“So you aren’t holdinga headless waterfowl statue?” I asked, as I strolled over to Crow.
Ryder was on his phone again. He thought he was being quiet, but I heard, “cheese master” and “complaint.”
“Delaney. Boo-boo. Have I told you how lovely you look lately?” Crow was full-blood Siletz, his short hair heavy and black, his eyes full of mischief. He had been an uncle to me all my life.
“What’s up with the bird?”
“I think someone is hunting me,” he said.
“Is it Mrs. Yates? Because apparently you have beheaded her famous penguin statue, and she’s gonna kill you for stealing her cash cow to fame?”
“This isn’t her penguin.” He held up the body, then dug around in the messenger bag slung below his hip. “This is one of the spares I made. I mean one of the statues I kept when you made me clean up that penguin mess that had absolutely nothing to do with me, and it was unfair of you to make me clean up so many concrete penguins, by the way. I didn’t put them in her yard. I’ve told you that, right? I’m innocent?”
“You’ve been telling me you’re innocent since I was five and caught you eating the center piece you’d cut out of the brownie pan.”
“That was the best piece.”
“The brownies weren’t for you, Crow.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong about that.”
“No, the brownies were a housewarming gift Dad was going to take over to the Persons when they moved in. I remember because I wanted a piece of brownie and couldn’t have one.”
“I offered you a bite.”
“I know.”
“I offered you half if you wouldn’t snitch.”
“I know.”
“You ratted me out to your dad.”
“And you had to bake a new batch of brownies. Pretty sure that’s when I decided to become a police officer. Dad gave me and Myra and Jean the pan of brownies you’d defiled.”
“Including the center piece,” he said. Then he half bent, not a bow, but leaning in like he was sharing a secret. “You’re welcome.”
I scoffed. “You did not do that so we girls could get a pan of brownies.”
“Didn’t I?”
I wouldn’t put it past him. Crow always had some kind of scheme going. He was a trickster god, and even though he was on vacation, there was only so long he could go before he was up to his ass in trouble.
“You just wanted to mess with my dad. The brownies were a means to an end.”
“I was always surprised at what little thing finally got to him.” He grinned, and lines spread away from the corners of his eyes.
He was trouble, but it was usually happy trouble.
“So what’s up with the statue?” I asked.
“It was left on my doorstep.”
“In a box?” Myra asked, coming up to us.
Ryder had taken his call back down the hall toward the storage room, ignoring us completely.
“No box. I was going to open the shop early. See if I could get some of those sweet tourist bucks. Talent show’s day after tomorrow, you know.”
