Page 116 of For the Birds

Chapter23

I wasn’tsure who was more excited—Mr. Whipple or Squawker. The bird instantly flapped off his perch on Miss Mildred’s shoulder and flew to his owner, while the elderly man had tears in hiseyes.

“You found him,” Mr. Whipple said. “You actually foundhim.”

“I found him,” Miss Mildred snapped.

“This morning?” Mr. Whipple asked as he stroked his parrot’shead.

“No. Back on Sunday.”

“You didn’t see the signs? Why didn’t youcall?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Miss Mildred hedged. “I didn’t want to get your hopesup.”

More like she hadn’t planned to give him back. Also not like her. Now I was reallyworried.

“The important thing is that he’s home,” Neely Kate said. “Maybe we should get him inside before he fliesaway.”

“Good idea,” Mr. Whipplesaid.

Miss Mildred stared at the front door and shook her head. “I need to get back to the house. I left a carrot cake in theoven.”

“That’s Squawker’s favorite,” Mr. Whipple said in surprise.

“Is it?” she asked.

The thought of the carrot cake, now for one instead of two, made me a little sad. “Why don’t we have Witt take you home, Miss Mildred,” I said. “It’s mighty hot outhere.”

She gave his car a long look, then said, “Okay.”

“I’ll go with her and make sure she gets home okay,” Neely Kate said, knowing there was no way Miss Mildred would let me helpher.

“I don’t need any help,” Miss Mildred protested weakly.

“Of course you don’t, but I need to give Witt some special directions about what to do after he drops you off.” Turning toward me, Neely Kate said, “Why don’t you get started, and I’ll meet you inside.”

Mr. Whipple was already walking through the door, so I followed him in. He sat in his chair, still stroking the bird’s head. “I can’t believe he’s back. Where did you findhim?”

“Miss Mildred’s backyard. Neely Kate and I found out this morning. I think he’s been living in the trees.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You’ll never know how much I appreciateit.”

“Well, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.”

“You mentioned that Squawker had said some things before your break-in. Could you tell me more about what hesaid?”

He stilled. “Whichpart?”

“The shut up andclean up the blood line. You claimed he probably heard it on TV, but what if he didn’t?”

The bird squawked and said, “Shut up, you stupid asshole, and clean up the blood beforemer—”

“Squawker!” Mr. Whipple shouted; then his eyes widened. “Sorry. I’m trying to keep him from saying those things.”

And yet it seemed like he’d interrupted the parrot for another reason. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’d really like to hear it,” I said with a half-smile. “I’ve never been around a parrot before.”

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