Oh, Mr. White, like, you were so right!”
Music to my ears. I love it when my hard-earned wisdom is validated by the experience of hormone-driven teenagers.
“Lindsay wasn’t jealous at all!” Kim squealed. “She knew what a jerk Brad was, and she was trying to protect me by keeping him away from me. I was just not, like, seeing him for what he really was. And even though I got mad at her, like, Lindsay stuck to her guns!”
I flinched just a little. I didn’t know if I’d ever hear the word gun again without feeling an invisible finger of ice sliding down my spine. It had been five days now since Luce and I got home from the North Shore, but I still dreamed of a gun at my heart every night.
Lindsay showed up at my office door, and she and Kim threw themselves into each other’s arms. “You are so my very best friend!” they shrieked at each other. The noise level was a bit intense, but at least they weren’t crying. My tissue budget had already become a thing of the past.
“All’s well that ends well, right, ladies?” I said, knowing full well this was by no means any kind of end, just an intermission. I mean, really, what’s a drama queen without her drama? Just another student.
Heaven forbid.
Behind Lindsay and Kim, I could see Mr. Lenzen walking into the counseling office area and making his way over to my doorway. The girls shuffled off, still wrapped around each other, emitting little squeaky sounds. Dressed in his three-piece uniform, Mr. Lenzen (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think of him as Lenzen—it seems too familiar for him, I guess) reached out his hand and, with his linen handkerchief, dusted off the seat of one of my ugly burgundy chairs. He sat down and folded his handkerchief back into his pocket.
As I watched him, I tried to think especially charitable thoughts, which I’d noticed myself frequently attempting since I’d gotten home from Duluth. As Stan might have said, “Near death can do that.” Anyway, I now found myself thinking that perhaps I had misjudged the man. Maybe I should give him a second chance. Maybe he wasn’t really anal, but had good reasons for his strict adherence to school rules and policies. Maybe he’d been right to threaten me with suspension out of concern for the students’ safety and their ability to concentrate on their studies. Maybe his concern for the public image of the school was justifiable.
Maybe he was going to apologize.
Not.
“Mr. White,” Mr. Lenzen said. “I see you still have these deer hooves in your possession.”
I looked at Jason’s hooves on my desk.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“You will make sure they are removed by the end of the day. Their presence in this building violates school policy, and we must set an example for the students. I’d hate to have to make a public reprimand.”
So much for my charitable feelings.
The man really was anal.
“I’ll be sure to take care of it,” I assured him. When pigs fly, I mentally added.
Apparently satisfied that I was properly contrite, he got up and left, never once mentioning my almost-suspension or my contribution to the solution of a murder.
“Are you being a bad boy again?”
It was Alan. He dropped into the chair vacated by Mr. Lenzen and put his booted feet up on my desk. “So what’s on your plate for next week? It’s spring break and all us chickens get sprung from the coop.”
“Alan,” I said. “I’m impressed. You’re talking birds. Okay, maybe chickens are domestic stuff, but it’s a start.”
Though I’ve been inviting him to go birding with me for years, Alan always turned me down. He says the nature thing is just not his style. He likes indoor plumbing, room service, and a hospitality suite at Timberwolves games.
Alan laughed. “It’s being around you, White-man. Despite my best efforts, you’re starting to rub off on me.” He picked up a hoof from my desk and tossed it in the air, then caught it. He studied it for a moment in silence, then looked at me, suddenly serious.
“You know, Bob, a lot of the old people on the reservation believe that birds are omens, that, because they can fly, they’re closer to the spirit world and can bring us messages. Owls, in particular, are supposed to be connected with death.”
I was silent for a minute, too. Thanks to Rahr’s murder, I’d had enough of death to last a very long while. Even worse, I couldn’t help but wonder if the memory of that death would somehow haunt all my bird hunts in the future. I sure hoped not. Birding was in my bones. I wasn’t about to give it up because one trip went really, really bad.
Alan tossed the hoof up again. “And deer hooves, they’re supposed to be connected with assistant principals who are anal.”
“Now that’s the best reason I’ve heard yet to get them out of here.” I took the one hoof out of Alan’s hand and picked up the other that was sitting on my desk. “And I know just where to put them.”
I dropped them in Alan’s lap. “Don’t ever say I never give you anything.”
The phone rang before Alan could respond. It was Lily.
“I’ve got a pallet of birdseed for you. Payment for helping me with Mrs. Anderson’s landscape plan. She loves the white jack pine and cranberry bushes idea.”
“Good,” I said. “She’ll get all the birds she can feed. Sorry about losing the big score with the ladyslippers, though. I know it would have made you a ton of money.”
Alan mouthed “Later” to me and left.
“No big deal,” Lily replied. “It probably would have been too much of a good thing, anyway. In landscaping, sometimes you want less of a particular plant, rather than more because that way it stands out, and you can really appreciate its individual beauty.”
“Lily,” I said. “You’re a romantic!”
“Hardly, Bobby. I’m just practicing how I’m going to tell Mrs. Anderson she should be thrilled with ten ladyslippers instead of hundreds. Got to run. Pick up some of this birdseed on your way home, okay?”
“Lily—wait.” I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, but I wanted her to know I was sorry about how she’d been used by Stan in his investigation. “About Stan …”
“What about him?” Her voice was brisk.
“Despite what you may think of him, he really is a good man. He saved my life, Lily.”
“I know. And I thanked him before I told him to never walk into my shop again.”
“Maybe you should give him another chance.”
“Bobby, he suspected I was taking bribes from VNT. That’s why he was seeing me—to grab a look at my books. I have no interest in developing a relationship with a man who, upon meeting me, assumed I was dishonest.”
I winced. After all, I’ve always said that Lily knows a good bribe when she sees one. But I’ve never said that she herself would take one. Of course, there had been no way for Stan to know that; he’d just been doing his job, and when her name popped up on VNT’s customer list, he had to do his investigating gig. In the background, I heard Lily saying something to one of her employees in the shop, and then she came back on the line.
“Besides,” she said, “Stan has too many other irons in the fire to suit me. Did you know that along with his private accounting practice and his government jobs, he also field tests crossbows? I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for a grown man who wants to spend what little free time he has pretending to be Robin Hood. I’m no Maid Marian.”
That was an understatement.
“So, stop being a protective little brother. I’m a big girl, you know.”
I smiled. “You’ll always be a shrimp to me.”
She hung up.
I set the phone receiver back in its cradle, but it rang almost immediately. I picked it up again.
“Bob, I just saw on the list serve that there’s a Ross’s Goose in Winona on the Mississippi.”
It was Mike and his excitement practically vibrated through the phone. “I’ve never gotten a Ross’s Goose this early in the year before,” he said. “What do you say? Saturday? Do you want to chase it?”
I’d never gotten a Ross’s Goose this early, either. It would be a real score. On the other hand, was I ready to go back in the field? Elusive birds, professional rivalries, secret poaching operations, murder and mayhem …
But even as the question lingered in my mind, I knew it would take a lot more than one birding trip gone bad to keep me away from chasing birds. Like I’ve already said, birding is in my bones. Besides, the route to Winona was already forming in my head. On the way, we could swing by Black Dog Lake and see if any other early migrants were showing up. If a Ross’s Goose had turned up in Winona, chances were good some other birds might be passing through. Given a good wind and climbing temperatures, there was no telling what we might find.
“Bob? Can you make it?”
Though Mike couldn’t see it, I could feel the smile spreading across my face.
“Do birds fly?”