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Authors: Wayne Greenough

Tags: #Contemporary, #Thriller

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BOOK: The Aviary
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“Yes, you are quite correct.”

Her voice had a pleasant tone to it, surprising Stacey. “You’re a true artist,” he replied. “You not only captured this man’s likeness, you captured his soul. Is he a relative or just a friend?”

“He was my uncle. He died two months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But with this magnificent portrait you have given your uncle immortality.”
Lord, by the look on her face she’s actually accepting my bull shit.

“Thank you for such lovely compliments. Tell me, did you come to inquire about the job I advertised?”

“Yes, I did. However, I must confess I have had no practical experience along the line of work you mentioned. The reason I came to inquire about the job is because you have a bird menagerie. Years ago my sister had pet birds. I was around them all the time and grew very fond of them. I was hoping to be hired so I could once again be with birds.”

Stacey smiled as her black eyes raked him. “There’s really not too much to this job,” she said. “All you have to do is keep the grounds clean and mowed, and see that the birds are properly taken care of. I think you’ll do quite nicely. Mr.…I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Ryan, Stacey Ryan. I prefer to be called Stacey. And you’re Miss Doris Meadows. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I’m she, Mr., I mean Stacey. You may call me Doris.” She blushed and changed the subject quickly and purposely. “I will pay, four thousand a month plus room and board. There’s a small cottage in back of the mansion that will be your living quarters. As to the hours you are to keep, it doesn’t really matter. Just make sure that everything stays in its proper order. At nighttime you can do as you please and go to town whenever you want to. I have no restrictions you must adhere to.”

Three days passed and nothing significant occurred between Stacey and Doris Meadows. At their evening mealtime, she was friendly in a casual way, talking idly about insignificant things and complimenting him on his work. Yet, when he was working near the house, he knew she was watching him. He could feel her presence. This meant she was interested in him.

On the fourth day, Stacey’s luck changed. As he was working by the patio, Doris Meadows came out of a door with a tray in her hands. Putting the tray on a table, she called to him. “Would you like to join me for coffee and cake?”

“Why I’d be delighted to, Doris,” he answered as he walked to the table, pulled up a chair and sat down.

Doris Meadows stared at Stacey before pouring coffee for him. “I’ve been meaning to really compliment you on the excellent work you’re accomplishing around here. The best way I could think of doing that is to offer you coffee and cake on a warm afternoon.”

Stacey raked her with his eyes. Doris wore a brief sun suit that did nothing to flatter her lanky beanpole figure. Was she trying to be noticed by him? Well, he noticed and also knew that the time was right for romance.

“The last time I was in town I bought a bathing suit with the idea that perhaps you would allow me to use the pool. Since it’s such a warm day, could I take a swim this evening after my work is done?”

“Why, of course you may, Stacey. Feel free to use the pool any time you so desire.”

“Thank you. I just drained it and put fresh water in it today. I would be honored if you would join me tonight.”

Stacey smiled as Doris Meadows blushed. “I’d be delighted,” she said.

 

That was the opening Stacey hoped for. For three weeks he took Doris Meadows to all the night spots, the opera, dancing, drinking, dining, and midnight swims. Doris was in love with him. There was no mistaking that. Now was the time to propose.

The night was warm, the moon was full. They were sitting on the patio swing. Stacey had his arms around her. When there was a lull in the conversation, he reached in his right pocket and pulled out a small box. He handed it to Doris. “Open it,” he said.

Doris opened the box. She gasped when she saw the sparkling engagement ring. When she looked at Stacey, he saw tears in her eyes.

“I love you, Doris. Will you marry me?”

She sighed. “I love you, too, Stacey. I can’t marry you.”

“Why?” questioned Stacey, his voice a practiced indignant. “What is there that can possibly keep us apart?”

“Six months ago my doctor said I had no more than two years to live. It’s my heart.”

Stacey hugged Doris. He forced himself to kiss her forehead. “Darling, I’m so ashamed. I should have proposed to you sooner. Imagine me dragging you all over the country to those nightclubs. Why, I might have hurt you. Your heart condition doesn’t make any difference. When two people love each other, they should be together to cherish each precious moment, whether it’s for just a few years, or a lifetime.”

 

They were married. Doris wanted to invite friends, especially her police sergeant friend. Stacey talked her in to not doing so on the pretense that he wanted a small private wedding. Both were happy, Doris because she truly loved Stacey, Stacey because he loved money, especially in large denominations. And yes, Turner was happy, too.

Thus, the weeks passed. Stacey and Turner had their hands on Doris Meadows’ fortune. Or did they? Unforeseen developments began to skewer up their scheme. Stacey started to crack. The birds in the aviary bothered him. They always had, but as he had his mind on how to marry Doris Meadows’ money, he at first hadn’t noticed their wild chirps and screeches. Now married and pretending to be domestically happy, the birds were driving him nuts.

One in particular, a parrot really knew how to get under his skin. The moment Stacey walked into the aviary he would hear a squawking voice say, “Well, hello there, you son-of-a-bitch.” It had been his mistake to say that to the parrot upon seeing it for the first time. Now the bird upon seeing him would say it over and over, “Well, hello there, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Stacey gritted his teeth over his desire to kill the parrot. But then he knew Doris would ask about the missing bird, so damn it all, it had to stay alive.

Nightmares started for him. Every night flocks of the little feathered terrorists had their revenge upon his sleeping body. They would peck him into a bloody pulp and bone mess before covering him with feces. Their screeches became human voices. “We know you are stealing Doris’ money…we know Stacey, we know. You are stealing her money.” He would scream nonstop aloud.

“Wake up, darling! You’re having a nightmare. Wake up!” It was Doris’ voice.

“Huh, what’s the matter?” To Stacey, his voice matched his feelings of being startled and incoherent.

“You were having a nightmare. Oh, just look at you. Darling, you’re soaking wet, and your face is so pale. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

“No, I’m all right now.” He couldn’t tell her the truth. She mustn’t know the birds were bothering him. “I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt you died and I was all alone. I don’t know what I’ll do without you when you are gone.”

Still shivering, Stacey felt her hugging him closer. Her lips briefly touched his in an attempt to comfort him. “Please, Stacey, don’t think of my no longer being with you. Just relax. You’re going to be all right. Can I get you anything?”

He needed a drink, several of them. “Yes, would you get the decanter of whiskey and a glass from the living room table?”

When Doris came with the whiskey, Stacey was sitting up in bed, smoking a cigarette. He took the whiskey. After two double shots, he mentioned, “You should go back to bed, dear. I’m okay now.”

“All right, darling, but if you need me, just call out.”

Stacey was afraid to sleep. He sat in bed until daybreak, drinking whiskey and smoking. During the day, his nightmare still plagued him and it was only through a supreme effort of will power that he tended to the aviary. He had to keep up the pretense of loving the birds and loving Doris.

The following day Stacey met with Turner. He mentioned his nightmare. Turner chuckled. “It sounds like you drank a bad bottle of booze.”

Turner’s secretary gave Stacey sympathy several times in her bedroom along with a return invitation.

 

As the weeks passed, Stacey was nightmare free and confident. He kept Doris extremely happy with his pretense of loving her. Yes, everything was going just right, for Stacey Ryan and Jim Turner.

 

He was out on the desert. Stretching ahead of him, Stacey saw miles of sand. Looking for something familiar, he turned in a complete circle and saw nothing that could guide him to any kind of safety. He gazed upward. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere. His throat begged for water. The sun fried his naked body, the sand burned his feet. He walked and his walking became an endless task never to end, until he stumbled and fell. He couldn’t rise, he could only crawl.

Something landed on his back. Raking claws dug into his spine. He rolled over and saw the winged terror that was pecking the life from him. It was a buzzard! He screamed.

“Stacey darling, wake up. You’re having another nightmare.”

Stacey screamed for several minutes before he became fully awake. He managed to say, “Doris, don’t leave me. Keep me company. If I fall asleep and have another nightmare, I’m afraid I’ll die.”

“I’m right here for you, darling. Did you have the same nightmare?”

“Yes, I did. I dreamt you left me.”

Night after night the dreams plagued Stacey. Doris was certain he was worrying over her heart condition and she loved him all the more for his thoughtfulness.

It was on a Tuesday morning, an hour after breakfast, when Doris announced with pride to Stacy something she was sure would please her wonderful husband. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do ever since our marriage. Last night I made out a new will.”

She sat on the couch next to Stacy, hugged and kissed him. He almost gagged, but thoughts of a new will prevented him from doing so. He managed to say, “Shouldn’t you file that with your lawyer? You do have one, don’t you?”

“Yes, but the will is all right in my wall safe, and it’s perfectly legal. Darling, I’ve left everything to you. It’s all yours for being such a wonderful husband.”

Stacey, realizing this was the news Turner had waited for, decided he must act. Convincing Doris he felt much better, but needed a drive in the night air, he headed for town.

 

“Stacey, what have you been doing for the last few weeks?” Turner asked when Stacy walked into his apartment.

“Doris has made a new will leaving everything to me.”

“That’s exactly what we’ve been hoping for. Say, you look like you’ve been dragged several miles by a semi-truck. What’s wrong? Are you whacking the Meadows dame too often?”

“Hell no, I haven’t touched her that way. It’s those damn birds. They’re driving me nuts to where I have nightmares about them every night.”

Turner laughed.

“Shut up, damn you!”

Turner stifled his laughter. His face expressed startled feelings. “Are those nightmares really bothering you that much?”

“They certainly are. Now you listen to me, Turner, you have to think of something right now. I can’t stand living with that woman and those birds another moment. Damnit, think! I’m going nuts!”

Silence reigned as Stacey and Turner drank and smoked. On the second half full whiskey bottle, Turner slurred words. “Murder is definitely out. Am I right, Stacey?”

Stacey nodded.

“We can’t do it. The cops would get us for sure.”

“Then we’ll have to wait until she croaks. Hang in there, Stacy.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“You have to. If you don’t this whole deal will turn sour for us. Think of the millions we’ll rake in after Doris Meadows is planted.”

Stacey went home. Was murder really out?

Stacy stopped at the closed door to Doris’s bedroom.
I could sneak in her room, put a pillow to her face and in a few seconds she would be dead. I would be free of the birds. I would be free of her.

Two days later Doris Meadows died in her sleep. For Stacey it was a sigh of relief. In a few days, he would be free and have tons of money to spend.

Police Sergeant Benjamin Raymond and a doctor arrived. The sergeant was a big broad shouldered man with a beefy face and ham-like fists. He chewed a short cigar and attempted to talk at the same time. “I was a good friend. Some months ago, Doris told me she married you. It took something like this for us to finally meet. I’m very sorry that she is no longer with us.” He cleared his throat and swallowed. “Is it all right if I ask you a few questions? It’s just a routine that could wait.”

Stacey feigned a sad sigh. “You may ask your questions now, Sergeant Raymond.”

“Thank you. I knew about her heart condition and the medicine she took. What I want to know is did she complain of feeling ill lately?”

“Yes, last night she mentioned feeling quite dizzy and weak. I suggested that her doctor should be called, but she said nonsense, that she’d be fine in the morning. She kissed me, took a sedative and went to bed. If I’d called the doctor I feel she’d be alive today. I feel so guilty about that.”

“You needn’t blame yourself, Mr. Ryan. With her heart condition, she was living on borrowed time. Did you happen to notice what time it was when she retired for the night?”

“Yes. It was a few minutes after ten. I went to my bedroom around midnight.”

Raymond shifted his cigar to the right side of his mouth. He squinted at Stacey. “Did you hear any noises coming from her room?”

“No, sadly I didn’t.”

“Okay, I’m sure that wraps everything up. I want to thank you for your patience and understanding, Mr. Ryan. I’m terribly sorry this happened. Doris was a wonderful person.”

 

Three days later the doctor’s report said Doris Meadows died from a heart attack. Burial was two days later. Stacey, playing the part of a faithful husband who couldn’t live in the manor any longer now that his wife could no longer walk through life with him, gave the cook and housemaid two weeks’ pay in advance and discharged them. He informed them he would be selling the manor along with the aviary through a real estate company and going away in a few days.

And so Stacey Ryan had everything he’d worked for. He laughed, cell phoned Turner, told him to come over and then he sat down to a bottle of whiskey. After his third drink, time began to drag. Where was Turner? Stacey kept his eyes on a grandfather’s clock in the corner. Twenty minutes had gone by since he phoned. He gulped another whiskey. The clock became larger. The swinging of its pendulum hypnotized him. Its ticking became the thunderous beating of a bass drum. Thirty minutes now. He finished the bottle and threw it at the clock, hitting its face, but not the pendulum.

BOOK: The Aviary
12.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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