The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

muttering at the phone.
    Grandfather looked up to see the chief holding the cell phone. It barked again.
    “That’s Parker’s phone,” Grandfather said. “How did you get his phone? Is he under arrest?”
    “No,” the chief said. “He’s dead.”
    Grandfather slowly hung up the phone. His face fell, and for a moment he looked every one of his ninety-some years. The chief turned Parker’s cell phone off and put it into an evidence bag. Grandfather heaved himself up and glared back at the chair he’d been sitting in. I’d had to negotiate with Mother for weeks when she decorated the living room, but except for that one chair, every piece of furniture was either comfortable or practical or both. I’d only allowed her to get away with the small, elegant, backbreaking side chair by the phone because I figured it would discourage visitors from settling in for long, leisurely calls.
    “What the hell happened to Parker?” Grandfather sat on the sofa and thumped the Afghan hound on the rump a couple of times. “The fellow wasn’t even forty. Healthy as a horse. Did he wreck that damned truck?”
    The chief was stripping off the gloves he’d been wearing to handle the phone. He stuffed them into his pocket as he took a few steps toward the front door.
    “Sammy!” he shouted.
    “Yes, sir!” Heavy footsteps raced up our walk and clomped across the front porch. Deputy Sammy Wendell appeared in the foyer. Unlike the chief, who appeared perfectly normal and wide awake, Sammy had clearly been roused from a sound sleep and hadn’t yet combed his hair, which was sticking out in all directions.
    “Ms. Langslow,” the chief said. “I gather you and Mr. Waterston have been home with the babies?”
    I nodded.
    “And your grandfather and his party arrived about twenty minutes ago?”
    “No idea,” I said. “We were all either asleep or upstairs feeding the kids with the white noise machine on. It was about fifteen or twenty minutes ago that the racket from the animals got loud enough for me to hear it.”
    “Who else is here?”
    “Well, apart from Rob, I expect Dad is out in the barn,” I said. “Clarence Rutledge is upstairs helping Michael with the babies. My cousin, Rose Noire, and our houseguest, Timmy Walker, are upstairs asleep, unless the noise woke them. That’s all I know about.”
    I was assuming, of course, that “who else” didn’t include four-legged visitors.
    “Dr. Blake, Dr. Langslow, Dr. Rutledge, and Mr. Langslow.” The chief had taken out his notepad and was scribbling in it. “Dr. Blake, was there anyone else with you?”
    “No,” Grandfather said. “Damn! I guess I should take back some of the harsh things I’ve been saying about Parker for the last couple of hours, when I thought he was just being feckless.”
    “Sammy,” the chief said. “Round them up and keep them in the kitchen.” He looked at me. “If that’s acceptable.”
    I nodded.
    “Or you can use the library, if you like,” I said. “Or both.”
    “Keep them in the kitchen, Sammy.” The chief glanced down at his notebook and appeared to be studying something. “I’ll just talk to them here. Now, Dr. Blake. Where—”
    He stopped and glanced down. One of the kittens was loose and had begun climbing the crisply pressed left leg of his uniform trousers as if it were a tree. He blinked, then forced his eyes back to Grandfather.
    “Dr. Blake, where were you for the last couple of hours?”
    “It wasn’t just an accident, was it?” Grandfather asked. “Someone knocked him off.”
    The chief nodded. He winced as the kitten’s razor-sharp little claws dug into his skin. The chief shook his leg slightly in an attempt to dislodge his attacker. The kitten thought this was fun, and scrambled a little higher.
    “And you want to know if we have alibis,” Grandfather said. He glowered for a moment. Clearly he was reluctant to admit what they’d been up to. Understandable, but this was not the time to clam up.
    “Clarence, Rob, James, and I were all together,” Grandfather said finally. He glared at the chief as if daring him to ask where.
    I realized I’d been holding my breath. I let it out as quietly as I could.
    “During what time period?” the chief asked.
    Another kitten had joined its brother or sister in scaling the chief’s pants leg.
    “Since about ten o’clock,” Grandfather said. “We were supposed to meet Parker at midnight at the intersection of Little Creek Road and the Clay