The Preening Peacock - A Rosalinda Alameda Mystery



  The

  Preening Peacock

  Rosalinda Alameda Mysteries

  Vol. 1

  A Cozy Zoo Short Story

  Lisa Shea

  Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lisa Shea

  Book design by Lisa Shea

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ASIN: B014GRKH0K

  ~ v2 ~

  Visit my website at LisaShea.com

  Chapter 1

  “No bird soars too high

  If he soars with his own wings.”

  -- William Blake

  Rosalinda craned her neck, looking from side to side across the wide expanse of the giraffe exhibit at the Franklin Park Zoo in Boston. She adored giraffes and these two were over twelve feet tall. How could they possibly be hiding from her? It wasn’t as if the exhibit was closed for renovations. Over by the trees a lone zebra was placidly taking a snooze near a small gaggle of wildebeests. Far off to the right an ostrich meandered his way beneath the hot August sun.

  She ran a hand in confusion through her greying hair, her brow adding more wrinkles to the ones that she had earned well in her fifty years of life.

  There were no two ways about it. The giraffes were nowhere in sight.

  She shook her head, lowering her camera to hang back at her side. She had promised to take giraffe photos for her good friend, Marie. Marie had spent time in Kenya with the Peace Corps and had come home with an adoration of the tall, gentle, splotched creatures. Given the vast quantity of giraffe-themed items in Marie’s house, some might even call it an obsession.

  Not Rosalinda, of course. She understood the value of a strong passion in life. Rosalinda had a deep-seated love for visiting zoos. So the two friends fit together hand-in-glove and Rosalinda supplied Marie’s giraffe-craving habit whenever she could.

  Rosalinda took one last look around the plains, then readjusted the extra-wide brim of her straw hat. It was little use – her ample curves and deeply tanned skin still caught the beating heat on both arms and legs. Her patterned red cotton dress just wasn’t up to the task of shielding her from the sun. She should have thought to wear sunblock, but all the forecasts had called for rain. Once again the weathermen proved they were as accurate as a troop of sun-struck chimpanzees flinging grapes at a parrot.

  She turned and looked through the dense crowds which streamed, laughing and shouting, along the main path. Free Fridays in the summer were a blessing in supporting her zoo habits, even if it did mean she had to be patient while waiting for exhibits to become available. The line at the gorilla enclosure had been nearly fifteen minutes long.

  There! A pair of volunteer zoo workers stood just across the way, at the entrance to the petting farm. The girls, one black with waist-length dreadlocks, the other pale and pixie-cut blonde, looked to be twenty-one at most. Rosalinda gently eased her way across the moving sea of humanity. At last she came up before them.

  The blonde sighed as she nodded to her friend. “I know. We had to close down the butterfly landing because of this heat. August is just brutal on the animals.”

  “We also closed the Franklin Farm with the donkeys, Guinea hogs, and all the rest,” agreed the dreadlocked one. “I’ve heard the white tiger stubbornly refuses to leave that shady nook in the back of its enclosure.” She shook her head. “I hate to disappoint all these people who came out to see the animals today, but the poor critters can’t take this muggy weather. I almost wish that thunderstorm they predicted would come and clear the air.”

  “Even the peacocks are suffering,” commented the blonde. “Their toenails look like they’re turning purple or something. I’ll mention it at the staff round-up later tonight, so they can be looked at.”

  Rosalinda quietly cleared her throat.

  The blonde turned to her with a smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for us. I’m Sarah. Can I help you with something?”

  Rosalinda nodded and pointed across the way to the giraffe enclosure. “I can’t seem to find the giraffes anywhere – and they’re not exactly stealth creatures.”

  Sarah giggled. “No, they aren’t! Our Masai giraffe are nearly as tall as a two story building.”

  Rosalinda’s brow furrowed. “Are they all right? I heard about the sad passing of the four month old calf a few months ago.”

  Sarah’s smile faded. “Yes, we were all quite devastated by that. There was no warning at all – and the vets still don’t know what happened. The calf was perfectly healthy and even the autopsy found nothing wrong with it.” She nudged her head at her friend. “Kayla was on duty that morning. There was a lot of crying going on that day.”

  Kayla spoke up. “But there’s no need for alarm today. The two giraffes are quite fine. We had thunderstorm warnings, and with them being so tall, lightning could easily strike them. So we moved them indoors for their own safety.”

  Rosalinda blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought of that! Yes, the giraffe towered over trees, but it hadn’t occurred to her that they’d act as mobile lightning rods.

  “Of course, that makes perfect sense. I’ll be sure to come back some other time to take photos of them.” She gave a soft shrug, then added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I overheard some of your previous conversation. You say the peacocks are developing purple toenails?”

  Sarah chuckled. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Those guys are always getting into mischief.”

  “It’s just that I work as a receptionist for a veterinarian in Shrewsbury who specializes in birds. So I see quite a lot of birds with strange issues every week. Your peacocks are free roaming, as I recall. Might I take a look?”

  Kayla glanced at Sarah before turning back to Rosalinda. “I suppose there’s no harm in you taking a peek, if you can get close enough to one. We’ll mention the issue to our bosses later tonight either way. They’ll decide if further action needs to be taken.”

  Sarah waved a hand. “Come on. We’ll go with you.”

  They stepped into the flowing mass of laughing children and stroller-pushing parents. They moved past the playground jam-packed with shrieks of delight.

  Sarah glanced around as they neared the bird area. “Just don’t let Christian catch us. He’s been awfully possessive about this section since he got promoted to oversee it. And that helper of his, Mark, is just as bad. Two peas in a pod.”

  Kayla nodded with a grimace. “Christian snapped at me just last week. I think he’s getting worse.”

  The trio looped around the half-a-cylinder wire-cage Australian Aviary with its chattering, free spirited budgies. Behind it were several smaller cages, each about the size of a double-wide phone booth. Cockatoos merrily hopped around in the two nearer cages. On top of each cage lounged a shimmering peacock.

  Rosalinda drew in a breath at the beauty of the large birds. They truly were wondrous creatures. A tiara of delicate black feathers danced over each head. Their opal-back eyes shone with intelligence.

  She looked between both and settled on the one on the left. It seemed the sleepier of the two – more lost in a heat-induced haze. She could use
that to her advantage.

  She began humming softly, an old Puerto Rican lullaby her mama used to sing to her when she was growing up in Arecibo. She could almost hear the whap-whap-whap of the ceiling fan as it kept time, swirling the dense, tropical air into motion.

  She slid her smartphone into her right hand. Then she started forward. As she walked, she moved her hands slowly and gently at her side. She kept her eyes downcast, her body radiating calm.

  The peacock gave a soft ruffle to its feathers, its head tracking her motion with placid serenity.

  Rosalinda approached the side of the cage, looking up at its feathered roof ornament. The peacock was hunkered down on the cage top but its right foot peeked out from the dense cushion of vibrantly colored feathers.

  Sure enough, the toenails were a blue-purple color rather than the normal tan.

  Her hands’ waltzing motions rose slowly higher, and the bird merely blinked at her with large, onyx eyes. She slowed her movements and took a photo … two … before easing her way back to Sarah and Kayla.

  Sarah chuckled. “You’re a peacock whisperer, are you?”

  Rosalinda grinned. “When I was eight, I found an abandoned nest of three reina mora chicks in my family’s back yard. They’re these darling brown-and-white birds which are found all over Puerto Rico.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up. “You’re from Puerto Rico? I should have known by that beautiful color of your skin.” She pointed at Kayla. “Kayla here’s from Haiti. Her