The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

life would go on if I took the chance to cuddle one of my sons.

Chapter 14
    I was back in Parker’s attic trying to figure out what was missing. There was a gap in the rows of neatly labeled bins and boxes, and an outline in the dust where something had been. Only a faint outline, because he really had been a very tidy housekeeper and there wasn’t all that much dust.
    “Meg?”
    And if people would stop calling my name and let me concentrate, I could probably figure out what used to be in that space.
    “Meg?”
    I’d figured out by now that I was dreaming, and someone was trying to wake me up, but even as the dream faded, I screwed my eyes shut and tried to hang on to it, because I was sure if I could just figure out the meaning of that clear space, the whole mystery of Parker’s death would be solved.
    “Meg? It’s nearly seven P.M. Don’t you want to go to the meeting?”
    I woke up and found that Michael was leaning over me, holding Josh.
    And I had a crick in my neck.
    “Oh, bloody h— Oh bother,” I said. Michael wasn’t the only one trying to clean up his language before the twins started talking.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Just another napping injury.” I massaged my stiff neck. “That’s it. Mother will have a cow, but we need a second recliner.”
    “Funny you should say that,” Michael said. “I had the same thought myself a couple of days ago. And I thought I’d order it and surprise you.”
    “And did you?” I hurried over to the nursery bathroom to throw some water on my face.
    “I dropped into Caerphilly Fine Furniture,” he said. “And the guy there took down the make and model number and said he would order it.”
    “Guy?” I stuck my head out of the bathroom. “Was it Parker Blair?”
    “I assume it must have been.” He was checking the contents of the diaper bag against the checklist I had posted on the wall by the changing table. Both boys were babbling happily in their cribs. “Which means, I suppose, that we’ll have to find someplace to order it all over again.”
    “Don’t be so sure,” I said. I grabbed Jamie and headed for the door. “Parker was super organized. If he said he was going to order it, I bet he did. Check with Clarence, or whoever Clarence gets to take care of the store until the estate is settled. While you were there, did you notice anything else?”
    “Like the name of his future killer written on the wall in blood?”
    I glanced over to see that he was grinning at me.
    “Good point,” I said. “He didn’t know he was about to be murdered.”
    “He was pleasant, efficient, and organized,” Michael said as he lifted Josh onto his shoulder.
    “Yeah.” I picked up Jamie, who was happily babbling, as if trying to join in our conversation. “Very organized. I bet if he knew his life was in danger, we’ll find that he left some kind of record. The chief should do some more searching in his papers.”
    “After checking the alibis of all his girlfriends?” Michael stopped on the landing, halfway down the stairs. “There was one funny thing that happened. He has one of those bells that rings whenever someone comes into the store. We were at the counter, looking through catalogs, and the bell rang. He looked up, said, ‘Come in,’ but I heard a little gasp, and when I looked over my shoulder the door was shutting again.”
    “As if someone didn’t want to be seen entering his store?”
    Michael nodded and resumed his careful descent of the tall stairway.
    “I can’t be sure, but the gasp sounded feminine,” he said. “And it was silly to run away—I’d have assumed she was there for the same reason I was—to buy furniture. So maybe the chief should concentrate on any of Parker’s girlfriends who happen to be married or otherwise involved.”
    “Of course, those are going to be the hardest to find,” I said. “Have you told him about this?”
    “I only just remembered it,” he said. “But I will.”
    And he probably would, if he remembered. Maybe I should mention it to the chief. And find out if Rob had broken the news about his imperfect alibi.
    Downstairs, as we were settling the twins in their double carriage for the trip to the barn, I kept thinking about the second recliner—not just about how much comfort it would add to our lives, but also that in a weird way it would be a posthumous present from Parker. Assuming he had ordered it, and I was willing to bet he had.
    It would be nice if I could repay him by