“No can do. I’m going to spend the day tailing Bertie Robinson. I hope I catch him in sordid and depraved acts. Take Heathcliff with you – he might be able to get a coherent answer out of his friend Earl.”
Quoth shook his head so vigorously he nearly knocked the cup from my hands.
“I think we’ll try on our own first,” I said hurriedly, just as Heathcliff emerged from his room and loped into the kitchen.
“Coffee,” he muttered, reaching for the kettle. He dumped three teaspoons of instant coffee into his cup, then pulled a hip flask from his pocket and added a generous glug. Even Morrie raised an eyebrow.
Quoth launched himself off my shoulder and swooped from the room. Heathcliff didn’t look up. I hated that they were fighting.
“We need to talk.” I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm and dragged him into the living room. He slumped down in his chair and took a swig of coffee. “What is up with you?”
“I’m being falsely accused of a crime,” Heathcliff muttered into his drink.
“And we’re all trying to help with that. But you’ve been in a bad way ever since the calendar rolled over to December 1st. It’s not just Christmas carols and happy customers getting you down.”
“I’m a cantankerous hellion. That’s my nature,” he shot back.
“True. But this is different. You’re acting cagey – not wanting me to go in your room. Slamming the drawer of your desk shut before I could look inside. Shutting down when I try to ask you what’s wrong.”
“That’s becausenothing’swrong, except that you keep harassing me.” Heathcliff fixed his gaze on the corner of the room and sipped his coffee. The only clue that he still acknowledged my presence was the tension tugging at his shoulders.
“Fine.” I balled my hands into fists. I willed him to look at me, to meet my eyes and see that he was hurting me, to give a shit about the people who cared for him. But he didn’t look up from his drink.
Screw this.I spun on my heel and stomped down the stairs. Quoth fluttered down after me, settling on my shoulder as I dragged out the phone book to search for the number of the furniture store.I’m so angry at him,he raged inside my head.He has no right to treat you like that, especially when you’re trying to help him.
“Forget about him,” I said brightly, even though Heathcliff’s callous treatment still smarted. “We’ll go talk to Earl and get to the bottom of this. Then Heathcliff will see how much we care for him.”
Quoth remained silent. That was good, because I didn’t think I could handle him saying that he didn’t care about Heathcliff. I put in a call to the store, requesting a new desk to be delivered as soon as possible, then grabbed my gloves and beanie and pushed my way out the front door, bracing myself against the biting cold. Honestly, with the draft turning the shop into an Antarctic blizzard, it wasn’t much worse outside.
“Good morning, Mina!” Mrs. Ellis waved at me from across the street. Her granddaughter Jonie huddled under a giant umbrella covered in yellow smiley faces. “Jonie and I are going out for hot chocolate. Do you want to join us?”
“Not right now, I’m afraid. I’ve got a few chores to do.”
Jonie’s eyes widened as she stared at Quoth. I noticed she had some bits of tinsel stuck in her hair.That damn stuff gets everywhere.“Does your bird just sit on your shoulder like that all day? He doesn’t fly away?”
“He could fly away if he wants to,” I smiled. Jonie looked to be in a much better mood than the last time I met her. Maybe the Christmas market had done wonders for her mood. “Quoth is my friend. I don’t want to force my friend to stay with me. I want him to stay because he enjoys my company.”
Her eyes widened even further. “Can I feed him?”
“Sure. I’ve got some fruit right here…” I reached into my purse, but Jonie dug her hand in her pocket and came up with a handful of birdseed. She held her hand flat and Quoth bent down to gingerly pick the seed from between her fingers.
“Jonie’s always got treats on her for animals,” Mrs. Ellis smiled. “Her other pocket is filled with doggy biscuits. Deirdre won’t let her out of the house until she’s thrown the food away, but I think it’s good for a child to have interests.”
“He’s so gentle,” Jonie whispered. Behind all that resentment, I could see a true animal lover.
“He is. He’s also very intelligent. Some scholars believe ravens have the intellectual abilities of a three-year-old child.”
“Croak.” Quoth stopped eating to shoot me a filthy look.
I rubbed his head. “Sorry, I meant a four-year-old child.”
Jonie’s smile could have brightened even Heathcliff. “I wish my mum would let me have a bird. But she’d want it in a cage all the time, and I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Croak,” Quoth agreed.
“Do you really want a pet bird?” I asked. “They’re really cool, but they can’t give you hugs or snuggle at the end of your bed.”
I resent that. I give excellent hugs.
