Free Death Shoots a Birdie by CHRISTINE L. GOFF

have some swampland I’ll sell you.’ ”
    “It’s a unique habitat, and quite a resource,” said Saxby, without cracking a smile. He was interrupted by a waitress in a crisp white shirt and denim skirt, who took their drink orders. When she left, Saxby resumed the conversation with a monologue on birding coastal Georgia.
    “The state has a wide variety of habitats and more than three hundred bird species,” he droned. “We’ve just developed a coastal birding trail running all the way from Fort Pulaski National Monument to the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge.”
    Rachel watched the big ship cruise out of sight while Saxby gave detailed descriptions of the eighteen birding sights. His ability to breathe in mid-sentence shut off any opportunity for someone to break in, and it unnerved her. She began to wonder if anyone could ever succeed at getting a word in edgewise.
    “More coffee?” asked the waitress, talking over the top of him, brandishing a fresh pot of coffee.
    Saxby held up his cup. “The only problem is they failed to include Hyde Island on the list. It has some of the best birding in the state, yet they neglected to list it as a featured stop.” He breathed, and said, “Thank you.”
    Rachel took advantage of the lull.
    “So, Guy, tell us what comes next for you?” she asked, hoping that in his talkative mood he’d spill the beans and she’d have something to report to Kirk.
    “Subtle,” murmured Lark.
    Rachel shot her a glare.
    Saxby narrowed his eyes, and bounced a glance between them. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”
    Rachel pasted on a smile and shook her head.
    Saxby looked bemused. Tiny crows’ feet crinkled at the corners of his eyes and a crease furrowed his brow.
    Rachel bit her lip and waited for his answer.
    Finally, after rubbing his jaw between thumb and forefinger, he twirled the spoon in his coffee and said, “I’m not sure I follow.”
    Rachel didn’t buy the act. “Your adventures are legendary. Take your last one. Weren’t you in Australia?”
    “Ah.” His eyes lit up. “You read about that?”
    It was a rhetorical question, so she didn’t answer.
    “We didn’t get the bird.”
    “I read that, too.”
    “What a shame,” said Lark. Her voice dripped as much sarcasm as the live oak next to the patio dripped Spanish moss. Rachel kicked her under the table.
    “Surely you have something else in the works,” said Rachel.
    Saxby cupped his hands around the ends of the armrests like he meant to get up, but instead settled back in his chair. “I’ll admit, I have a plan.”
    Here it comes. Rachel scooted her chair closer.
    “Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait.” He grinned and turned his palms up. “I was set to unveil it on Saturday, but of course that’s been changed.”
    “Why not tell us now? We can keep a secret.” Rachel hadn’t come this far just to give up.
    Dorothy shot Rachel a glare, and placed her hand on Saxby’s sleeve. “She’s joking. Why not unveil it on Friday night?”
    Saxby patted Dorothy’s hand. “Would that I could. Unfortunately, it’s out of my hands. It all depends on whether or not the others can be ready in time.”
    “What others?” pressed Rachel.
    Saxby clucked at her from the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”
    “Whatever it is, it sounds intriguing,” said Dorothy.
    Rachel tensed. Dorothy, normally quick-witted and sharp-tongued, had become positively cloying. This wasn’t good.
    “Then tell us something you can talk about,” said Lark, who seemed equally agitated by Dorothy’s manner. “Like, explain what’s really going on between you and Paul Becker? He seemed pretty intent on putting you in your place.”
    Dorothy’s face blanched. “Lark!”
    “No, it’s okay,” said Saxby, reaching for his coffee. He took a quick sip, then set it down and traced his finger along the rim of the mug. “Paul Becker used to be my teacher’s aide at the