Marge stared ahead as if she was in some faraway place. “Mortimer loved his birds. Maybe the evidence is hidden somewhere in those sheds at his place or even in the birdcages? That could get tricky though. I’m not sure you should try and face a great horned owl to get to evidence. Especially when you are not sure it is even there.”
Vicky wanted to retort that for Michael’s release they had to try anything, but Marge already continued, batting her lashes innocently, “Of course my husband happens to know his way around Mortimer’s sheds and his birds. Kev grew up with predator birds. When we came to live here, he hooked up with Mortimer and used to help out when Mortimer was out of town for a day or two. The boys also joined them every now and then. They’re in love with the owls, especially the snowy owl Mortimer bought a few weeks ago. If attacked, Kev knows how to handle himself. Prevent injury to himself and the birds. He could uh…go there, pretending to take care of the birds now that Mortimer can’t anymore, and then have a good look around for anything suspicious?”
“That’s brilliant,” Vicky said.
“Well, you do have to make sure that it would be all right with the police. That he wouldn’t be trespassing or something. Kev will go a long way for me, but I don’t think he’d take the chances of being arrested and charged with involvement in a murder case.”
Vicky made a reassuring gesture. “Of course. If you can take care of the dogs for me, I will pop by the sheriff’s station during lunch break to tell Cash the birds need taking care of and it can’t be done by just anybody. Then I will innocently suggest your husband and hopefully Cash will see it as an easy solution and agree right away. Then Kevin can drive out after work tonight and search for us.”
She would also ask Cash if she could see Michael in his cell and talk to him for a few minutes. But she didn’t want to mention that now. Else Marge might notice some emotion in her that she’d rather hide.
“If Mortimer didn’t have a phone at his home…” Marge looked pensive. Her hands rested on Mr. Pug, but she forgot to rub in her concentration on a theory. “He must have made the calls he wanted to make on his cell phone. If the police took it off his body, then they can check in the outgoing calls memory, to see whom he called, at what time and for how long. That is even easier than having to go via the phone company, as they did in the old days. You could ask Cash about it right away. He has to accept evidence that can exonerate Michael.”
“The trouble is, Michael and I saw no cell phone lying around. Michael even checked the body for it, but it wasn’t there.”
Marge looked surprised. “Where can it have disappeared to?”
“Well, the place was one big mess, so maybe Mortimer just put it in an odd place? I assume the police will go over everything and might locate it. I’ll ask Cash about it.”
There was a tap on her store door windowpane, and Vicky jerked round.
A tall older woman stood there with a fashionable hat on and an umbrella in her left hand. She tapped the glass again, lightly. Mr. Pug ran for the door and scratched at it, barking.
Vicky told him to go back to Marge. Mr. Pug looked doubtful a moment, but as Marge invited him by clapping her hands, he waddled over to her. Coco hid behind Marge, peeking out to see who would intrude.
Vicky went to the door and opened it a crack. “Sorry, we’re still closed.”
“I understand, but I want to talk to you for a moment. I’m Ms. Tennings.”
“Oh, of course. Marge told me about your time in the UK. I was sorry I had forgotten to ask you to stop by here. When we talked on the phone?”
“About Mortimer Gill, yes.” Ms. Tennings looked serious.
Vicky held her breath, as she wasn’t sure if the news about the murder had also revealed her part in it. Her mother’s friends knew, so chances were it was all over town already.
Ms. Tennings said, “During my time abroad I caught the bug.”
Vicky tilted her head. “The bug?”
“Royalty. I’m totally addicted to anything that has to do with the British royal family. I brought something to show you.”
Ms. Tennings opened her purse and pulled out three envelopes. “There, the postal mark of Her Majesty’s postal service. Buckingham Palace. And here on the back the crown with the W of William. These are actually thank you cards I got when I congratulated the young couple, first on their marriage, then on the birth of their babies, Prince George and Princess Charlotte. Look.”
She extracted the cards. On the front was a beautiful full-color photograph, on the back words of thanks from the royal couple. “I thought you might like to display these here in the store, with your royalty memorabilia?”
“That would be great. People love an authentic touch. I already have someone whose specialty is books, so if you want to do royalty stuff, the two really supplement each other.”
She realized they were still at the door and stepped back to let Ms. Tennings in. “Please come in for a moment. It’s a bit chaotic with the renovations going on, so please don’t look at the mess.”
“Thank you.” Ms. Tennings stepped in and looked around. “What a difference from the beauty parlor. I never liked those lilac beams.”
“Well, I guess it did make the ceiling look higher.” Vicky looked up with a frown, then focused on Ms. Tennings again. “Why don’t you sit down there for a moment?” She pointed at one of the two leather armchairs. “Then you can tell me if they are as comfy as they look. They only came in yesterday.”
Ms. Tennings sat down and studied the half-finished fireplace. She opened her purse and pulled something out. Mr. Pug came running over and sat down at her feet, gazing up at her with an eager look. Her large purse obviously struck him as an excellent place for some treat.
But the item in Ms. Tennings’ hand was a folded newspaper. “I was late this morning, so I grabbed it along from the driveway as I left my home. I’m not sure if you had already seen this headline. Mortimer Gill died last night. They suspect foul play. Quite shocking. Especially as you knew him via his work here, right?”
She handed the newspaper to Vicky. The splashing headline could have been read from a mile away. Local Falconer Murdered.
Vicky’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. Would her name be mentioned? Or Michael’s? She was sure that if Michael had been able to influence the piece, he would have kept her out of it. But with him in jail somebody else had to have written this.
Maybe the kid he had been showing the ropes, as he had put it the other day?
Marge came to stand close to Vicky to read along, over her shoulder. The article told how two locals (no names given!) had gone to the house of local falconer Mortimer Gill and had found the man dead in his living room. He had been killed by a heavy blow with a blunt instrument. He had probably been dead for about an hour, two at the most.
“See,” Marge said by her ear, “he was killed while he was making his dinner. That’s why his potatoes burned.”
The article continued that the two who had discovered the body had been held by the police for questioning, but that neither of them was a suspect in the killing. The police had searched the house for clues, but refused to reveal if there had been anything found that could reveal the identity of the murderer. Like fingerprints, DNA or objects left behind.
The article didn’t speculate at all on who had done it. It did end with the observation that the deceased had kept and trained predator birds and that there was a market for trained birds. But it wasn’t made known if any of his birds had gone missing.
Vicky made a mental note