The Real MacAw by Donna Andrews Read Free Book Online

directly.
    So the mayor was giving orders to county employees. Did that mean he and the county manager were working together on the animal shelter problem? Or had the mayor simply given an order whose authority the kid hadn’t thought to question. I could see either happening. Not something I could find out from the kid, who looked as if doing anything more complicated than loading trash might be an intellectual leap. No sense giving him a hard time. But I couldn’t let him take the animals. Inspiration struck.
    “Well, this seems to be in order,” I said.
    Shouts of “No! No!” “Traitor!” and a few more rounds of “Hell, no! We won’t go!” from the barn.
    “Just one more thing,” I said. Why not? It worked for Colombo; why not for me? “I have to call someone to clear this. Won’t take long.”
    The kid had clearly learned to exercise patience in the face of bureaucracy. He leaned against the side of his truck and folded his arms to wait. Realizing that I might be up to something useful, the Corsicans in the barn shut up again.
    I walked around to the side of the house to a point where I could see the front yard. As I’d suspected, the chief’s car was no longer parked on the road near our front walk.
    So I called the police station. The nonemergency number. Debbie Anne, the stalwart police dispatcher, answered both, so it wasn’t as if I’d get a slower response than on 911. And even in an emergency, I often called the regular number. Less stressful for Debbie Anne.
    “Hey, Meg,” she said. “How are you holding up with that whole menagerie in your barn?”
    “Reasonably well,” I said. “The Corsicans are here in force to take care of them. The animals are the reason I’m calling. Could I talk to the chief?”
    “Is it urgent?” she asked. “Because you know how he gets when he’s on a case.”
    “This could be related to his case,” I said. “I don’t know yet. And while I’m not positive he’d find it urgent, it’s definitely time-sensitive.”
    “Okay,” she said.
    “I should be getting back to town with those animals,” the kid called out. It was a token protest, with no real sense of urgency behind it. I returned to the barn door. He was slumped back onto the tailgate of the truck.
    “This won’t take long,” I told him.
    He sighed as if he’d heard that before.
    “Ms. Langslow?” The chief. “Is there something I can do for you?”
    “Thanks for taking my call,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that the mayor sent someone down here to collect the animals and take them back to the shelter.”
    “Poor creatures,” he said.
    “And before I let him take them, I thought I’d check to see if you still wanted them held as evidence.”
    “The animals? Evidence in the murder? Or in some other crime that certain people are blasted lucky we don’t have the time to investigate right now?”
    “If you’re finished with the animals, he can take them back to the shelter. I think they have some itchy trigger fingers down there. Or itchy lethal injection fingers. But if you still want them held as evidence…”
    The chief finally got it.
    “Oh, I see,” he said. “No, you mustn’t let him take the animals. They’re evidence, all right.”
    “Let me put you on speaker.” I punched the correct button and walked over until the kid was within earshot.
    “To repeat,” the chief said, his voice loud and distinct. “I do not want those animals moved! They are material evidence in at least one felony, and I want them to stay right where they are until I release them. If anyone really wants to incur a charge of interfering with a police investigation—”
    “No, no,” the kid said, sitting up straight for the first time since I’d seen him. “We’re good. I’ll go back and tell them. No rush.”
    He was backing away as if afraid the chief would come through the phone at him. The chief tended to have that effect on people. Even people who didn’t know him. The