Hoodwinked Read Free Page A

introverted. She waited forother people to make the first move. But no one ever had. And that was too bad, she thought sadly, because the inner Maureen was as vivacious as Auntie Mame, as outrageous and outgoing as any comedienne, as sexy as a movie star. But she couldn’t get out of Maureen’s mind to tell people that she was. The reckless, devil-may-care person inside her needed only a catalyst to bring her out, but there had never been one. She dreamed of doing exciting things, and she admired people like the absent Mr. MacFaber who weren’t afraid to really live their lives. But Maureen was a slow starter. In fact, she’d never really started anything, except her job.
    She put on jeans and a T-shirt, brushed out her long, dark hair and went barefoot into the kitchen to cook herself a hamburger. On the way she almost tripped over Bagwell, who’d let himself out of his cage and was having a ball with her measuring spoons.
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, what are you doing down there?” she fussed, bending over. “Did I forget to put the lock on the cage again?”
    â€œHello,” the big green Amazon parrot purred up at her, spreading his wings in a flirting welcome. “How are you-u-u-u?”
    â€œI’m fine, thank you.” She extended an arm and let him climb on, pausing to pick up his spoons and put him and them back into the big brass-toned cage he occupied most of the day. “I’ll let you out again when I’m through cooking. You’ll singe your wings on the stove if you come too close.”
    â€œBad girl,” Bagwell muttered, running along his perch with the spoons in his big beak. He was a yellow-naped Amazon, almost seven years old, andextremely precocious. Her parents had brought him back from a Florida vacation one year and had quickly learned that Amazon parrots were very loud. They’d given him to Maureen two years ago for company and protection, and so far he’d done well providing both. The one man she’d invited over for supper had barely escaped with all his fingers. He hadn’t come back.
    â€œYou’re ruining my social life,” Maureen told the big green bird with a glare. “Thanks to you, I’ll never get a roommate.”
    â€œI love you,” he said, and made a purring parroty noise behind it.
    â€œFlirt,” she accused. She smiled, cooking her hamburger. She was using an iron pan, not her usual coated cookware. There had been an article in some bird magazine that warned bird owners about using nonstick cookware; it had said that the fumes could kill a bird. So now she cooked in enamel or iron pans. It was much messier, but safe for Bagwell.
    â€œHow about a carrot, Bagwell?” she asked the parrot.
    â€œCarrot! Carrot!” he echoed.
    She got him one out of the crisper and heated it just to room temperature in the microwave before she put it in his food dish. He took half of it in his claw and stood eating it contentedly.
    â€œYou’re company, at least.” She sighed, turning the hamburger one last time before taking it up. “I’m glad you’re good for seventy years or so, Bagwell. If I can’t have a husband, at least I’ve got you.”
    Bagwell glanced at her with green disinterest and went back to chewing his carrot.
    There was a commotion out front followed by a yelling voice giving instructions. It was usually a quiet neighborhood, but that was an ominous sound. Maureen left Bagwell and went into the living room to peep out from behind the curtain. Two men were at the other half of her duplex, the one that had remained unoccupied for the past six weeks since the music lover had moved out. People tended to come and go there, because the man who owned the other half of the duplex traveled and rented it out. The last occupant had been a hard-rock fan, and Maureen hadn’t been sorry to see him leave. But now she was wondering who would take his place.
    She