'Tis the Friggin' Season Read online

  “Oh,” Jergensen said flatly. “Bless your heart.”

  The lie seemed to do the trick, though. He proceeded with the instructions.

  Tinky the Bird had a dizzying array of food, different ones for different times of the day. The evening seed mix had to be mixed with warmed, distilled water, and there were very specific measurements. He got one half cup of chopped fruit and brown rice in the morning. His water dishes had to be removed and scrubbed twice a day. The bottom of the cage was to be cleaned once a day.

  I imagined standing in that cage with the bird set to launch into my head. But then Jergensen showed me how to unhook the water bowls and remove the bottom pan from the cage without opening it. The bird and I, it seemed, would always have sturdy metal bars between us.

  The gig just got a whole lot better.

  After repeating everything three times, Jergensen finally left. I stood in the living room, eyeing the bird warily. I was curious if the rest of the house looked this out of date, but I kind of wondered if the bird would tell on me.

  Tinky eyed me back. I really wasn’t afraid of birds, but I couldn’t help but notice how that thick black beak looked like some kind of crude tool that cavemen might use to break up rocks or something.

  The doorbell rang.

  I frowned at the bird. “Is he coming back to test me or something?”

  But it wasn’t Jergensen, it was Viv.

  Viv, I suppose, is my best friend. She’s older than I am by at least fifty years, and she has more money than I’ll probably ever see, thanks to a few rich but dead husbands. We started out with nothing in common but our efforts to stay on the wagon (we met in AA) and a snarky sense of humor, but that had developed into an actual friendship. And partnership. After we accidentally solved a murder, Viv had honest-to-goodness private investigator cards printed with our names on them. That sideline was about as successful as the water filter business.

  “Are you trying to edge me out of the business?” she said as she pushed past me into the house.

  “What? No. What business?” For a second I thought she was talking about pet-sitting.

  “Thankfully Flo told me what was going on. If you think you’re getting all the glory here, girlie, think again. My name is on the door, too!” She jabbed her wobbly chin in my general direction. Sunlight bounced off a white hair there.

  I got what she was saying. “Okay, Viv. In the first place, there’s no door. We’re not really private detectives. There are only cards you ordered online. And in the second place, I’m only here to babysit the bird. There is no mystery.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d turn on me. And right here at Christmastime, too. I guess the season does bring out the greed in everyone. I just…” She trailed off, her eyes going shiny. She swallowed a lump in her throat and her voice came out in a whisper. “I expect to be put out to pasture by everyone else, but never you, Salem. Never you.”

  Guilt washed over me. “Viv, no, you’ve got this all wrong. It’s nothing like that. Of course you would have been the first person I called if – ”

  “Ha! I had you there, didn’t I?” Viv cackled and clapped her hands. “I’m just kidding. Flo told me you were babysitting the bird. But she also told me the guy was a looney-toon and should have some interesting secrets stored around the place. I didn’t want to miss out on that.”

  I scowled at her. “You’re a jerk,” I said sullenly. She gets me every time she pulls that feel-sorry-for-me-because-I’m-old crap.

  “I’m an actress. Would you get a load of this place? It looks like the setting of a 70s porn movie.”

  I looked around. “Ummm, I was thinking Brady Bunch. But either way.”

  “Where’s the basement?” She headed off in the general direction of the kitchen. “Probably a dead body or two down there.”

  I hurried to block her way. “No. No way. You’re not going to go snooping around in this man’s house. He has trusted me in his home.”

  “Yes, they always get cocky, don’t they? Have to have an audience eventually.” She stepped to the right.

  I stepped with her. “No, Viv. Seriously.His home. It’s a sacred trust.”

  “You’re telling me you aren’t the least bit curious to have a look around this time machine?”

  “Not a peek.”

  “Why don’t you want me to at least look?”

  “Because you might find something!”

  Viv laughed. “Chicken.” But she stepped back. “You are officially the least fun person I know.”

  “I don’t care,” I said, sticking my lower lip out. But I kind of did. Viv lived at Belle Court Retirement Village. On Tuesday nights, she says, they get together and play Compare the Bunion. While I was pretty sure that was not true, it was a safe bet Belle Court wasn’t a laugh a minute.

  “If you’re not going to snoop, what are you going to do while you’re here?” She walked slowly around the room, taking it in.

  I shrugged. “Take care of the bird. Read. Stay up all night with my back to the wall and listen for things going bump in the basement. Put that down,” I ordered.

  Viv put down a big green glass apple and stuck her head out into the hallway. “I wonder what’s up there,” she said, looking at the stairs to the second floor.

  I joined her at the door. “You’re going to keep wondering,” I said, but with no real conviction. The stairs were also carpeted in green shag, the open kind like they had on The Brady Bunch – and in porn movies, apparently.

  The bird screamed.

  Viv screamed and clutched at her chest.

  To my credit, I tried really, really hard not to laugh. I did. But I was still kind of hacked off about how she’d tricked me earlier, so while Viv leaned against the doorjamb gasping and checking her own pulse, I sauntered to the bird cage with all the smug false confidence I possessed.

  “That’s just his way of saying it’s time for his afternoon toy,” I announced calmly. My heart had kicked up pretty good, too, but she was too busy freaking out to notice.

  I unclipped the water bowl from the side of the cage and took it to the kitchen. “If you want some light reading, check out the list of instructions for this bird,” I called to her. “Tinky definitely eats better than I do.”

  “Good Lord,” Viv said. “’Do not ever, under any circumstances, give Tinky tap water,’” she read from the instructions. “’The tap water here is far too high in’…what is this?”

  I cringed and dumped out the water I’d just run from the tap into the plastic dish. “I don’t know, something bad.”

  “You could have sold this guy a water filter. Hey, that’s kind of ironic, huh? If you’d sold him a water filter you might not be so broke right now and need to babysit his bird for extra money.”

  I gave her a look as I snagged the bottled water from the tray beside the cage. “Yeah, ironic.” I went back to the kitchen to pour the water.

  I heard Viv making that same kissy sound to Tinky that Jergensen had made. Then I heard a rattle of the cage. Then a muttered oath and what sounded suspiciously like beating wings.

  I ran back to the living room.

  Viv stood, wide-eyed and guilty-looking, before an open bird cage door. As I stared at her, she silently pushed the door shut with one finger.

  “Viv! What the hell! What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she wailed. “I was just going to scratch his head.”

  I looked frantically around the room. “Where did he go?”

  She pointed toward the hallway.

  We both ran to the hall in time to see Tinky scooting up the top of the banister. He screeched at the top of his lungs.

  I started up the steps but then stopped. “What the hell am I going to do when I get to him?” I looked at Viv.

  All bravery when she wanted to go rooting around in the guy’s basement, Viv was a bug-eyed mess when it came time to take care of his bird. “I don’t know. Put your shoulder u
p to it. They like to sit on shoulders.”

  I nodded. “Yes, uh-huh. In pirate movies!”

  I tightened my mouth and stared up at the bird, my hands on my hips. Sometimes, if a dog is acting aggressive, it will cow if you stand tall and act confident. I thought, hopefully, that maybe birds were the same way.

  I marched firmly up the stairs, my eyes on Tinky’s the whole way. When I got there, I thought, I would put my arm out like I’d seen people do, Tinky would step on, and we’d go calmly back down to the cage. Everything would be just fine.

  Tinky cocked his head as I approached, and that black beak looked enormous. My mind said “Be confident,” but my left arm shook as I held it out to Tinky.

  Tinky examined my arm.

  “Get on, Tinky,” I said in my most authoritative voice.

  Tinky lowered his head and rubbed his beak gently along my arm. It took everything I had in me not to jerk back, but I remained steady and said again, “Get on.”

  Tinky rubbed his beak slowly along my arm, back and forth.

  “Awww, that’s sweet. Look, Viv. It’s like he’s petting me – ”

  The friggin’ bird jerked his head up and brought his hatchet beak down, hard, on my forearm.

  He screamed and flew off. I screamed and ran back down the stairs.

  Viv stood there looking dumbfounded. “Are you okay?”

  I had my right hand wrapped tight around what felt like a mortal wound on my left arm. I lifted my hand away carefully, afraid I was going to see ripped flesh and dangling tendons.

  There was blood. But it didn’t look like I would need stitches.

  “That’s not so bad,” Viv said.

  “No, not bad at all. You go up and get him. You were the one who let him out.”

  “Sorry, can’t,” she said. “My old skin would rip right apart in that thing’s claws.”

  “Funny how you’re old and feeble when it’s convenient for you to be.”

  I found a downstairs bathroom and washed off my arm, then got a paper towel from the kitchen to wrap around it. “You have to at least come up there and help me find the thing. Good Lord, what if there’s a window open up there or something?”

  I hadn’t thought of open windows until that moment. I ran back up the stairs.

  Four doors opened off of the hallway. All of them stood open. The first one was a small bathroom and a quick check around showed no attack birds. I edged open the second one, which was a small bedroom with a full-size bed and a dresser, and nothing else. Viv and I checked under the bed, but nothing. I was equal parts disappointed and relieved. Nothing launched itself at me, but that meant I had to keep looking.

  Viv checked the third door, another bedroom. This one wasn’t messy by any means, but it was clearly occupied, whereas the other one had not been. I looked warily around. “How much do you think that bird is worth, anyway?” I asked uneasily.

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s some appraisal paperwork in some of these drawers.”

  She started to open a dresser drawer.

  I slammed it shut. “Viv! You’re just looking for reasons to go through is stuff. Quit it!”

  “On my list of least fun people is Patty Perkins, who writes an average of three outraged letters to the editor a week. And still, you hold the top spot.”

  I lifted the bed skirt and checked the corners. “He’s not under here.”

  “No Shirley Temple dolls, either. They’re probably down in the basement with his dead bodies.”

  I ignored her. “There’s one more door.”

  “Crap,” was all I could say when I saw the fourth door led up to an attic. I saw a long red tail feather disappear around the top of the narrow stairs.

  “There!” Viv shouted, pointing. Like I was going to dash up there and grab the bird that had just bitten me.

  I chewed my lip. “I have an idea,” I said. “Grab a towel out of that bathroom. The biggest one you can find. I’m going to keep my eye on him.”

  I tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as I could, picturing open vents and big mouse traps, rusty nails in rafters and all kinds of horrible dangers. As much as I feared tackling that wicked beak again, I feared telling Jergensen his bird was no longer, ahem, among the living, even more.

  Tinky flew up to the rafters, made a little squeak sound, then pooped on a pile of dusty boxes under him. The rafters weren’t far overhead; I could probably throw the towel over it and get him down, provided I could get that hatchet beak wrapped up.

  Viv came pounding up the steps with the towel and tossed it to me. “Here!”

  Tinky freaked out and flew over her to another rafter.

  “Would you chill out?” I said. “You’re scaring him.”

  I eased up to Tinky and held the towel out. He squeaked and pooped again. Then he lowered his head and flew straight at me.

  “Aggghhhh!” I dove to the floor. When I raised my head the bird was gone and Viv stood cowered with her arms over her head.

  “Did he go that way?” I shouted as I jumped up.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I had my eyes closed.”

  I looked back down the steps to the second floor hallway. No bird. That meant he was still up in the attic.

  “Viv, run down there and close that door. I don’t want him flying all over the house.”

  While Viv clomped down the steps and slammed the door, I tiptoed around the attic, peering under the eaves and between boards. I gripped the towel tightly, mentally preparing myself to spring as quickly as I could, the moment I saw even a hint of a feather.

  I edged around a stack of boxes and what looked like a pile of old tablecloths. The roof pitched steeply here and I ducked my head to avoid a strut. I held the towel before me and moved as silently as I could.

  Behind me, something whispered, “There’s the dingle dangle.”

  I jumped, slamming my head into a board. “Jeez-o-Friggin’-Pete!” I screamed, whipping my head back and forth. I saw stars, and for a moment I thought I was going to pass out. The only coherent thought I could scrape together was I needed to get away from that bird.

  “What?!” Viv shouted, running back up the stairs.

  I put my hand to the top of my head and felt blood.

  “That bird scared the crap out of me.” I pointed at Tinky, who cocked his head at us, then lifted his foot to scratch idly at the top of his head.

  “Grab him!” Viv said. “He’s right there!”

  “I know he’s right there!” I said. “Do you know what he said? He said ‘There’s the dingle dangle.’” Once I’d said it, it didn’t sound very scary, though. “He said it in a very menacing tone.”

  Viv gave me a blank look.

  “And he was right behind me. He kind of whispered it.” I looked at my hand. “And now I’m bleeding.” I looked at the board where I’d hit my head. A nail stuck out about half an inch. I must have scraped it when I slammed my head into it.

  Viv’s eyes grew wide when she saw the blood on my hand. “You need stitches.”

  I frowned at Tinky. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to call animal control and ask them to come get the bird. Then we’re going to the minor emergency clinic so I can get stitches in my scalp. And then I’m going to stand on the corner with a sign saying “Will work for Christmas money.”

  I stomped down the steps, not waiting for Viv. Stupid bird. Maybe I would take a cue from my mom and say my house had been broken into and all the presents stolen. Filing a false police report had to be easier than this.

  I yanked the door open. Actually, I tried to yank the door open. It was locked. I rattled the knob. Looked for a latch. Rattled again.

  “Uh-oh,” Viv said behind me.

  “Are you friggin’ kidding me?” I looked frantically around the edges of the door. No lock.

  I whirled around and glared at Viv.

  “You’re the one who told me to close the door,” she said.

  “You could have checked to see if it
was locked first!”

  “I know that now!” she said. “Don’t you think I know that now?”

  We trudged back up the steps. I touched my scalp gingerly. It was still bleeding, quite a lot now. Was I going to bleed to death in this attic, with Viv and a psycho bird?

  I glared at Tinky.

  He lifted his tail and pooped again.

  “What do you think that meant?” I asked Viv. “There’s the dingle dangle?”

  “Probably some alien- Shirley Temple-robot thing,” she said casually. She put her hands on her hips and looked around idly. “I wish I’d gone to the bathroom before we started all this.”

  I shivered and rubbed my own arms. “You know, I prayed for some way to make extra money for Christmas, and then Jergensen came in. I was so sure God sent me to do this job.”

  “Maybe next time you should be more specific in your requests.”

  “Exactly. ‘Please send me a way to extra money that doesn’t involve weird people, and birds, and weird people with birds.’ If we don’t get out of here, no one is getting a Christmas present from me.”

  “You’re worried about that now? There’s blood dripping down the side of your face. That’s what I’d be freaked out about, if I were you.”

  There was blood dripping down the side of my face. I wiped at it and it smeared all over my hand. I was starting to smell it, too, and that was alarming. Good thing I wasn’t freaked out by blood, I tried to tell myself.

  My legs weren’t buying it, though. I sat heavily on a cardboard box and looked around me. “Maybe I can find something in one of these boxes to wrap around my head.” I opened one, but it was full of books.

  “Anything up here is probably going to be covered in dust and mouse droppings.”

  “Eeeww,” I said, but I kept looking.

  I found a box full of old sheets that held promise, but I was kind of hoping for something that wouldn’t drag the ground. If nothing else, I supposed, I could tear the sheets. What was Jergensen going to do, not ask me back?

  I leaned over her shoulder. “Oooh, that’s him! That’s the guy who scared me and Trisha in the second grade!” I pointed at the picture. Actually, I lunged. I didn’t mean to lunge, but I felt kind of lightheaded from the blood loss, and I lost my balance.