Never Steal a Cockatiel (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series Book 9) (25 page)

She looked out the front window and blinked in surprise at the sight of a tall, extremely burly man standing on the front porch. Only after he moved a little did she realize that her father was standing beyond him. A third person flanked Randall’s other side. Leigh saw the top of a frizzy blond head and recognized Paige.

“We do have a bell,” Frances sniped from the kitchen as Leigh raced from the window to the door.
“Really!”

Leigh reached the door just as it popped open. “Dad!” she exclaimed. “Why are you back so—”

She didn’t need to finish the question. The greenish tint to his face and all-too-familiar odor drifting up from his pant legs told the story.

“Oh, no,” She breathed.

“Whatever is the matter?” Frances’s voice called out.

“He upchucked,” Paige said unnecessarily, holding out a hand to steady Randall as he hobbled over the threshold and into the house. The giant man with her moved quietly back a step. “He said some other people in the family had a bug, so we figured he had it, too.”

Randall moved past Leigh and straight towards the half bath.

Leigh cast another glance at Paige, who was today wearing bright purple feather earrings with a tight pink and orange scrub shirt that barely covered her midriff. “He must feel really bad,” Leigh said worriedly, “to agree to come home early.”

Paige scoffed. “Agree? Are you kidding me? Dr. Stallions and Jeanine practically had to drag him out! He only gave in after they started to make him feel guilty — telling him he was endangering clients by spreading viruses everywhere.” She shook her head with frustration, but her voice held respect. “You know the doc. Everyone’s allowed to get sick but him!”

Leigh watched as her father made it safely into the powder room and shut the door. An unpleasant sound followed.

“Lift the seat first!” Frances screeched from the kitchen.

Leigh winced. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

Paige shrugged. “Oh, it was nothing. Steve was coming to pick me up anyway. Have you met my boyfriend?” She turned and gestured to the man behind her, and Leigh felt an odd sting of disappointment. Had she been hoping that the mystery boyfriend would turn out to be skinny and shortish?

She had. “Hello, Steve,” she said pleasantly, feeling hypocritical. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the man answered politely.

“What do you do for a living?” Leigh blurted.

Oh, was that ever smooth,
she chided herself
. Sheesh!
She was no better than Morgan.

“I’m a civil engineer,” he answered, not seeming offended.

“Awesome,” Leigh replied, feeling further disappointed.

“You need me to help the doc get upstairs or anything?” he asked.

Leigh considered. Randall would doubtless be more comfortable upstairs, and Steve could probably swoop him up and haul him up the steps like a baby. But Randall would hate that. Besides which, how would they get him down again?

“No thanks,” Leigh replied. “It’ll be easier if he stays down here. Thanks again, though.”

The couple waved off her gratitude and departed towards Steve’s car, a recent model Honda SUV with a moon roof. Leigh’s disappointment was complete. Paige might not be making a fortune as a veterinary assistant, but her boyfriend appeared to be doing fine — making it unlikely that either would risk jail time to moonlight in extortion.

Leigh closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh. So much for her suspect list.

She had to be missing something.

Could their zeal to find a common link associated with the clinic be leading them astray? What if Kyle really was nothing more than a patsy, approached by an acquaintance and offered money to warehouse the bird? Kyle needed money, and it was easy work. How many questions would he ask?

Leigh tried to put herself in the mind of the petnapper. Most likely, he or she lived in Avalon or Bellevue, not too far from where Zeus had been found. They had stolen dogs, cats, and birds, after which they had kept them for at least one day — until the next nightfall. But where were the pets being hidden in the meantime? A backyard? A basement? Wouldn’t neighbors notice a sudden series of unfamiliar barks and meows? The longer they kept the pets, the higher their risk of discovery.

Leigh had never really considered the logistics. The cockatiel was loud. Zeus was even louder. If any of the neighbors were suspicious types, the squawk of an unknown bird would be a dead giveaway. Which meant it made perfect sense for the brains of the operation to farm the animals out to unsuspecting third parties. At least the noisier ones.

Leigh frowned again. The realization was interesting, but did it help anything? Kyle was dead. They had no way of finding out, now, from whom he had gotten the cockatiel. His apartment could have been broken into by the loan sharks who were threatening him, but it seemed more likely that the culprit was actually the petnapper.

Leigh sucked in a breath. It made sense. All the petnapped animals she knew of had been returned on time except Opie, the cockatiel. He was stolen on a Friday. Kyle left for his poker game on Saturday, fully intending to return that night or the next morning. The victim, Leonard, set out his money on Saturday night and expected the bird to be returned on Sunday, as the note indicated. But the petnapper couldn’t reach Kyle on Sunday and had no idea where he was, which was a problem. The longer the petnapper waited to return the bird, the greater the chance that Leonard would break down and call the police, figuring he had nothing to lose. And once
any
victim cooperated with the authorities, the petnapper’s days of easy money would be numbered. Hence, by Monday morning, the petnapper was desperate enough to break into Kyle’s apartment.

He would not have been pleased to discover that the bird wasn’t there.

The sound of the bathroom door opening broke Leigh’s concentration. Her father emerged and headed towards the bed. “You need help, Dad?” she offered.

He waved her away.

She didn’t blame him. It was lousy enough to be sick without adding crutches into the bargain. From the kitchen, Frances barked out a series of admonitions and suggestions to Randall regarding the proper way to throw up, then turned her attention to her daughter.

“Leigh,” Frances called. “You’ll need the antibacterial cleanser to decontaminate the powder room. And don’t forget to put on gloves! All your materials should be disposed of in a plastic bag — the thick ones, not the kitchen bags, and you’ll have to—”

Leigh tuned out. She watched her father make his way to the edge of the inflatable mattress. He was steadier on the crutches now, at least. He leaned them against the wall, then collapsed on the bed with a groan, causing a half dozen of Frances’s perfectly symmetrical file stacks to converge into a heap.

Leigh walked over and sat on the couch. Her mother continued to make fussy proclamations from the kitchen, none of which Leigh took in. Her brain was otherwise occupied.

When the petnapper broke into Kyle’s place on Monday, he had found no bird. Maybe he realized that Kyle’s own cat was gone too, and maybe he didn’t. Either way, he couldn’t have known that Leigh had them. But by sometime on Tuesday, he had figured out that the cockatiel was at the veterinarian’s house. And even after a narrow escape from the police that night, the petnapper had been bold enough to return for the bird on the next evening, Wednesday. And he had taken the bird straight back to Leonard that night.

If the petnapper
didn’t
have an informant working inside the clinic, how could he have known where to find the bird? How could he have known that the ransom set out for Lucky was a sting?

Leigh caught herself clenching her teeth again. Maybe her father was right. Maybe that critical information could have been obtained just as easily from
outside
the clinic.

All one had to do was watch.

The house’s landline rang, and Leigh jumped up to get it.

“Where are your gloves?” Frances demanded as Leigh swung through the kitchen doorway. Leigh picked up the phone. “Koslow residence.”

“Hey,” Maura’s voice greeted. “I saw your dad take off. Sorry he’s feeling bad.”

“We’re all sorry,” Leigh agreed. Then the detective’s words penetrated. “You saw him? Where are you?”

“I’m at the clinic,” she answered. “He gave me permission to cross-check our new list of petnapping victims with the clinic database.”

Leigh felt a sick feeling in her stomach.
Oh no, you don’t,
she ordered herself grimly.
You cannot catch this damnable virus, too. You just can’t!

“Your dad made it clear that he wanted to know the results. That’s why I’m calling.” Maura paused a beat.

“And?” Leigh prompted.

“He’s not going to like this,” Maura said soberly. “But we’ve identified victims now in five different police districts. The petnapper’s targets have been spread out all the way from West View to Sewickley and across the river into McKees Rocks. But they all have one thing in common. Every one of them is a patient of his.”

Chapter 23

Leigh had never endured a longer Friday afternoon. The endless bonanza of scrubbing and sanitizing necessitated by Randall’s sickness was interrupted only by Frances’s periodic need for help in reordering and restacking six bankers’ boxes’ worth of clinic files. Leigh had followed her mother’s directions like a zombie, grateful that Frances had been distracted from her plan to call a family conference about Mason. Leigh could only hope that the next time her mother thought about it, Leigh wouldn’t be around.

It was past dinnertime now, but there was no dinner. Randall was nowhere close to eating again and Frances had declared that she would be satisfied with cottage cheese and an apple. Leigh was concerned that her mother might be coming down with the virus too, but other than the light meal, Frances showed no signs of deceleration. Leigh dug into her own bowl of cereal and tried not to feel sorry for herself. Warren had dropped by on his way back from town with the intention of the bringing the kids over and fixing dinner for everyone, but Leigh had been forced to intercept him outside the door. Three family members down sick was enough already; odds were, there would be more. Warren’s absence all week had given him a good shot at escaping it, and Leigh was determined that he would.

No matter how much she would love one of his homemade enchiladas.

She swallowed a spoonful of granola and realized that her mother was staring at her.

“I daresay it will not be good for business if anyone in your father’s employ is involved in these petnappings,” Frances proclaimed.

“No,” Leigh agreed solemnly, “it will not.”

There had been no further developments in the investigation — at least not so far as Leigh knew. Randall had insisted on talking to Maura over the phone himself, and a couple hours later, he had also had a discussion with the Avalon Chief of Police. Both encounters seemed to drain the veterinarian significantly, and Leigh was consumed with curiosity about their content — particularly the second one. But as Randall had ended each call either succumbing to nausea or drifting off to sleep, Leigh hadn’t the heart to interrogate him. She was more annoyed that she’d been prevented from eavesdropping by her mother’s untimely monologues on the virtues of sodium hypochlorite and hanging file folders, respectively.

Which is why Frances’s bringing up the subject now was curious.

“I think we should do something about this.” Frances announced.

“We?” Leigh inquired.

Frances’s lips pursed. “The family, of course! We’ll already be conferencing to discuss the Mason issue. We might as well brainstorm a solution to your father’s PR problems at the same juncture. Although I daresay the timing is abominable. We’ll have to wait until the sickness has passed to prevent further infection.”

Leigh resolved to get sick herself if it would delay such a debacle. “I really don’t think Lydie would want Mason to be the topic of a family conference.”

Frances scoffed. “He’s been the topic of enough of them over the years, that’s for certain! But Lydie will agree with me on this one. The children must be protected.”

Leigh bit back any comment and took another look at her watch — for the fortieth time that day. Lydie should be back soon. And when she arrived, Leigh had every intention of intercepting her in advance as she had Warren. First off, because it was the right thing to do to offer to stay overnight and spare Lydie the risk of contracting the virus herself. Never mind that there was zero chance Lydie would take her up on it; both twins were inordinately proud of their ability to fend off bugs that laid everyone else low. Secondly, Leigh refused to let another day pass without Lydie’s knowing that the jig was up. Cara deserved to know the truth about her parents being a couple again. And Frances could not be allowed to put Mason through the indignity of a family conference when the poor man’s only crime had been to respect Lydie’s desire for discretion.

Leigh had just finished her last bite of cereal when she heard the slam of a car door close by.

“Lydie’s home,” Frances said with certainty.

Leigh rose and put her empty bowl in the dishwasher. She fetched her mother’s cell phone from the recharger on the counter and sat it down on the table next to her. “I’m going to talk to Aunt Lydie and see if she wants me to stay tonight. I’d hate for her to get sick.”

Frances nodded her approval, knowing as well as Leigh did that Lydie would be coming over regardless. Leigh looked around the counter again, then frowned. “Where is Dad’s phone?”

“He took it with him this morning,” Frances answered.

Leigh walked into the living room and looked around where her father was sleeping. Then she checked the powder room and everywhere in between. “He must have left it at the clinic again,” she said, returning to the kitchen.

Frances frowned. “If he would only leave the thing in his pocket! But he hates wearing it while he’s working.” She threw up her hands. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to go down there and fetch it. Some clients have that as his emergency number. He may not care a whit at the moment, but if he wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes he doesn’t have it, he won’t sleep a wink.”