Taxpayers should be outraged.
But I digress. Turning my attention back to Montague, I waited for him to continue.
“What happened next is too horrible to describe.”
“Try,” I said. “Anything you can tell me could be helpful. You mentioned something about one of the servants getting pecked in the nose.”
“Yes. Poor girl.” Montague rubbed his eyes and sighed.
“Where did this happen?”
“She was in the garden.” He shook his head. “It was ghastly. Without warning one of the birds swooped down on her, pecked at her nose repeatedly, and flew off. I witnessed the whole thing. I tried to shoo the bird away, but wasn’t able to save the poor girl from the attack.” He put his head in his hands. “I felt so helpless. Her screams still echo in my ears.”
The image evoked by his commentary was curious indeed. A young girl innocently going about her duties, suddenly being attacked and brutalized by a bird. I didn’t blame the bird, actually. After all, he (or she) had been treated shabbily as well.
Montague recovered his composure—a little too swiftly for my satisfaction—and looked at me appealingly.
“When did this attack take place?” I asked.
“Friday,” Montague said. “About noon. I would have come to you immediately, but you were not available.”
He was right about that. I’m a four-day-a-week man as a rule. Occasionally a three-day if the weather is right.
“Suffice it to say that we—His and Her Highness and the entire staff—want to find out who did this so that we may deal with him. And for that, we need your able services. You’re the top man in these parts.”
I was flattered. Upon further thought, I realized that I was the only private eye in town. Be that as it may, I nodded my thanks and stood up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
Montague nodded impassively. “If we can be of any assistance, don’t hesitate to call on us.”
He stood up, shook my hand and left.
I sat back and replayed the discussion in my mind. Blackbirds (or whatever), baked in a pie. An innocent maid lost her nose. It was not a run of the mill crime. I hardly knew where to start.
I decided to pay a visit to UPS. They were most likely innocent middlemen in this insidious scheme, but perhaps they could tell me who sent the pie.
The young lady behind the counter at UPS looked up as I entered the office and smiled brightly. “May I help you?” she said.
Identifying myself, I looked around the room. Except for a few pie tins laying on a table behind the young lady, there was no sign of anything that would give a hint as to their line of business. I let my eyes wander back to her, a pleasant enough task. The young lady was quite attractive, although much too young for me. Most of them are.
“The other day,” I started, consulting my notes, “you sent a pie to the palace. A rather large pie, I understand.”
She studied me with a puzzled expression. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“How many two-foot pies do you send to the palace,” I said.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Two-foot pie? I have no idea what you are talking about. We only handle pies that fit within our standard package. A twelve-inch pie would be the maximum size.”
I frowned. Certainly Montague could not have been mistaken about the incident. “Are you certain?” I said. “I have it on good authority that a two-foot pie was delivered to the palace a few days ago. According to my source, the pie was delivered by UPS. You are UPS, am I right?”
She nodded. “We are the only pie service in town. But I can tell you with utmost confidence that we did not deliver a pie of that size to the palace.”
I sighed. “I’d like to speak to the manager.”
“I am the manager.”
My look must have conveyed a message I did not mean to convey. She returned my frown and said, “Does it surprise you that a woman is manager of this company?”
“No. No,” I said. “I just thought…”
She extended a small
But I digress. Turning my attention back to Montague, I waited for him to continue.
“What happened next is too horrible to describe.”
“Try,” I said. “Anything you can tell me could be helpful. You mentioned something about one of the servants getting pecked in the nose.”
“Yes. Poor girl.” Montague rubbed his eyes and sighed.
“Where did this happen?”
“She was in the garden.” He shook his head. “It was ghastly. Without warning one of the birds swooped down on her, pecked at her nose repeatedly, and flew off. I witnessed the whole thing. I tried to shoo the bird away, but wasn’t able to save the poor girl from the attack.” He put his head in his hands. “I felt so helpless. Her screams still echo in my ears.”
The image evoked by his commentary was curious indeed. A young girl innocently going about her duties, suddenly being attacked and brutalized by a bird. I didn’t blame the bird, actually. After all, he (or she) had been treated shabbily as well.
Montague recovered his composure—a little too swiftly for my satisfaction—and looked at me appealingly.
“When did this attack take place?” I asked.
“Friday,” Montague said. “About noon. I would have come to you immediately, but you were not available.”
He was right about that. I’m a four-day-a-week man as a rule. Occasionally a three-day if the weather is right.
“Suffice it to say that we—His and Her Highness and the entire staff—want to find out who did this so that we may deal with him. And for that, we need your able services. You’re the top man in these parts.”
I was flattered. Upon further thought, I realized that I was the only private eye in town. Be that as it may, I nodded my thanks and stood up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
Montague nodded impassively. “If we can be of any assistance, don’t hesitate to call on us.”
He stood up, shook my hand and left.
I sat back and replayed the discussion in my mind. Blackbirds (or whatever), baked in a pie. An innocent maid lost her nose. It was not a run of the mill crime. I hardly knew where to start.
I decided to pay a visit to UPS. They were most likely innocent middlemen in this insidious scheme, but perhaps they could tell me who sent the pie.
The young lady behind the counter at UPS looked up as I entered the office and smiled brightly. “May I help you?” she said.
Identifying myself, I looked around the room. Except for a few pie tins laying on a table behind the young lady, there was no sign of anything that would give a hint as to their line of business. I let my eyes wander back to her, a pleasant enough task. The young lady was quite attractive, although much too young for me. Most of them are.
“The other day,” I started, consulting my notes, “you sent a pie to the palace. A rather large pie, I understand.”
She studied me with a puzzled expression. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“How many two-foot pies do you send to the palace,” I said.
She wrinkled her forehead. “Two-foot pie? I have no idea what you are talking about. We only handle pies that fit within our standard package. A twelve-inch pie would be the maximum size.”
I frowned. Certainly Montague could not have been mistaken about the incident. “Are you certain?” I said. “I have it on good authority that a two-foot pie was delivered to the palace a few days ago. According to my source, the pie was delivered by UPS. You are UPS, am I right?”
She nodded. “We are the only pie service in town. But I can tell you with utmost confidence that we did not deliver a pie of that size to the palace.”
I sighed. “I’d like to speak to the manager.”
“I am the manager.”
My look must have conveyed a message I did not mean to convey. She returned my frown and said, “Does it surprise you that a woman is manager of this company?”
“No. No,” I said. “I just thought…”
She extended a small
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