The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

of the county board would stand fast on the no-kill shelter policy. Too many of them had had to sell off their herds in lean years or put down ailing animals when they could no longer afford even Clarence’s low fees and lenient terms. I could see them, however reluctantly, agreeing to the change in shelter policy.
    But having the town try to ram the policy change down their throats? Properly handled, that was exactly the thing that would make the board members dig in their heels like so many mules.
    “Some of them are big animal lovers,” I finally said aloud. “But all of them are big Pruitt haters. Get Randall to talk to them, and make sure he knows this is a chance to spite the mayor and his family. That should do the trick.”
    “Excellent,” Caroline said. “As always, you’re more help than any three normal people put together.”
    She drained her teacup and strode briskly out the back door.
    “What do you mean by ‘normal people’?” I asked, but she was out of earshot.
    Still brooding over her comment, I finished my own tea and put both mugs on the counter at the base of the mountain of dirty dishes that wouldn’t yet fit into the dishwasher. I realized it was four o’clock, and I needed to hurry if I wanted to beat the Friday after-work shoppers to the grocery store. I grabbed my purse and the stack of totes and headed for the front door.
    Which was standing open to allow Rob and several other Corsicans to carry the macaw’s enormous cage through it. I was waiting with reasonable patience for the path to be clear when I realized something was wrong.
    “I think you’ve got that backwards,” I said. “The cage should be going out to the barn, not coming into our living room.”

Chapter 8
    My objection had no effect on the Corsicans lugging the cage.
    “Dad says we need to bring the macaw back inside the house,” Rob said. He seemed to welcome an excuse to abandon his comrades to struggle with their burden. “He’s a bad influence.”
    “Dad? I wouldn’t say that. Just a little obsessive sometimes.”
    “The bird,” Rob said. “He’s picking up bad habits.”
    “I’ve heard his current vocabulary,” I said. “I can’t imagine anything he’d pick up from the Corsicans that wouldn’t be an improvement.”
    “He’s learning to bark, growl, hiss, caterwaul, and howl,” Rob said. “Gets the other animals riled up. We had to move two Persian cats and a Pekingese into one of the sheds before they had a nervous breakdown. And every time he makes a noise like an animal in agony, all the Corsicans have to come running to check it out. He’s driving every other creature in the barn crazy, two- and four-legged alike. So Dad said bring him back into the house for a little bit, until we can find another place to keep him.”
    “Why not move him to one of the sheds?”
    “Dunno.” Rob shrugged. “Dad’s back; ask him.”
    He followed the cage into the living room. I went outside and looked around for Dad.
    I spotted him in the backyard. He and Randall Shiffley were standing by one of the larger and more dilapidated of our dozen or so sheds, apparently discussing some renovations. I strolled over to join them.
    “Please tell me you don’t have to do much work to make this shed macaw-worthy,” I said.
    “Needs a new roof.” Randall thumped the lowest part of the roof. Several shingles and a lot of little wood splinters rattled down as if in emphasis.
    “It needs a lot more than that,” I replied. “We’re not even sure we want to keep that one.”
    “No, it’s not the best of your sheds,” Randall said. “You’re probably eventually going to want to tear it down, but for right now, it only needs a new roof for you to keep the macaw in it.”
    “And if after that you still don’t want it, Randall can put it on his big truck and move it to our farm,” Dad said.
    “Move it anywhere you like.” Was Randall just being accommodating, or did he, like me, have some idea of exactly how Mother would greet the arrival of a dilapidated shed on the grounds of the farm she was trying to transform into a picture perfect weekend haven?
    “Okay, if that’s what it takes to get the macaw out of our living room, then do it,” I said. “How soon can you start?”
    “Heading out to get the supplies now,” Randall said. “If they have everything I need in stock at the hardware store, maybe today. If they have to order anything, it’ll be Monday before they can get it