The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

there’s Jamie’s early warning sign. Love you!”
    With that he hung up. I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes—and realized that one of the light sconces was shining down on my face. I took a few steps to the right until I was midway between the two sconces, at the point of greatest shadow. I leaned back and closed my eyes again. Much more relaxing. I tried to empty my mind. For once it was surprisingly easy.
    I was almost asleep standing up when I heard a slight scraping noise. I opened my eyes. Someone was standing at the nurses’ station. Not Vivian. And not another nurse. It was the elusive Louise.
    She glanced around to see if anyone was watching. I realized that she couldn’t see me here in the shadows.
    She reached down, pulled out a few drawers, and appeared to find what she was looking for. She pulled it out and set it on the counter.
    A purse. Vivian’s purse, undoubtedly. It was slim, sleek, and looked hideously expensive. And it was black—just the thing for fashionable mourning.
    Louise reached into her pants pocket. She took out a twisted-up bit of white cloth or paper, untwisted it, and shook something out of it into Vivian’s purse.
    Was it just my imagination, or did the something sparkle as it fell?
    She scrunched the paper up again, stuffed it back into her pocket, and tucked the purse in the drawer.
    Then she pulled something off her hands. Clear plastic gloves. She shoved those in her pocket, too.
    She looked around and scurried over to push the elevator button.
    I needed to keep her there till I could tell the chief what she’d done. And I also needed to keep an eye on the drawer containing Vivian’s purse.
    I waited until Louise wasn’t looking my way. Then I began walking toward the elevator and called out to her.
    “Hey, Louise!”
    She started, then turned and put on a shaky smile.
    “Hello, Meg,” she said. “I dropped by to see your grandfather but I understand he’s asleep.”
    “Dad’s down there right now, checking to see if he’s awake,” I said. “And if he is I’m sure he’d love to see you. Do stay, please.”
    “I don’t want to be a bother,” she said.
    “To tell you the truth, he pretends to be grouchy when people stop by, but I think it’s really helping his morale, having some of the Corsicans visit. And morale is the key thing at this point. So stay, please; Dad will be back in just a minute.”
    She smiled uneasily, and perched on the edge of one of the benches by the elevator. I sat down beside her, racking my brains for some way to keep her there.
    She gave me the perfect method.
    “How are the babies?” she asked.
    “Great!” I exclaimed. “Want to see some pictures?”
    I’m sure there are people rude enough to say no to that question, but Louise wasn’t one of them. Considering that she was probably dying to make her escape, she cooed and exclaimed over the boys with remarkably good nature. I found myself hoping she was only guilty of jealousy and trying to frame her rival, not the murder itself.
    After what probably seemed like several decades to her—it certainly did to me—we heard footsteps in the hallway. We both whirled to see who was coming.
    The chief, accompanied by Vivian.
    Louise and I both stood. She glanced toward the elevator.
    “Thanks for letting me see those photos,” she said. “I should be going now.”
    “Hang on a second,” I said. “I’ve got one more thing to show you.”
    “Ms. Langslow,” the chief said. “Isn’t it getting rather late? I thought you were going home.”
    “I was waiting to give Dad a ride,” I said. “And I saw something that I think I should tell you about.”
    Louise flinched as if I’d struck her.
    “Something related to the murder?” the chief asked.
    “Possibly,” I said. “You know by now that Louise and Vivian were both involved with Parker Blair.”
    “He got tired of her months ago,” Vivian said.
    “Tramp!” Louise countered.
    “As you see they don’t like each other very much,” I went on.
    “Yes, I’m aware of their … involvement with Mr. Blair,” the chief said. “They’re not the only ones.”
    The women, who had been glaring at each other, turned to glare at him.
    “Although they do seem rather suspicious of each other,” he went on. “They each tried to convince me that the other was the most likely suspect in Mr. Blair’s murder.”
    “You lying tramp!” Louise exclaimed.
    Vivian contented herself with a superior sniff.
    “So