Instead of moaning, she was once again issuing ear-splitting shrills.
“Should we go someplace else to talk?” suggested Elaine.
“For a few minutes,” Polly agreed. Pale, plump, and poised, she was clad once again in bright, flowing colors—turquoise slacks and a loose blue-and-magenta blouse, with a long yellow scarf wound around her artificially red hair and trailing down her back. “And then, if you want me to try to help Gigi, I’d like to spend time alone with her. She needs an application of parrot psychology, but I may need to startle her first to get her attention.” The brilliant smile she sent my way seemed to double her double chin. “Something like your singing the other day.” Smiling back, I shepherded her toward the former bar. Elaine joined us, and we all sat at a booth, each nursing a cup of coffee, though Polly had brought her own black mug wrapped in plastic that she extracted from her tote and jammed full of our java. Since it was Saturday, Elaine was dressed somewhat casually for her: dark brown slacks and a beige sweater with small green and pink flowers forming a pattern across her chest. A lacy blouse collar peeked out at her neck.
I had to ask. “Can you describe macaw psychology for the layperson in twenty-five words or less, Polly? I mean, Gigi was screaming even before she saw Ezra killed. Is there something wrong with her?”
Sadness seemed to shadow Polly’s face, and she fastidiously folded the napkin that she had wrapped about her cup. “Only that Ezra bought her for all the wrong reasons.”
“Like?” I prompted, not even attempting to hide my impatience.
“Well, I met Ezra briefly a few weeks ago because I’m a friend of Bella Quevedo’s, a lawyer with the firm Ezra used to work for, Jambison & Jetts. I helped Bella train her wonderful Amazon parrot, Pinocchio. Bella told me she’d dated Ezra for a while when she joined the firm a couple of years ago—but she wound up marrying a partner, Jonathon Jetts.” Polly’s frown forced the ridges of her pudgy eyebrows nearly together. “There was bad blood between them, you know—Jonathon and Bella on the one side, and Ezra on the other.” She shook her head. “When I heard about what happened to Ezra, well . . .” Her words wound down, and she took a serious sip of coffee.
“Well what?” I had to ask, confused as to how this related to Ezra’s purportedly ill-conceived acquisition of Gigi.
“Well, I shouldn’t have said anything. As I mentioned, I’m a friend of Bella’s. But . . .”
She wouldn’t meet my eye or Elaine’s, though Elaine and I stared at each other.
“Are you trying to not say that you think Bella or Jonathon might have been Ezra’s murderer?” I blurted.
“I didn’t say that!” Polly exclaimed indignantly. And then she wilted a little, while still studying her coffee cup. “But . . .”
Though she didn’t finish the thought, her “but” spoke tomes.
Chapter Ten
SNAIL-SLOW, I PRIED from semireluctant Polly the little that she knew, with Elaine uttering encouragement as we bided our time in the booth.
Polly proclaimed that Pinocchio was the epitome of Amazon parrots, and his owner, Bella, adored him. A noted corporate lawyer in her late fifties, Bella had joined the Jambison law firm a year ago, which was when she’d met both Jonathon Jetts and Ezra.
Why she’d decided to date Ezra, Polly hadn’t a clue. She herself hadn’t met Ezra till near the end of the saga. By then, Bella had broken up with the irascible older guy and taken up with Jonathon . . . enough of a take-up to wind up marrying, a month ago, the stable, somber lawyer who was five years her junior.
Which I found interesting in itself. Jonathon Jetts had been here hollering at Ezra the day before he died—allegedly for stealing firm clients but I’d bet good ol’ ordinary male jealousy skulked behind it. Jetts, a murder suspect? Sure. I’d make sure he was high on the investigating detectives’ list,
“Should we go someplace else to talk?” suggested Elaine.
“For a few minutes,” Polly agreed. Pale, plump, and poised, she was clad once again in bright, flowing colors—turquoise slacks and a loose blue-and-magenta blouse, with a long yellow scarf wound around her artificially red hair and trailing down her back. “And then, if you want me to try to help Gigi, I’d like to spend time alone with her. She needs an application of parrot psychology, but I may need to startle her first to get her attention.” The brilliant smile she sent my way seemed to double her double chin. “Something like your singing the other day.” Smiling back, I shepherded her toward the former bar. Elaine joined us, and we all sat at a booth, each nursing a cup of coffee, though Polly had brought her own black mug wrapped in plastic that she extracted from her tote and jammed full of our java. Since it was Saturday, Elaine was dressed somewhat casually for her: dark brown slacks and a beige sweater with small green and pink flowers forming a pattern across her chest. A lacy blouse collar peeked out at her neck.
I had to ask. “Can you describe macaw psychology for the layperson in twenty-five words or less, Polly? I mean, Gigi was screaming even before she saw Ezra killed. Is there something wrong with her?”
Sadness seemed to shadow Polly’s face, and she fastidiously folded the napkin that she had wrapped about her cup. “Only that Ezra bought her for all the wrong reasons.”
“Like?” I prompted, not even attempting to hide my impatience.
“Well, I met Ezra briefly a few weeks ago because I’m a friend of Bella Quevedo’s, a lawyer with the firm Ezra used to work for, Jambison & Jetts. I helped Bella train her wonderful Amazon parrot, Pinocchio. Bella told me she’d dated Ezra for a while when she joined the firm a couple of years ago—but she wound up marrying a partner, Jonathon Jetts.” Polly’s frown forced the ridges of her pudgy eyebrows nearly together. “There was bad blood between them, you know—Jonathon and Bella on the one side, and Ezra on the other.” She shook her head. “When I heard about what happened to Ezra, well . . .” Her words wound down, and she took a serious sip of coffee.
“Well what?” I had to ask, confused as to how this related to Ezra’s purportedly ill-conceived acquisition of Gigi.
“Well, I shouldn’t have said anything. As I mentioned, I’m a friend of Bella’s. But . . .”
She wouldn’t meet my eye or Elaine’s, though Elaine and I stared at each other.
“Are you trying to not say that you think Bella or Jonathon might have been Ezra’s murderer?” I blurted.
“I didn’t say that!” Polly exclaimed indignantly. And then she wilted a little, while still studying her coffee cup. “But . . .”
Though she didn’t finish the thought, her “but” spoke tomes.
Chapter Ten
SNAIL-SLOW, I PRIED from semireluctant Polly the little that she knew, with Elaine uttering encouragement as we bided our time in the booth.
Polly proclaimed that Pinocchio was the epitome of Amazon parrots, and his owner, Bella, adored him. A noted corporate lawyer in her late fifties, Bella had joined the Jambison law firm a year ago, which was when she’d met both Jonathon Jetts and Ezra.
Why she’d decided to date Ezra, Polly hadn’t a clue. She herself hadn’t met Ezra till near the end of the saga. By then, Bella had broken up with the irascible older guy and taken up with Jonathon . . . enough of a take-up to wind up marrying, a month ago, the stable, somber lawyer who was five years her junior.
Which I found interesting in itself. Jonathon Jetts had been here hollering at Ezra the day before he died—allegedly for stealing firm clients but I’d bet good ol’ ordinary male jealousy skulked behind it. Jetts, a murder suspect? Sure. I’d make sure he was high on the investigating detectives’ list,
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