Cheap Trills, page 18
It was still locked and my hair was still in place. I unfolded the Tampax box, put the babies and the egg back in the steamer, and took another shower. After I’d put my dress back on, I threw the clothes I’d been wearing as far as I could get them into the underbrush. A flock of birds headed right toward them.
I checked on my own chicks again. The fourth egg had broken with no chick inside. I had to stop myself from sobbing. What kind of mother was I? Just then, my phone rang.
“Parking lot.”
“What company are you with, sir?”
He sighed. “Heep. Heep Transport.”
I double-checked the room, looked under every piece of furniture, shook the covers, and checked the drawers. I gathered my bag and carry-on and exited the patio door.
I was nervous I couldn’t get to the parking lot unseen, but for once, there was no one there. Then, I saw Bunty walking toward me.
Chapter Forty-two
The old, animal trafficking Bunty. I wanted to run, but to where? So I froze as the bad shorts, balding pate, and oversized, ski-jump nose came toward me. I couldn’t hit him with my purse, the chicks were in there. I reached for my pepper spray, then stopped as he got closer. This man didn’t have a prosthetic leg. In fact, he was as bowlegged as William Peterson in To Live and Die in LA.
Hazelnut.
I grinned. “How’s Howard?”
“Still only functionally extinct.”
“Let’s keep it that way. And what’s with the outfit?”
“If he’s going to steal my identity, I’m going to steal his.” He held out his hand. “Bunty Barsky at your service.”
“Well, at least I can call you something now instead of ‘Hey, you!’”
He shrugged toward a helicopter, which looked like Scott’s. It was. My heart did a little leap. He waved from the cockpit.
I turned to Hazelnut. “You and Scott know each other?”
“I hired him for the day for something else. He didn’t seem to mind coming here.” He raised his eyebrows. “You know Claymore is having a baby with his old girlfriend, right?”
I almost crumpled to the pavement. “No. That can’t be right. He can’t be. He asked me to meet him in Paris next month.” Hazelnut shrugged. Oh God. A woman had answered his phone. Would he ever, ever be straight with me? About anything? And I had turned down Scott for him. Some vacation this was turning out to be. I looked at my watch. I was on a mealworm deadline.
“Let’s go.”
Hazelnut looked back at the resort. I turned, too, and saw the suited group gathered in front of the main building. Hazelnut hurried me toward the chopper.
“Hey! Slow down! I have precious cargo. These poor things,” I said, “they aren’t even five hours old. Are they going to survive the shaking this thing is going to do?”
“The road would be worse. And takes a lot longer. Let’s get in and we’ll figure it out.”
He helped me up. There was Scott, grinning. “Of all the choppers in all the resorts in all the world, you climb into mine.”
I blushed. Hazelnut rolled his eyes.
“Enough with the Romeo stuff, we have a physics problem.” He turned to Scott. “Find me a bike helmet.”
“You know I’m a certified pilot, right?”
“They aren’t for us.”
Scott nodded, jumped down and ran toward the hotel.
Hazelnut leaned in. “Can I see them?”
I opened the Balenciaga and lifted the steamer out of the inflatable neck pillow I’d been using to try to keep them padded and still. I eased the container open. They started to trill. They were alive. All three of them. I had placed lots of fabric and cotton pads around them along with mini pads and a hand towel from the hotel bathroom. One of them was still on his tiny back, flailing a little. Hazelnut righted him with the gentlest touch, ever. He looked up at me. “You’re not really supposed to touch them, but I couldn’t leave him like that.”
“I would have done the same thing.”
He surveyed the setup. “Not bad, AntiChristine. Not bad.”
He reached into his own duffel and pulled out what looked like a World War Two helmet. “These are made to withstand a lot,” he said. “If we can put them in a bike helmet, inside this, with the padding you already have, they might be okay.”
“Might is not good enough.”
He looked back at the resort. “There aren’t going to be any birds if we don’t get a head start. We’re just going to have to do our best. You know this creature-saving thing is not for the faint of heart?”
I looked back and saw the two poachers from this morning, in ranger gear. Talking to Bunty and Peggy. They started toward our chopper just as Scott hopped in with two bike helmets.
“Get us up,” Hazelnut yelled, taking the bike helmets. We did everything we could to create an unshakeable pod for our trio as Scott started the rotors. Hazelnut got into the jump seat.
Scott turned to me. “What’s going on?”
“Just act like we’re carrying nitroglycerin,” I said.
“Wages of Fear. Got it.”
At least Tupperware was unsquishable. I loosened the seat and shoulder belt a little and put the helmet pod under it, then held it to my chest. The poachers were running toward us. And then, with a soul-shuddering jerk, we were up and over the trees.
“Nice try, you avian thieving bastards,” Hazelnut said, as we headed east.
• • •
Scott and Hazelnut were talking through the headsets. I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear the chicks either. God, I hoped they were okay.
We lowered quickly at one point, way too close to a volcano for my comfort.
Scott grinned. “Just avoiding some turbulence ’cause of, you know, the nitro.”
I smiled at him and my stomach went all wobbly. Thank goodness it was a short trip. Eventually, we landed on the hotel helipad we’d used before. I could see another helicopter on the edge of the helipad, and tons of scooters and Kijangs in the distance. Scott headed for the paved parking lot and landed there.
I was going to lose another pair of shoes to the tarmac. I couldn’t let Scott do a fireman’s carry this time. I might drop the chicks. And I would never hear the end of it from Hazelnut.
By some miracle, I hadn’t used the airsick bag. I tore it in half. One of the ground crew arrived to help me down. I asked him to put the two halves of the bag on the ground before I stepped down. It kind of worked. These might be Vaseline salvageable. Scott shook his head.
I stepped lightly, dragging the paper bags like mutant squares of toilet paper, to safety, then jerked them off and put them in the nearest trash can. Hazelnut was staring at me.
“Your nose is melting,” was all I said.
He reached up and pulled off the now witch-shaped wax.
“I’ll reshape it inside.”
Words failed me.
Scott was dealing with the helicopter, so Hazelnut and I walked on the grass toward the exit. There seemed to be dozens of people milling around the grounds. We dodged a few scooters as we walked.
Hazelnut swore again. “Songbird competition. Plus Nyepi is two days after.”
“Nyepi is the day planes don’t fly, right?”
“Well, if you want to reduce a sacred religious holiday to an arrivals and departures board, yes.”
“Is that what I just did? I’m such a jerk. Sorry.” I stared at him. “Since when are you culturally sensitive?”
“Since always.”
“You can tell me about it on the ride. Are we waiting for Scott?”
“Should we?” He waggled his eyebrows again.
“Stop it! If you hired him for the day, don’t you want your money’s worth?”
“That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“Look, I just want to get these babies somewhere safe, with crickets and molted mealworms, where no one is shooting at us, okay? He’s pretty good in a crisis. Frankly, better than Roger.”
“Okay, wait for him. I had one of my friends drop off a Kijang. I’ll go get it.”
I stood there. Several people stared at me as I embraced what looked uncomfortably like a Nazi war helmet, with my Balenciaga on my shoulder and my carry-on at my feet. A statuesque woman walked by with my exact purse. I did a double take.
“Excuse me,” I yelled. “Lovely Balenciaga.” I shrugged mine up.
“Ha! Thank you,” she said. “Best knockoffs ever in Bali, right?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her mine was real. “Where did you get yours?”
She stopped, reached into her bag and gave me a card. “They have some Kate Spade and Marc Jacob copies, too. Have a great vacation!”
Everyone loved a bargain.
Scott ran up. “Hey. I don’t know what’s going on, but you know I want to help, right?”
“If I weren’t weighed down, I would hug you right now.”
“I’m going to cash that in, you know that?”
“Yeah. By the way, it looks like things with my on-again, off-again just turned off.”
“Really?”
We were about to kiss when Hazelnut screeched up in yet another dark blue Kijang and honked.
Chapter Forty-three
He jumped down and turned to Scott.
“Do you know where the nearest bird market is?”
“I think so.”
“Great, you drive.”
Hazelnut helped me and our progeny into the back.
Scott started the vehicle. “I assume it’s still a delicate situation? Because this is pothole central.”
“Just be as careful as you can. Give me one second.”
I watched as Hazelnut reshaped and replaced his “Bunty” nose without a mirror. The man was a genius, in moments.
“Okay, ready.”
Hazelnut and I held the helmet between us, trying to keep it still through the jolts in the road.
Then, suddenly, we were in the middle of Ubud, which seemed five times as crowded as before. Dozens of scooters blew by, balancing large objects with cloth coverings. Hazelnut started swearing in languages beyond the twenty-six I knew.
“Wow,” I said, as a pagoda-shaped lump went past. “Are those birdcages?”
“It’s the competition. I’m sure the birds love traveling like that.”
“We don’t have any talking room when it comes to bird travel at the moment,” I whispered.
“That’s different. These people are doing it for sport. It’s a damn hobby. I wonder how many of the songbird jerks realize that every time they buy an orange-headed thrush or a straw-headed bulbul, they’re wiping them out? Or if they did, would they care?”
“They must not know. I’m sure they think they’re getting them from legitimate sources.”
“There are no legitimate sources.”
Scott pulled into what was clearly not a parking spot.
Hazelnut turned to Scott. “You’re still on the clock. We’re going to put this helmet on the floor back here. Guard it with your life.”
“No, I can stay here,” I said, my birdternal instincts kicking in.
“I need you with me. Scott, I’m serious. Get these windows up. No people, no monkeys, nothing.”
“Got it.”
I still felt awful leaving. I looked at my watch. The chicks had only hatched a few hours ago. It seemed like two days. We got out of the Kijang and the sounds of honking, mixed with the smell of diesel and cigarettes and bird droppings, almost slapped me senseless. I stumbled.
Hazelnut, obviously familiar with Balinese custom, nodded ahead and moved over to my left side so he could jerk me along with his right rather than his left hand.
“How are there no legitimate sources? Aren’t there any real breeding centers?”
“Like the one where you saw the poachers?”
“Obviously not that one.”
Hazelnut grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way of a scooter with two massive birdcages hanging off either side. The driver ripped sarongs and scarves from market stalls on each side as he passed.
“The real ones are constantly being robbed, and then those birds are trafficked.”
“So there’s nowhere the birds are safe?”
He stopped me in front of a smallish stand at the end of the market.
“Ah, here we are.”
The overflowing pet food stand provoked a sense-surround flashback of my first herpetology convention. The smell. The egg cartons. The squirming. Which of course made me think of Roger. That was where he’d first asked me to have a drink with him. Oh, screw Roger.
Hazelnut spoke quickly in real Balinese. Not being able to point made markets like this a lot harder, so I was glad he was fluent. He turned to me. “You have money, right?”
Of course I was paying.
I gave the seller tens of thousands of rupiahs while Hazelnut hooked a basket covered in cheesecloth over his arm and handed me two egg cartons with a few cricket legs sticking out of them. Just looking at the legs made me a bit faint, but not nearly as nauseous as the basket. Since when was cheesecloth secure? Hazelnut moved us down the aisle and back toward the car.
“Did you get the pictures?”
“Yep. Took pictures of the prospectus, too. Is it safe to email them to bobtibbet?”
He gave me an alternate super-secret site address, which he told me to erase immediately. Obviously, I didn’t.
“We’ll drop you off while I figure out exactly what Bunty is up to. Where are you staying, again?”
“The Hanging Vines.” I told him what had happened there and why I’d been in West Bali. “Reggie’s given me a new room under a fictional name. Is it going to be safe, do you think?”
“Probably not, but nowhere will be while you have the chicks.”
“Wait. Aren’t you taking them? You should take them. You know what to do, at least. Didn’t you tell me you went to vet school?”
“Vet school! Who didn’t go to vet school? They’re safer with you. Someone’s always after me. And Reggie’s one of the good guys at least. He’s helped me before. Any idea what those burglars were looking for?”
“No idea. I guess they always think Americans travel with valuables, though I’m not exactly Kim Kardashian.”
“Yeah, you’re shorter.”
“I beg your pardon! We’re the same height.”
“No way. She’s statuesque.”
“Hello? Photoshopping! I might even have a half inch on her. Look it up. Anyway, there is this other thing going on.” I told him about Gerald’s murder, the possible drugs, and Mom’s being questioned by the police. “I was wondering whether the burglars thought I had the drugs?”
“It might not be about drugs,” he said.
Chapter Forty-four
“If not drugs, what?”
He shook his head and started in on the feeding instructions. When Scott jumped out to help us in, I almost impaled the chicks by forgetting they were on the floor, but stopped just in time. I put the crickets down, picked up the helmet, and put it in my lap.
Scott looked back at our purchases. “Got everything you need?”
We nodded.
“Hanging Vines?”
“Please.” At least the road out of town wasn’t quite as crowded.
Hazelnut had the baskets on his lap. “Where was it your mom was staying?”
I told him.
“Anything else weird happen while you were there?”
“Well, there was a snake removal guy when I arrived. Apparently that’s the guy Mom went to Ubud with today.”
Hazelnut nodded. “Don?”
“No.”
Scott swerved to miss three dogs. “I told her Don is the only one.”
“He said his name was Alistair Brush. English, with unflattering longish hair. He had a blue Kijang too, with ‘Brush Your Reptiles Away’ on the side.”
Hazelnut snorted. “Smuggler.”
“How can you know that?”
“Scott’s right. Don is the only reptile wrangler here. And he’d never let anyone else work for him. So that guy is absolutely using snake removal as cover for something else. He might be one of your burglars.”
“What does that mean? What is he doing with my mother? Is she in danger?”
I closed my eyes as we headed toward a truck filled with empty birdcages teetering on the back. We pulled into the resort to find Alistair’s reptile van parked near the entrance.
“Look! That’s it. That’s the van. The snake removal guy. I told you I wasn’t making it up.” Hazelnut and Scott looked at each other.
Scott turned to Hazelnut. “Should I stay with her?”
“No. You’re not staying.” Hazelnut turned to me. “We have to go. AntiChristine, you know what you need to do?”
“Yes.”
“And how often?
“Every two hours.”
“Do you have an alarm on your watch?”
“Have you met me? Should I start now, or wait the full twenty-four hours?”
“I’d start in the morning, just to be safe.” He held out the helmet. “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“They’re counting on you. If you can handle this for a couple of days while I get through the competition, I’ll find a way to get them out to Nusa Penida—there’s a sanctuary there.”
“Are you going to be at the competition?”
“I will, but undercover. Don’t talk to me.”
Great. I hoped I didn’t have a mynah emergency.
Scott jumped out and grabbed the bird food before Hazelnut could object. “I’ll just help her down.”
The woman at reception gave “Ms. Upright” her key and we headed to the funicular.
Scott stopped short. “I’ve never been on one of those.”
“I know, isn’t it the best? Wayan taught me how to operate it.”
“Yes, I did.” Suddenly Wayan was beside us. I squealed. Just a little.
“Sorry to have startled you. Lovely to have you back. Where to?”
I could tell Scott really wanted a ride. “Third level, please, Wayan.”
“Would you like to drive?”
“Yes! Yes, I would.”
I checked on my own chicks again. The fourth egg had broken with no chick inside. I had to stop myself from sobbing. What kind of mother was I? Just then, my phone rang.
“Parking lot.”
“What company are you with, sir?”
He sighed. “Heep. Heep Transport.”
I double-checked the room, looked under every piece of furniture, shook the covers, and checked the drawers. I gathered my bag and carry-on and exited the patio door.
I was nervous I couldn’t get to the parking lot unseen, but for once, there was no one there. Then, I saw Bunty walking toward me.
Chapter Forty-two
The old, animal trafficking Bunty. I wanted to run, but to where? So I froze as the bad shorts, balding pate, and oversized, ski-jump nose came toward me. I couldn’t hit him with my purse, the chicks were in there. I reached for my pepper spray, then stopped as he got closer. This man didn’t have a prosthetic leg. In fact, he was as bowlegged as William Peterson in To Live and Die in LA.
Hazelnut.
I grinned. “How’s Howard?”
“Still only functionally extinct.”
“Let’s keep it that way. And what’s with the outfit?”
“If he’s going to steal my identity, I’m going to steal his.” He held out his hand. “Bunty Barsky at your service.”
“Well, at least I can call you something now instead of ‘Hey, you!’”
He shrugged toward a helicopter, which looked like Scott’s. It was. My heart did a little leap. He waved from the cockpit.
I turned to Hazelnut. “You and Scott know each other?”
“I hired him for the day for something else. He didn’t seem to mind coming here.” He raised his eyebrows. “You know Claymore is having a baby with his old girlfriend, right?”
I almost crumpled to the pavement. “No. That can’t be right. He can’t be. He asked me to meet him in Paris next month.” Hazelnut shrugged. Oh God. A woman had answered his phone. Would he ever, ever be straight with me? About anything? And I had turned down Scott for him. Some vacation this was turning out to be. I looked at my watch. I was on a mealworm deadline.
“Let’s go.”
Hazelnut looked back at the resort. I turned, too, and saw the suited group gathered in front of the main building. Hazelnut hurried me toward the chopper.
“Hey! Slow down! I have precious cargo. These poor things,” I said, “they aren’t even five hours old. Are they going to survive the shaking this thing is going to do?”
“The road would be worse. And takes a lot longer. Let’s get in and we’ll figure it out.”
He helped me up. There was Scott, grinning. “Of all the choppers in all the resorts in all the world, you climb into mine.”
I blushed. Hazelnut rolled his eyes.
“Enough with the Romeo stuff, we have a physics problem.” He turned to Scott. “Find me a bike helmet.”
“You know I’m a certified pilot, right?”
“They aren’t for us.”
Scott nodded, jumped down and ran toward the hotel.
Hazelnut leaned in. “Can I see them?”
I opened the Balenciaga and lifted the steamer out of the inflatable neck pillow I’d been using to try to keep them padded and still. I eased the container open. They started to trill. They were alive. All three of them. I had placed lots of fabric and cotton pads around them along with mini pads and a hand towel from the hotel bathroom. One of them was still on his tiny back, flailing a little. Hazelnut righted him with the gentlest touch, ever. He looked up at me. “You’re not really supposed to touch them, but I couldn’t leave him like that.”
“I would have done the same thing.”
He surveyed the setup. “Not bad, AntiChristine. Not bad.”
He reached into his own duffel and pulled out what looked like a World War Two helmet. “These are made to withstand a lot,” he said. “If we can put them in a bike helmet, inside this, with the padding you already have, they might be okay.”
“Might is not good enough.”
He looked back at the resort. “There aren’t going to be any birds if we don’t get a head start. We’re just going to have to do our best. You know this creature-saving thing is not for the faint of heart?”
I looked back and saw the two poachers from this morning, in ranger gear. Talking to Bunty and Peggy. They started toward our chopper just as Scott hopped in with two bike helmets.
“Get us up,” Hazelnut yelled, taking the bike helmets. We did everything we could to create an unshakeable pod for our trio as Scott started the rotors. Hazelnut got into the jump seat.
Scott turned to me. “What’s going on?”
“Just act like we’re carrying nitroglycerin,” I said.
“Wages of Fear. Got it.”
At least Tupperware was unsquishable. I loosened the seat and shoulder belt a little and put the helmet pod under it, then held it to my chest. The poachers were running toward us. And then, with a soul-shuddering jerk, we were up and over the trees.
“Nice try, you avian thieving bastards,” Hazelnut said, as we headed east.
• • •
Scott and Hazelnut were talking through the headsets. I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear the chicks either. God, I hoped they were okay.
We lowered quickly at one point, way too close to a volcano for my comfort.
Scott grinned. “Just avoiding some turbulence ’cause of, you know, the nitro.”
I smiled at him and my stomach went all wobbly. Thank goodness it was a short trip. Eventually, we landed on the hotel helipad we’d used before. I could see another helicopter on the edge of the helipad, and tons of scooters and Kijangs in the distance. Scott headed for the paved parking lot and landed there.
I was going to lose another pair of shoes to the tarmac. I couldn’t let Scott do a fireman’s carry this time. I might drop the chicks. And I would never hear the end of it from Hazelnut.
By some miracle, I hadn’t used the airsick bag. I tore it in half. One of the ground crew arrived to help me down. I asked him to put the two halves of the bag on the ground before I stepped down. It kind of worked. These might be Vaseline salvageable. Scott shook his head.
I stepped lightly, dragging the paper bags like mutant squares of toilet paper, to safety, then jerked them off and put them in the nearest trash can. Hazelnut was staring at me.
“Your nose is melting,” was all I said.
He reached up and pulled off the now witch-shaped wax.
“I’ll reshape it inside.”
Words failed me.
Scott was dealing with the helicopter, so Hazelnut and I walked on the grass toward the exit. There seemed to be dozens of people milling around the grounds. We dodged a few scooters as we walked.
Hazelnut swore again. “Songbird competition. Plus Nyepi is two days after.”
“Nyepi is the day planes don’t fly, right?”
“Well, if you want to reduce a sacred religious holiday to an arrivals and departures board, yes.”
“Is that what I just did? I’m such a jerk. Sorry.” I stared at him. “Since when are you culturally sensitive?”
“Since always.”
“You can tell me about it on the ride. Are we waiting for Scott?”
“Should we?” He waggled his eyebrows again.
“Stop it! If you hired him for the day, don’t you want your money’s worth?”
“That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“Look, I just want to get these babies somewhere safe, with crickets and molted mealworms, where no one is shooting at us, okay? He’s pretty good in a crisis. Frankly, better than Roger.”
“Okay, wait for him. I had one of my friends drop off a Kijang. I’ll go get it.”
I stood there. Several people stared at me as I embraced what looked uncomfortably like a Nazi war helmet, with my Balenciaga on my shoulder and my carry-on at my feet. A statuesque woman walked by with my exact purse. I did a double take.
“Excuse me,” I yelled. “Lovely Balenciaga.” I shrugged mine up.
“Ha! Thank you,” she said. “Best knockoffs ever in Bali, right?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her mine was real. “Where did you get yours?”
She stopped, reached into her bag and gave me a card. “They have some Kate Spade and Marc Jacob copies, too. Have a great vacation!”
Everyone loved a bargain.
Scott ran up. “Hey. I don’t know what’s going on, but you know I want to help, right?”
“If I weren’t weighed down, I would hug you right now.”
“I’m going to cash that in, you know that?”
“Yeah. By the way, it looks like things with my on-again, off-again just turned off.”
“Really?”
We were about to kiss when Hazelnut screeched up in yet another dark blue Kijang and honked.
Chapter Forty-three
He jumped down and turned to Scott.
“Do you know where the nearest bird market is?”
“I think so.”
“Great, you drive.”
Hazelnut helped me and our progeny into the back.
Scott started the vehicle. “I assume it’s still a delicate situation? Because this is pothole central.”
“Just be as careful as you can. Give me one second.”
I watched as Hazelnut reshaped and replaced his “Bunty” nose without a mirror. The man was a genius, in moments.
“Okay, ready.”
Hazelnut and I held the helmet between us, trying to keep it still through the jolts in the road.
Then, suddenly, we were in the middle of Ubud, which seemed five times as crowded as before. Dozens of scooters blew by, balancing large objects with cloth coverings. Hazelnut started swearing in languages beyond the twenty-six I knew.
“Wow,” I said, as a pagoda-shaped lump went past. “Are those birdcages?”
“It’s the competition. I’m sure the birds love traveling like that.”
“We don’t have any talking room when it comes to bird travel at the moment,” I whispered.
“That’s different. These people are doing it for sport. It’s a damn hobby. I wonder how many of the songbird jerks realize that every time they buy an orange-headed thrush or a straw-headed bulbul, they’re wiping them out? Or if they did, would they care?”
“They must not know. I’m sure they think they’re getting them from legitimate sources.”
“There are no legitimate sources.”
Scott pulled into what was clearly not a parking spot.
Hazelnut turned to Scott. “You’re still on the clock. We’re going to put this helmet on the floor back here. Guard it with your life.”
“No, I can stay here,” I said, my birdternal instincts kicking in.
“I need you with me. Scott, I’m serious. Get these windows up. No people, no monkeys, nothing.”
“Got it.”
I still felt awful leaving. I looked at my watch. The chicks had only hatched a few hours ago. It seemed like two days. We got out of the Kijang and the sounds of honking, mixed with the smell of diesel and cigarettes and bird droppings, almost slapped me senseless. I stumbled.
Hazelnut, obviously familiar with Balinese custom, nodded ahead and moved over to my left side so he could jerk me along with his right rather than his left hand.
“How are there no legitimate sources? Aren’t there any real breeding centers?”
“Like the one where you saw the poachers?”
“Obviously not that one.”
Hazelnut grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way of a scooter with two massive birdcages hanging off either side. The driver ripped sarongs and scarves from market stalls on each side as he passed.
“The real ones are constantly being robbed, and then those birds are trafficked.”
“So there’s nowhere the birds are safe?”
He stopped me in front of a smallish stand at the end of the market.
“Ah, here we are.”
The overflowing pet food stand provoked a sense-surround flashback of my first herpetology convention. The smell. The egg cartons. The squirming. Which of course made me think of Roger. That was where he’d first asked me to have a drink with him. Oh, screw Roger.
Hazelnut spoke quickly in real Balinese. Not being able to point made markets like this a lot harder, so I was glad he was fluent. He turned to me. “You have money, right?”
Of course I was paying.
I gave the seller tens of thousands of rupiahs while Hazelnut hooked a basket covered in cheesecloth over his arm and handed me two egg cartons with a few cricket legs sticking out of them. Just looking at the legs made me a bit faint, but not nearly as nauseous as the basket. Since when was cheesecloth secure? Hazelnut moved us down the aisle and back toward the car.
“Did you get the pictures?”
“Yep. Took pictures of the prospectus, too. Is it safe to email them to bobtibbet?”
He gave me an alternate super-secret site address, which he told me to erase immediately. Obviously, I didn’t.
“We’ll drop you off while I figure out exactly what Bunty is up to. Where are you staying, again?”
“The Hanging Vines.” I told him what had happened there and why I’d been in West Bali. “Reggie’s given me a new room under a fictional name. Is it going to be safe, do you think?”
“Probably not, but nowhere will be while you have the chicks.”
“Wait. Aren’t you taking them? You should take them. You know what to do, at least. Didn’t you tell me you went to vet school?”
“Vet school! Who didn’t go to vet school? They’re safer with you. Someone’s always after me. And Reggie’s one of the good guys at least. He’s helped me before. Any idea what those burglars were looking for?”
“No idea. I guess they always think Americans travel with valuables, though I’m not exactly Kim Kardashian.”
“Yeah, you’re shorter.”
“I beg your pardon! We’re the same height.”
“No way. She’s statuesque.”
“Hello? Photoshopping! I might even have a half inch on her. Look it up. Anyway, there is this other thing going on.” I told him about Gerald’s murder, the possible drugs, and Mom’s being questioned by the police. “I was wondering whether the burglars thought I had the drugs?”
“It might not be about drugs,” he said.
Chapter Forty-four
“If not drugs, what?”
He shook his head and started in on the feeding instructions. When Scott jumped out to help us in, I almost impaled the chicks by forgetting they were on the floor, but stopped just in time. I put the crickets down, picked up the helmet, and put it in my lap.
Scott looked back at our purchases. “Got everything you need?”
We nodded.
“Hanging Vines?”
“Please.” At least the road out of town wasn’t quite as crowded.
Hazelnut had the baskets on his lap. “Where was it your mom was staying?”
I told him.
“Anything else weird happen while you were there?”
“Well, there was a snake removal guy when I arrived. Apparently that’s the guy Mom went to Ubud with today.”
Hazelnut nodded. “Don?”
“No.”
Scott swerved to miss three dogs. “I told her Don is the only one.”
“He said his name was Alistair Brush. English, with unflattering longish hair. He had a blue Kijang too, with ‘Brush Your Reptiles Away’ on the side.”
Hazelnut snorted. “Smuggler.”
“How can you know that?”
“Scott’s right. Don is the only reptile wrangler here. And he’d never let anyone else work for him. So that guy is absolutely using snake removal as cover for something else. He might be one of your burglars.”
“What does that mean? What is he doing with my mother? Is she in danger?”
I closed my eyes as we headed toward a truck filled with empty birdcages teetering on the back. We pulled into the resort to find Alistair’s reptile van parked near the entrance.
“Look! That’s it. That’s the van. The snake removal guy. I told you I wasn’t making it up.” Hazelnut and Scott looked at each other.
Scott turned to Hazelnut. “Should I stay with her?”
“No. You’re not staying.” Hazelnut turned to me. “We have to go. AntiChristine, you know what you need to do?”
“Yes.”
“And how often?
“Every two hours.”
“Do you have an alarm on your watch?”
“Have you met me? Should I start now, or wait the full twenty-four hours?”
“I’d start in the morning, just to be safe.” He held out the helmet. “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“They’re counting on you. If you can handle this for a couple of days while I get through the competition, I’ll find a way to get them out to Nusa Penida—there’s a sanctuary there.”
“Are you going to be at the competition?”
“I will, but undercover. Don’t talk to me.”
Great. I hoped I didn’t have a mynah emergency.
Scott jumped out and grabbed the bird food before Hazelnut could object. “I’ll just help her down.”
The woman at reception gave “Ms. Upright” her key and we headed to the funicular.
Scott stopped short. “I’ve never been on one of those.”
“I know, isn’t it the best? Wayan taught me how to operate it.”
“Yes, I did.” Suddenly Wayan was beside us. I squealed. Just a little.
“Sorry to have startled you. Lovely to have you back. Where to?”
I could tell Scott really wanted a ride. “Third level, please, Wayan.”
“Would you like to drive?”
“Yes! Yes, I would.”
