Fine-Feathered Death Read Online Free Page B

noisy all the time. And I can’t have her eating everything, whether here or at my house.”
    “Well, I’m glad you called me to come here, rather than to your house,” Polly said, peering around. She caught my eye and gave a grand, teeth-revealing smile. “There are lots of people around this office. It’s not lonely or eerie, like so many places I have to go.” She shuddered delicately, making her colorful coat shimmer. “I never refuse, of course, when a bird needs me. I simply take precautions if I must, and I have learned many. I have been all over the world, teaching people, enriching the lives of birds of so many kinds.” She tossed her head back dramatically, apparently pleased she had found an audience in me, though I couldn’t imagine why.
    “What about Gigi?” I asked, attempting to redirect her back to her reason for coming to this particular piece of the world. “How can we help her?”
    “She’s like a four-year-old child,” Polly replied with a much more mundane shrug. “She needs a schedule. She needs stability.”
    “She needs discipline,” Ezra shouted. Then, slightly more calmly, he hissed to Polly. “You’re the bird shrink. Tell me what to do so we can make this work.”
    Polly appeared both haughty and hurt as she took several sweeping strides toward Gigi’s perch. Gigi squawked even louder and stretched out her huge blue wings. Above the din Polly demanded, “Let me have a few minutes with her. Alone.”
    I wasn’t sure what magic she would attempt on the macaw, but I, for one, was willing to let her try.
    “Come on, Kendra,” Ezra said. “We’ll talk in your office.”
    Before we exited, Ezra’s phone rang. He listened for a minute, and I wasn’t sure what he heard over the continued clamor from Gigi. “Yes,” he ultimately roared. “I get it. And I’ll figure it out before tonight. Count on it.”
    When he hung up, he glared at me as if whatever he’d heard wasn’t good—and he’d set the blame squarely on me. “Let’s go,” he commanded. “We’ve got even more trouble than I thought.”
     
    BORDEN HAD DELIGHTFULLY furnished my digs here with items both ergonomic and eye-catching: a chair adjusted to hit my back and buns in the most comfortable spots, a functional oak desk with deep drawers that doubled as file holders, wooden file cabinets to match, and compatible oak client chairs upholstered in brilliant blue.
    Ezra plunked himself down with no preamble on one of the comfortable client chairs. “Damn!” he exclaimed.
    “What’s wrong?” Of course he expected me to ask, but I complied only because I was curious.
    “Word’s already gotten out. Damn!” he said again. He stroked his pointed chin, and his facial wrinkles seemed even deeper in the brighter light of day pouring in through open vertical blinds at my windows.
    “Word about what?” I asked with an inward sigh. This conversation was already degenerating into a depressing game of Twenty Questions, and I had no idea yet if we were discussing animal, vegetable, or mineral.
    “You know any good investigators?” he countered.
    “Sure do,” I replied. “The best. And he’s due back in town”—I looked at my watch—“five minutes ago.”
    I might often be ambivalent about my personal feelings toward my foremost pet-sitting client and sexy-as-hell lover, Jeff Hubbard, but I knew he was a damned good P.I.
    “Good. Let me tell you what’s going on, then I need you to call the guy. We need answers fast. Before tonight.”
    “Well, okay . . .” I equivocated. “I’m sure if anyone can find answers, Jeff’s your man. But—”
    “Here’s the deal,” Ezra said. “I represent a major real estate developer. We do now—Borden’s firm, including you. You may have heard of the company: T.O. Properties. The initials stand for ‘Tomorrow’s Opportunities.’ T.O’s putting together a nice piece of prime property in Vancino and plans to construct a mixed-use development