Never Steal a Cockatiel (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series Book 9) Page 2

  So why did his newfound wealth make her so nervous? Did she not believe him capable of earning it honestly?

  That depended. Who was this mysterious Kyle person? She tried to remember exactly what Mason had said. He asked me to take care of her if anything — I mean, if he went out of town.

  Mason obviously hadn’t expected that “the boy” would go off at this particular time, leaving the cat without warning and without food. But both of them must have known that Kyle’s sudden disappearance was a possibility. Otherwise, why give Mason a key?

  And where the hell had the cockatiel come from?

  The nonsense of it all continued to swirl in Leigh’s head, maddeningly and unproductively, until some time later she was roused into full consciousness by a raucous avian squawking, followed closely by the delighted squeal of a young girl and the indignant woofs of a suddenly protective corgi.

  “Don’t let Chewie in here!” Allison ordered from her room. “He’ll scare the bird!”

  Ethan’s mattress squeaked and the house vibrated as his heels hit the floor. “What bird?”

  Warren awakened with a start, running a hand through his bushy head of hair and looking annoyingly refreshed. “What’s all the yelling about?” he asked curiously.

  The alarm on Leigh’s bedside table erupted with piercing beeps.

  From the basement below came the muffled sound of a feline howl. Mao Tse’s claws sank into Leigh’s abdomen.

  “Leigh!” Warren exclaimed suddenly, staring at her. “My God, what happened to your face? Did Mao do that to you?”

  Leigh shut her eyes and breathed in slowly.

  Her day had officially begun.

  Chapter 2

  “But where did the bird come from?” Allison demanded, staring at her mother across the kitchen table a few minutes later. “Did you put it in my room because Mao freaked out? Who brought it here?”

  Leigh took a sip of cola — straight up. Her coffee was still percolating; she couldn’t wait that long. Her son and husband both stared at her expectantly. The bird in the bedroom continued to squawk.

  “It was an old friend of mine,” she answered hesitantly. She would tell Warren the full story later, of course, but for now it seemed best to keep Mason’s name out of it. She could hardly ask the kids not to mention to their second cousins, Mathias and Lenna, that the animals had come from their grandfather. And if Mason said it was better that nobody knew…

  “She agreed to pet sit for someone else, but then she had a family emergency of her own and had to take an early flight this morning.”

  Warren threw his wife a skeptical look, but said nothing.

  A hiss from Mao Tse drew their attention to the basement door. The Persian had planted herself at its base, much to the consternation of the corgi, who whined pathetically as he paced in semicircles a safe distance away.

  “Oh,” Leigh said dully, fingering the scratch on her cheek, which extended from just below her eye nearly to her chin. It was shallow, but had gotten tender and swollen overnight. “There’s a cat, too. In the basement. Her name’s Peep, and she seems perfectly sweet. At least when she’s not being hissed at and dragged down a staircase.”

  Allison blinked at her mother with disbelief. Then she sidled carefully around Mao Tse and slipped through the basement door.

  “Chill, Chewie,” Ethan soothed, scooping up the near-frantic corgi and carrying him toward the back patio. “It’s just another cat. Let’s go throw the ball.”

  Leigh breathed out a sigh of relief as Warren collected the first drips of coffee into a cup and handed it to her. “So what’s the real story?” he demanded quietly, sitting beside her in the now-empty kitchen.

  She drained the half inch of coffee, then shared what she knew, being careful to keep her voice nearly inaudible. Allison’s powers of eavesdropping could not be overestimated.

  “Did you know Mason had an apartment in town?” she whispered.

  Warren shook his head. “The whole thing does sound a bit shady. But Mason’s kept his nose clean for ages now. He’s given us no reason not to trust him.” His brown eyes focused on her intently. “Unless, of course, there’s something else I don’t know.”

  Leigh shook her head thoughtfully. “No… not this time.”

  Warren frowned at her just as Allison’s squeal echoed up the stairwell. “Mom! Her leg is gone!”

  Leigh sprang up and hustled down the stairs, seeing horrifying images of the tortie with a paw stuck somewhere, bleeding to death. It wasn’t until she reached the basement and saw Allison calmly cuddling the purring cat in the middle of the giant bean bag that she found she was able to breathe again. “What did you say?” she gasped.

  “Look,” Allison said, holding up the cat to reveal its underside. “She’s an amputee!”

  Leigh looked. Sure enough, the spot where the cat’s left front leg should be showed nothing but a tuft of fur. Now that she thought about it, the cat’s mad scramble up her person last night had seemed a bit clumsy. But whatever had happened to the cat, it had obviously happened a long time ago. “Oh,” Leigh exhaled with relief. “I see.”

  “What do you think happened to her?” Allison mused, studying the tortie’s teeth. Playing veterinarian always made the girl seem much older than her eleven years, perhaps because in both looks and manner she was a carbon copy of her grandfather Randall. “It probably was an accident, rather than cancer or something. She’s only a few years old.” She looked up at her mother with a studious gaze. “Your friend didn’t tell you?”

  Leigh whirled around quickly, hiding her eyes. She had never been a particularly good liar. “No,” she answered, starting back up the stairs. “It was a short conversation. She was in a hurry. Why don’t you open that new bag of cat food and offer some to Peep? Then we’ll figure out what to do with the bird.”

  Three hours, a trip to the grocery store, and much chopping of fruits and vegetables later, Leigh at last sank back into a recliner with her second cup of coffee. She could only hope that the bird would become less finicky after settling in. Despite the veritable cockatiel smorgasbord she and Allison had prepared, the bird had turned up its beak at everything except a few of the seeds. Furthermore, it had kept up the irritating squawking at random intervals all morning, making Chewie so beside himself with curiosity that he kept accidentally invading Mao Tse’s personal space — a lapse which posed a very real risk to his eyeballs.

  A knock sounded on the patio door, followed closely by the sound of the door opening. “Leigh?” Cara’s voice called. “Can I come in?”

  “You may,” Leigh called back, grateful not to have to get up again. “I’m in here.”

  A few seconds later, Leigh’s slightly younger cousin dropped onto the couch across from her. The forehead of Cara’s pretty, well-preserved face was furrowed. “I got a call from the police this morning,” she stated flatly.

  Of course you did.

  Leigh closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She knew she had no reason to complain. It had been months since the last time her name had appeared on a police report; clearly, she was due. The fact that whatever Cara was about to tell her would have to be dealt with in concert with Frances Koslow’s bunion surgery should — given Leigh’s spectacular relationship with bad karma — have been entirely expected.

  “Go on,” she croaked, her eyes still closed.

  “It was the Bellevue police department,” Cara continued, lowering her voice. “Where is Allison?”

  “In the basement with Lenna.”

  “Right. Let me know if you hear the door.”

  “Will do.”

  “Leigh, would you open your eyes please? That’s a nasty scratch you’ve got on your face, by the way.”

  “I am aware,” Leigh sighed, opening her eyes.

  “They were looking for my father,” Cara continued, her voice uneasy. “He’s not in any trouble or anything, they made sure to tell me that. But something happened at an apartment complex down there this morning
, and… Well, they said they wanted to talk to him because he lives in the apartment next door.”

  Leigh raised a hand to her mouth and started nibbling on a nail.

  “The thing is,” Cara continued. “I didn’t know he had an apartment in Bellevue. He never said a thing about it. But the landlord is saying he’s been there two weeks.” She shot a look at her cousin, and her brow furrowed further. “You’re biting your nails. That means you know something. Spill it.”

  Leigh pulled her hand down. Cara knew her entirely too well to attempt deception. “He tapped on my window at 4:30 this morning to drop off a neighbor’s pets he got stuck taking care of,” she said succinctly. “He said he had to catch a six o’clock flight to Vegas for a pawnbrokers’ convention.”

  Cara stared at her a moment. Then she began nibbling on her own fingernail. “I didn’t realize his convention was this week,” she mumbled. “That explains why the police couldn’t reach him on his cell phone; he must have been on the plane. But it doesn’t explain why he didn’t tell me about the apartment.”

  Leigh felt another jolt of angst. Mason had clearly given his daughter the same itinerary he had given Leigh. Only Cara had believed it.

  “That’s a pretty strange thing to leave out of a conversation, wouldn’t you say?” Cara continued, her blue-green eyes flashing. “I mean, I just talked to him on the phone three days ago!”

  “Maybe he wanted to surprise everyone,” Leigh suggested lamely, feeling more and more uncomfortable. “Did the police say what happened at the apartment next door?”

  Cara looked at her as though the question were irrelevant. “Somebody broke into it, I think. They wanted to know if my dad saw or heard anything, but if his flight left at six there’s no way. They said they were looking for people who’d been at the building between six and seven this morning.”

  The bird squawked.

  “The kids told me you were babysitting a cockatiel and a three-legged cat,” Cara remarked suspiciously. “They didn’t say that their grandfather had brought them.”

  “He seemed to think it was best if the kids didn’t know,” Leigh answered carefully. “Although he didn’t say why.”

  Cara’s eyes narrowed. “And did he say which neighbor they came from?”

  Leigh’s gaze met her cousin’s. But before she could open her mouth to answer, the house landline rang. She threw a glance at her watch and struggled up. “That’s probably my dad. Mom’s surgery should have been over a while ago.”

  Leigh moved to the kitchen counter, checked the caller ID, and picked up the phone. “Hey, Dad,” she greeted. “Everything go okay?”

  Randall Koslow, VMD, cleared his throat. “Your mother’s surgery went perfectly. No problems.” He drew in a breath as if to say something else, then didn’t.

  Leigh walked back into the living room. “So… are you ready for me to come over?”

  Another pause ensued. “Well, er,” Randall began again. “The thing is, we had a bit of an accident on our way back into the house. Your mother’s not used to the walker yet, and she lost her balance on the top front step.”

  Leigh’s breath caught. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes,” Randall said, his voice oddly embarrassed. “Your mother’s fine, except for a few bruises. But it looks like… well, I might have broken my ankle.”

  Oh, no. “What do you mean ‘might have?’”

  “Well, it’s sprained for sure,” he answered. “But Jim next door drove me up to urgent care, and they splinted it until I could get to the orthopod. So, for the moment I’m afraid I’m on crutches.”

  Leigh sank slowly onto the back of the couch.

  “I can still work,” Randall said quickly. “No reason I can’t sit on a stool and see patients. But I’m going to need a little extra help getting to the clinic and back. And your mother… well, I know we’d planned on my taking care of her in the evenings, but—”

  “We’ll manage,” Leigh said quickly, even as her heart dropped into her shoes. She, Cara, and their Aunt Bess would have to alternate staying overnight, as well as handling the daytime shifts. If only her Aunt Lydie, who lived next door to her parents, were not out of town! But despite all their careful planning, Frances’s surgeon had rescheduled her procedure at the last minute, right on top of Lydie’s much-anticipated historical symposium in Hershey. They had all assured Lydie they could handle the situation without her, at least for the first week. But that was when they thought they only needed to cover the hours Randall was at work.

  “It’ll be fine, Dad,” Leigh insisted, attempting a cheerful tone. “My work is mostly portable, and Cara and Aunt Bess will help out. No worries. Where are you now?”

  “Home,” he answered. “But I was hoping to get to the clinic as soon as possible. My appointments start in a hour.”

  Leigh assured her father that she was on her way, hung up the phone, and explained the situation to Cara.

  “We’ll manage,” Cara echoed, forcing a tone of cheer only slightly more convincing than Leigh’s. “You go ahead. I’ll give Aunt Bess a call and we’ll pop over later and hash out the details.”

  “Mom?” Allison’s small voice piped up from just behind Leigh’s elbow.

  Leigh jumped. She really wished she could train herself not to be surprised every time her daughter crept up on her, considering how frequently it happened. She could only hope the regular exercise was strengthening her ankles.

  “I can go to the clinic with Grandpa,” Allison suggested. “He’ll need somebody to stay in the room and hand him things. I wanted to go today anyway, to ask him about the bird.”

  Leigh nodded in agreement, but before she could speak, her cell phone rang. She crossed to the kitchen counter, looked at the screen, and swooped it up. “Hey! Cara’s been trying to—”

  “I know,” Mason interrupted. “I just got off the phone with the Bellevue police. Listen, Leigh, don’t say anything else out loud, okay? You never know when Allison’s listening.”

  Leigh stifled a snort. He was telling her?

  “It’s really, really important you don’t tell anyone those animals came from Kyle’s place. Or even from me,” he said earnestly.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s—”

  “I have to shut off the phone again in a second,” he said quickly. “We’re taking off. I just wanted to warn you that Kyle has… well, some people after him, and I don’t want you guys getting dragged into his mess. There’s no reason you would, so long as no one but you and me knows where those animals came from.”

  Leigh looked around to see three faces staring at her curiously. She had to be careful what she said. “Cara and Warren?”

  “You mean— Oh, I guess so. But no one else, okay? Maybe I’m being too cautious, but if any of the kids—” He broke off again. Leigh could hear what sounded like a flight attendant over a loudspeaker. “I’ve got to shut down,” he finished. “No worries, okay? Ciao!”

  “But what—” Leigh began. She was too late. The line was dead. She put the phone down.

  Cara’s eyes held hers. “We’ll talk later.”

  Leigh nodded, and her head began to spin. So, the mysterious Kyle had people after him. People who had, perchance, broken into his apartment this morning?

  An unwelcome chill slid up Leigh’s spine.

  It was going to be a very long day, indeed.

  Chapter 3

  “Er, Allison, could you—” Randall Koslow began, gesturing toward the exam room counter. His granddaughter was already on it. She had scooped up the toenail clippers and was holding them out to him as he started to speak. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he praised.

  Leigh watched with an unsettled feeling as her father sat awkwardly on the clinic stool with his splinted foot sticking straight out beneath him. His stoic face bore no sign of self-pity, but she knew his ankle had to ache, and the lower-than-usual stool would do his back no favors, either. But she knew better than to try and talk him out of seeing his previously scheduled
patients. The late start had already backed up his schedule, and the waiting room was full to bursting.

  His longest employed and trustiest technician, Jeanine, stood on the other side of the exam table holding a geriatric cockapoo to her chest while extending its front paw for a nail trim.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” trilled the dog’s owner, a nervous-looking woman in her seventies who fidgeted beside the table, alternately checking the clasp on her purse and rerolling her dog’s leash.

  “What’s that?” Randall asked, clipping the dog’s toenails with his usual quiet efficiency.

  “I was wondering if there was some sort of tracker I could get for her,” the woman inquired, her face reddening as she spoke. “You know, like a microchip, where if she ran away, I could tell where she was?”

  Randall looked at the woman curiously, and Leigh found herself doing the same. The dog in question was sixteen years old if she was a day, crippled with arthritis, and nearly blind. Her unused toenails had grown so long they were curled round nearly into circles.

  “You think Peaches is planning to make a run for it?” Randall asked without sarcasm.

  “Well,” the woman replied unsteadily, working the leash furiously in her hands. “You never know. I’d just hate to—” her voice choked a little. “Lose her. Is there such a thing I could get?”

  Randall switched to the dog’s back feet. “A microchip won’t give you a pet’s location,” he explained in a rote manner. “It just gives identifying information that can be read by someone checking the animal with a scanner.”