Between a Squawk and a Hard Place : A Cozy Mystery for Animal Lovers (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 13) by Ellen Riggs

Author:Ellen Riggs [Riggs , Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781990613050
Published: 2022-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

It wasn’t that hard to evade Officer Housemate the next morning. He had fallen off the couch in the night and was buried in a blanket with his head under the coffee table. I thought about rousing him so he didn’t conk his noggin by rising suddenly but Keats nudged me on to the kitchen to collect Duncan from his cage. Apparently today was a good day to be selfish.

Percy and Keats raced ahead to the barn and Duncan sat on my shoulder, chattering. Half of his vocalizations were sounds rather than words. I noticed a doorbell, a car alarm, a ticking clock and a sneeze. When he offered a burp, I laughed, and he repeated it a few times. Hannah was right that attention earned more of the same. As we got closer to the barn, he focused on his farm repertoire, including a baa, a moo, a bray, a whinny, and grunts and squeals that could nearly pass for Wilma, if she were a wee piglet.

“Very impressive, my feathered friend. Glad to hear you’re on a roll. You obviously slept better than my brother.”

Keats gave a pant-laugh, well satisfied with our morning so far, despite Duncan’s company. We’d slept for a full five hours, thanks to yesterday’s exertions, and I felt nearly refreshed. The weather forecast predicted another unseasonably warm day and it boded well for sleuthing. Rain never did a mystery any favors.

We passed through the barn and when I reached out to pat Alvina, the bird said, “Dancing queen. Good morning.”

“Awesome,” I said. “What a good boy.”

“What a good girl,” he replied. “Showstopper.”

“Thank you. I wish everyone thought so.” I reached up to stroke him and he nibbled my fingers gently. “What do we do now, Duncan?”

He clucked like a chicken and said, “Get crackin’.”

“You’re right and I will. We’ve got places to go.”

“People to see,” he replied.

“Eggsactly.”

Duncan gave an odd sort of laugh and Keats mumbled something disparaging. Our comedy routine was wasted on the dog.

I was out back and about to head into the henhouse when Keats cocked his head toward the inn and lifted a paw. Someone was up and the one he was most likely to warn me about was Officer Bodyguard. If we hoped to do any off-the-books exploring, now was the time to go. Hannah would be happy to cover the chores for me. In fact, she craved time alone with the livestock. I knew that because I felt the same way.

“Gotta run,” Duncan said. He offered a convincing police siren directly into my ear. “Hit it.”

For once, Keats and the bird were in agreement, so I wasted no time circling behind the barn to the truck. Percy was sitting on the hood waiting for us. Duncan meowed at him and the cat meowed back.

“If Percy comes with us you need to stay in your crate, Duncan,” I said. “It’s for your own good.”

“Let’s roll,” the bird said, which I took to be agreement to my stipulations.

He settled right into the crate and I closed the door.

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