Page 17 of For the Birds

“He has his own office?” How come I’d never knownthat?

“Of course he has an office! Any legit P.I. does.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Kermit Cooper. The P.I. we’re workin’ with.”

That was the absolute last thing I had expected tohear.

“He said if we showed up this afternoon, he’d get us started on our firstcase.”

“Acase?”

“Of course a case. Why else would we be working with a private investigator?”

Why indeed . . . “How did you find Kimmel . . . ?”

“Kermit. And it was serendipity.”

I didn’t believe that for a hot minute. “So are you plannin’ on quittin’ the landscaping business to work on becomin’ aP.I.?”

“Of course I’m not quittin’. But if we want to be P.I.s, we have to either go to school or shadow a real P.I. for two years. This is our start.”

I was about to protest, but hadn’t I intended to talk to her about the missing parrot? Bruce Wayne was right—I did like investigating. Why keep denying it? Plus, I could see Neely Kate was excited about this. After everything she’d been through—and I knew she’d faced some demons last week back in Oklahoma—I didn’t want to disappointher.

“Okay, let’s check this out. But only if you agree that we’re not callin’ ourselves Sparkle Investigations.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, of course we’re not, silly.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. This conversation had gone better than I’d feared.

“We’ll be usin’ Kermit Cooper’s agency name. Moppet Investigations.”

I almost argued with her, but she was right. If we were using his name, we wouldn’t need one of ourown.

Neely Kate chattered the whole way to his office, and I could tell she was nervous, which surprised me. Then again, this was what she’d wanted for months—she was bound to be anxious now that we were finally doingit.

Neely Kate had plugged the address into her phone and the automated voice guided us to our destination: a run-down, rusted mobile home surrounded by weeds and dirt. It was just outside the city limits.

“Um . . .” I said as I stared at it. “Are you sure this is it? There’s no sign or anything.”

“Yeah,” she said, trying to stay upbeat. “I bet he just doesn’t put much money or effort into his office because he’s busy workin’ cases. And he doesn’t need a sign because his business is all word of mouth.”

“Yeah . . . maybe.” I parked the truck, and we walked up to the rickety front porch.

Neely Kate glanced up at the narrow stairs and porch, then down at my pink skirt and white top. “Maybe you should wait down there until he answers so you don’t get anything onyou.”

“Okay.”

She marched up the steps and knocked on thedoor.

“It’s open,” came a gruff voice from inside. “Comein.”

Neely Kate gave me an excited grin and opened the door. I quickly climbed the stairs and followed her inside.

She had to be disappointed at what she found, but she hid it well. The place looked nothing like an office and every bit like a teenage boy’s room—and it smelled like one too. A middle-aged man was sitting in the recliner watching thenews.

“Mr. Cooper?” Neely Kate asked.

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