Deep Waters

the branch of the coatrack on which he had been perching to the one where Charity had hung his feeding dish.
    "Everyone seems to agree that Jennifer married Leighton for his money. Even Leighton has come to that conclusion. And then Leighton's ex-wife hits town with a plan to ruin him. Said plan, carried out with the able assistance of Rick Swinton, works. Result? Leighton Pitt is ruined. When Jennifer files for divorce, she'll get nothing."
    Otis thoughtfully cracked a seed with his powerful beak.
    Charity leaned forward and folded her arms on her knees. "If you want to compare motives, Jennifer's are just as good as Leighton's. When he lost everything, so did she. I'll bet no one has checked her alibis for either murder."
    Otis finished munching and hiked back to his original coatrack perch. He half-closed his eyes.
    "You know, Otis, I'm getting a weird feeling." Charity rose and began to pace the room. "Look at the facts. Everyone who deprived Jennifer of whatever she hoped to get out of Leighton Pitt is either dead or in jail. It makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
    Otis did not respond.
    "Don't go to sleep on me. We need to work this out. If Leighton Pitt manages to prove his innocence, we're going to have a problem on our hands. I just know that Tybern will start casting suspicious glances at Elias again."
    Otis, apparently unconcerned by that possibility, started to close his eyes.
    "The more I think about this, the less I like it." Charity came to a halt in front of the coatrack. "That does it, I need to talk to Hank Tybern. I want him at least to look into Jennifer's alibis for the times of the murders. It's a perfectly reasonable request from a concerned citizen."
    Charity picked up the worn towel and wrapped it around her forearm. "Come on, Otis, there's no telling how long Elias and Davis are going to talk. Let's you and me go find Hank."
    Otis muttered under his breath, but he stepped onto her towel-wrapped arm.
    Charity grimaced. "You're really going to have to start watching the seed intake, Otis. Middle-age spread in a parrot is not an attractive sight."
    With the bird on her arm, Charity turned off the lights and locked the doors. The fog had thickened considerably since she had brought Otis back to Whispers. The last light of dusk had been drowned by the heavy mist that had moved in to blanket the cove during the past couple of hours.
    The pier was isolated in an unnatural gloom. It was impossible to see beyond the nearest rail, but down below, the waters whispered darkly. To Charity it seemed as if she and Otis moved through a nightmarish landscape.
    "Hang tight, Otis." It was not really cold, but there was a chill in the damp air. She held her jacket over Otis to protect him as she hurried toward the door of Charms & Virtues. "We'll get you inside your cage and put a nice warm blanket around you. And then we'll pop you into the car and turn on the heater. You'll be fine."
    Otis muttered. He sounded disgusted. Charity had the distinct impression that he was telling her he was no wimp and that a little fog didn't bother him.
    "Typical male." Charity came to a halt in front of the door of Elias's shop and fished out the key ring he had given her. "Always trying to prove how macho you are."
    She got the door open and stepped inside. The interior of Charms & Virtues, never bright even at high noon and with all the lights turned on, was shrouded in deep shadow tonight.
    Charity groped for the old light switch near the door. "If I've told Elias once, I've told him a dozen times to install better lighting."
    "Heh, heh, heh."
    "You always take his side." She found the switch and flipped it. The few lamps above the long rows of display tables glowed weakly. They cast sullen yellow pools of light that did not reach beyond the edge of the cluttered counters.
    The effect was certainly atmospheric. Too much so for her taste. Charity shuddered as she carried Otis toward the far end of the shop. She could hardly make out the cash register counter.
    She caught a whiff of an acrid odor. "Otis, do you smell gasoline?"
    The strange chill of uneasiness that had gone through her a few minutes earlier when she had stepped out into the fog returned in a jolt just as she reached the counter. Another shiver went through her. Otis must have felt it. He stiffened on her arm.
    "Oh, damn." Charity recognized the feeling with a sense of deep dismay. "Please don't let this be the start of an anxiety attack. Please. I've been doing so