Everyone had eaten, so, besides talking about the parrot, there wasn’t much else to do.
“It’s too bad I can’t let her out.” Elsa gave Chase a baleful look. “She could show you her tricks.”
“It’s too bad there isn’t a parrot competition at the fair,” Chase said.
“It is too bad,” said Eleanor. She spoke to Elsa. “Maybe you could suggest it for next year.”
Elsa drew back in horror. “I’ll never be at that fair again! I’m never coming to this town again! As soon as I get my husband’s poor body, we’re leaving. We may never—I mean, I may never come back to Minnesota again.”
That was understandable, thought Chase. If Elsa hadn’t killed him and didn’t get locked up in Minnesota for a good long time, why would she ever return? Maybe, thought Chase, she could do some digging while they were here together.
“I suppose,” Chase said to Eleanor, “your sister told you about how she found her husband after he had been killed?”
“Oh my, yes. She did. She said she screamed her head off.”
Elsa leaned her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. “It’s something I hope to never see again. I close my eyes and it’s right there, every night. I wonder when that will stop. He was lying there in the straw. There wasn’t very much blood. That metal dowel handle was sticking out of his ear.” A tremor went through her.
“You must have gotten pretty close to see all that,” Chase said.
“Oh no,” both sisters chorused.
“I might have taken two steps,” said Elsa, “but I backed right out. It was full of straw.”
“She couldn’t go inside the building,” Eleanor said.
“No way,” Elsa added. “I couldn’t get close to him. I wanted to run over and check to see if he might be alive.”
“Why didn’t you?” Chase was missing something here. “You saw Dr. Ramos and my cat there, too, right?”
“Yes, I saw everything.”
“But you weren’t inside the building?”
“Oh no. I couldn’t. I saw everything from the doorway.”
“Why couldn’t you go inside?”
“We’re both deathly allergic,” Eleanor said. “That straw on the floor might kill her.”
Elsa nodded. “As it was, just getting a whiff and screaming like that set me off. I had to use my inhaler four times that night.”
“When Elsie called me, she was wheezing so hard I thought she might have to admit herself to the emergency room.” She turned to Elsa. “Good thing you had an extra inhaler with you.”
“Yes, I’m glad you told me to bring it. I sure needed it. The first one ran out on me.”
She hadn’t even entered the building? Allergic to straw? Maybe she hadn’t killed him after all. Chase remembered how awful her face had looked. It had been red and splotchy. Was that from her hay allergy? If so, did that mean she had been inside? Or would she react that way from the exposure from the doorway?
Could she have stabbed him and he staggered into the building after that? Probably not. There had been no indications that he didn’t die where he was found.
“You know, they’ve let that man loose,” Elsa said. “The one who was there when I found my dead husband.”
“Who are you talking about?” Chase asked. “Dr. Ramos?” Chase was indignant. “He didn’t kill your husband!”
“He was right there. But I think now he didn’t do it; he’s so good to Grey. Do you know why he was beside his body?”
“He went in there to get my cat!” And Patrice’s cat collar. “Your husband was dead when he went in.” Chase heard her voice getting strident. Pain spiked behind her eyes.
Elsa huffed. “That Winn Cardiman. Nasty man. I’m pretty sure he did it. And they’ve let him go free, too.” She acted like the argument was over and she had won.
“I wonder what’s on TV tonight,” Elsa said, sounding bored.
And now we change the subject, thought Chase.
Elsa looked around for the remote and found it on the side table, where Anna always kept it, next to Grey’s cage. As she picked it up, Chase noticed a paw reaching up over the edge of the table. Before she could react, Quincy had jumped onto the table and swatted at the lock on the cage door. Grey nosed the door open and flew out.
All three women held their breath. Grey perched on top of her cage and peered down at the cat. Quincy crouched, his tail twitching slightly. Then he stretched his nose up. Grey put her beak down and they touched.
As Quincy purred and licked Grey’s beak, the bird started squawking, “Everything’s coming up roses.” She sounded exactly like Ethel Merman.
TWENTY-TWO
Since Julie hadn’t shown up yet when Chase needed to get to bed, she abandoned the plan to move Inger that night and brought her employee back home with her, lugging the suitcase up the stairs to the apartment. She also brought home a crashing headache. Lady Jane Grey had shrieked through three sitcoms and part of a singing competition show. She especially liked to mimic laugh tracks and high sopranos, as Chase remembered. No wonder Anna was getting tired of having the bird around. By the time Chase left, she didn’t think the parrot was cute at all, even if Quincy was quite taken with her.
However, she was very pleased with Quincy’s costume. Anna and Inger had done a bang-up job. A band around his head secured the lightweight horns and ears of Babe the Blue Ox. A simple blue felt cape, buckled around his body, completed the transformation. Quincy didn’t even seem to mind it too much. Anna had managed to fasten a tufted bit of cloth onto the rear of the cover-up for a bovine tail. The cat’s extra girth gave more credibility to the thought that he might possibly be a miniature of the giant ox.
Chase took the costume out of the carryall to admire it. “Inger, you’re a genius. This is wonderful. You’ll be a whiz at making baby clothes.”
That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Inger’s face crumpled and she burst into sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Inger wailed between blubbers.
Chase ran to get a tissue. “Oh no, don’t you be sorry. I’m sorry I brought up the baby.”
“It’s not that.” She wiped her face and blew her nose, the storm past as rapidly as it had sprung up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. All of a sudden, for no reason at all, I’ll burst out crying. I’ve even done it in the shop with customers there.”
“I guess your hormones are wacky, aren’t they? Doesn’t pregnancy do that?”
“How would I know?” She looked on the verge of crying again.
“Look, we’ll get you to a doctor and find a book that will tell you what’s normal and what’s not. There’s no need to worry about something that’s normal for mommies-to-be.”
“I guess.” Inger looked doubtful. New sobs shook her small shoulders.
“If this continues, I think you should see someone about depression, too. You’re under a lot of stress.”
Chase put her arms around Inger’s delicate frame and they sat on the couch together until Inger’s occasional quaking sobs had stopped. Even though Inger had said, “It’s not that,” about the baby, Chase knew she should be thinking about what she was going to do to take care of it. This, however, wasn’t the right time to bring that up.
Quincy jumped up beside them and butted Inger’s side, purring through her remaining sniffles.
“Oh, Quincy,” Inger said, gathering him onto her lap. She gave Chase a shy look. “Can I give him something?”
Chase hesitated. He didn’t need more treats. “I’m not sure. What do you want to give him?”
Inger set Quincy in Chase’s lap and jumped up. “I’ll show you. I’ve been working on it in the kitchen this week when the shop was closed, before and after hours.”