The Teal Macaw

The big city. This is where people go to dance on one side of the law or the other; and the pigeons at least have a park while other birds have cages.

I prefer the company of the birds.

I'm MacMilan Cawlin; I'm a private eye; a flatfoot.

My whole family had flat feet; it's genetic.

Others in my profession help the populous. I'm here for the birds.

Poisoning the birdbaths in Central Park? I stopped that. Zoos clipping their birds' wings before caging them? I nipped that in the bud. The shady pet-shop owner? My innocent and aging granny never knew what hit her when I slapped her shop with a notice of closure for a staff that neglected her pets.

You don't get to know birds the way that I do without having one of your own. Her name's Cleapatra; "Ms. Clea" if you're feeling informal. She's a teal macaw; and like all macaws, she's beautiful. If not for her, I'd prefer my adventures to be filmed in black-and-white. Ms. Clea deserves to be filmed in full color instead.

Clea and I were a great team. She inspired me to continue to help out the birds; I gave her an owner and meal service. She helped spell out some clues about her aviary friends that I may have missed; I was the one who still tied up the loose ends to wrap up a case.

I had an ex-partner named Alfred; he didn’t understand the importance that I placed on birds. I had little choice and Ms. Clea was a better fitting partner for me anyway.

Then, she came into my office; a Ruby breasted, rouge lipped, and strawberry blonde cardinal; a young “bird;” a dame; a dime piece. Her name in the Ruby dress, rouge lips, and blonde locks: Lady Scarlet. I wasn't in the mind to correct her name...

"He-llohhhh, Mr. Cawlin" this Lady Scarlet purred in sharp European as she invited herself to a seat on the opposite side of my desk; then, to Cleapatra as she waddled across the desktop toward her: "Pretty birdie!"

"Ms. Clea pretty birdie!" Cleapatra conceded, puffing out her chest.

I sensed something else beneath the woman's mask and clothing; something about her visit to my office. I rarely had people come in to show off the latest in Fall fashion or simply to fawn over my partner.

"Up, Cleapatra." I instructed with a clicking of my tongue.

Cleapatra knew and took to the air to settle on top of my book case. All of the while, Lady Scarlet's eyes followed her around the office.

"What can I do for you, Miss..." I asked, fishing out a notebook.

"...Scarlet, dah'ling." Scarlet insisted, fishing into her bag and producing a thing cigarette and a lighter. "You are a Private Eye, yes, Mr. Cawlin?"

My list of clients (the few human ones whom I trusted) was indeed private; the rogues that I had taken down wished that their names had remained private from me. I tended to keep my eyes, rather hawkishly, on both sides of the law.

"A special detective, Lady Scarlet." I answered, tapping my pen between my desk and notebook that she might reach the point of her visit.

"Cigarette and a light, Detective?" she asked, offering me another paper thin, long cigarette and her lighter.

I had been waiting for just such an invitation from such a gorgeous creature.

I reached beneath my desk, produced a spritz bottle of water, and pointedly squirted out my client's cigarette.

"Birds can be highly susceptible to smoke; and the butts out on the sidewalks and in the parks aren't doing much for them either." I pointed out sternly as Ms. Clea took one of her beautiful wings to cover her beak. "What you do out there to your lungs is your concern; in here, well, I've got a partner to monitor the health of."

Even dripping wet from the water spritz, I could see that Lady Scarlet was a lovely woman. However, she had walked in presenting herself just so that she was well aware of her beauty. Women like that were going to be trouble. She casually tossed out her damaged cigarette and took back the stick and the lighter that she had offered to me.

"Fair enough." she answered.

"There was something that you needed here, Miss Scarlet?" I asked.

"Yes; yes, I did." Miss Scarlet answered, fumbling with her shoulder bag once more. "I...It's quite embarrassing really; my lord seeks his next beautiful macaw to brighten up our home."

A missing bird case. This tricksy had come to the right guy. Nonetheless, I highly doubted that "...Scarlet" was a surname or this lady's husband would never leave his house for the sidewalk of New York out of humiliation. San Francisco, perhaps; but not in New York...

"What did you say your marital last name was, again?" I asked. "His surname if you don't share it, please."

"Hitchcock, my good man." Scarlet answered.

What else was it going to be? I had already lost the gumshoe's tough demeanor; it was all that I could do to retain a straight face as I wrote in the notebook.

"When did the bird go missing?" I asked. "What did it look like?"

I heard the sound of metal turning over. Cleapatra had a good vantage point on the situation and let out a squawk. I was in the midst of writing but could almost feel the repercussion of the sound.

"Missing bird, Detective?" Lady Scarlet chortled. "You misunderstand me, dear boy. Lord Hitchcock sent me here to inquire about his next macaw."

Lady Scarlet was having her difficulties differentiating between a macaw and a pigeon. Ms. Clea let out another screech of fright at the sight of the gun as I left my desk and promptly cradled the weapon. Far be it for me to strong arm a woman; but her weapon required as much force as I could muster. As for Lady Scarlet, her wrists soon had to accept a pair of silver bracelets to offset her vermillion ensemble; bracelets with a chain in between them.

"When Lord Hitchcock and yourself seek a new bird to offset your lovely abode, Lady Scarlet," I concluded, marching her to the door as Ms. Clea settled on my shoulder to watch her go, "give me a call in about three years. I know of some reputable pet stores in town to set you up right..."

The vermillion vixen had no other empty platitudes for me as I escorted her out of my office to the street below to be accepted by law enforcement. As for me, I had a phone call to make to my attorney, Harvey, to finish wrapping this case.

For today, the birds of New York are still safe; especially my partner. Another lady in red sought to break my ambitions and my heart; my lady in the teal feathers had spared both for another day. Case closed...