The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

wouldn’t be very forthcoming with the chief about it, and that meant he might not get some vital piece of information that would solve Parker’s murder.
    So I’d keep my eyes and ears open. Try to figure out what the chief knew, and what the Corsicans ought to be telling him and weren’t.
    I’d have to do it carefully. The chief could be touchy if he thought anyone was trying to tell him how to do his job. And rightfully so, since he had nearly two decades of experience solving homicides with the Baltimore police department. But he also got very touchy if he thought you knew some critical piece of information and didn’t tell him.
    Besides, I didn’t want to get the Corsicans in any more trouble than I had to. Their hearts were in the right place, even if their brains appeared to have gone AWOL.
    So since it would be a lot easier to suggest that he investigate the Corsicans if one of them actually did something suspicious—and a lot easier on my conscience—I tried to keep a careful eye on them. And I was beginning to notice a curious dynamic among the volunteers.
    None of the Corsicans seemed particularly cheerful, which was understandable under the circumstances. One of their own had fallen, and the fate of the rescued animals was up in the air.
    But there was a woman sitting at one end of the barn, near the stalls, whom they all seemed to treat with special deference, as if recognizing that she had a superior claim to grief.
    And at the other end of the barn, right outside my forge, another woman was receiving the same tender, kid-glove handling.
    Were they Parker’s relatives? Particular friends? Or might Parker’s life contain a love triangle that had a great deal more to do with his murder than the animal shelter?
    I needed to ask someone who knew Parker. Someone trustworthy, or at least someone whose foibles and biases I knew. I looked around for Grandfather and the other ringleaders. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. Had they gone away and deserted their fellow Corsicans? Then I noticed that the door to my office was ajar. I could have sworn I’d asked Caroline and Rose Noire to keep both the forge and the office locked, at least as long as so many people were coming and going.
    I peered in. Rob, Clarence, and Caroline were all there, tending some of the orphaned puppies in the relative comfort of my office chairs.
    “What’s with all the kittens and puppies?” Caroline was saying. “Where are the mothers?”
    “According to the shelter records, they’ve had a rash of litters being dumped on them,” Clarence said. “Litters of kittens and puppies that haven’t even been weaned yet. What kind of person does that to poor, helpless creatures?”
    “Same people who can’t be bothered to spay or neuter.” Caroline glanced up and saw me. “Meg! How are the twins?”
    “They’re fine,” I said. “They’re upstairs with Michael.” I decided not to mention that thanks to the middle-of-the-night interruption, both the twins and their parents had slept far less than we needed and would be cranky today. I’d save that bit of information until I needed to induce guilt.
    “So tell me about Parker Blair,” I said. “I know he owned Caerphilly Fine Furniture, but that’s about all I know.”
    “He’s a founding member of CORSICA,” Rob said.
    “And a big supporter of a lot of environmental and animal welfare causes,” Clarence added.
    The two of them returned to the puppies as if this were all anyone needed to know about Parker.
    “He arrived on the local scene about five years ago,” Caroline said. “His aunt Emmaline died and left him the furniture store. I don’t know what he did before, but I suspect it was something in sales or business. The shop was pretty moribund when he arrived, and he’s revived it considerably.”
    I nodded. Clearly Caroline had a better idea of what constituted a biography. I hadn’t met Parker, and I usually left my furniture shopping to Mother, who had started a small decorating business, and now actually had a few clients who weren’t also relatives. But I knew where Parker’s store was. So far Mother hadn’t found much to like in it, but lately she had begun doing an occasional tour of inspection, which probably meant he was successfully appealing to a more affluent market.
    “Was he married?” I asked.
    “Parker?” Rob fell back into his chair and dissolved with laughter. The puppy he was holding seemed to think he had caused this, and