Toucan Keep a Secret by Donna Andrews

Author:Donna Andrews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter 23

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny.

Or so I deduced when I woke up, at eight thirty, grateful that we’d installed blackout shades in the master bedroom. I’d have joined Michael in sleeping even later but, although my notebook was tucked away out of sight in my purse, my to-do list kept nudging me awake.

I dressed quietly and slipped out into the hallway.

“Grrrrrr.”

Spike was waiting for me. He didn’t actually snap at my ankle—clearly he was mellowing a bit, or maybe just slowing down. But he did fix me with a baleful stare, and I realized he was missing the twins.

“Sorry,” I said. “They’re having a sleepover. They’ll be back in a few hours.”

My words didn’t seem to mollify him, but he followed at my heels down to the kitchen, allowed me to let him out into the yard, and then deigned to accept a bowl of dog food. Tinkerbell was visibly more grateful for her visit outdoors and her food.

Since Rose Noire wasn’t back, I let the chickens out into the yard and scattered some feed for them. Although the llamas watched me with the intense interest they always showed in human activity, I decided they could wait for their grain until Michael was up. Though they did like apples and carrots as treats, so I sliced up a few for them while I was preparing the toucan’s meal.

The toucan.

As I watched him eat his fruit—from a safe distance, so he wouldn’t splatter me with juice in his enthusiasm—I considered my options. I could just show up at Grandfather’s zoo with the toucan and pretend I thought people dropped off random birds at their aviary all the time. Probably not a great idea. Then again, if I asked Grandfather to take the bird in, there was a chance he’d say no, since toucans were neither endangered nor particularly fierce, two qualities that tended to endear creatures to him.

Still, if I played my cards right, I could get him to cooperate. Perhaps I should just pretend we’d already discussed the toucan and he’d already agreed to foster it. Yes, that was the ticket.

So I pulled out my phone and called him.

“What now?” he said when he picked up. Was I the latest in a string of annoying callers, or was he under the erroneous impression that this was the new phone etiquette?

“And good morning to you, too,” I said. “Are you at the zoo? I need to bring you the toucan. If you’re not there, I can just drop it off with Manoj—he’s still the head aviary keeper, right?”

“Yes—fine young man. I plan to promote him when something opens up. But what’s this about a toucan? We already have a pair—we don’t need any more toucans.”

“That’s a relief,” I said. “Because you don’t get to keep this one, remember? He’s the one that belongs to Robyn’s parishioner, who’s going to want his bird back when the Harry S. Truman returns from wherever it’s currently traveling. But with Robyn down for the count, the toucan’s in danger of being neglected.

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