A Birder's Guide to Murder Read online

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “I can’t say. He’s blocked by Marty.”

  “But that is Esther with them?” Floyd wanted to know.

  “Yep.”

  “I’ve seen enough.” I took a step around the side of the cellblock.

  Karl blocked me and Floyd clamped his hands around my waist.

  “Are you crazy, Amy?” Floyd pleaded.

  “Yes, crazy to be standing in an abandoned prison in the middle of the night when I, both of you, and Esther, should be back at the inn, tucked safely in our beds.”

  I shook myself free of Floyd and Karl. “I’m surprised at you, Floyd,” I said, careful to keep my voice low. “That’s Esther out there. Don’t you want to know what’s going on? Don’t you want to help her?”

  Floyd was fighting with his emotions.

  “Maybe we should go say hi,” Karl decided.

  I nodded my approval. “We’ll round up Esther and Marty and whoever else we can lay hands on. We’ll find an all-night diner, have some hot coffee, and get to the bottom of this like rational people.”

  “Yeah.” Floyd rubbed his salt and pepper stubbled chin. “Yeah. Rational people. That’s a good idea.”

  I started to move again.

  “No,” Floyd said, thrusting his arm out in front of me. “Let me go alone. We don’t want to spook them.”

  “Okay.” If they saw three obscure individuals coming at them in the dark, who knew what might happen? “Be careful. What if Marty is our murderer? He might be carrying a weapon.”

  I swung my accusatory eyes at Karl. “Like some people we know.” I clutched Floyd’s wrist. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Floyd set the rest of the commandeered gear on the ground and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. “I’ll be fine. Besides, even if that bum is packing heat, an old guy like that probably has poor eyesight. I’ll bet he couldn’t hit the side of a barn.”

  Floyd turned to Karl. “I’ve seen you out at the shooting range. No offense, Karl, but you could use a new pair of glasses. And a bigger target.”

  “I’m a little rusty is all,” sniffed Karl defensively.

  Somehow Floyd’s words didn’t make me feel any easier about the fact that Karl was carrying a loaded handgun in his coat.

  “I’ll be right back.” Floyd rounded the corner and disappeared.

  That was when all hell broke loose.

  21

  The dull thud of madly whirling rotors filled the air and shook the ground beneath our feet.

  A black helicopter rose over the prison wall like an invading roc of mythical proportions. A brilliant white spotlight blinked on, illuminating a patch of earth at the far edge of the prison courtyard.

  I stretched out my arms and grabbed Floyd. “Come on!”

  Karl scrambled for the gear at our feet. “Wait for me!”

  “What about Esther?” Floyd fought with me.

  “I saw her running toward that building on the left.” I bit my lip. Floyd looked miserable. And scared.

  I was scared too.

  “Let’s circle around and see if we can find her. Okay?”

  Floyd bobbed his head vigorously.

  Spreading the gear between us, we worked our way around the prison grounds, stumbling over broken bits of wall and pushing through the tall weeds.

  We stuck to the shadows.

  After a couple of minutes, the three of us were out of breath and wheezing. We paused under the light of the dim stars and looked up. The helicopter was veering off. It lifted straight up then angled to the right, hopping over the wall as if it didn’t exist.

  The sudden silence was deafening.

  “Come on,” I urged. “I think it’s this way.”

  I tried the door handle outside a building along the edge of the courtyard. “Locked tight.” I studied the silent grounds. Not even the crickets had resumed their night song, probably still spooked by the appearance of that great metal insect in the sky.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Esther?”

  “Yoo-hoo, Esther!” Floyd chimed in. “It’s me, Floyd. And Amy and Karl.”

  “Uh, Chief?” Karl thumped me on the shoulder.

  “What is it, Karl?”

  “Is that a police siren I hear?”

  Bird poop.

  “Run!” barked Karl. He scrabbled at the ground, picking up the expensive gear they had borrowed from Ornitho Optics. Floyd and I helped him.

  We took off at a trot, leaving one or two items behind, as the sirens grew louder. Just my luck, I’d get arrested. I could just about see the headline now: “Bird Store Owner Becomes Jailbird.” Amy Simms and company nabbed by police after breaking into a penitentiary.

  I’d be the laughingstock of Ruby Lake.

  With all the murders that had taken place in and around town since I’d returned, some folks were already calling me the Grim Reaper behind my back. I couldn’t afford yet another slanderous moniker.

  We hurried back the way we had come. Karl was in the lead. Suddenly he stopped and flapped his arms. “Turn around,” he whispered harshly. “Go back. Somebody’s coming.”

  “Where?” I struggled to keep my voice in check. Powerful flashlight beams emanated from the door we’d been planning on escaping through.

  Floyd pointed to an inky black opening in the wall. “In there.”

  We tiptoed inside and held our collective breaths. The metallic scratch of radio communications mixed with the banging of my heart and the call of a faraway train.

  Karl took a peek. “There’s two of them. In uniform. They are heading up the right side, following the wall. Let’s give it a minute.”

  I waited for what seemed like the longest minute of my life, too afraid to even blink.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” Karl said.

  “Wait,” I insisted. “What if there are more of them?”

  Karl shrugged. “You’d rather they catch us here?”

  My mugshot smeared across the front of the newspaper, in a ZombieFest shirt, scraggly hair and the remnants of undead makeup flashed before me. I gave Karl a push. “I’m right behind you.”

  “Me, too.” Floyd gulped in a mouthful of air and followed.

  We made it through the inner corridor without incident. A police car sat silently at the entrance, lights flashing. By the reflection on a storefront up the street, I knew another squad car was around the corner. By the sounds echoing all around us, there were more police on the way.

  “Somebody must have called the cops.” Karl looked up and down the street then stomped toward the rental car and minivan. Fortunately, there were a lot of other vehicles spread up and down the street so ours would not have stuck out in the eyes of the police.

  “No kidding.” Floyd huffed along behind me.

  “A neighbor probably called the police after seeing the helicopter.”

  “Unless that was the police,” I countered.

  “What do you think, Karl?” Floyd wheezed.

  “I think you two should shut your yaps. You’ll move faster.”

  Floyd and I shut our yaps and doubled our speed. Okay, maybe not doubled but we definitely were moving faster than we had been before being admonished by Karl.

  I threw open the rear doors of the van and hurled the equipment I had been hugging to my chest inside.

  “Hey, watch it!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched in horrified slow motion as Karl yanked his handgun from his pocket and took aim at the person coming out of my van. “Freeze, mother—”

  22

  I screamed and fell backwards. “Esther? What the—”

  Esther loomed out of the door, stooped over inside the van, looking at me like I was the one doing something stupid. “Of course, it’s me. You expec
ting somebody else?”

  “Esther!” Floyd helped me to my feet and then rushed to Esther’s side. Or rather to the rear bumper, which was blocking his access to her. “Are you okay?”

  I pulled Karl’s arm down. He was frozen like a statue. “Put that thing away before you hurt somebody.”

  “Huh?” Karl blinked. “Esther.” He chuckled to cover his embarrassment. “Gee. That could have been awkward.”

  I gaped at him but didn’t have time to respond. The shrill sound of at least one more police siren was getting nearer. The pen was becoming a hornet’s nest of activity. “We’ve got to go.”

  Floyd climbed in the rear of the van with Esther. I slammed the door shut behind them. “I’ll take the Kia.” I threw Karl his keys. “Meet you back at the inn.”

  I called Derek from the van and gave him the short version of what had happened.

  His reply was a long whistle.

  “Can you meet us out front?”

  Derek promised to meet the van outside the inn and was waiting at the curb when I pulled up. We dropped Karl’s rental off in the parking garage and drove as a group to the first all-night diner we could find.

  Karl wasn’t happy about his car’s busted window and fumed all the way to the diner.

  “What happened to your nose?” Derek asked.

  “Yeah, I was wondering about that, Chief,” said Karl. “You run into a brick wall or something?”

  “No, just a brick.”

  “That explains it,” Karl muttered, having noted the brick inside his car.

  “What?” Derek gingerly touched my nostril.

  I explained what had happened.

  “Do you think it was the same person that had been driving that dark sedan?”

  “It seems likely but I didn’t get a good look at the driver.”

  Derek told the others what had occurred when we tried to turn the tables on the person following us by following them.

  “Did you get conked with a brick too?” asked Floyd.

  “I might have been,” allowed Derek.

  “Weird.” Floyd asked for hot cocoa.

  I ordered coffee, though the last thing in the world I needed at the moment was a jolt of caffeine. I had more adrenaline going through me than I knew what to do with. I would have ordered a horse tranquilizer but I hadn’t seen them listed on the menu.

  Esther drank her tea and nibbled at a slice of sourdough toast. She looked worried.

  Floyd and Karl flanked her. That was my idea. I did not want her disappearing again.

  I sat opposite, next to Derek. The diner was crowded. We occupied a booth nearest the cash register and counter where three members of an emo-thrash metal band were dissecting their night’s performance.

  A twenty-four-hour news station was playing on the TV over the register. Why anybody would want to have a pleasant meal spoiled by watching what always seemed to be bad news, was beyond my comprehension. I purposefully selected a seat with my back to the noise.

  I recounted the remaining events of my night, after leaving Derek at the inn, while demolishing a family-sized serving of cookie dough-filled French toast made with challah bread.

  “That’s quite a tale.” Derek jiggled his glass, listening to the sounds of ice cubes banging around in his cola.

  “Do you two have anything to add?” I directed the tines of my fork at Floyd and Karl who were both suddenly looking frail and tired. I kind of felt sorry for them. Especially Floyd. This trip to Philly sure wasn’t turning out the way he’d imagined it would.

  But then, who among us could have guessed we’d be mixed up in murder?

  A thought hit me: Esther. That’s who.

  “No.” Karl had wolfed down a bagel and cream cheese, as evidenced by the traces on his face and shirt. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “Right.” I eyed him steadily. “Did you discover anything in Bergdorf’s apartment?”

  “Not a thing,” Floyd let slip.

  “Floyd.” Karl glared at his friend.

  “You two bozos were in Marty’s apartment?” Esther asked.

  “So that is Marty’s apartment?” I pressed my elbows into the table.

  “Of course. Whose else would it be?” Esther rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you two old coots broke into Marty’s apartment. You’ve got no right to do that. I ought to call the police. That’s what I ought to do.”

  “Who are you calling old?” Karl demanded. “And go ahead and call the police. I have a feeling they’d be happy to hear from you.” Karl snatched a packet of sugar and ripped it open with his teeth. He dumped the contents in his coffee.

  “Don’t talk to Esther like that.” Floyd draped a protective arm over Esther’s shoulders.

  “Okay, okay,” Karl said gruffly. “Sorry, Esther.”

  “You should be sorry. You almost shot me, you blithering old fool.”

  “We were keeping an eye on the apartment building from the van. Marty came out and walked to the market down the block,” explained Floyd.

  “Yeah, that was our chance,” said Karl.

  “We only popped into the apartment for a quick look. We were in and out in less than five minutes, Esther,” Floyd swore. “We didn’t touch anything. I promise.”

  “Then when Marty came downstairs and hopped into a cab,” Karl said, “we followed him. The cab dropped him off at the corner near the pen. You know the rest.” He cleared his throat.

  Derek rubbed his hands into his face. “Okay,” he said wearily. “Now that we are done apologizing and Amy,” he said, turning to me, “you can explain to me later how Karl came to almost shoot Esther—”

  “Oh?” I batted my eyes in mock innocence. “Did I leave that part out?”

  “Yes. Yes, you did.” Derek stabbed a plum tomato from the remnants of his tofu scramble and popped it in his mouth. The man ate too healthy for his own good. “For now, let’s talk about the murders of JJ Fuller and Peter Porter.”

  He sounded just like a lawyer, albeit a very tired one. “Esther, how about if you start?”

  Esther expressed surprise. “Me? What do you want me to say?”

  “What do we want you to say?” My voice rose above the din of the restaurant crowd. The three black-garbed boys seated at the counter even tuned in.

  “How about telling us what you were doing meeting Marty in the middle of an abandoned penitentiary in the middle of the night?” I demanded. “How about explaining who Bergdorf is and how he fits into all this? How about explaining—”

  “Okay, Amy.” Derek patted my knee. “Let’s give Esther a chance to talk now.”

  I caught my breath and pouted. “Fine.” I picked up the dessert menu and perused the selections while Derek continued interviewing what I considered to be a hostile witness. The pecan pie sounded good and it came with real vanilla ice cream.

  “Esther?” Derek said calmly. “How about starting at the beginning. Tell us about Marty.”

  Floyd fixed his eyes on Esther while stirring his cocoa.

  “In the first place,” Esther folded her hands on the table, “I want to go on the record as saying that I never wanted to come to Philadelphia.” She aimed her words at me like an accusation.

  I dragged my finger through a puddle of real maple syrup as the waitress was about to haul it away. I licked my fingertip. “Probably because you knew there was a warrant out for your arrest.” I couldn’t help sniping.

  “Marty?” Derek nudged Esther along. Me he shot a look of warning.

  “Martin Ritter and Klaus Bergdorf are one and the same. Marty is an old friend.”

  That was one mystery cleared up, albeit a small one.

  “Is he really a spy?” Floyd wanted to know.

  “What was he, one of those corporate spies?” Karl was quick to add.

  “Guy
s, let Esther tell us.” Derek waved his hand. “Go ahead, Esther. I’m sure everyone will hold their questions and comments to the end.”

  “I wish they would.” Esther took a sip from her cup then continued. “Like I said, Marty and I are old friends. I suppose you could say he was a spy.”

  “You did say he was a spy!” I blurted.

  “Amy,” Derek drew out my name.

  “Sorry.” I waved to the waitress. I ordered the pecan pie and a double scoop of vanilla ice cream. With whipping cream on top. And two cherries.

  “Marty is retired or, rather I should say, Klaus Bergdorf is retired. Marty is supposed to be dead. At least, that’s what he wanted his employer and the world to think. You saw his grave at the cemetery, Amy.”

  I nodded and dug into my pie. At least Esther was making sense for a change.

  “Who was his employer?” Karl wanted to know.

  “The government,” was Esther’s reply.

  “Which one?” Karl persisted.

  “That’s not important. Marty gave up the spy business decades ago. He moved to the States. Started a new life.”

  Esther smiled as her mind conjured up old memories. “He changed his name to Klaus Bergdorf and settled here in Philadelphia. Marty always liked it here. It’s where we first met.”

  I could see Floyd was itching to ask deeper questions about Esther and Marty’s relationship. Instead he twisted his napkin into a knot.

  I wished my butter knife was a sword and that I, Amy the Great, like Alexander the Great before me, could cut the metaphoric Gordian knot that was Esther.

  “Marty, or Klaus, opened a small shop for stamp collectors. About seven years ago, he decided to retire completely.”

  Derek held Esther’s gaze. “Did Marty murder JJ Fuller, Esther?”

  Esther’s face darkened. “No. And he didn’t kill that zombie character either.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Certain as I am that I’m sitting here with you all when I should be out helping Marty.”

  “I’m sure Marty can take care of himself,” Derek replied. “Why were you two meeting tonight at the penitentiary?”