Death Shoots a Birdie Read Free Page A

Museum-sponsored trip collected a night parrot carcass from the side of the road near Bouilia. The hunt was on.
    Saxby flew down with a small contingent, but failed to document the species on film. He did, however, find another carcass in a low chinapod shrub, and succeeded in winning the Bouilia Desert Sands Camel Race. He even provided stunning images of himself crossing the finish line in first place—a small consolation to the University of Georgia for the thousands of dollars spent.
    “There you two are,” called Dorothy MacBean from the top of the stairs. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”
    Her sister, Cecilia, traipsed down the stairs behind her. “Are we ready to go?”
    “More than, ” said Lark, flapping her flannel-clad arms against the muggy, Georgia heat. Her face shone a deep, cherry red, and Rachel experienced a pang of guilt for keeping her out in the heat.
    Rachel pulled Lark to her feet and steered her toward the car. “We need to get you into some air conditioning. Plus I didn’t tell you what we saw.”
    “What?” demanded Dorothy.
    Cecilia fixated on the “we.”
    “You and who else?” she asked, looking at Lark.
    “Rachel and Guy Saxby.”
    “ The Guy Saxby?” blurted the sisters in unison.
    Rachel stifled a laugh. She was reminded of The Patty Duke Show theme song—“They look alike, they walk alike, at times they even talk alike. You could lose your mind . . .” Except for the fact that Dorothy’s favorite color was pink while Cecilia’s was blue, they wore the same stylish clothes, had the same pale skin, the same gray-colored eyes, and the same ash-blonde perm, with a youthfulness that belied their sixty-plus years.
    “You are aware that he is an eligible bachelor,” said Cecilia, elbowing her sister.
    “Don’t even start.” Dorothy held her fingers up in the sign of the cross.
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Cecilia, feigning innocence. She had been trying to fix up her sister for years. Or, for that matter, anyone else who was single.
    Rachel raised her own palms in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I’m already taken.”
    “Count me out, too,” said Lark. She was practically engaged to Eric Linenger.
    “Well you girls might be spoken for, but I know one of us who’s eligible.” Cecilia eyeballed her sister.
    In truth, thought Rachel, they were both single. Dorothy had never been married, and Cecilia had been widowed for nearly forty-five years.
    As if reading her mind, Dorothy waggled two fingers in Cecilia’s face.
    “I was married.”
    Dorothy smirked at her sister. “And I’ve had lovers. It doesn’t count.”
    Like a guppy out of water, Cecilia opened and shut her mouth several times until finally she blurted out, “Well, I’ve seen Saxby’s picture, and I think he’s cute. He would be perfect for you.”
    “Grow up, Cec.”
    “Don’t tell me you don’t agree, Dot. He’s a real . . . what’s that term you use, girls?” She looked to Rachel and Lark. “A real ‘piece of eye candy.’ ”
    “That would be my aunt Miriam’s expression,” said Rachel.
    Cecilia shrugged, linking elbows with her sister. “Come on, admit it. Say you’re interested.”
    Dorothy yanked her arm free. “He’s too young for me. I probably have ten years on the man.”
    “Eight,” said Cecilia.
    “Besides, I’ve never even met him.”
    “We can remedy that.” Cecilia beamed at Rachel. “She knows him.”
    Judging by Dorothy’s expression, Rachel decided it was time for intervention. “Enough already, do you guys want to hear about what we saw or not?”
    “We do,” replied Dorothy and Lark in unison.
    Rachel pointed to the birds on the feeder and recounted the challenge, the battle, and her blunder. When she was done, the four of them stood for a moment and admired the victor.
    “Saxby was right,” said Cecilia. “You should never have intervened.”
    “It’s okay, dear,” said Dorothy. She tipped her head and smiled