The bird swooped round and round as if circling some prey that it was about to dive down on. Then came the terrifying sound of screeching, accompanied by manic laughter that seemed to embolden the bird to squawk some more. It was a sight that filled Jason Kingly with horror and doom.
Terry Langdon was in his Y-fronts, vest and socks, swinging what appeared to be a clothes line above his head like a lasso, with some bread Sellotaped to the end of it.
Jason’s head swung violently around to see if anyone else was witnessing this crazy act – no one was. Of course, Paradise, Eden and Utopia were still empty, but Jason’s paranoia was justified and he really didn’t need a petrol-blue parrot lighting up the skies, with a wanted felon acting as its ringmaster. Was Terry, his cousin and one-time hero, well and truly off his nut?
Jason waved his arms and tried to get his cousin’s attention with a cough-inducing stage whisper. When that didn’t work, Kingly yelled out his name and told him to get off the fucking roof immediately. Terry responded with a wild-eyed grin and a thumbs-up.
The young estate agent then let himself into the flat. It was even more of a mess today. As well as the empty cans, bottles and takeaway cartons, there were now signs that the parrot had been flying around in the flat and depositing bird shit on the expensive carpet and three-piece suite, and just about everywhere else – including what resembled some early Jackson Pollocks on the walls.
Langdon came through the door with the parrot on his shoulder; all he needed was an eyepatch and a wooden leg to look like a shipwrecked Long John Silver. But the ship he’d wrecked was this showpiece apartment that Jason was responsible for. A cleaning crew would have to be put to work, maybe even a painter and decorator; and Terry would have to pay for it all.
‘He came back yesterday. I saw him outside on the wall, so I put some bread on the windowsill and he came straight in.’
‘Terry, you can’t have him in here, he’s shitting all over the place.’
Langdon went over to his trousers, which lay crumpled on the floor, and as he bent down to pick them up, the parrot took off.
‘Jesus!’ cried out Jason, alarmed at the bird’s mad flapping. After some screeching turns around the living room the parrot eventually perched on the open-plan kitchen counter, where there was a saucer of water laid out for him.
Terry stuffed a wad of money into Jason’s hand, and fixed him with the wild-eyed stare that he hadn’t, as Jason hoped, left up on the roof.
‘Listen, Jace, we need to get Simon a—’
‘Simon?’
‘Yeah, Simon. Simon the parrot.’
‘Why Simon?’
‘Because it’s his name.’
‘But it’s not.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because … no one calls a parrot Simon … Doesn’t make sense.’
‘What should I call him?’
‘Frost called him Monty.’
‘Who’s Frost?’
Jason wanted to bury his head in his hands and cry. ‘Detective Inspector Jack Frost.’
‘Silly bloody name for a copper.’
‘Almost as silly as Simon for a parrot.’
‘Don’t get cocky, doesn’t suit you, mate.’
‘Jack Frost was the copper who came in here and you almost shot, remember?’
‘Course I remember. Though it seems like ages ago now.’
‘Right … well, it was only two days ago. Anyway, what stopped you shooting him was the parrot. I spotted him outside on the windowsill and Frost went after him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he knew him, so he was after him.’
‘Why, what’s he done?’
‘Who?’
‘Simon.’
‘I don’t know … Flown away, I guess. But Frost called him Monty.’
‘Now that is a stupid name for a parrot. It’s a bloody cliché.’
‘The parrot has to go … he’s a wanted parrot. He’s got people out looking for him. And if they find him they’ll find—’
‘No! I’m not turning him in.’ Langdon then looked over at the parrot, its head buried in its wing as it groomed itself. ‘We … we’re birds of a feather, me and Simon, we’re both wanted by the law.’
Jason stepped back from Terry to get some perspective and a good look at him, or rather what he had become. Terry didn’t notice the way that his cousin was casting a concerned eye over him, because he was now over by the kitchen counter, feeding the bird peanuts and raisins, and cooing and whispering sweet nothings to it. Terry hasn’t been here that long, thought Jason, but already he looks like he’s going stir crazy. The pressure’s getting to him, or maybe it did long ago. Maybe he did pull the trigger and shoot George Price? Jason concluded that Terry looked unhinged enough to have carried out such an act.
Kingly tentatively asked, ‘Terry, when … when are you going to sort out that passport you were talking about?’
‘What passport?’
‘You said that you were going to ask a mate, or you had a mate that could sort out a passport for you.’
Terry’s head shot round to confront him. And Jason saw that his face was full of confusion and vagueness.
‘Jesus!’ cried Jason, expelling another exasperated breath. ‘You said you had a mate who was going to get you a passport, so you could leave the country?’
‘Oh yeah, him. And he will, he will.’ In two lunging strides he was right next to Jason. He then grabbed his face and held it in his hands. ‘First off, we have to get Simon some food, bird food. What do parrots eat in the Amazon?’
Jason didn’t know. He’d had little experience of the Amazon, or parrots, for that matter.
‘Fruit, get plenty of fruit and … seeds! They eat seeds. Nan had a budgie, like a parrot, but smaller, used to eat seeds and a white thing stuck in the bars?’
‘Cuttlefish?’
‘Now you’re thinking. Ask the pet-shop people, they’ll know. Get him the best, the best cuttlefish there is, the caviar of cuttlefish – and a cage, we have to get him a cage. The Buckingham Palace of cages.’
‘We have to let him go, can’t have him in here, there’s people looking for him.’
‘There’s people looking for me, too. We’re in this together. Me and Simon. He goes down, I go down, too. It’s me and him from here on out … The Defiant Ones … You seen that film?’
Jason shook his head, and took the opportunity to shake it free of Terry’s sweaty and manic grip.
‘He needs a cage, or he’ll shit all over the place.’
Jason agreed on this point. It was the most normal and sensible thing Terry had said since he’d got here.
‘Bird seed, fruit and a cage. I won’t lock him in, mind, he just needs a base, he’ll come in and out as he pleases, understand?’
Jason went over to the front door. ‘You’ll look into getting that passport though, eh? So we can get you out of here.’
Terry pulled another big manic grin. ‘Oh yeah, I’ll get right on it. Tell you what, though, might see if I can get Simon to teach me to fly,’ – he stood on one leg and flapped his arms – ‘then I won’t need a bloody passport!’
Jason’s heart sank as he slipped out of the door.