The Preening Peacock - A Rosalinda Alameda Mystery Page 2

parents came to Massachusetts with her when she was ten.”

  Kayla flashed white teeth. “I try to go back when I can. There’s just something about life on an island.”

  Rosalinda nodded. “My mother is still back home, living in the same house I grew up in.”

  Sarah ran a hand through her short hair. “So what happened with the chicks you found?”

  Rosalinda smiled, thinking back. “They were the cutest things I’d ever seen. So I decided to raise them myself. Before we knew it, they were fully grown adults and as tame as pets. When I’d go outside they’d fly right down to my finger. And as they mated and had families of their own, the kids followed suit. It was an idyllic childhood.”

  She grinned. “I became obsessed with the idea of becoming a vet. I hadn’t paid much attention to school before that, but now I lived, breathed, and slept my studies. I even earned a full scholarship to UMass-Amherst. So that’s how I ended up here.”

  Kayla’s eyes shone. “Wow, your parents must have been proud!”

  Rosalinda nodded. “I was the first one in the family destined to earn a college degree.”

  Shadows swirled in on her at what had instead come next.

  With well-practiced effort she shook the clouds away. She drew up the phone and brought her smile back to her lips. “So now, let’s see what is going on with these peacocks of yours.”

  She held up the phone and brought up its gallery. With a few finger-flicks she’d zoomed in on the image of the blue-purple toes. Her brow creased. “It’s strange. I’d almost say –”

  A crew-cut man in his late twenties strode into the clearing, his eyes flashing. He wore a zoo staff shirt and brown khakis. “What is going on here? Sarah, Kayla, are you letting a guest near our animals?”

  Sarah’s pale cheeks turned vibrant pink. Kayla spoke up. “The peacocks are free roaming, Mark. She didn’t even touch the peacock. Just took a few photos of it. And, besides, if you’d look –”

  His own phone came out of his pocket, and he punched a few buttons before bringing it to his ear. “Christian? It’s Mark. Sarah and Kayla are causing trouble again. By the cockatoo cage.” He paused a moment. “All right, we’ll wait for you.”

  He hung up and glared at Kayla and Sarah.

  Rosalinda knew that look well. She had received it often enough from her own mama, usually before a tirade the volume of a roaring lion filled the house. Even now, decades later, Rosalinda knew better than to upset her mama. The woman still had a powerful set of lungs on her and wasn’t afraid to use them.

  Rosalinda turned to Kayla and Sarah in remorse. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  Sarah patted her on the arm. Her short hair bounced as she shook her head. “Not to worry. We’ll be quite fine. I’m sure Christian will understand once we explain.”

  A gruff voice sounded behind them. “Explain what?”

  Rosalinda turned.

  She blinked.

  A man stood before them, hands on his hips. Mid-fifties. Toned shape. The mirror image of Ricky Martin, if Ricky’s hair had been sprinkled with a bit more grey. His zoo staff uniform matched Mark’s. His dark eyes flashed with displeasure as they swept across the three women.

  At his side, Mark beamed with satisfaction. “I told you. I told you those two would be trouble. This time they were poking around the peacocks. You should get them thrown off the team.” He snorted. “And they think they can get into Tufts for their graduate degrees.”

  Sarah’s pale blue eyes shone with annoyance. She turned to Christian. “It wasn’t like that at all. We just –”

  Kayla words tumbled on top, her dreadlocks swaying with her emotion. “It’s just that we saw the peacocks’ nails were blue-purple. We were going to report it tonight, just as we’re supposed to. Then this kind elderly lady here –”

  Rosalinda flushed. She knew most youngsters weren’t good with judging age, but elderly?

  She crossed her arms before her ample bosom. “My name is Rosalinda Alameda and I’m only fifty. Hardly ready for a nursing home!” She rounded on Christian. “I work at a vet’s office in Shrewsbury. We specialize in birds. I simply asked to take a look at the peacocks’ toes, out of curiosity.”

  Christian’s sharp eyes held hers. “A vet’s office? Are you a vet?”

  Rosalinda’s face heated with shame. She knew she should be proud to work as a receptionist. She took her job quite seriously and was continually praised by the clients for her skill. She had helped many frantic owners both over the phone and in person in the waiting area, when the doctors were handling other emergencies and couldn’t get to the issue right away.

  Rosalinda wrapped her arms around herself. But she had wanted to be a vet. Dreamed it. Prayed for it. Worked for it with every ounce of her being.

  Then, freshman year at college, she met Luis.

  Ah, Luis. The most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, she still remembered the way her stomach fluttered whenever she saw him. Within days he had charmed her completely off her feet. In a month he had convinced her to drop out of school, marry him, and become a stay-at-home wife.

  He said he would take care of everything.

  Christian’s voice shook her back to the present. “Rosalinda? So, are you a vet?”

  The darkness swirled around her. “No, I’m not. I’m … I’m a receptionist.”

  Mark’s laugh held an edge. “And you’re trying to diagnose our peacocks?” He rounded on Christian. “See, I told you. They need to be escorted from the grounds. All three of them.”

  Rosalinda’s spine steeled. It was one thing for them to cause trouble for her. She’d shouldered her share of challenges and could take whatever they sent at her. But not the two sweet girls who had only meant to help.

  She snapped, “The peacocks forage. They eat insects, lizards, berries, you name it. I think in this case the peacocks were fed grapes. Probably Concord.”

  Christian’s brow creased. “Concord?”

  Rosalinda nodded. “Concord. Vitis labrusca. My mom used to grow them to make cheap wine.”

  “I know what concord grapes are,” he retorted. “Why would you think someone is feeding concord grapes to the peacocks? Maybe the birds are just finding them wild in the bushes. The daft birds eat everything they can jam into their mouths.”

  Rosalinda waved a hand. “Do you see any vines anywhere? I haven’t, and I’ve been all around this zoo a number of times.” She nudged her head toward the peacock. “Besides, it makes sense. It’s probably how someone drugged the birds.”

  Mark’s eyes bulged out of his head. “What in the world? Now someone is drugging the peacocks?” He rounded on Christian. “She’s certifiably crazy. Call security.”

  Christian reached for his phone.

  Rosalinda pointed a finger at the bird still sitting placidly on the roof of the cockatoo’s cage. “Look at her eyes.”

  Christian paused with his hand half-way to his pocket.

  Mark’s voice became shrill. “Get them dragged out of here!”

  Christian stepped forward to peer up at the bird. He blinked.

  “The peacock’s eyes are fully dilated. They’re nearly solid black.”

  Rosalinda nodded. “It’s one thing for them to be lethargic in this heat. Today’s as hot as my abuela’s kitchen in summertime. But the peacock’s behavior is more than just heat-dazzled. There’s something … vague about the way her eyes follow you. As if she’s not quite all there.”

  Christian took a step to his right, then another. He nodded.

  His voice was more tempered when he spoke again. “I concur. But why would someone drug the peacocks?”

  Mark’s voice held scorn. “Come on, Christian. You’re not actually taking the word of this senile, ancient, P.R. –”

  Christian’s gaze rounded on him, his eyes steely.

  Mark’s voice trailed off.

  Christian turned back to Rosalinda. “Rosalinda, what are your thoughts?”

  T
he sound of her name on his lips sent her blushing again, and this time it was not out of shame. She fought down her reaction with fierce effort. She had fallen for a handsome face once in her past, and it had brought her decades of misery. She had put aside all of her dreams, hopes, and aspirations to be with Luis. To be the perfect wife he wanted.

  Never again.

  She had vowed, that night she’d discovered him and his mistress in the back seat of his rusty Bronco, that she’d never be fooled again by a man’s smooth charm. She’d never be taken in by the handsome exterior which hid the morals of an alley cat. Better to live alone than to risk that kind of betrayal.

  Christian’s stunning brown eyes creased in concern. “Rosalinda? Are you all right?”

  With effort she drew her wayward thoughts into line. “Sorry, yes, I’m fine. I was just … well … right. The peacocks. Why would someone drug them?”

  She turned in place, looking around. “Well, the peacocks undoubtedly feel this is their domain. They can be fairly possessive about that sort of thing.” She held in a snort. Kayla and Sarah had said the same thing of Christian and Mark, and she could see now that the girls’ assessment had been spot on. “So the peacocks would act as an alarm system of sorts. If, for example, someone tried to sneak in here after hours, the peacocks would probably make quite a fuss. So, conceivably, a person might drug them to keep them quiet while they moved around the area.”

  Christian glanced around in disbelief. “But the only things here are the cockatoos and the aviary cage full of budgies. Why would anybody cause trouble for any of these birds? It just