Kill Three Birds Read online

  Beside Prentice, Balthazar declared, “You can stay there until you find your feet.”

  The dove released Carno, who slumped into the chair Prentice had vacated. Balthazar turned his attention to the parents and those gathered behind them. It looked like the whole Finch clan.

  “Bel, Ollie, I know this is difficult, but the Hawk has her work to do. We cannot have these types of accusations and demands. She’s working as fast as she can.” Balthazar wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Forgive him. This is a gut-wrenching time for our family,” Bella Finch said. Behind her, the others murmured in agreement. “Carno is anxious.”

  Balthazar studied their faces, moving his gaze from one to the other.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I assure you I am working as fast as I can to resolve this,” Prentice interjected.

  “Thank you.” Bella cut her eyes to Carno. She started for the chair and collected her son. She hoisted him to his feet and threw one of his arms around her neck. “We’ll see you again.”

  With that, she and the other Finch family members walked away, a human sea around their lone island, Carno.

  She had a fluttering in her feathers about Carno Finch.

  Once the Finches were out of earshot, Prentice turned to Balthazar. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He stared after the Finches. “We have to go. Let’s not be late to our appointment.”

  “What are you hiding?” Prentice asked again.

  Balthazar looked at her at last. “Not here. Come. The carriage is waiting.”

  Chapter Five

  As soon as the carriage door closed, Prentice said, “Sing, Dove.”

  Balthazar sighed, leaning back into the seat, and crossing his arms over his chest. “For years I’ve had grave concerns about Carno Finch. He’s the oldest of Bella and Oliver’s children, and the only male.”

  “What kind of concerns?” Prentice took out her pad and pencil.

  Balthazar squirmed in his seat before answering. “He spent a lot of time pouring scorn over Gretchen. She, being the oldest daughter, sat high on a pedestal. He felt she should be a model for the others. At first, I thought his devotion to the goddess’s teaching drove his concerns and actions, which Gretchen had rejected.”

  “And now?”

  Balthazar shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Prentice left it alone. Family bonds could build up a person or destroy them completely. Could Carno beat his own sister to death?

  . But did he?

  She turned her attention to the landscape outside her window. This trip took them west.

  They traveled near the Sugar River banks. In the surrounding wooded area, a rectangular cabin home appeared in the distance. Its chimney puffed out sweet-smelling smoke, and its rear greenhouse was fogged over. As the carriage approached, the front door opened and out walked a tall woman draped in black, but with a white apron. She put her hands in the apron’s front pockets. A pipe was clasped between her lips.

  “A Raven,” Prentice noted.

  “Yes. Despite living in the outer shell, she treats most of the egg’s nesters,” Balthazar said.

  The tension went with them as they climbed out of the carriage. Balthazar greeted the woman. Now closer, Prentice made out the long braids tied back in one big plait and secured with a black ribbon. She had bright, wide gray eyes and a full mouth.

  “I am Dr. Little, and you are three minutes late.”

  “My apologies. We had an incident at the church,” Balthazar said gently. He bowed in greeting to her, and then indicated Prentice. “This is the hawk I spoke about on the call.”

  “Prentice Tasifa.” Prentice bowed as Balthazar had done. It felt strange, bowing to a raven, but each egg had their own customs. As the saying goes, when in Lanham, do as they do.

  “Yes, well, come,” Dr. Little remarked and went inside.

  Prentice and Balthazar followed the woman through her living room and well-stocked study into a rear room where she saw patients. In this space, medical charts and 3-D models covered the shelves and walls. The consulting room contained an exam table, medical instruments, and other paraphernalia.

  On one of the walls, Dr. Little had images of Gretchen Finch. Hand drawn, the images indicated damage done to her body. With a ruler, the doctor pointed to two chairs.

  “Please. Sit.”

  They did as instructed.

  “Dove Balthazar, you asked me to review the body of one Gretchen Finch. I have done so, and here are my results. I have released the body to the vultures for funeral arrangements and burial. You may want to touch base with the family.”

  Balthazar nodded.

  “Let us begin. Gretchen Finch died as a result of a severe beating. The blunt object is consistent with a hammer or something similar. The first blow didn’t kill her, but the next thirty or so strikes did.” Dr. Little pointed to the picture where scarlet red Xs indicated where Gretchen had been struck. She spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. In between words, she would puff her pipe.

  “She was pummeled to death,” Balthazar whispered.

  “She fought back. She had defensive wounds on her hands,” Prentice pointed out.

  “Yes, she did. What you did not see, Hawk Tasifa, is this.” Dr. Little held up a small broken nail in a glass jar. “I discovered it in her hair.”

  “Hers or the killer’s?” Prentice asked. She ignored the raven’s attempt to mock her abilities. In the rush of fresh blood and death, Prentice had overlooked the clue.

  Dr. Little puffed. “Gretchen’s nails were painted a bright purple. It is possible the assailant, during the course of striking her, lost a nail.”

  “Is there anything more you can tell us about her injuries?” Balthazar asked.

  “Gretchen Finch was active, sexually, prior to her death.”

  “Rape?” Balthazar croaked. The idea horrified him. He became ashen beneath his usually warm brown skin.

  Again, Dr. Little shook her head. “No, it did not appear so.”

  Prentice knew who Gretchen had been intimate with and, from the conversations with Dale and Darlene, knew she had been an active lover. But did Boris kill her?

  She crossed her arms. The slaying did look personal. Someone clearly had hated Gretchen. The level of violence spoke to a connection to her. Strangers didn’t devote this kind of time or energy to killing people.

  Now that she had clarity on how Gretchen died, Prentice would look harder at Gretchen’s family and friends. She’d already spoken to Carlita Starbuck, but she needed to find Boris and Brian. They’d been to the scene; their footprints put them there. She was sure they were theirs.

  “We ravens have a saying. The blood does not rest until the killer is found,” Dr. Little said around the pipe clutched in her teeth.

  “Thank you for your time.” Balthazar stood up and bowed.

  “I shall send the bill to you,” Dr. Little answered, one hand in her pocket, the other holding her pipe.

  “Yes.”

  “It was nice to meet you.” Prentice bowed as well and followed Balthazar out of the consulting room. She paused at the exam room door. “May I hold on to the fingernail?”

  “I have no need for it.” Dr. Little handed the glass bottle to Prentice.

  “Thank you.” Prentice placed it in one of her pouches. A clue.

  She and Balthazar didn’t speak until they were back inside the carriage.

  “So?” Balthazar said.

  “I want to speak to the Finch family. I also need to find Gretchen’s lover, Boris, and his brother, Brian. Both are roosters.”

  “Roosters!” Balthazar rolled his eyes.

  “Yes. Gretchen had an on-going relationship with a rooster named Boris. I need to find them and talk to them. Get the Eagles to search for them and bring them to the church. In the meantime, I want to talk to the Finches.”

  “I did schedule time with them for interviews tomorrow, but I can check to see if they’re available
today,” Balthazar said, his face a mask. He leaned in closer to Prentice. “A rooster?”

  “Why is that so difficult to believe, Dove?” Prentice peered at him.

  His hesitation surprised her. Balthazar welcomed the assistance of a raven, but he couldn’t believe one of his flock could be in love with a rooster, a group that resided in the outer shell.

  “It isn’t difficult to believe.” He sat back and crossed his arms.

  “But…”

  Balthazar gazed out the window. “But, something Carno said months ago. He said he’d kill his sisters rather than see them lose salvation with the goddess.”

  “The goddess has no teachings about dating or being sexually active,” Prentice remarked.

  “That’s just it. She doesn’t. I counseled Carno on his interpretation of the goddess’s teachings, especially around love for all and peace. I tried to get him to see that the others, living in the outer shell, are still birds. We are one large flock. The kingdom of Aves thrives on its diversity. He refused, remaining staunch in his beliefs that those who don’t follow the goddess’s strict teachings were damned and unclean. Dirty birds, if you will. Foolishness, encouraged by his grandmother, if I am honest here. The Finches are a proud family.”

  “Gretchen’s antics no doubt shamed them.” Prentice recalled how fast the family had come to Carno’s defense at lunch.

  Balthazar shrugged. “At first, no more than any other Finch tossing off the reins to rebel…”

  “But then…”

  He squirmed. This line of questioning didn’t sit well with the dove.

  “Gretchen wouldn’t heed her parents. Obedience is a pillar of the goddess’s teaching, and Gretchen would have none of it. I tried to counsel her as well, but she would either avoid me, skip our meetings to go off to the crows, or simply sulk the entire time. She cackled during prayer and shrieked during choir.”

  He stopped abruptly as if he’d said too much.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Prentice pounded the seat with her fist.

  “I told you she was rebellious. Her antics at church had no bearing on her death.” Balthazar looked back at her.

  “That was for me to determine, Dove. It’s entirely possible Carno killed his sister.”

  He agreed. “I understand that now.”

  From his reaction, she knew. Balthazar had suspected Carno, too. “Yes. Did Carno know about Boris courting his sister?”

  “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask him. He didn’t tell me about any of that. I could never determine the source of his animus—except he detested her behavior and the effect he thought it would have on his younger sisters.”

  “You found none of this disturbing?” Prentice asked.

  Balthazar swallowed hard. He seemed fragile. “It was no different than the antics of others her age. Over the years, there has always been one or two who buck against the yoke. We counsel them and let them blow off the steam until they return to the fold. They always return. I suspected Gretchen would be no different.”

  “Now you’ll never get the chance to find out.” Prentice plopped back in her seat.

  The unspoken accusation hung in the air.

  She glared at the dove across from her. Why hadn’t he shared this information sooner? She could’ve been looking at the family a lot earlier in her investigation. Though, she had to admit, her training taught her to check with those closest to the victim and work her way out. She’d allowed herself to be caught up in suspicion of those in the outer shell, crows and roosters, thinking the worst of them, rather than adhering to her training.

  “I’m sorry,” Prentice said.

  “No, no. I allowed my association with the Finches to blind me to how far some of them have wandered from the path,” Balthazar said with a sigh. He rubbed his face, as if ridding it of disgust. His eyes lifted out to the distance.

  “We all have our blockers.” Prentice took out a cigarette.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Prentice and Balthazar arrived at the church, the sun had dipped low on the horizon. So did the temperature. Early spring daylight brought much missed warmth and sunshine, but once it left, the chill from the elevation swept through, reminding all that here, cold dominated.

  Prentice shuddered and hunched back into her cloak’s folds. Lanham, the capital of Aves and home to the Order, lay farther south, closer to the hotter parts of the kingdom. Her home egg was located even farther south than Lanham. She didn’t agree with these cooler temperatures.

  Balthazar chuckled at her discomfort. “Once we get inside, I’ll make you some tea. It will warm you.”

  Prentice nodded her agreement, and the two hurried toward the dove’s office. Most of the church and its courtyards had been emptied. People went home for dinner. Lanterns had been lit throughout the grounds, casting shadows and light into the growing dark. A stark contrast to the boisterous but respectful gathering for earlier lunch, those same grounds that had bubbled with joy now lay in hushed quiet.

  In the dove office, Balthazar busied himself with making tea. Prentice rubbed her hands together to chase away the chill. Her stomach grumbled about food, and she ignored it. She had more pressing matters. For starters, the broken fingernail that rattled in its glass jar. That had to come from the killer during their fight with Gretchen.

  “Here we go,” Balthazar said as he roused her from her musings.

  She accepted the steaming mug and inhaled the aroma of lavender and chamomile. Hints of cinnamon hit her nose a few seconds later. Balthazar fanned the flames to encourage them.

  “It’s nippy tonight.”

  “It is,” Prentice agreed.

  “Would you like milk? I do have a little bit here.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Come over here and sit. The desk is so formal.”

  Balthazar sat down in an overstuffed reading chair positioned on a Lanham-crafted rug in front of the stone fireplace. This tiny section of his office had been carved out as a miniature study. The chair, along with a matching partner, were positioned with two floor-to-ceiling bookcases behind them. A tiny table rested between the chairs where they faced the fire.

  Prentice joined him in the study.

  They sat in silence, watching the fire consume the logs. Balthazar sipped, his legs crossed, his eyes latched on to the dancing flames. Prentice wanted to talk to the Finches.

  “I noticed you haven’t touched your tea, again. I have something stronger, if that’s more to your liking.” Balthazar broke the quiet.

  “I’m waiting for it to cool.” She sat the teacup down on the table.

  “I can see you are frustrated by something. Go ahead and ask your question.”

  “I want to meet with the Finches. Tonight.”

  “It’s dinner time…”

  He paused, seeing the expression on her face. “I will call them and see if they’re open to you coming over.”

  “You could mention how Carno didn’t want me sitting on my arse.”

  Balthazar groaned and stood up. He walked over to his desk, removed a caller, and blew into it. It squawked, and a bubble appeared, hovering in front of him. It filled with fog and squawked again. He put his hands on his hips and cast a weary glance at Prentice.

  “Some birds are eating now,” he said, more than a little bit irritated.

  Prentice shrugged. “At least we can say we tried.”

  Just before Balthazar moved to cancel the call, Bella Finch’s face appeared in the bubble.

  “Hoot, Dove. Is everything okay?”

  “Hoot, Bel. Yes, I apologize for the hour. Hawk Tasifa would like to come by tonight to talk to the family. If that’s okay.”

  Bella Finch gaped at Balthazar. After several blinks, she managed, “What?”

  Balthazar’s mouth became a fine line.

  Voices erupted behind her, and Bella turned away. From her position, Prentice couldn’t quite make out the source of the commotion, but she heard Bella murmur hot, fa
st words.

  “Sure. If the hawk needs to talk to us, and it cannot wait until tomorrow, we will receive her at seven.”

  Balthazar glanced at Prentice, before looking back to Bella. “That’s fine. She will see you then.”

  He blew into the caller, and the bubble dissipated. Once he replaced the caller on his desk, he returned to his seat and picked up his teacup. A clock sat on one of the bookshelves. It gave the time as 6:12.

  “Thank you. These things are never easy.” Prentice stood up.

  “They are grieving. Could it not wait until tomorrow for you go interrogating them?” Balthazar snapped.

  “The sooner I can bring a close to this investigation, the sooner they can process all that grief, instead of it lurking beneath the polished veneer of coping.” Prentice left the office, leaving the dove to stew in his own anger.

  She would untangle the twisted series of events that had befallen Gould. The other two deaths, possibly people who lived outside the egg in the outer shell, had flocks too. Someone missed them, but why hadn’t those people come forward?

  She shuddered and stopped once she reached the church’s carriage lot. “Damn it. James has retired for the night.”

  The Finches lived in the egg. How hard could it be to find their home? She stretched her wings. She’d just have to fly over to them. The Finches would have the largest home in the neighborhood. If she knocked on the wrong door, someone would point her in the right direction. A close-knit community like Gould, everyone knew their neighbors.

  Prentice adjusted her hood, securing it beneath her chin. She closed her eyes, and when they opened, she summoned her hawk vision. The landscape stretched, smearing until the joining of her human vision and hawk stabilized, and she could see all the perspectives—ahead, beside, and below. With a running start, she leapt into the air, flapping her wings, allowing her momentum to launch her body upward.

  The cold made her wings stiff, but she forced them to work. Grunting against the goddess-forsaken chill, she huffed until she caught the wind and could soar a bit. Once she reached cruising elevation, she searched below for the Finches’ home. Below, houses dotted the landscape, chimneys puffing out white pillows of smoke. The Sugar River cut a serene path through Gould. That river provided water for the drier areas of Aves. It didn’t just stop in Gould. The Adams Mountains’ ice-capped tops provided almost all the water for the Aves Kingdom via a series of rivers and tributaries.