Cheap Trills, page 23
“How did you get loose?”
“Remembered a few tips from How to Survive an Abduction. Simon and Schuster, 1976. Madge is not a reader.”
“Screw you, Bea Ann, I read Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus five times!”
“Self-help doesn’t count.”
We tied her and the driver up. I found a gun under the driver’s jacket and pocketed it.
“Madge. Where is Bunty keeping my mom?” And the chicks, I hoped. At least Bunty’s poachers knew how much the birds were worth. Surely they’d be trying to keep them alive?
“I’m not telling you that. I promised Bobby. We’re engaged.”
“Madge. He is not Bobby anymore. He’s Bunty. You’re engaged to someone who’s wanted by Interpol and is responsible for the death and torture of probably thousands of endangered animals.”
“It’s a misunderstanding.” We both just stared at her. “Nobody’s perfect.”
“Madge, I babysat for your kids. Is this really the stepfather you want for them?”
She didn’t say anything, but I saw her face shift a little. I pulled out the driver’s gun. In the end, I figured she was a coward. I was right.
“They’re at Bobby’s compound.” She told us where it was.
“Thank you,” I said, and gagged her.
Bea Ann and I ran to the driver’s Kijang and jumped in.
“What happened to her, Bea Ann?”
“If I may paraphrase Ms. O’Connor, she’d have been a good woman if she’d had a decent husband—or somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”
After I made a few calls, we pulled out and headed to the rescue, we hoped.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Thankfully it wasn’t far and the two quick stops I needed—Western Union and a cricket stand—were on the way. Bea Ann and I discussed our strategy. We had an empty Balenciaga, my kitten heels, a gun with six bullets, Madge’s phone, most of the knowledge housed in the Bay Ridge Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, and a half-full Binaca.
We slowed as we approached the driveway. I had been to one of Bunty’s “compounds” before and just the thought of it made me feel faint. I remembered Mom and the chicks and tried to look brave.
Bea Ann patted my shoulder. “Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke.”
“Who said that?”
“Disraeli.”
“Thanks, Bea Ann. For everything. Except for The Yearling. I still haven’t recovered from that.”
“Malarky. You’ve always been tougher than you think.”
I took my eyes off the road for a second to look at her and almost hit three monkeys.
“Road!” she said. “You have to promise to forget this if we both live, but you were always my favorite.”
We heard the place before we saw it. If there were such a thing as a birdsong tornado, we were in it. We stopped the Kijang and got out to case the place on foot.
“Ready?” I said.
Bea Ann nodded and popped the top off the Binaca. We edged our way closer to the cacophony. Unlike Bunty’s other compound, which had dozens of different animals, this seemed to be an aviary only—cage after cage of gorgeous, imperiled birds.
Bea Ann looked the way she did when Barry spilled a Slurpee on Volume D of the Encyclopedia Britannica. “Should we just open the cages?”
“No. These birds could be from all over, not just Bali but Sumatra or Java. They need to go back to their natural environment.”
“Okay.”
I searched for any guards, but the coast looked clear, except for the Land Rover, which was parked in front of a house straight out of The Brady Bunch. Only Bunty would build a split-level ranch in the middle of Bali. He even had American air conditioning units at three windows. Damn. I couldn’t see in.
I handed Bea Ann the Kijang keys. Much of our plan was based on a book about prosthetics Bea Ann read when she was stuck under the river on the R train. “Once you get to the car, wait three minutes, rev it like crazy, then pull up and park behind the cages. I don’t think they’ll want to shoot through the birds, but duck anyway.”
Bea Ann actually kissed me on the cheek. “David Morrell would be proud.”
She hurried back into the trees. I ran to the back of the house and found the one window without a cooling unit. I glimpsed a sarong. Mom.
I crept back to the side of the house, took out Madge’s phone, found “Bobby” under her Favorites, and texted Got Cyd, but need help. Turning in now. I sent another text from my phone. I wished I had an offering.
The air conditioner was too loud for me to hear Bunty’s phone ping, but it must have, since he walked out on the porch, still in his suit, followed by Henrik, in a muddier one.
I ran back to Mom’s window, waited until the Kijang revved, and smashed the window with the butt of the gun. I climbed inside, kissed her on the head, and undid her wrists and legs. I wondered whether hostage release was an actual profession, as by now I should be certified.
I helped her out the window and we edged around the corner in time to see Bunty and Henrik headed toward the Kijang. Just on time, we heard a chopper approach, flying low and sending all the trees shuddering. Bunty and Henrik looked up.
“Stay here!” I said to Mom, before I ran forward, gun out. I saw Bea Ann and the Kijang headed right for the men. Henrik dodged right and I shot him in the leg. The Kijang was still headed for Bunty, but it slowed down to a crawl. Bea Ann knew that someone with a prosthetic leg had a hard time going backward. As soon as Bunty tried, he fell over.
Bea Ann jumped out and kicked him in the balls. “Bobby Fred Barsky, you should be ashamed of yourself!” Then she sat on top of him to keep him still.
I turned to Mom. “I need your sash. Can you help Bea Ann deal with Henrik? I need to talk to Bunty.”
Bea Ann and Mom tackled Henrik. It took all my kickboxing strength to drag Mrs. Barsky’s errant son to the nearest tree, where I secured him with the sarong sash and kept the Binaca at the ready.
Bunty cradled his privates and sent up a wail. “Where is Madge? Is she all right?”
“Why do you care? You were just using her as your mule, right?”
“No! No! She offered. She wanted to help. Is she okay, Cyd? We just found each other again, after all these years.”
“Christ on a bike, Bunty. You know she killed Gerald Boynton because he said she didn’t have a waist?”
“She does! She will! Menopause doesn’t last forever.”
Seriously? “She’s okay, she might need an eyewash. But I recorded her full confession. And you know what happens to murderers in Bali.”
He went white. “No, you can’t. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll confess. She still has a child at home.”
“He’s twenty-nine!”
“Cyd. Please don’t do this to her! It was an accident.”
I looked back. Bea Ann and Mom had Henrik trussed like a Christmas goose and were laughing. Mom’s sarong had half fallen off.
Were Bunty and Madge really in love? Was there a real person in there somewhere who just got screwed up by the war? I didn’t know what to do. So I just thought for a minute. Then decided.
“If you want my help, there are a few things you have to do. First, where are the starling chicks and is someone feeding them?”
“What chicks?”
“The poachers didn’t tell you I had the chicks?”
“They told me you could identify them. And I knew you would tell Agent Gant and Interpol where I was, so we had to grab you. Madge thought you had the money.”
“So where are the chicks?”
He shrugged. “I hope you didn’t kill them. Do you know what they’re worth?”
“Okay, what was the money for? The money Gerald was carrying?”
“After you totally screwed up my business, I switched to straight songbirds. Much easier to falsify documents for those. Tons of money, huge market.”
“What were you doing at that resort, then? Poaching?”
“No. Laundering. It’s a conglomerate with a real estate division. It’s perfect, because it’s an eco-resort, no one is going to object when it takes over part of the national park and we can grab birds whenever we want to keep the hotel going. After Madge and I got back together, I figured I could ease out into real estate and go legit.”
“Do you realize how evil that is? You don’t even deserve Madge.”
“Hey! No one knows what goes on inside of a relationship except the people in it.”
“So you’re in league with Peggy Newsome, she’s part of the smuggling thing?”
“Peggy Newsome? She wishes. I heard she lost the real estate conglomerate about ten million dollars on a development a few years ago. They put her into some bullshit travel division and she’s been trying to get back into their good graces. They said they’d give her a shot if she could put up seed money for this property from some mixed-use thing she’s doing in Brooklyn.”
“Bunty! Don’t you know that mixed-use thing is Third fricking Avenue? That she wants to knock down your mother’s building? That’s why she’s been sucking up to you.”
“She said it was in Red Hook. She actually came on to me. I should have known.”
“She’s a witch. It doesn’t matter. You know we can’t let her do that. For your mom’s sake.”
“Yeah, Mom, who left you the building.”
“You knew?”
“Yeah. It really hurt.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about it until after she died. That’s why I came to Africa. To tell you. I think she did it because she didn’t believe you’d ever come back and she wanted to make sure it was safe. She made you executor, so you’d have to approve. She loved you to pieces, you know.”
“Did she? After everything?”
“Yes. She did.” I looked at that familiar, ski-jump nose and thought of all the hours I’d spent listening to Mrs. Barsky talk about “her Bobby,” and how Madge’s kids let me win at Operation.
“Look, I’ll make a deal with you. I will not turn Madge or her confession over to the police. And I will give you a few hours head start to get away, if you do three things.”
“Yeah, what?”
“First, you promise to stop smuggling animals. Period. Not even a pygmy chameleon. Seriously. Second, you tell me what you know about Peggy Newsome, including who she works for.”
“And?”
“Third, as your mother’s executor, you sign off on giving me the Third Avenue building. I promise to keep it safe and sell it back to you if you ever come home.” We looked at each other for a moment, then I held out the faxed documents I’d picked up from Western Union. “Well?”
“And you’re sure Madge is okay?”
“She is.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Scout’s honor.” That still meant something in Bay Ridge. “But just remember, if I hear you are smuggling any animals or helping anyone who does—and you know I will—I’ll give the recording of Madge’s confession to the police.”
We looked at each other for a long time.
Finally, he gave me the dirt on Peggy, then put out his hand. “Give me the papers.”
I gestured to Bea Ann, who ran over. She had her purse. And a pen.
I put on my most official voice. “Bea Ann, as a notary for the borough of Brooklyn, will you please witness the transfer of 3500 Third Avenue from the Barksy estate to Cyd Elizabeth Madonna Redondo? And Bunty, you better use your real name!”
Bunty signed all the papers. As Robert Fred Barsky, Jr.
I figured Bea Ann would postdate the notary seal when she got home, but I guess I wasn’t the only one with emergency supplies in her purse. She whipped out her notary seal and the building was mine.
I was elated and relieved. For about three seconds, until I remembered the chicks.
First, though, I had to get Bunty out of here. “We’ll give you three hours’ head start. Go now, before law enforcement gets here.”
Bunty suddenly looked tiny in his suit. “Cyd? Thanks for having tea every day with her.”
“You’re welcome.”
He limped to the Land Rover and we watched him careen down the driveway.
Hazelnut was going to kill me.
Chapter Fifty-eight
Mom stared at me while she hitched up her sarong. “Why did you let him go?”
Before I could answer, both of our watches started beeping their worm alarm. And I started to cry. Mom turned to Bea Ann. “Can you drive?”
They bundled me into the Kijang and lay me down on the backseat, where I did that kind of hiccup-level sobbing that wears out your abs. I felt Mom patting my leg. I don’t know how long we drove, but when I sat up, we were pulling up in front of Amisha’s compound. There was an ancient bemos parked outside.
Mom jumped out and navigated the anti-demon wall, while Bea Ann gave me a handkerchief. My eyes were hopeless, but at least I was cried out.
We walked in. There were Lu and Amisha and several of the Tupperware women, who all pressed their hands together and nodded to me and Bea Ann.
Mom came down and put her arm around me. “You have to prepare yourself, sweetheart, okay?”
Oh no. For what?
I entered the big room to hear a faint trilling. There Stu Capistranis, complete with baseball cap, held a basket in his lap while Hazelnut, still dressed like Bunty, had a vertical worm between his fingers, swinging it back and forth, trying to get it into what looked like Huey’s rotating mouth. I inched closer, as I was sure I was dreaming. There, in their Tupperware nest, were Huey and Dewey. But not Louie.
Mom pulled me in close. “He didn’t make it, Cyd, but his brother and sister are fine.”
Stu looked up. “It’s a miracle! Two. After everything that’s happened you still saved two! We usually throw a party if we get one past the first two days. I would hug you, but we’re occupied.”
“I can see that. It’s fine. I think a worm basket incident might push me over the edge.”
Hazelnut looked over and nodded. There was a grin beneath it. “AntiChristine.” Then he looked at my mother and both of them froze. Like Romeo and Juliet froze. Oh, I did not see that. I couldn’t have.
Thankfully, Lu distracted me. “Cyd?”
She was holding up a Balenciaga. My Balenciaga, complete with the bullet hole repair. It was still full of everything I needed to keep living. I collapsed on one of the floor pillows and looked around. “Could someone please tell me what the hell happened?”
It turned out that Lu and Mom had decided that I might do something stupid, like try to save them or one of the Tupperware Cyds for a Day, and that the chicks were actually safer away from the competition grounds. Hazelnut would have to wait. Mom also didn’t think I could handle losing my Balenciaga again.
So, when we were loading up the Kijang at Amisha’s, she had swapped my real bag for one of the fake ones and left it and the chicks with Lu’s sister, with full instructions on how to feed them. How everyone had been abducted, and saved, and how Hazelnut had found Amisha’s house, would have to wait for another day. My brain was exploding as it was.
“Does anyone have an offering I could use?”
Lu handed me a particularly intricate rice figure, balanced on its bamboo leaf. I headed out toward the sacred banyan tree and placed it on the shrine. I thanked the gods, or demons, or whoever had gotten us all back here. Then I said a prayer for Louie.
Suddenly Mom was there. She added an offering, then put her arm around me and we just stood there for a moment, in the shade of the tree. “It happens, sometimes. I never told you, but I had a miscarriage right after your dad and I got married. We were desolate. And so scared. But he said we couldn’t lose hope, we had to try again, right away. And it worked. We got you. And look how you turned out. I can’t imagine how proud he is of you, wherever he is.”
“You mean I wasn’t a mistake? I mean an accident.”
“An accident? You were the furthest thing from an accident. Who said that?”
“Madge.”
“Damn that woman. Where is she, anyway?”
Damn her was right. But she was tied to Bunty for life. That was punishment enough.
“No idea. Let’s go back in.”
We met Hazelnut on his way out. He was carrying a bicycle helmet with him. It was trilling. “This time, you’re coming with me.” He looked at Mom. “That is, if it’s all right with you, Mrs. Redondo?”
She blushed. “It’s Ms.”
“Great! I’m ready!” I said, just to get those two away from each other.
I held the chicks while Hazelnut drove, and in minutes, we were at the Ubud airport.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No. But the pilot said if I brought you, I got a free ride.”
Scott was running toward us. Hazelnut took the chicks and Scott lifted me up and carried me over the melting tar. He held on a bit tighter this time. “Did it work, the flyover?”
“It was perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We flew down from Ubud over rice fields and then over beaches, where local fishing boats sat like giant spiders on the tides. And to the island of Nusa Penida, where Scott made an unorthodox, but gentle landing.
After a few vehicle changes, we arrived at our destination—the year-old Bali Starling Sanctuary. On the drive Hazelnut explained that the conservationists had made a mutually beneficial deal with the islanders, who’d made a vow to keep the birds safe. They even had release ceremonies at the local temple when the birds were ready to go back into the wild. I wished I could see one of those.
The volunteers were ecstatic about the two chicks. They were prepared with worms, crickets, and pieces of papaya all laid out in a perfect starling buffet. I finally let go of the breath I felt I’d been holding for three days. If Huey and Dewey had a chance of survival, it would be here.
After a tour, where I was lucky enough to see a few gorgeous, full-grown birds who were being rehabilitated, I had to say goodbye to my temporary charges, who wobbled and trilled their farewell. The volunteers let me leave an offering and send up a prayer, to demons, gods, and the Holy Trinity, for the chicks’ safety. When they closed the cage door around their clean new nest, Scott squeezed my hand.
