When Pigs and Parrots Fly (14 page)

“Exactly. And as the chief, that also means Andy would be the last to leave. I'm not sure what exactly he does when the fire's out, but I'm sure he has to make reports and make sure everything is safe before he leaves.”

“I have an idea how to get him in the buggy. What can we use to cover it?”

Together they scanned the lot. Josh leaned down to speak softly to her. “I know what we can do. If you can keep him occupied, I can run into the store and buy some netting and rope. Once you get him to jump down into the shopping cart, we can throw a net over the top, then tie it down. That would work.”

She wasn't sure that he wouldn't bite through a net, but they didn't have to keep him in the cart long. They only needed to get him into a van, provided they could get a volunteer with a van to help them, and once inside a safely enclosed vehicle, they could let him out, and Murray could sit in her lap for the trip back to Andy's house.

“Okay,” she whispered back. “Just hurry. For now, he's having fun, but I don't know what his attention span is going to be.”

Just as she spoke, the music ended. She gritted her teeth, hoping the crowd would respect that they were watching an animal who wouldn't understand applause. Fortunately, everyone remained silent, and Sarah hoped they were waiting for the next song to start so Murray would continue entertaining them.

But instead of a nice mellow song, a barrage of screaming guitar and a wailing vocalist blared through the speakers at top volume.

“Rock 'n 'roll . . .
squawk
. . . rock 'n 'roll . . .” Murray hollered.

Sarah's stomach dropped to the bottom of her shoes as Murray crouched and extended his wings.

“Murray! No! Please!” Sarah called out, bolting forward. As if she could catch him or something.

She hadn't taken three steps, and Murray launched. The movement of his wings made her hair flutter as she reached up beneath him in the vain hope that he'd maybe land on her hand.

But he didn't.

In seconds, Murray became a blue dot in the distance, and he disappeared.

Sarah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Or both.

Behind her, someone clapped their hands together sharply.

Josh's voice rang out. “Attention! Everyone! Everyone with a cell phone, I need you to call anyone you know who might be in the direction he's flying. We need to know where he lands next. Please, we have to catch him before nightfall!”

Sarah spun around. In a blur of movement, everyone in the crowd pulled out a cell phone. Many walked away, talking with their phone pressed to one ear, and their other ear covered. Even over all the buzz of all the conversations, Sarah thought she could still hear her heart pounding.

One arm raised in the air.

The crowd went silent.

“Murray just landed,” a male voice called out. “He's at the Pink Geranium!”

As the man snapped his phone shut, so did everyone in the crowd. Like a choreographed dance number, everyone turned and disbursed in the parking lot, no one going toward the mall, but to their cars.

Likewise, Sarah and Josh ran to Josh's car and roared off in the direction of The Pink Geranium tearoom. Half the cars in the parking lot did as well. Sarah gulped.

The Pied Piper, in real life. Or was that the Pied Parrot?

Chapter 11

J
osh gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner and pulled up in front of the Olde Towne Inn, which was also Caroline Short's home, with the classic teahouse at the side. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of going inside the establishment, even though he knew he didn't need to.

Once, in his early teens, Josh's mother had thought it would teach him some class to go inside and act like a gentleman for a couple of hours. It might as well have been a couple of weeks. He'd never felt so awkward or nervous in his life, being the only male in a room surrounded by flowers and elderly ladies, where everything was pink, or breakable, or both.

Even going near the place nearly gave him hives. Although Caroline's food was so good he couldn't stay away completely. Every few months he phoned in a take-out order for her specialty chicken, which he always took back to the store to eat at his manly haven of dog food and rubber balls.

“Look! There he is!” Sarah laid one hand on his shoulder and pointed to the front entrance to the tearoom.

Great. Just great
.

The bird had perched himself on one of the wooden benches near the door, his back to them as they approached. Almost like a bunch of curious children, from inside the tearoom, a multitude of ladies, most with gray hair, lined the front windows to watch the bird, while Murray watched them.

One lady sat closer to the window than the rest. Her hands were raised with her thumbs poised at her ears. She wiggled her fingers and bobbed her head at Murray. In response, Murray extended his wings and bobbed his head right back. When the woman tipped her head sideways, so did Murray. Then she tipped her head to the other side; again, Murray imitated her. Josh couldn't believe what he saw.

Sarah poked his arm. “We'd better get out and see if we can get him. I think I'm going to hold out my arm and see if he'll hop on. If he does, if I keep one hand lightly on his back, he'll probably stay on my arm and let me carry him to the car.”

They both opened the doors at the same time. As they slowly approached Murray, Josh became aware that many of the people who had followed them were now getting out of their cars, still following them. He wanted to turn around and tell them all to get back in their cars so they wouldn't make Murray nervous, but raising his voice would probably be worse than the quiet throng of people.

He felt nearly ready to break out into a cold sweat, except that it was a hot summer day, and sweating would be natural even if he wasn't so nervous.

If Sarah felt as antsy as he did, she didn't show it; making him wonder if that was one reason the crazy cracker-eater seemed to have bonded with her.

He only hoped that bonding was as strong now. It was already mid-afternoon, and the later in the day it became, the more nervous he became about not being able to catch the bird by nightfall. He wondered if there was any way to find out how Andy was doing at that fire, if he'd be able to wrap everything up soon and get down here to help catch his bird.

“Hi, Murray,” Sarah said as they approached, slowing down even more, her voice smooth and laced with harmony. “I'm behind you, sweetie.”

Josh nearly sighed. If he were a parrot, he'd be mesmerized by her melodic voice, and he'd jump at the chance to sit on her arm and let her talk to him all afternoon.

Murray didn't even turn around. He continued to imitate the nutty woman in the window, who now made faces at him and stuck out her tongue.

If only his mother could see this.

Josh couldn't help but smile. “That woman is sure doing a great job holding Murray's attention. This is going to be easy.”

They slowed their pace even more as they approached, just in case, but Murray didn't seem to care. All his attention remained focused on the wacky woman in the window.

Josh mentally embellished the telling of this tale. The woman was making a complete fool of herself in the dignified setting of the tearoom. He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. This one would make a good photo op.

But a few steps closer, Josh's smile froze on his face at the same time that his hand froze on his pocket. The woman was wearing the same ugly sweater as his mother's favorite. Unlike the gray-haired ladies around her, this woman's hair was brown . . . the same brown as his own.

He took a few steps closer.

The woman pressed her face to the window pane, squishing her nose to the glass. Murray flapped his wings and squawked with glee as she wiggled her fingers, with her thumbs still stuck in her ears.

“Mom?” Josh blurted out.

Murray bellowed out a loud squawk, turned around, took one look at Josh, and launched off the bench.

His mother dropped her hands and backed up from the window, leaving a smudged noseprint on the glass.

“You scared him away!” Sarah yelled. “What are you doing?”

He was staring through the window, through the noseprint at his mother, who stared back at him.

Josh shook his head and turned to Sarah, who stood beside him with her shoulders slumped and her face buried in her hands.

“I'm . . . I'm sorry,” Josh muttered, unable to get the picture of his mother's face out of his head.

He bit his lower lip, thinking about what he'd just done. Guilt roared through him. Sarah would probably have caught Murray, if it hadn't been for his outburst.

Behind him, he could almost feel the stares at his back from the still-gathering crowd. He cringed, waiting for his mother to desert her buddies and come out to give him what-for in front of the crowd.

Josh told himself to be brave, stiffened, and readied himself for it. He deserved everything they gave him, and more.

As he turned, a few people shook their heads at him, pulled their cell phones out of their pockets, and began dialing or texting. Just as Josh reached to his pocket for his own cell phone, the familiar ringtone of Sarah's phone rang out from his other pocket.

He pulled it out and handed it to her. She only managed to get out half of a greeting before she fell silent.

If he didn't feel like such a loser, Josh would have smiled. He already knew who it was. It was Tucker.

She snapped the phone shut. “He's at the police station.” She made a weak grin. “Tucker asked me if we should have Murray arrested for loitering. Let's go.”

He didn't have to yell to the crowd that they already had their next sighting. The second he turned toward his car, the crowd began to disburse. A few elderly ladies dashed out of the tearoom and ran to their cars.

He didn't know anyone with gray hair could move so fast.

The car was in motion before they'd finished buckling their seat belts. At the sound of Sarah's
click
, he stepped on the gas and gave it full throttle.

In a million years, he couldn't have imagined himself speeding to the police station. Fortunately, it was only a few blocks, so it didn't take long to get there.

Not caring how crooked he parked, regardless of being in front of the police station in a no-parking zone, he pulled helter-skelter into the open space closest to where Tucker stood, not beside the building but beside his squad car, nearly face-to-face with Murray, who was sitting on the light-bar, squawking at him.

“Come and get me, Copper . . .
squawk
. . . Come and get me, Copper!”

Josh had to get a picture of this. Maybe even a video. He pushed open the door and stuck one leg out, reaching behind to his back pocket as he pushed himself out of the car. But just as he touched his phone, the blare of Tucker's police radio cut through the gathering crowd.

Sarah's door opened at the same time that Murray launched.

Instead of getting a picture of Murray on top of the police car, Josh got a picture of Murray's yellow belly as he soared directly over his head, and once again disappeared into the distance.

No longer in a rush, he approached his friend.

Tucker lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and plunked the hat back onto his head. “The bird called me Copper. What decade is he from?”

Sarah joined them. “Now what?” She checked her watch. “It's nearly supper time, and we've got to catch him before it gets dark.”

At the sounds of shuffling behind him, Josh turned to see that a crowd had gathered, even larger than the last time. And like last time, half the people were already either on the phone or texting.

Beside him, Tucker grinned. “This is the thing I like the most about living here in Bloomfield.”

Josh clenched his jaw. “What? That word spreads faster than water over Niagara Falls?”

Tucker shook his head. “Cynic. No. The community spirit. So many people are always willing to help each other, no matter what. Yeah, sometimes a few people overstep the bounds, but mostly it's because they want to help, even if some of those ways might be a little unconventional.”

Unconventional. The first thing Josh pictured was his mother's face plastered against the window of The Pink Geranium. Next, the crowd of people surrounding Sarah in the mall, waiting for their chance to get a minute with the Pet Whisperer. Or people paying money to get a picture taken with Andy's goofy parrot to raise money for the burn unit.

He sighed. As quirky as the people in Bloomfield could be, he wouldn't live anywhere else. When he was away at college, among normal people, he'd actually missed the place, and the people.

Over the buzz of voices, a female voice called out, “Murray's at Helen's bakery!”

Josh smiled. The bird had picked a good place. He didn't know if bread was good for birds, but it was an easy call that the bird would stay put until they got there, because people would be feeding him Helen's great bread.