The Real MacAw (21 page)

“I didn’t know he was doing that,” the chief said. “That could be helpful.”

I doubted if anything else in my statement was, though. Especially since nothing I had to say helped the chief come up with an idea why the intruder had been on our property, or whether or not he’d been in the house.

“Grandfather might have scared off a prowler and been injured in the process,” I said to Michael afterward. “Or maybe he interrupted a burglar in the act and gave chase.”

I was sitting at the kitchen table, holding Jamie, and ticking the options off on my fingers, which Jamie found curiously fascinating.

“A burglar who hadn’t yet taken any of our stuff,” Michael said. He was balancing Josh on one shoulder while fixing some breakfast.

“Or a burglar who didn’t think any of our stuff was worth taking and was about to leave in a snit,” I suggested. “Or a burglar who did take something that we still haven’t noticed yet.”

“The house isn’t that cluttered,” he said.

“Could be someone who had it in for Grandfather and came to harm or even kill him,” I suggested.

“Or someone who came to talk to your grandfather and lost his temper during the conversation.”

I’d filled the one hand and had to count this last possibility on my other hand. Jamie squealed with delight and tried to grab my finger.

“Jamie votes for that scenario,” I said. “And I’d put it high on the probability list myself.”

“Though most people don’t try to settle their arguments with a blunt instrument,” Michael said. He put Josh into the baby carriage and set the little disco ball toy spinning to amuse him.

“Good thing,” I said. “Or Grandfather would have already had quite a few concussions in his life.”

“He’ll be fine.” Michael came over and held his hands out for Jamie. “Getting the best possible care with your dad on the case. And it’s a good hospital, too.”

“And thank goodness the hospital isn’t county-owned any longer,” I said. “Or they’d be clearing that out tomorrow, too. Not so great for someone in the ICU.”

“But they’re not, so he can stay put, and you can go down and see him. Talk to him.”

He set Jamie in the carriage and began bouncing it vigorously, which had the double effect of making the disco ball spin and soothing the boys.

“Talk to him?” I echoed. “On the theory that even though he’s unconscious, he’ll hear me and rally from his coma?”

“They’ve done some studies that show it works,” he said. “And even if it doesn’t, you’ll feel better for trying. You’ll go crazy, hanging around here all day.”

“I wasn’t planning on hanging around here all day,” I said. “Assuming you can be persuaded to spend your Sunday bonding with the boys, I was planning to help Ms. Ellie pack up the library.”

I didn’t add that I was planning to do a little fact-finding while I was in town. The chief would probably call it snooping. But the chief didn’t have a grandfather in intensive care and a crooked politician trying to take away his home. I wasn’t yet sure who I needed to talk to or what I’d ask them, but I knew for sure the action was in town, not here.

“Or if the library’s well taken care of, I’ll see where else they need me,” I added, so Michael wouldn’t worry if he learned I wasn’t at the library.

“Good plan,” he said. “Pack all you like, then visit your grandfather. And when you get tired of packing, we can trade off and you can watch the boys while I help with the packing.”

“
If
I get tired,” I said. “In my book, packing’s a lot easier than riding herd on the kids.”

“Pack all you like, then,” Michael said. “If I get overwhelmed, I’ll draft some help. Your mother recruited a whole bunch of your relatives to help with the packing. She asked if we could put up a dozen or so of them here. I’m sure I can guilt-trip a few of them into babysitting in return for their room and board.”

“That settles it,” I said. “If a horde of Hollingsworths is descending on us, I’m definitely packing all day.”

“Can I come?”

Timmy was standing in the doorway, still in pajamas.

“I’m going to do work, you know,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I want to help save the library. I don’t want that mean mayor to steal all the books.”

“How fast can you get dressed?” I asked.

He vanished.

“I like his priorities,” Michael said. “By the way, your mother’s already here, and full of energy.”

“Damn,” I said. “I know I sicced her on the idea of sprucing up the yard, but after last night, I really don’t think I can focus on it.”

“Relax,” he said. “She says she’s thinking about her landscaping plans, but right now, she’s hell-bent on undoing all the damage the animals did.”

“Not to mention what Horace has done this morning while furthering the cause of justice.”

“Yes,” he said. “I think it was the fingerprint powder that drove her over the edge. She’s got a couple of your cousins helping her with the heavy lifting.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Let’s just hope her idea of undoing the damage doesn’t involve redecorating in Louis Quatorze.”

I grabbed a cup of coffee and ambled into the living room.

To my relief, Mother did seem focused on repair. She was minutely examining every inch of our sofa, while the two burly cousins waited nearby with anxious looks on their faces.

“Needs work,” she said at last. “But I think it can be saved. “

Apparently they’d been doing this for a while. The cousins immediately interpreted her words as a signal to hoist the sofa and whisk it off to a waiting truck.

As Michael and I first fixed and then ate breakfast, we could hear her imperious voice giving orders, and every time I went through the hall and glanced in, the room looked a little emptier.

She had the cousins roll up the soiled rug and load it on Dad’s truck. Several pieces of chewed-on furniture had joined them, no doubt to gladden the heart and pockets of the little old German man who did all her furniture repairs. Now they were taking down all the curtains while Mother prowled about making sure she hadn’t missed anything.

I suspected that some of the things she was taking in for cleaning or repair had needed help before the animals and Horace had arrived, but I wasn’t about to quibble.

“Looking better,” I said.

“Looking a bit bare, you mean,” she said. “I might bring one or two things over to fill in until your stuff comes back. But not till I have a cleaning service in to scrub away all that nasty powder. They might not be able to come out till tomorrow.”

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “We practically live in the nursery these days anyway.”

“Well, that will have to do for now,” she said. “Are you going into town, dear?”

“Yes,” I said. “Going to help with the library.”

“Can you drop me off at the town hall?” she asked. “The garden club is gathering there.”

“The garden club is having a meeting today?”

“This morning we’re packing up the county extension agent’s office,” she said. “And then we’re going to rescue plants.”

“Rescue what plants?” I asked. “And rescue them from what?”

“Rescue them from falling into the hands of that horrible company when it seizes all our county buildings,” she said. “The county buys all the plants and pays the service that comes by to water and feed them. We got the county board to authorize the garden club to care for the plants during the interim. So we’re going to make a sweep through all the government buildings to make sure all the potted plants are moved to more suitable quarters.”

“That’s nice,” I said. Unthinkable, of course, that any of our treasured houseplants might fall into the clutches of the evil lender. But then, I felt the same way about the books in the town library. To each his own.

She followed me out to the hall where she donned a lavender hat trimmed with purple flowers and a pair of purple gardening gloves. Trust mother to have just the right outfit for anything, including a plant rescue mission.

Timmy bounded down the stairs dressed in clothes that looked as if they’d escaped my last roundup of dirty laundry. Mother raised an eyebrow, but I could see no reason to make him put on clean clothes when he’d probably be covered with dust after half an hour of packing at the library, so I led the way to the car. My old car—I’d leave the Twinmobile for Michael, in case he wanted to take the boys anywhere. As I pulled out of our driveway in my tiny Toyota—well, tiny compared to the minivan—I felt a brief surge of guilty pleasure at how free and unencumbered I was.

“Can we stop at the ice cream store?” Timmy asked.

“And the card shop,” Mother said. “I want to get a card for your grandfather.”

Okay, so much for unencumbered. And the thought of Grandfather lying unconscious in the hospital washed away the last shreds of pleasure.

“Ice cream and get-well cards coming up,” I said.

At least I had plenty to distract me. When we got near town, we ran into something rarely seen in Caerphilly, especially on a Sunday: a traffic jam. So many cars, trucks, and even buses were heading into town that I thought we’d never get a chance to pull out of our country road onto the main highway.

But after a few moments, a farmer in a truck slowed to a stop and cheerfully waved me onto the highway. In fact, the entire crowd was strangely cheerful about the traffic. Perhaps because we all had something concrete and manageable to do. We couldn’t solve the county’s budget or legal problems, but packing and moving were things we all knew how to do.

“Wow,” Timmy said. “Where did they all come from?”

“All the churches sent out calls for help last night and this morning at their services,” Mother said. “Not just to their own congregations, but to nearby counties.”

And apparently the volunteers had come by the busload. As I made my way through town I saw buses from as far away as Henrico County and Manassas. When we finally reached the town square, I saw various groups gathering under impromptu banners and signs to form work teams. Along with the church groups I spotted uniformed Scout troops and delegations from the nearby Lions, Elks, and Rotary clubs. And to top it off, Mother had sent her all-points bulletin to the Hollingsworth family, who could be expected to answer her call in the dozens if not hundreds. I saw several knots of faces I usually saw only at funerals and family reunions.

I dropped Mother off near one flock of cousins and drove on toward the library.

From the difficulty we had parking anywhere nearby, I deduced that helping at the library was a popular choice.

Ms. Ellie, looking determined, if slightly harried, met us at the door.

“Welcome,” she said. “Timmy, would you like to help pack the children’s section?”

He nodded vigorously and trotted toward the familiar sunny alcove.

“They’re a bit slow back there, but they’re having fun,” Ms. Ellie said. “And I think it’s doing a lot to ease their anxiety about where all their beloved books are going. How’s your grandfather?”

“Stable,” I said. “Don’t ask me what that means. Dad’s worried, but not frantic.”

A Shiffley cousin wheeling in a four-foot-high stack of moving boxes appeared in the doorway. We both stepped aside into the corridor that led to Ms. Ellie’s office.

“And they have no clue who did it?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “And no idea whether or not it has anything to do with Parker’s murder or the county meeting.”

“I’m sure it has something to do with both,” she said. “They must be connected. But what happened at the meeting to suddenly make someone want to attack your grandfather?”

I’d been chewing on the same question for hours.

“I don’t think it’s something that happened at the meeting,” I said. “I think it’s something that was going to happen after the meeting. The committees, for example. Several of them were organized to dig out information that someone might not want found.”

“Good point.”

“So which of the committees did Grandfather volunteer for last night?” I asked. “Maybe that would tell us what’s got his attacker running scared.”

“I don’t remember that he volunteered for any of them,” Ms. Ellie said. “Your grandfather’s better at giving orders than volunteering.”

“Are you sure? Can you ask whoever’s keeping the list?”

“I have the list,” she said. “Let me check.”

I followed her into her office and fretted as she pulled a file folder out of her desk and flipped through the four- or five-page document it contained.

“As I thought,” she said. “Not on any of the committees. But he did promise to bring down some auditors to help with some of the financial investigations.”

“That’s right,” I said. “I remember him shouting that out during the meeting.”

“I thought he ran a charitable foundation, not an accounting firm,” she said, as she tucked the list back in its folder.

“He does run a foundation,” I said. “And he’d be the first to tell you that any foundation worth its salt needs top-notch auditors. He gets a lot of funding requests, and he has to have someone to help him sort out which ones are worthwhile and which are not.”

And which ones were actually scams. I wasn’t sure whether many of the requests they got were crooked or whether Grandfather just talked a lot about the ones that were, but I knew his audit staff was large, skilled, and enthusiastic about unearthing potential fraud. He’d bragged about that at the meeting, too.

“What if someone heard his offer and got scared?” I asked. “Of course it would have to be someone who was at the meeting, which lets out my favorite suspect, Mayor Pruitt.”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Could also be someone who got a full report from his spies.”

“You think the mayor sent spies?”

“We know he sent spies,” she said. “We expected him to—after all, it’s a public meeting. We even knew who they were. Poor things—he made them come down to the town hall to brief him once the meeting was over. Kept them there well past midnight, I heard.”

“We have spies down at the town hall?”

“One of his spies is actually our spy. Would have joined Corsica if she wasn’t on the town payroll. She told us all about it.”

“And the mayor wasn’t happy?”

“She says he went berserk. I think she’d have mentioned it if he told any of his spies to sneak back and bludgeon your grandfather, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t order someone to do it as soon as no inconvenient witnesses were around.”