Death Shoots a Birdie (15 page)

A murmur raced through the crowd.

“That is outside the scope of this discussion,” answered Knapp. He seemed uncomfortable, and his gaze swept over the audience.

“Was it the red-cockaded woodpecker, or something else?”

Rachel wondered if, like her, they were all thinking ivory-billed woodpecker.

The crowd refused to let the question rest. “Did you see the actual bird or just foraging signs?” someone else shouted.

“Did you get it on film?”

Knapp stood silent until the audience fell quiet. The tension in the room was palpable. “I will only take questions relating to my film or technique,” he stated.

Behind Rachel, a woman said, “He must have gotten it on film. Why else would he be so evasive? I’ll bet that’s what we’ll be seeing on Saturday night.”

Knapp pointed to a young man in the front.

“The word is out that you’re filming a new TV show about birding. Can you tell us if there’s any truth to that?”

Annoyance or discomfort flickered across Knapp’s face. He started to open his mouth when Guy Saxby appeared from the opposite side of the audience and took the stage.

“I can address that one,” said Saxby. “Can everyone hear me? You, in the back?”

“What the hell—” Knapp pushed forward to center stage.

Satisfied with the crowd’s answer, Saxby basked in the spotlight. “I was going to wait and announce this tomorrow night, but since the word is out.” He nodded toward the young man, and Rachel wondered if the boy was a plant, possibly one of Saxby’s current graduate students. “It’s my pleasure to inform you that one of the major networks has picked up my new series,
Extreme Birding
. We’re going to be filming the pilot tomorrow.”

“What the . . .” Knapp’s face turned the shade of sweet beets.

Another murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Film crews will accompany tomorrow’s swamp trip into the Okefenokee, where we’ll be turning five teams loose on Swamper’s Island. The goal will be for each team to list the most birds,
and
the most unusual species, within a specified amount of time.”

“What’s the prize?” someone shouted.

“Fifty thousand dollars to the winning team, and a matching donation to the birding organization of the winning team’s choice.”

Rachel’s heart started pounding, and she raised her hand to her chest.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Dorothy, Cecilia, and Lark could be counted on to tally up birds, but she was out of her league. My God, what
had
she gotten herself into?

The crowd clapped, as Knapp’s voice boomed through the speaker system. “This is not the time or the place, Guy. How many times are you going to pull this sh—”

When he realized he was talking into the mike, he cut himself off and addressed the crowd. “It seems Mr. Saxby has stolen my thunder. I, too, have a televised series in the works.”

The crowd “oohed” appreciatively, and Knapp’s face brightened. Maybe he figured all was not lost.

“It’s a documentary series of exploits in the bird world, called
Avian Adventures
. It’s been in the works for a while.” Here he shot a pointed look at Saxby. “As we say in the business, the first episode is in the can. The series is expected to air sometime next month.”

Knapp looked at Saxby as if daring a response.

Saxby smiled as if he’d gotten an accolade. “Well, you know what they say, great minds think alike.”

“My team views this as art, not sport,” countered Knapp. Switching off the microphone, he spoke directly to Saxby.

Rachel strained to hear.

Knapp’s face had lightened to Bing cherry red, but he still looked mad. His movements were choppy. His voice sounded angry. If only she could make out the words.

In front of her, one woman punched another in the arm and said, “Did you hear that? He has the ivory-billed woodpecker on film!”

“Did he say that?” asked Rachel.

Saxby’s voice carried over the crowd. “You’re the one who’s been scooped, Knapp. My footage will be live, and with plenty of witnesses.”

Rachel leaned forward and tapped on the woman’s shoulder. “What did Knapp say?”

The woman turned, looking surprised. “He accused Guy Saxby of stealing his idea about the television show, and then he told Saxby if he thought he was going to show this crowd a rare bird it was too bad because he’d been scooped.” She paused to listen, and then added, “Saxby said—”

“Thanks.” Rachel turned sideways in her seat. The crowd had deteriorated into a jabbering mass.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to the others, “before this crowd turns into a mob.”

Rachel took up the rear, and the four of them pushed their way to the door. The crowd rushed the stage, and Knapp slid back into the shadows. Saxby held court.

“This is great,” muttered Lark as they exited the theater. “Just great. We’re all going to look like fools on national television. Thanks a lot, Rae.”

“Come on, Lark, it’s going to be fun,” said Dorothy. “We’ll be famous, and maybe we’ll win some money for Raptor House.”

Lark lit up at that.

It had been nearly two years since Rachel had visited the bird rehab center her aunt Miriam had started in Elk Park. She had turned the venture over to the park service, and Eric, Lark’s boyfriend, ran the place now. Still, Rachel knew they could use the money.

“That would make Eric happy,” said Lark.

“Plus, Guy practically promised we’d see a special bird,” continued Dorothy. Excitement raised her voice to high pitch. “I’ll bet you dollars to donuts he means the ivory-billed woodpecker.”

Rachel filled them in on what the woman in front of her had said. “If she’s right, Knapp has it on film. I’ll bet that’s why Becker changed his mind about the trade.”

Dorothy’s face fell. “Which completely alters the suspect list.”

“But if Knapp has it an film, why not just come out with it?” asked Cecilia.

“Maybe he’s waiting until Saturday night,” said Lark.

“Or maybe he doesn’t have it,” said Rachel.

The others looked at her quizzically.

“You heard him say he shoots film,” explained Rachel. “He would have to send it out for processing. Any shop on this island would have to ship it out to a lab.”

“If that’s the case, he won’t even know what kind of pictures he has until the film comes back,” said Lark. “That would explain his caution. Right now he can’t even prove they ever saw the bird.”

“I’ll bet Guy knows where the bird is,” said Dorothy.

They had reached the car, and Rachel stared at her over the top of the rental. Had Saxby confided in her?

“You sound awfully sure,” said Lark, voicing Rachel’s thoughts.

“He didn’t say anything to me, if that’s what you’re thinking. He just seems so confident that one of the teams will find something great tomorrow, it makes me believe.”

“Just because he or Becker or Knapp saw the bird, doesn’t mean we will,” said Cecilia.

“Unless Guy found a breeding pair,” said Lark.

Rachel’s eyes never left Dorothy. If Saxby had told her as much, she didn’t react.

“If they’re nesting,” Lark continued, “they’ll stay in the same area. Of course, I have no idea what their range is.”

A lightbulb went off in Rachel’s head. “You realize that either way, regardless of where Becker stood on the trade, if there’s an endangered bird on their land, the Andersons’ chances of selling goes right out the window. It becomes the land trade or nothing.”

“Which plays in their favor for a land swap,” said Lark. “The developers would have to jump through legal hoops to ensure that they aren’t harming any endangered species, or to at least prove they are rebuilding any habitat they do harm, and the state would really want control of the land.”

“I wonder what it means for the Carters?” mused Rachel. So far they hadn’t eliminated any suspects from their list, except for Beau and Reggie. If there was an endangered species living on Swamper’s Island, would the state need the Carters’ land for access? The original plan was to build a visitor’s center on the Carters’ acreage, or provide the developers access.

Rachel knew one thing for certain: The more she learned, the more she was convinced that Becker’s murder had something to do with turf.

 

Upon reaching their suite, Lark jumped into the shower and Rachel logged on to the Internet. She checked for a message from Kirk and came up emptyhanded. At least she had something to tell him:

 

She paused, and then added:

 

Love, Rachel

 

With a few mouse clicks, she sent the message and opened to the Web page discussing the stealing of Becker’s ideas. As she’d suspected, Saxby was named as the culprit. There was no proof, only Becker’s rantings and his threats to sue.

But he hadn’t. Nor, apparently, had he worked with Saxby on anything since.

Rachel suspected they might have been working at cross-purposes on the same project. Or Becker might actively have been out to get Saxby fired. Either one of those could provide Saxby with a motive for killing Becker, albeit a pretty lame one. If it was true that Saxby had stolen Becker’s research, Rachel could see why Becker might have wanted to kill his department head, but Saxby had already weathered the accusations of his graduate student. And if the ivory-billed woodpecker was on Swamper’s Island, Saxby would have his footage tomorrow, and his coup d’état.

Dorothy would be happy to learn Saxby appeared to be in the clear. Less happy to hear how many people believed he had plagiarized his book. Still, it was only hearsay.

Regardless, Dorothy needed to know, Rachel decided. She knocked on the door connecting their suites, and then opened it. Cecilia sat on one bed reading. Dorothy was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” asked Rachel, nodding toward Dorothy’s bed.

Cecilia dropped her reading glasses onto her chest. “I thought she was in your room. Of all the sneaky . . . She must have gone out.”

“She wouldn’t have gone alone,” said Rachel, keeping her voice steady while her mind was racing.

“Sure she would have. She’s in love. She’s like a teenager.” Cecilia paused to let the meaning sink in. “Oh my, I think we ought to mount a search party.” She slid out of bed in one smooth motion, pulled on a pair of blue pedal pushers, and tucked in her blue nightshirt. Then she reconsidered and pulled it out. The result looked strangely fashionable—probably because the two items were an identical shade of blue.

Rachel hovered between amusement and alarm.

Then the door clicked, opened, and Dorothy peered around the edge of it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, waving a handful of papers. “Look what I’ve got. Releases! All we have to do is sign these and we’re in like Flynn!”

“What are you talking about?” Cecilia crossed her arms and sat down hard on her bed. “You had us worried to death.”

“We have to sign these to appear on television,” replied Dorothy, ignoring her sister’s admonishment. “There are only three camera teams, and one will be with us all the way.”

Rachel’s heart sank.
Extreme Birding
carried too much pressure. All she wanted to do was relax and enjoy the scenery, especially now that she knew Saxby’s big secret. They could leave it to the police to figure out who murdered Becker. It didn’t affect them now.

“And guess who the other teams are that will have camera crews? Some really big names! But we’ll have Guy,” she added confidently.

Rachel’s mouth went dry. “Guy’s competing?”

“Of course, he’s the ultimate extreme birder.”

“Dorothy, I have to tell you something about Guy.” Without waiting to see her reaction, Rachel forged ahead. “I went back on that message board on my computer. The department head who stole Becker’s research . . . it was Guy.”

Dorothy’s face contorted into an angry mask.

“The good news is I didn’t find any reason that Guy would want to kill Becker. But Becker sure had it in for Guy. It was the same story I got from Sonja Becker.”

“Posh thus, as my mother used to say,” said Dorothy.

Cecilia frowned. “I don’t recall her ever saying that.”

Dorothy ignored her. “You know how things are. Younger teaching assistants are used as research associates all of the time. That’s how one learns the ropes. In that job, you have to expect that your advisors are going to use your findings in their own publications. It’s part of academia.”

Rachel started to argue, but maybe she had it wrong. At any rate, no doubt Dorothy would be impossible to convince.

Proving Rachel correct, Dorothy charged on. “Think of all the things Guy Saxby’s done in his career.” She waved the release forms in the air. “He can talk about anything bird-related. Does he sound like somebody who had to steal someone else’s research to publish?”

When neither of them answered, she answered for them. “No. Becker was jealous, that’s all.”

“Maybe,” said Rachel.

“Oh my, she has love blinders on.”

Dorothy faltered. “It doesn’t matter. Guy has promised that we’ll be on camera tomorrow. We are going to win that money for Raptor House. You’ll see that you’re wrong about him. He is going to prove his mettle.” She handed Rachel two releases. “Here’s one for you, and one for Lark. Now we should all get to bed so we can be extra sharp tomorrow.”

Cecilia scoffed. “Or so somebody can get her much-needed beauty sleep.”