The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

from me to Sammy. Then he peered at Sammy’s bleeding face and shook his head.
    “Can you two … people be trusted to keep the peace now?” he asked, frowning down at our prisoners. Normally he’d have called them ladies. Under the circumstances, “people” was as close as I’d ever heard him come to a direct insult.
    “Ow!” Sammy shouted. “She bit me!”
    “We’ll have to cuff her.” The chief did the honors himself, retrieving the handcuffs from Sammy’s belt and applying them expertly to Vivian’s wrists as she continued to spit insults at them. Once Vivian was safely cuffed, Sammy came over and took charge of Louise.
    “Meg, this is a hospital,” the chief said. “Do you think you can find some surgical tape, in case Ms. Forrest cannot be persuaded to hold her tongue?”
    “Sure,” I said. I went into the nurses’ station to rummage. A thought hit me.
    “Shouldn’t we find a replacement for Vivian?” I asked. “Assuming you’re probably going to take her away for questioning. Because she seems to be the only nurse on duty on this part of the floor.”
    “Good point,” he said. “Who do we call?”
    I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the police station. If Debbie Anne didn’t already know who to call, I’d bet she could find out in no time.
    I was still filling Debbie Anne in on events here at the hospital when the elevator dinged again. We all whirled to face the elevator, which opened to reveal another deputy peering out, his gun at the ready.
    “Put your weapon away, Fred,” the chief said. “You can cuff the prisoner Sammy is restraining. Then get some more help up here. Sammy needs medical attention.”
    “What’s wrong with Sammy?” Dad had finally returned and was standing on tiptoes to peer over Fred’s shoulder.
    “He was assaulted by one of my murder suspects,” the chief said. “Are we any closer to getting a nurse for this floor?”
    “Debbie Anne’s working on it,” I said.
    “Good job,” he said.
    Dad hurried out of the elevator. I noticed he was carrying his black bag.
    Fred set about handcuffing Louise in a reassuringly businesslike fashion. Of course, he had the easy job. Louise wasn’t putting up much of a fight. She was crying softly, and I noticed that the tears she was shedding over her own plight were falling much faster than the ones she’d shed for poor Parker.
    Dad exclaimed over Sammy’s wounds and patted him on the shoulder.
    “She planted those earrings in my purse,” Vivian said, appending a few choice words about Louise’s character.
    “None of that, young woman,” the chief said. “Meg, have you found that tape?”
    “Here,” Dad said, handing me a roll from the medical supplies he was using to patch up Sammy.
    Vivian glared at him and fell silent.
    “I planted one,” Louise said, through sobs. “And only because she planted it in my purse.”
    “I did not!” Vivian said.
    “Did, too!” Louise said. “I was just putting it back. I have no idea where the other one came from.”
    “You’re lying!” Vivian shrieked.
    “Quiet!” the chief bellowed. “Hand me that tape.”
    “I’ll be quiet,” Vivian muttered.
    I handed the chief the tape anyway. He held the roll in his left hand and tapped it slowly against his right palm. Vivian pursed her lips as if to show that she wasn’t even thinking of talking.
    The elevator dinged again and Horace and yet another deputy stepped out.
    “Excellent!” the chief said. “Jasper, you and Fred take these prisoners down to the station … er, over to Dr. Langslow’s barn and hold them. Separate stalls.”
    “You can’t arrest us!” Vivian yelped.
    “We both decline to press charges,” Louise said, frowning at Vivian. “You can’t arrest us if we both decline to press charges.”
    “Yes, I can,” the chief said. “Disturbing the peace. Assault and battery on poor Sammy here. Interfering with a police investigation. I’m sure I’ll think of a few more when I get down to the station. Horace,” he said, turning to my cousin, “we have new evidence. Look at this.”
    The two deputies herded their charges toward the elevator and one pressed the call button.
    Horace trotted over to the counter and looked down at the clutter. His face lit up.
    “Parker’s missing earring!” he exclaimed. Then his face fell. “And another one just like it. Which is the real one?”
    “They could both be Parker’s,” I said. “A lot of places still only sell earrings in