Chapter Three

Bonnie drove slowly so they could continue to observe the surrounding countryside, trying to make some sense out of the absence of birds in some areas and not in others.

“This time of year, there should be flocks of birds lining the telephone wires, flitting through the branches of the trees, swooping en masse overhead.” Bonnie took one hand off the steering wheel to make a gesture, mimicking the way the birds would dive and dip through the sky. “But they aren’t there. You saw me making notes of the flocks and solitary birds we sighted all along the way.”

Kate nodded. “Your notes from this morning match what we’re seeing right now. But the closer we got to Best Acres, the fewer birds we saw, and now, driving away, we’re seeing more again.” She peered out the window as they got closer to Copper Mill. “It’s odd that the bird population around Best Acres would be so low. Best Acres is sort of an unofficial bird sanctuary around here. Locals know that they can drive up and honk, and Artie Best will usually come out and give them a tour. He’s the go-to guy for groups who want to learn more about birds in the area. My friend Livvy Jenner recently had him speak at the library.”

Bonnie had slowed so much, apparently concentrating on Kate’s words, that they were hardly moving. “Why wouldn’t he want to participate in Sparrowpalooza, then?”

Kate shook her head. “I’ve heard stories about him from people who’ve met him. He’s definitely a character. I’m sure that whatever his reasons are, they make sense to him, but I can’t imagine what they’d be.”

Bonnie sighed and picked up her speed. “The worst part is that his land and the areas closest to it are speculated to be the best spots to get a gander at those umbies.”

“Umbies?” Kate raised her hand to ask for clarification.

“Yes, Mrs. Hanlon?” Bonnie’s eyes twinkled at the throwback to their one-time student-teacher relationship.

“Old habits die hard.” Kate crinkled her nose and laughed softly as she lowered her hand. “You mean the umber-throated mountain sparrow?”

Bonnie smiled. “Laypeople call it a bearded sparrow because the tuft of umber-colored feathers”—she wriggled her fingers just under her chin—“looks like a little rust-colored goatee. Avid birders have taken to calling it by the more affectionate name umbie.”

“Umbie. I like that.” Kate smiled as they parked in front of the Country Diner.

Kate could tell that Bonnie would enjoy everything about the diner by the smile on her face as soon as Kate escorted her through the door. The simple eatery—a gathering place where people shared everything from the latest news to a lunch of grilled cheese on rye—wasn’t very busy this time of day.

Kate directed Bonnie to one of the blue vinyl booths along the wall, about halfway back.

LuAnne Matthews, wearing a gold-colored polyester dress with a white apron, winked at Kate as she sidestepped to get her ample hips between two tables. “Be right with y’all, just as soon as I take care of Dot here.”

LuAnne set her tray in front of a plump, pleasant-faced woman and unloaded a large slice of deep-dish apple pie, a coffee cup and saucer, and a pitcher of cream.

Kate watched as Dot Bagley giggled, then dropped her napkin into her lap.

“Your hair sure does look pretty today, Dot,” LuAnne commented as she poured coffee into her cup. “You just come from Betty’s Beauty Parlor?”

Dot patted her stiffly styled gray hair with one hand. “Why, yes, I did. Thank you for noticing.”

“That’s the second time in three days. You have some kind of big event comin’ up?” LuAnne asked.

Kate wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but since they were right next to her, she couldn’t really help it.

“No, no. Just been spending way more time than usual outside this week, and wouldn’t you know my hair paid the price for it?” Dot lifted her fork, then paused as LuAnne picked up the pitcher of cream and, as a courtesy, offered to pour some into the dark black liquid.

“Oh no, I don’t want that in my coffee.” Dot touched LuAnne’s wrist lightly to stop her.

“But you asked for cream.” LuAnne set the pitcher back on the tray and frowned.

“Yes, but I’d like it in a take-out cup, if you don’t mind.” Dot gestured with her hand to indicate a small Styrofoam cup. “With a lid.”

“You know you can buy cream by the pint at the store, don’t you?” LuAnne’s frown deepened, and her green eyes went a bit squinty behind her horn-rimmed glasses. Kate could tell she wasn’t quite sure what Dot wanted.

“Yes, but I only had time to either have pie or go shopping, and I chose pie.”

Dot sounded just a shade on the testy side. She must have realized it, though, because when she spoke to LuAnne again, her voice was much sweeter. Kate pegged it as what her grandmother would have called “sloppin’ sugar.”

Kate watched Dot smile and say to LuAnne, almost poutylike, “I don’t mind paying extra for it. Just please can you keep it in the fridge until I’m ready to go? I appreciate it so much.”

“Sure thing, Dot,” LuAnne said, obviously still confused, as she gathered the pitcher and tray. She came to a stop at Kate and Bonnie’s table. Kate introduced the two women, then LuAnne took their orders and told them she’d be back with drinks.

Dot dug into her pie. Although all eyes in the diner were on her, she didn’t offer any insight into why she wanted the cream. And nobody seemed inclined to pry.

LuAnne returned a few minutes later with their drinks. While Bonnie went to the ladies’ room to freshen up, Kate sipped her sweet tea and let her eyes wander around the room.

Dot was eating as though she thought someone might come in and grab her pie away at any minute.

LuAnne, ever an attentive waitress, refilled Dot’s coffee cup between sips. When Dot finished her pie, LuAnne whisked the plate away and had the bill ready.

At the most prominent table in the diner sat Renee Lambert, who was in her early seventies but insisted she wasn’t a day over thirty-nine. Renee, dressed in bright pink from the bow in her bold bottle-blonde hair to the tips of her pointy-toed high heels, paused from drinking her tea now and again to coo at her Chihuahua, Kisses, whom she had tucked under her arm.

Near the back of the restaurant sat a couple Kate didn’t recognize. They had deep tans, and when the man spoke to LuAnne, Kate noticed he had a strong Southern accent clearly different from that of the local area. Long limbed and lean, he had a ready grin and a stylish haircut. He wore sunglasses, though when he spoke to his companion, he looked over the top of the frames. The couple seemed to be enjoying their meal and each other’s company.

Bonnie sat back down at the table, got out her notebook, and flipped it open. The map from the Joanie’s Ark Web site slid out onto the tabletop.

Kate unfolded the paper and said, “We can get something much more detailed at the library later, but for now, why don’t we mark off the places where we saw the most and the least birds?”

Using her notes, Bonnie circled the places they had stopped during the day, then wrote a big X in the places where they’d seen ten or more birds. A pattern quickly began to emerge.

“There’s no denying it.” Kate traced her fingertip along the edge of the roughly drawn border, indicating the thirty-plus acres of Best’s land. “When you get close enough to Best Acres to see the trees and bushes lining that land, the bird sightings all but stop.”

“What do you know about this place, Kate?” Bonnie tapped the large shaded section on the map.

“Paul and I have driven along Best Acres Line Road a few times on Sunday drives.” Kate moved her finger along the unmarked road that crossed Pine Ridge Road and made up one side of the Best’s land. “I’ve only seen the trees that line the acres and acres of pasture lands lying to the north, east, and west of Artie’s home.”

She studied the drawing and tried to match it to what she had seen with her own eyes. “The main part of the land, where the bird barns and house sit, is marked off with a lovely old split-rail fence, and kudzu has crept all over it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw LuAnne heading in their direction with a tray.

Kate scooted the map over to make room for their plates and said, “I really wish now that we’d taken the time to stop, but it seemed weird to just drive up to someone’s home unannounced, honk, and ask him to give you a tour.”

Bonnie agreed. “It’s still so strange to me that that’s how it works. If it were me, I’d have hours of operation posted.”

“Hours of operation? At a person’s house?” LuAnne sidled up to the table and placed their orders down with a plunk. She gave Bonnie a quick grin and teased, “Is that how they do things in Texas?”

“We’re talking about Artie Best and the wildlife preserve he has,” Bonnie said to fill LuAnne in on their conversation. “I don’t understand how people could just show up at his home and expect him to drop everything to give them a tour.”

“Well, I’ve heard that he does accept donations in return to help with the care of the birds,” Kate explained.

“It’s not so strange.” LuAnne set down the last of the plates and stepped back. “Out in the country, if folks end up with too many vegetables, or a surplus of firewood, they stack them up on the front lawn and put a For Sale sign up. If passersby want to buy them, that’s what they do.” LuAnne smiled. “Isn’t that nice to know people still feel they can do that kind of thing? Just honk.”

“Only don’t go trying that with Artie Best. Not anymore,” Dot spoke up.

Kate, Bonnie, and LuAnne all turned to look her way. So did Renee. Even the couple in the back got quiet and seemed interested.

“I’m sorry to have eavesdropped.” Dot checked the time, then patted her new hairdo and said, “It’s just that you don’t hear the name Best Acres crop up too often around here, and when you do, well, it just naturally draws attention.”

“That’s all right, Dot,” Kate assured her. “So, what were you saying about Artie Best?”

“As of a day or so ago, he has a new sign on the gate that goes across his drive. Says ‘visitors by appointment only,’ or something like that.”

LuAnne adjusted her glasses, then cocked her head. “You live out that way, don’t you, Dot?”

“I live in the general vicinity, yes.” Dot pursed her lips but didn’t offer any more information.

“Well, all I can say is you couldn’t pay me to go out there, appointment or not. I know he’s a harmless old goat, but that Artie Best gives me a case of the willies.” LuAnne glanced at Dot’s table. “Let me get you that cup of cream, Dot.”

Kate gave Bonnie a wary look. If Artie Best made everyone feel like that, it was no wonder the Sparrowpalooza organizers didn’t want any guests messing with him.

“This is all so perplexing,” Kate said as they dug into their pie.

“Yes, and problematic,” Bonnie said, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at the map on the table. “A bird population doesn’t just shift away from one particular spot for no reason, especially a spot where they’ve found sanctuary for years. Something isn’t right in the trees and skies around Best Acres, Kate.”