Kill Three Birds Read online

  She didn’t want to tell him about the blood splatter on the trees, the trunks, and the leaves. The eagles didn’t look very hard, if she had to guess, or it blended in so well, even eagles’ eyes missed it.

  He gaped. “No! Such brazen attacks!” He mopped his face.

  “Yes. You have at least three incidents of killing,” Prentice explained.

  Balthazar rubbed his chin in disbelief. “How? We don’t have two people missing.”

  “Could they be crows or ravens?”

  He tilted his head. “Maybe. They don’t all participate in the official annual egg counts.”

  Not everyone who lived in an egg agreed with the Order or followed the goddess’s practices. Some stood outside, in the outer shell—the outskirts—and off the Order’s logbooks.

  “We can investigate that more tomorrow, during the light. This isn’t a coincidence, Dove. It’s a pattern.”

  He tented his hands and stared across to her. “Hawk Prentice, what can you tell me about what you found tonight?”

  “It’s early days yet, but what I can tell you is this: The killer is hunting people in your egg. They have troubled souls.”

  “What do you mean?

  “Your victim had deep abrasions on the soles of her feet.”

  “Why?”

  “The most important part of the ritual is conjuring fear and torment. You have another body that’s been burned. I’m sure that person was alive when it happened. The other body on your land is in skeletal form. Once I’m able to examine it, I bet I’ll find indications of torture.”

  “Who would do such heinous acts? It flies in the goddess’s face. None of our flock would do this.” He kept shaking his head as if his mind couldn’t accept it.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.” Prentice didn’t like where any of this headed. It meant long days and sleepless nights. “Have any of your nesters courted trouble?”

  The kettle’s whistle made them both jump. Laughing, Balthazar got up to fill their teacups with hot water. As he poured, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t have any sugar or milk this time of night. My assistant, Martin, has retired.”

  “I usually drink sweet milk, anyway. What can you tell me about the dead woman?” Prentice took out her pad and pencil from the pouch along her belt. As she did so, she bumped one of her talons, and it glowed red at the touch of her hand.

  “Oh!” Balthazar stood transfixed.

  “My talons.” Prentice touched it again to get it to power down. She glanced up at the dove and asked again, “The deceased. How well did you know her?”

  “Ah, yes, Gretchen Finch, the granddaughter of Geraldine Finch. They’re the oldest family here. Almost half of the church is comprised of Finches. But Gretchen struggled to adopt the goddess’s teachings.”

  “How so?”

  “She was mischievous. She missed services frequently and hung around with a few crows and other scavengers.”

  “Any one crow in particular?” Prentice would have to talk to the crows anyway. The vultures, too, for that matter. She would ask the eagles to help, but she didn’t know the status of those relationships. In some eggs, the eagles treated everyone the same. In others, crows, vultures, and ravens received poor eagle treatment. “You know the reason she’s so friendly with them?”

  The dove shrugged. “Rebellious, if I had to guess. Pushing back against the many expectations of being a Finch. I’ve seen it happen with some of the others, but never to the degree that it cost them their lives.”

  “So, not so holy and pure.”

  “Of heart, yes.”

  “I understand.” Prentice made polite noises. “Do you have a name for the crow who Gretchen hung out with?”

  Balthazar sipped his tea and clicked his fingers in thought. “I don’t want to drop them in it.”

  “Too late for that. You have three people dead.” She couldn’t believe he would hesitate, considering the vicious attacks.

  “Her name is Carlita Starbuck. The Starbucks live about fifteen miles north of the church. I can get James to take you out there tomorrow. Remember, Gretchen had a magnetic personality.”

  “That will be good.” Prentice rose. She put her notes and pencil into her pouch. She glanced up at the dove’s handsome face, pinched in worry. “It looks bleak, now, as do many things in the darkness. The investigation just started. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Balthazar stood and extended his hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll turn in now, Dove. Thank you for the tea.”

  “You’re welcome, but you’ve hardly touched it.”

  She took the winding stairs to the second floor where earlier the dove’s assistant had shown her the guest room. The dove had given her the room across from his bedroom. Once she cleared the threshold into her room, she felt the stress roll of her back. Thankful to be able to let her dreadlocked hair free, she shook it and began removing her gunbelt, her talons, the utility belt and finally the large robe. Those remained close to her hands.

  Carefully, she pulled her wings through the slits and stretched, allowing the cloak to fall to the floor. She picked it up and hung it on a peg along the wall beside her bed.

  Outside the wind whistled. The pounding of her heart’s beat slowed as she acquainted herself with her surroundings. It was a far cry from the glories of Landam and the smoke and mirrors at court. A throw rug bearing the Order’s crest lay before the fire crackling with an orange glow, producing heat to chase away the early evening chill. Two towels sat folded on the room’s sole chair along with a smaller washcloth. A round bar of soap topped the pile.

  Candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulled off her boots, and allowed them to collapse to the floor. With her remaining strength, she fell back into the pillows with her wings extended, placing them flat against the softness.

  It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised more of the same.

  Chapter Three

  The early morning sunlight didn’t drive away the shadows huddled along the path back to the green and its surrounding forest. The woods had been cleared back a significant amount to provide places for picnics, sports, and the overall enjoyment of nature. Prentice fingered the heavy, but smashed, lock of the church green’s gate.

  “It’s been forced.” She turned her attention to James and another, nearly identical in size, male beside him. “Someone broke in here. Was it like this when you arrived to remove the body?”

  James lifted and lowered one shoulder. The other man had the familiar splash of scarlet across his pale face that hinted he, too, was a vulture. “We came early, in the dark. I don’t remember unlocking the gate.”

  She pushed on, taking in the scene in the brightness of day. Few clues appeared in the leftover debris of dried blood on vegetation. Whatever they had used to hit Gretchen over the head and torture her, they had taken with them. Something sinister had happened, and it had set the community on edge.

  “They were organized and ready. This wasn’t some heat-of-the-moment disagreement or slaying.” Prentice crossed her arms. The body had been found not too much farther into the green.

  “There’s hardly anything here to see.” Balthazar wore his Dove ceremonial robe and headgear.

  “All right. Let’s go visit some crows.” Prentice adjusted her hood.

  She followed James to the carriage parked just outside the entranceway with Balthazar behind them.

  “This is where I leave you. I have duties with some of my members,” Balthazar said.

  Prentice took the dove in, studying his behavior and body language for unspoken clues. It didn’t bother her that he declined to come along. She worked better alone, but something about the rush to leave the scene, when last night he presented such a concern, made her wings prickle.

  “See you for now.” She tucked that suspicion aside.

  “I look forward to your report.” He shot her a small smile before heading down the walkway toward the ch
urch.

  “This way,” James said, drawing her attention to the carriage. He held the door open and had lowered the two steps.

  “Sure hope the weather breaks soon.”

  Prentice got into the carriage, and James secured the door. They pulled away from the church grounds and headed out to the egg’s cobbled streets. The horse’s clop, clop droned on as a natural accompaniment. Prentice spied the ruins of a wall that used to snake around the egg. They’d moved into the outer shell, a sprawling expanse. Everything crumbled, but then, on the other side, beauty. The lush and vibrant grass rolled over gentle hills and into the woods. They made their way around the river’s bend and came upon a cluster of homes, sagging as if leaning upon each other for support. Wooden doors like hard trunks and rough roofs rounded out the common neighborhood features. Built into the forest, all treehouses, the homes blended into and made use of their surroundings. The smell of fish and other mixed aromas became more pronounced the closer they came.

  James paused the carriage and called down to her. “Here.”

  Prentice waited until he climbed down and secured the steps. “Carlita Starbuck lives in the third one.”

  “Thank you.” Prentice adjusted her holster. “You’ll wait?”

  James nodded, his eyes straight ahead.

  Her palms itched for her talons, but she didn’t want to go into a crow’s house with them blazing. The conditions and contrast between the rest of the egg and this lush valley were like night and day. Nature grew in coordination with the residents, the sleek and glossy egg homes.

  Prentice approached the door, and it wrenched open before she could knock.

  “I’m Hawk Tasifa. I’m looking for Carlita.” Prentice kept her hand near one of her talons.

  “We’re Carlita. We’ve been expecting you,” said the person standing in the door’s shadow.

  Prentice made out long, black hair. Pale skin and dark clothing, decorated with shiny silver buttons and bangles, completed the outfit. They stepped out onto the narrow porch. Wide brown eyes met Prentice’s. The home once had luster but had lost it over the years. Tree roots and branches threaded throughout the ceiling and walls. A massive tree trunk ran down the home’s center. It contrasted with the linear wood utilized to craft the rest of the treehouse.

  “You’re a real hawk.” They reached out to touch Prentice’s hair.

  Prentice moved her head slightly to avoid contact. “Yes, I am. Is there somewhere we can talk? Perhaps if I come inside.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Carlita retreated into the house, allowing room for Prentice to enter before shutting the door after her. “We’re sorry. We’ve never seen a real hawk before.”

  “Good,” Prentice said, taking in the small, cluttered space. Fire in the fireplace, trinkets across the makeshift mantel. Shiny items everywhere, small and compact. “I won’t take a lot of your time. I’m here about Gretchen Finch.”

  Carlita paused, suspended between picking up a throw pillow and sitting down on the rickety rocking chair. They recovered after a few moments, the smile returning and the friendly manner resumed. They sat down.

  “Gretchen. Didn’t think we’d hear that name again.” Carlita hugged the pillow close.

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, let’s see. We thought she’d fly away, on to greater things than our little egg.”

  “When she went missing...”

  “Yeah. We thought the crazy bird was living the high life in some other Nest!” Carlita chuckled, but it was shrill.

  “You haven’t heard from her?”

  “No.”

  They threw back their head and laughed. The humor made Carlita’s voice light. It sounded strange at first, but Prentice liked it. Most of the crows she’d had contact with in her line of work had a cold as ice, unflinching, unemotional demeanor. Calculating and distant, crows didn’t hold warm. She’d contributed it to a failure to connect to the goddess. They lacked empathy and emotional centers.

  Not Carlita.

  “Tell me more about that. The high life with whom?” Prentice remained standing and watched Carlita’s face. “Could she have been abducted?”

  As they sobered, they shook their head. “Dunno. Maybe something bright and shiny caught her eye. Or maybe she snared the wrong person’s attention. Gretchen glowed like gold leaf in the sun.”

  “Did you ever see her with two men?” Prentice adjusted her habit to the stuffy room’s heat. The little fireplace pushed out warmth like there was no tomorrow. “Anyone you know who wanted to hurt her?”

  Carlita’s cheeriness dimmed. Their shoulders slouched. “So, it was her they found over by the church?”

  “You’ve heard?” Prentice cleared her throat.

  Carlita closed their eyes and then rubbed their face in slow, sweeping circles. Through their hands, Prentice could make out muffled words.

  “…We warned her…Rooster…”

  Prentice perked up. “Roosters? What about roosters?”

  Carlita paused and peeked through their fingers at her. They swallowed hard. Reeling back, they sat up and glanced away from Prentice’s hard glare.

  “Anything, everything about Gretchen can help me find who hurt her.”

  “Yeah, we heard. Things have been different since she went missing. Things like that don’t happen here, Hawk Tasifa.” Carlita brushed their hands along their skirt.

  “Have you ever seen Gretchen with two men?” Prentice asked, restarting the informal interview undaunted. She needed information and, as Gretchen’s friend, Carlita would have knowledge of the victim’s behaviors, secrets, interactions with others.

  “Gretchen liked men. What she didn’t like was her family. You didn’t know her. She was strong-willed.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, she did what she wanted. No one forced her to come down here and befriend the so-called social outcasts…”

  “I’m not saying that…”

  “You’re being very careful not to.” Carlita smirked at her. “Anyway, she would come down here, and we’d soar over to the various coops to blow off steam.”

  Roosters.

  “Which coop?” Prentice paused. If she pushed too hard, Carlita would clam up.

  Although grateful for the information, it added an extra wrinkle to an already strange investigation. Coops tended to offer various feed and drink, a location that encouraged birds to frolic in all kinds of ungoddess-like behavior.

  Carlita bit their lip. “It’s dangerous. We’ve already said too much.”

  “Somebody dumped her like garbage. You haven’t said anything I didn’t already know,” Prentice lied.

  They shot out of the chair, stalked to the door, and wrenched it open. “Great. Then leave. Just go. You’re a hawk. Figure it out.”

  “She was your friend. Someone killed her.” Prentice took one last look around and stepped onto the porch. “You can help.”

  “Her death was like a knife to our heart.”

  The door shut softly behind her. Prentice spied James sitting on the carriage, staring off into the distance. Vultures. When she started for him, he roused and climbed down to get the steps and open the door.

  Before she got in, she said, “Where are the coops in this egg?”

  James rubbed his chin, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. “I tend to stay away from coops, Hawk Tasifa.”

  “But you know where they are.”

  He nodded.

  “How many coops are there in Gould?”

  “Legal ones?”

  “They’re all illegal according to the Order, but because they’re outside the egg’s shell…” Prentice shrugged.

  “There are three that I know of, but do not frequent,” James said in his deadpan expressionless voice. “They are down the road a bit, in Coopertino.”

  “Thank you.” Prentice got into the carriage.

  Soon the now familiar lunge of the horse-drawn carriage melded into the somewhat bumpy ride along the outer shell’s ro
ads. They traveled through the forest’s maze of trails. Her mind turned to Gretchen Finch. While partying with two roosters, did she decide to leave? Did they peck her to death for trying to leave them without paying what they thought she owed? Did they dump her in the church’s field to die?

  It would be an outlandish scenario if it wasn’t so common.

  And why did Gretchen want to be outside the egg with the crows and roosters? She came from a church-loving family. Balthazar said Gretchen rebelled, but Carlita hit it closer to the mark. Gretchen didn’t like her family. Why?

  Prentice filed that away to ask the Finches later. For now, the rotting odor of death poured through the windows, making her gag. She fumbled with her pouch and pulled out a cigarette. She snapped her fingers for flame, and she lit the cigarette, smoking to dispel the horrid odor.

  Are we passing a graveyard?

  Outside, the lush calm of the countryside bled into downed tree limbs and fire-scarred land burnt black. Some structures stood stark against the blackened earth. Recent hollows and hovels dotted the landscape. Upbeat music wafted in, faint at first, but growing louder the closer they got to their destination. Ahead, the road narrowed so only one carriage could fit. If another one approached, someone would have to back up.

  “I bet no one here could afford a horse, let alone a carriage,” Prentice said to herself.

  The carriage stopped, and James’s clamor to get down announced their arrival.

  “Where are we?” she asked once she cleared the steps.

  “This is Dale’s Chicken Coop. This is the busiest one.” James gestured to the square single-story house about fifty feet away. Music poured out, along with laughter and a few joyful shrieks. Surrounded on all sides by dirt-packed land and wire, the coop looked like a place hawks avoided or else ended up on the menu.

  Prentice blew out a stream of smoke. “What was that terrible smell on the way here?”

  James stared at her for a few moments. Then, “Oh! You said terrible smell. Forgive me. I was eating my lunch on the way over.”