on his cigar and toyed with his whiskey glass. “Stacey, she has a police sergeant for a friend. He never comes to see her, but whenever she goes to town, she stops to see him. He’s no dice as a marriage candidate. He has a wife and three kids. They’re just close friends. His name is Benjamin Raymond.”
    “Is he suspicious about anything?”
    “Not as far as I know. Why would he be at this stage of the game? I’m sorry I kept this from you. But I knew if I told you about Raymond before I had all the information we would need you might think the whole deal was too risky. Stacey, I’m sure it’s a no sweat deal. We’ll play our cards right and we won’t be bothered by him or any member of the police force.”
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Turner. Shake hands with a millionaire, a whole lot of times over.”
     
    Two days later Stacey rang the doorbell of Doris Meadows’ mansion. A woman of about forty-five opened the door. Her gaze wandered over him.
    “I would like to see Miss Doris Meadows, please,” Stacey said, making sure to use his most polite voice.
    “Right this way, sir,” the woman replied.
    Seconds later Stacey was standing in the middle of a large room.
    “Please wait here, sir. Miss Meadow will be with you in a minute.” And with that the woman disappeared.
    Stacey sized up the room. He was impressed. The far wall was one large bookcase packed to capacity with books. In about the middle, slightly to one side, was a grand piano. The room’s wall-to-wall rug was so plush it made Turner’s look like a gunnysack. The furniture was the old-fashioned heavy construction type. On the wall was a portrait of an elderly man, perhaps seventy or older. On the portrait’s lower right hand corner were the initials DM, for Doris Meadows.
    Behind him he heard a throat being cleared. Stacey turned. Doris Meadow was a lanky beanpole of no more than ten pounds over a hundred. He would bet on that. Her eyes were black and staring and bothersome to him. Oh boy, Turner, I’ll have to charge you double for this gig. Well, time to put on the charm. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude by not being aware of your arrival. I was admiring your lovely portrait. The initials on it are DM. Am I correct in assuming you painted it?”
    “Yes, you are quite correct.”
    Her voice had a