The Forgotten Witness

Every time you walk in on a murder scene, there is this sort of smell, aura to the place, that makes hackles stand on end. A sort of electric current to turn uncomfortable - no wonder people have always believed in ghosts!

When you walk in, even with the techies measuring and taking samples, you feel the ghosts of those that were and are no more.

15 years acting as an investigator and I still get the same feelings, no one gets ever truly jaded unless they shut out everything. But I think that sensitivity is what lets me keep my edge, why I have a better solve ratio than most of my colleagues.

When I am on a case, I don't just look at the murder coldly, looking for facts, I look at the victim too. How they lived, not just how they died.

Understanding what led to the ultimate demise is the key to figuring out who did the deed and why.

Even if the elusive why often slips through the fingers of rationality, answered by a very unsatisfying: Because I could.

Our victim was a middle-aged man, a professor, I could know just by the impressive amount of books and baubles on his library shelves, the revolving Atlas with a gold mount, a man who did not appreciate the modernities and preferred to write with pen and paper, as literally hundreds of pens of all types were scattered across the floor, and one of them was more than likely the murder weapon.

Not the kind of man who would be popular with chatGPT university cheaters, the kind who would be feared and mocked at the same time, a dinosaur, in other terms.

But that hardly told me who had decided to murder him in his study...

"Hey Jay, how's it looking? " I queried.

"He still looks better than you do," Jay said, looking at my crumpled shirt. " Lisa would never have let you go to work like this, "

"She wasn't the kind to iron shirts, buddy. What about the stiff? "

"Poor guy never had a chance, I think. Coroner's gonna have a field day counting all the puncture marks, he's a mess, " the crime scene technician answered grimly.

"What do we know about him? "

"Wallet is on the desk... watch out for the bird, it's in a bad mood, "

"Bird? " I frowned, and perceived movement from one of the couches.

It was a beautiful Grey Parrot, big, maybe a few years old, obviously well-treated, for its feathers were beautiful and well-kept, the professor's confidante, no doubt.

If only animals could talk! It had probably seen the whole thing happen!

It did look spooked, those animals were quite intelligent, but it wasn't like I could get a sketch of the perp out of him.

"I gotta tell you somthing, " the parrot squeaked out.

"He says that on and off, "Jay said. " Should we call animal control? "

"Does the professor have next of kin? Maybe they'd want it? He looks a bit traumatized, though, might need therapy, "

Jay guffawed but I was serious. Parrots were remarkably intelligent and attuned to their master's fate. Some even committed suicide, those birds had real feelings.

"I gotta tell you somthing, " the parrot insisted.

"I think prof Henser was always giving the poor thing lectures, " Jay laughed. He bagged a few pieces of evidence, and went out of the room. Knowing him, he was desperate for a cigarette.

Giving me a bit of time to study the crime scene on my own. I would have the photos to see later but the best way was to get a feel for it, imagine the crime, the struggle, close my eyes and see it happen behind my eyes.

"Will you listen to me now? " the parrot asked in its squawking voice.

I couldn't help but chuckle, that parrot was funny, with a great sense of repartie. "Ok buddy, what do you go for me? " I humored it.

"You have to stop Vince, " the parrot said, nodding its whole body in excitement.

"Vince? You have ID and location for this perp? "

"Yeah he lives on the uni's campus, Lambda-Omega-Phi brotherhood. I don't know his room number, " the parrot said.

I was starting to be a bit confused. "Just what? " I exclaimed. I had dreamed this? The parrot had answered me directly. Or maybe I had hit my head coming on the way in?

"Vince will come back for me, you have to be ready, " the parrot said.

I looked at him and scratched my head. Then pinched myself.

It hurt.

The parrot rolled its eyes. "Argh, humans are all the same! "

"I'm either dreaming or you can talk... or I have lost what little is left of my mind, yep, that must be it, " I said, shaking my head. Good thing Jay had left, I would have been embarrassed to be seen like this.

"Yes I can talk. Will you believe you're on drugs, having a trip? " the parrot squawked in distaste.

"How come you know how to talk? " I asked, deciding to go ahead with this fantasy. If this wasn't a dream, I didn't know what was.

"That's important right now? You're a cop aren't you? One of the smart ones? Or you're just here for donuts?"

Somehow it managed to pique my pride just a little bit. I thought I had some brand of intelligence... to have a bird calling me dumb in a subtle way was a surprising sting to the ego.

"I am a smart one, who just happens to like donuts as a bonus, " I managed to answer.

To my ever growing surprise, the bird laughed. Briefly, but I was still astonished.

"I would kill for a donut right now, do you have one? With cream, chocolate cream? "

"Is that even good for a bird like you? " I retorted.

"What, I'm gonna live forever now? I love the taste. Pistachio chocolate is my favorite, Harry used to buy some for me, well, when he felt so inclined. "

" Harry? This guy? " I asked, pointing at the dead man.

"Yeah, some years ago he went to Africa for an archaelogical dig... and in the jungle, he found me. My species can talk, well, real language. Your English is so primitive, compared to ours. You have so few intonations, everything is guttural, anyway... "

"You went back with him? Why? "

"Right he gave me much of a choice after he put me in a cage, " the parrot rolled his eyes again.

"And you said nothing? "

"I learn new languages quickly but give me a break, I had just met you guys. I was young, I had flown out of the 'zone' , I wanted to see the world a little bit. By the time he was convinced I actually had a mind, I just knew a few words. He wanted to take me back and get information, he thought I knew the location of King Solomon's mines or something, untold riches... "

"Let me guess, he was disappointed? "

"No clue what diamonds are, rubies, opals, emeralds, and even if I did, why would I tell him? So he kept me around, it felt good to have someone, a sentient being, to torture when he felt blue. And boy did he feel blue often, "

I still could hardly believe it but the parrot was saying coherent sentences, and there was something true about his story, it rang true, in any case.

"Awkkk! Don't look at me like that, you won't find my beak prints on the pens, I didn't kill him, '

I almost chuckled, that bird was funny.

"Why did this Vince kill him? " I asked, pulling out my notepad. If I had gone crazy, let's go all the way. I was not one for half measures.

"Vince found out about me, he actually believed I was special, " the parrot explained.

"He wanted to free you?"

The parrot squawked with uncontrollable laughter.

"Uh, right I guess, free me to then imprison me. He also wanted to know where were all the treasures of Africa, he wanted a map, like I would ever tell. People are so greedy, they only think about their wallet... can I have a donut? I'm really hungry. "

"Uh sure give me a minute, I will see what they have outside. Can I leave you alone? "

"I won't leave the premises, officer, " he said, lifting a paw as though to cross his heart.

When I got out of the library, I felt like rubbing my eyes, had this really happened? Was I insane or?

I joined other cops outside the house, and quickly found the inevitable snacks. Some cops always had copious amounts of donuts in their cars.

No fancy pistachio creams, but I got him one full of too-sweet cream, jam and sprinkles. I had the strange impression he would like that.

I felt like smacking my own head, was this even real?

"Ok I got you- what's your name by the way? "

The donuts dropped on the floor when I saw the man in a hoodie sweatshirt trying to catch the parrot that was flying on top of the ceiling, trying to get away.

The guy saw me, and didn't even try to bolt. He jumped and grabbed a tuftful of the parrots' feathers, bringing it down almost on the body of its old master.

"Hey stop right now! Police! " I yelled, pulling out my gun.

The perp ( Vince, no doubt) grabbed a pen and held it on the parrot, making the most ridiculous hostage situation I had ever witnessed.

"Let me get out of the parrot gets it, let me get out! " he threatened.

"Come on, man, are you completely imsane? Put that down, you're a murderer already, do you think we will let you go? "

"I'll kill the parrot! " he swore.

"Ahh for Christ's sake! " the parrot squawked, turning its head and biting the guy's nose.

He screamed, blood gushing from the stump of nose he had left ( that beak was razor sharp) and let the parrot go.

I ran and tackled him to the ground, already pulling out my cuffs, to end this standoff once and for all. I landed heavily on the guy, who was half-knocked out by the tackle, allowing me to truss him up securely.

The parrot was spitting out blood. "Urgh I will never get rid of the taste! "

"You all right? " I asked.

"I'll be gray for a while yet I think, "he answered philosophically.

" I can't believe this is real... what will you do now? "

I could see from its expression that it hadn't thought about it.And he was now terrified at the thought.

"Do you have a name? "

"You couldn't say it in English. Harry called me Biscuits. "

"I think you can think of something better, over a donut, maybe... I will take you to my place if you agree. Since my divorce, I've been looking for a good roommate. "

I wasn't sure what was pushing me, but he did look like he could use a friend. And so did I.