Bird Brained by Jessica Speart Page A

“You see what that no-good bag of feathers did to me? That miserable bird bites anything that moves. I gotta hold it off with a frying pan lid in one hand while I try to fill its damn food dish with the other. Is that crazy or what?”
    “You’re a bitch! You’re a bitch!” the bird happily prattled.
    “Cute, huh? Guess who taught it to say that?” Bambi stuck her tongue out at the bird. “I keep threatening to feed it to the lousy dog, but those kids of mine won’t let me.”
    “You don’t want to do that, Bambi. This is a very valuable bird,” I informed her.
    “Yeah? So what good does that do me? I’ll tell you what good it does: none. Nobody’s gonna buy the damn thing; it’s too frigging nasty. I ain’t taking no more animals from that creep. From now on, it’s cash only.” Bambi stomped a bare foot on the dingy linoleum floor to emphasize her point as she walked away.
    “So, did you catch him last night with the goods?” She approached again with the coffeemaker in hand.
    I motioned that I was still working on the first undrinkable cup. “I found him. But it was too late.”
    Bambi raised a tweezed eyebrow.
    “He was carrying parrot eggs. He managed to flush them down a toilet before I could get to him,” I explained.
    “You see? The man’s a genius! That’s what I’m up against.” Bambi pulled at the spikes of her hair in frustration.
    I chose not to comment on Willy’s intellectual prowess. “Do you know if he’s been dealing in birds lately?”
    “Nah. It’s mostly the usual thing—you know, selling a few of his cougars and snakes to bikers, and maybe a coupla drug dealers who’re looking to guard their stash.”
    What sounded like a burst of gunfire shook the one intact window in the kitchen. Bambi screamed and hit the ground. The coffee in my cup went flying in the air.
    “Big Mama! Big Mama!” the bird screeched hysterically, adding to the chaos.
    Laughter erupted outside the kitchen door.
    “I’m gonna kill those little bastards!” Bambi vowed.
    The boys hit the window with another round from their Super Soakers. But by the time Bambi flung the back door open, the two minidelinquents were already gone. She slammed the door shut, causing the window to rattle.
    “You got any kids?” she demanded, the spikes on her head standing on end.
    “Nope,” I said, dabbing at the oily residue of spilt coffee.
    “Well, do yourself a favor and don’t.” She readjusted her chest inside the bustier.
    If I’d needed any convincing, five minutes alone with her offspring would have done the trick. I brought the conversation back to where we’d left off.
    “So as far as you know, Willy is still just selling his own stock of reptiles and cats?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Bambi said, examining a nail. “Though I’m not even sure how much of that goes on, with him gone so much of the time.”
    That bit of news caught my attention. “Just how much is he gone?”
    Bambi wrinkled her nose. “I’d say he’s usually out of town one or two days a week.”
    “Any idea where he’s going?” I kept my tone casual.
    “Who knows?” she shrugged. Bambi hooked a nail between two of her molars and dislodged a shred of beef, examining it before flicking it onto the floor. “You wouldn’t happen to have the lowdown on what it costs to hire a hit man these days, would you?”
    I stared at her. Talk about a change of topic.
    “Hypothetically, of course,” Bambi added.
    “I haven’t priced it out lately,” I told her. “Why? Are you planning to have Willy knocked off?”
    Bambi gave a smile that curdled my blood. “Yeah, if he doesn’t start coughing up some of these payments he owes me. You be sure and tell him that.”
    I wondered just how far Bambi would go to collect the money. “Funny you should bring up the subject of murder. Alberto Dominguez was killed last night.”
    Bambi looked at me in alarm. “Hey! Wait a minute! Whadda ya think, that
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