Gia waved and said to René, “Here’s your mommy!”
I felt a little blush of pride, as if I’d hatched René myself. Sometimes I like to stand out from the crowd. Having everyone think I was the lucky owner of such an exotic bird made me feel a little special. Gia signaled for me to come on back while she ran to fetch Dr. Layton, and René let out a high-pitched cool! as I came around to the side of his cage. He was swinging on one of the perches, using his long tail feathers for balance. He looked at me with one eye and then the other and then went back to pecking at a slice of fresh orange.
Dr. Layton said, “He’s very talkative today. He’s been entertaining everybody with all kinds of whistles and calls.”
I wanted to say that I’d only heard one or two, but I didn’t want anyone in the waiting room to know I was just the bird chauffeur, so I nodded dumbly.
“He’s still a little tired though, so I’d say it’s a good idea to let him rest as much as possible over the next few days. Whatever he’s been through was pretty hard on him, but his appetite has definitely picked up since yesterday. He’s probably already gained a few ounces. I sent some blood samples over to the lab for testing, but in the meantime, I don’t think there’s any reason to be concerned. He’s a very healthy boy.”
I let out a sigh of relief. With everything that had happened today, getting some good news felt like hitting the jackpot at a slot machine.
Dr. Layton looked me up and down. “On the other hand, you’re looking a little beat. You okay?”
I nodded as I took out my checkbook. “It’s been a very long day.”
She wagged a finger at me. “First of all, go home and get some rest, and second, put that checkbook away.”
“No, you have to let me pay you.”
“No ma’am, you saved that bird’s life, you don’t owe me a penny.”
I wagged my finger back at her. “What about the lab fees?”
“Oh no. Do not try to sass a sasser. That’s a fight you are definitely not going to win. First of all, I always devote a portion of my work to charity, and if there was ever an animal in need of a little charity, this is it. And secondly, he’s out of his normal environment and he’s completely defenseless. If you and your friend hadn’t taken him in he would’ve wound up somebody’s supper. So you don’t owe me a penny. Of course, it’s a good thing you waited a bit before you stuck him in the freezer.”
I nodded in agreement as I set René’s antique cage on the desk. Gia helped me transfer him from his state-of-the-art number. He didn’t look at all upset to be leaving his fancy modern digs, probably because he was eager to get back to Joyce’s house—which I guessed was now what he thought of as home. I wondered if Joyce had considered the fact that she’d now taken in three boarders. She’d been living alone for so long, I think she was probably grateful for the company.
I thanked Dr. Layton, and Gia gave me a list she’d written up of all the foods that were safe for René. As I passed through the waiting room, everyone smiled and waved good-bye to René like he was George Clooney leaving the Academy Awards, and René called out a couple of cools! to let everyone know how honored he was to be there. He skipped and hopped around in his cage all the way to the Bronco, as if he actually had won some sort of award. I guess I’d be happy too if I found out I’d narrowly avoided being packed away in somebody’s freezer. I loaded him into the back and wedged the towels around his cage to keep it from toppling over. The towels were still damp from my morning swim. I made a mental note to hang them up to dry when I got home.
Joyce’s house is only about a block from where we found Corina, so on the way I turned down the side lane that runs along the the park where we found her. I slowed a bit to see if the box she’d been living in was still there, but there was too much foliage in the way to see from the street.
Corina and Joyce met me at the door, both wide-eyed with joy, and before you could say buenos días they had whisked René away. They put his cage down in the middle of the coffee table and huddled over it, cooing at René like two love-struck schoolgirls. Henry the VIII scampered and hopped around the perimeter of the table, wagging his tail and panting excitedly. I was beginning to get a little annoyed with all the attention René was getting.
I said, “Would anyone like to tell me how the baby is doing?”
Joyce said, “Oh, the doctor said she’s in perfect health. What did you find out about René?”
“That’s all she said?”
“Well, the baby’s underweight. She said it was probably at least a month premature, but they didn’t think it was anything to worry about. What did you find out about René?”
I sighed. These two were more excited about the bird than anything else. “He’s totally fine, but he’s supposed to rest up for a while, and he’s also a little underweight, but otherwise she said he’s a healthy boy. They gave me a list of foods.”
Corina nodded expectantly. “So, the bird—he will not die?”
“No, not at all! She said he is very healthy.”
I pulled out Gia’s list of recommended foods and handed it to Corina. “He eats all kinds of things, but fruit seems to be the favorite.” As I spoke, Corina looked down at the list and nodded. I could see tears welling up in her big brown eyes.
Joyce put her hand on Corina’s shoulder. “Oh, Corina. It’s going to be okay.”
Corina started to cry softly. “The bird, she is okay. I am happy.”
Joyce caught my eye, and we shared a look. Corina wasn’t just crying because some crazy-looking bird had gotten a clear bill of health from the vet. She was crying because, at the heart of things, Corina and René had a lot in common. They were both far from their own homes, in a foreign land where they weren’t completely understood, where they had to depend on the goodwill of perfect strangers in order to survive. They had both placed their trust in our hands. It was easy to understand how they might immediately form a tight bond.
Now Joyce started dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her blouse.
“Oh no, not you too!”
Joyce laughed through her tears. “Well, Corina’s right. I’m happy the bird she is okay, too!”
I rolled my eyes and left the two of them together, sniffling and hiccuping. The baby was in the guest bedroom sound asleep in her bright pink car seat, which was situated in the middle of the bed, surrounded with pillows. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her hands were balled into fists like two tiny cauliflower heads.
As I sat down on the bed, her eyes opened into narrow slits.
I whispered, “Hi, Dixie Joyce.”
She tilted her head back a bit and her eyes widened a little, trying to focus on me. I laid my hand down over hers and softly kissed the top of her head.
“You know,” I said, “there’s a couple of crybabies in there.”
14
I pulled up to the Harwick house not knowing what to expect. Sometimes investigators can take days to comb through the contents of a crime scene, and sometimes it can be over in hours. It all depends on the crime. The first thing I noticed was that the entire property was still cordoned off with yellow police tape, and now it was stretched across the front gate. Partially blocking the entrance were two white news vans with brightly colored logos splashed across their sides and big satellite dishes perched on top, casting long shadows up the driveway. The ambulance was gone now, but there was still a police cruiser next to August’s sports car, and behind that was an unmarked sedan.
I parked behind one of the vans. There were a couple of reporters talking to some neighbors, and across the street there was a balding man, in boating shorts the same orange as Cheetos, pointing his phone at the scene. He was probably taking a video that would be on the Internet as soon as he went back inside his house.