Birdie's Nest Read online

  Two hours later they had a verdict.

  Mr. Samuelson joked with Mr. Johnson while they waited for the jury to enter.

  Lila and Rose were ushered into the courtroom and sat beside Mr. Douglas.

  After the jury was seated, Judge Tyler asked, “Mr. Foreman, do you have a verdict?”

  “Yes, sir, we do.”

  “Well, let’s hear it.”

  The tall elderly man cleared his throat. “We the jury find John Samuelson guilty on both counts of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tad shouldered his way, through the crowd in the courtroom, to the exit in time to see Birdie, Ethan by her side, striding across the lawn on their way to the police station. That columnist, Mr. Hoover and his wife hurried after them. At the journalist’s call, Birdie and Ethan stopped. No, Birdie, no. Don’t talk to them. But, Birdie and Ethan waited for them. She was taking a chance talking to the reporter. Ethan must know that. Why didn’t he hustle Birdie away? He probably didn’t want to cause any more speculation about Detective Jenkins. Tad hesitated at the bottom of the steps. If he ran over and interrupted, they might be even more suspicious. Best to hang back and let the situation play out.

  Dang, Birdie’s mustache was dangling from her upper lip again. Mrs. Hoover pointed and said something. Before Birdie could respond, the woman reached up and jerked the brush off. Mrs. Hoover’s mouth gaped as she studied the object in her fingers. Before either of the Hoovers could speak, Birdie snatched the mustache from the shocked woman, waved goodbye and strode quickly away. Ethan said something to the couple, and then turned to follow Birdie.

  Tad called, “Mr. Hoover. Hold up a moment.” The couple turned and waited for him. Tad held out his hand. “Tad Lockhart, Mr. Hoover. I wanted to let you know how much I admire your work. You’ve done a fine job covering this case.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your words.” The man shook Tad’s hand but his gaze returned to Birdie. “Did you see that? Detective Jenkins is a woman.”

  Tad allowed his gaze to follow Mr. Hoover’s. “That can’t be. I’ve seen him several times over the past six months while he’s been working here. He may be small in stature, but his childhood condition may have something to do with his size.”

  “But, his mustache was glued on.”

  Brow furrowed, Mrs. Hoover added, “I held it for a second, but then Detective Jenkins yanked it from my hand.”

  Mr. Hoover put his arm around her shoulders. “This is my wife, Mr. Lockhart.”

  Tad tipped his hat. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. May I say you did an excellent job with the DA’s cologne experiment?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” She chewed her lip and glanced at the retreating figures of Birdie and Ethan. “I know what I saw.”

  Tad hustled to think. He snapped his fingers. “Maybe he can’t grow a mustache, but wanted to be in style. They seem to be all the rage these days.”

  She thought for a minute. “You may be right.” But, she didn’t appear convinced. She looked around. “Where is your lovely wife?”

  “She rested this afternoon.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “She’s in a delicate condition.”

  Her mouth formed an O. “Oh my, how exciting. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. We’re very happy but please, don’t tell anyone. Birdie will have my hide for telling.”

  “We’ll keep it quiet, Mr. Lockhart.” He turned to his wife and arched a brow. “Won’t we dear.”

  She flushed. “Yes. Of course.”

  Tad tipped his hat. “I better run pick up Birdie so we can get home. He glanced back to see them staring toward the corner where Birdie and Detective Ethan turned to reach the police station.

  Hoping to throw them off, he jumped into the surrey and headed toward the hotel. He drove round the block and came up to the police station at its rear entry—just in time to see Birdie walk out of Ethan’s office and run right into the Hoovers. They must have hotfooted it over here.

  Mrs. Hoover, expression bewildered, called to Birdie. “Mrs. Lockhart, what a surprise to see you here. Why,” she glanced at her husband. “Mr. Lockhart said you were resting.” She touched Birdie’s arm, leaned close and whispered, “Congratulations, by the way.”

  * * *

  Birdie took Tad’s hand as he helped her into the surrey. “What were you thinking to tell her about the baby? Now it will be all over town.”

  He sighed. “Birdie, she asked where you were and I had to tell her something. I was trying to distract her from your mustache. Anyway, would that be so bad?” He stepped up, sat beside her and took the reins.

  “Yes. People in this century will expect me to sit around and twiddle my toes. I can’t do that. I’m an active person.”

  “You don’t know that, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll set a new trend. Anyway, Mrs. Hoover said she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  Birdie shot Tad a look. “It will be all over town by tomorrow.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “I didn’t really have a choice. After telling me about your mustache coming off and then asking where you were, I didn’t have time to come up with anything better.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “After all, you know I’m quite delighted.”

  “Yes, you’ll be quite the cock of the walk around here for fathering two babies in such a short period of time.”

  Birdie chuckled at his shocked expression. He sputtered, “You don’t really think that, do you?”

  “No, I’m teasing.” She scooted closer to and looped her arm through the crook of his. “How I can tease about anything right now, I don’t know.”

  He switched the reins to his other hand, put his arm around her waist and squeezed. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. No one’s going to figure out you’re Detective Jenkins.”

  She snuggled against him enjoying his male scent combined with his spicy aftershave. “What did you tell them about the mustache fiasco?” She could only imagine what the woman thought.

  “I said you might be one of those men who can’t grow facial hair, yet wanted to be in style.” He coughed into his hand. The scoundrel, he was trying to hide his laugh. “I also mentioned your childhood illness—that it might have been the cause, which I must say was very clever of you.”

  “Fortunately the idea just popped into my head.” With the odd looks she was receiving from the jurors and the others in the courtroom, she’d had to come up with something. “Do you think Mrs. Hoover bought your excuse?”

  “I don’t know. She started looking around and asked where you were. When I told her our news and that you were resting, she seemed to forget the mustache and offered congratulations.”

  “I can’t imagine what she thought, seeing me at the police station. I’m glad we were able to escape before they could start asking questions.” She wished she could say the same for Detective Ethan. The pair had caught him in the hallway. Hopefully he’d been able to come up with a good story. “I guess we better tell the family about the baby tonight. I’d hate for them to hear the news from someone else.”

  “Do you mind getting pregnant so early in our marriage?”

  “In some ways. I wish Nathan was a little older, but we’ll manage.” She slipped her arm around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. His arm moved up to wrap around her shoulders. He slid his large, calloused hand up and down her arm, a motion that caused delicious goose bumps to break out on her skin. “No, I don’t mind, Tad. At my age, if I’m going to have children, it needs to be now.” Birth defects occurred in this era, but she didn’t know if they were as common as they were in the future. Somehow she didn’t think so. She touched her flat belly and imagined being big with their child. She glanced at Tad. “Will you still want to make love to me when my belly is swollen?”

  * * *

  Three days later Detective Ethan dropped by shortly after breakfast. Birdie met him on the porch. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

&nb
sp; “Sure would.”

  “Let’s sit out here on the porch. It’s cooler.” Sometimes they actually caught a slight breeze. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”

  She returned with the pot and two cups. After pouring their servings, she placed the pot on the porch to prevent scorching the table. The last couple of mornings’ coffee hadn’t settled real well on her stomach, so she merely sipped rather than drank.

  Lloyd placed his hat on his knee and then glanced toward the barns. “Tad around?”

  “Yes. I imagine he saw you ride in and will be up in a minute.”

  His mouth turned up in a grin. “He’s not still jealous, is he?”

  Birdie chuckled. “No, he just likes to stay informed.” And it’d be easier on her if she didn’t have to retell the news.

  “Good, good.” He took a large swallow of coffee. “Yeowee! That’s hot.” He blew on it and took a sip. “What’s he say about you doing anymore work for the police department?”

  “He doesn’t want me to, of course, but I told him if you all needed me, I’d be there.”

  His face sobered. “Now, Birdie. We don’t want to cause problems between you and Tad. Plus, the chief is against it altogether. I guess you saw him in the courtroom when they insisted you testify.”

  She tried not to laugh, but the memory was funny. “Did he give you a tongue lashing?”

  “Nothing any worse than what he’s given me before.”

  Tad rode up and tied his horse to the hitching rail. Birdie shook her head in wonder, amazed again she really lived in this, to her, historical period. How long before she completely accepted “the past” and forgot where she’d come from?

  “Hey, Lloyd, what brought you out today?” Tad stepped up on the porch, pulled a rocker closer and sat, his long legs stretched out in front. “You’re not here for Birdie, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. Thought I’d bring you the news from town.”

  Birdie topped off her cup of coffee and handed it to Tad.

  “Thank you, hon. You sure you don’t want it? I can go get another cup.”

  “No, I had plenty earlier.” She seemed to remember caffeine should be avoided during pregnancy.

  Tad removed his hat and tossed it onto the porch sending dust flying. His hair held a crease where the hatband had flattened it. With his free hand, he scrubbed at his head lifting the slicked down strands for air circulation. She smiled at the gesture she’d grown used to seeing each evening when he came in from working.

  “Have they announced Samuelson’s sentence yet?”

  “No, that’s not why I’m here.” He removed a newspaper from his inside jacket pocket. How did the man keep from smothering in the wool coat? “I thought you’d want to see this right away. Fresh off the printer this morning.”

  Birdie reached for it and moved to sit on Tad’s lap so they could read it together. “What page?”

  Ethan finished off his coffee and set the cup on the small table. “Turn to page two. The article is in the right hand column.”

  Tad squeezed her waist. “Read it aloud, Birdie.”

  Birdie skimmed the heading and glanced between the two men before sharing with them. Ethan sighed deeply, his mouth pursed in a frown.

  She took a deep breath and read. “Could Detective Jenkins be a Woman?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I find it shockingly strange that Detective Jenkins can’t keep his moustache on his face. From the detective’s small stature and smooth complexion, you’d think his baby face that of a woman. Or his lack of facial hair and his body frame also be a result of that ‘childhood’ illness he alluded to on the witness stand?

  “Both my wife and I were surprised to see a certain woman with the initials of B. L. at the police station in the company of Detective Ethan. On his way to greet them was the lady’s husband, T. L. Of course this is speculation on my part, but could B. L. have posed as Detective Jenkins and if so, why?

  “If you can shed any light on this situation, please contact me at the news office.”

  Robert Fuller

  Birdie folded the paper, stood up and placed it on the table. “I’m sorry, Tad.”

  Tad was livid. He lurched from the rocker, bounded down the few steps and stalked up and down in front of the porch holding his head and swearing. Olivia came to the screen door. “What on earth is going on out here, Tad? We can hear you roaring all the way to the back of the house.”

  He stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Mother, just letting off a little steam.” He cast his gaze toward Ethan, eyes narrowed. For a minute Birdie was afraid he’d let some off by pummeling the detective. She glanced at Ethan. He sat ramrod straight, his body ready for the attack if it came. The two men would be evenly matched. Though Tad was taller, Ethan had more brawn. It wouldn’t take Tad long to cool off. He was quick to anger but quick to let it go.

  “Well, hold it down, please, or you’re going to wake Nathan.” She stuck her head out the door. Her earlier frown grew into a smile. “Hello, Detective Ethan. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you. Will you stay to dinner?”

  He finished his coffee and stood. “No, ma’am, but thank you. I have to get back.”

  “Come back again when you can stay longer.”

  “I’ll do that, ma’am.”

  Olivia turned and went back in the house. Birdie walked down the steps with Ethan and joined Tad by his horse.

  “I’m sorry as heck about this, Tad. You too, Birdie. I never dreamed Detective Jenkins would have to appear in court.”

  “It’s not your doing, Lloyd.” Birdie took Tad’s arm and squeezed close to his side. “Tad, love, it’s really not Ethan’s fault. It was that darn old glue. I’d have escaped notice if it hadn’t been for that moustache coming loose.”

  A muscle in Tad’s jaw jerked. He bit out. “I know that but it doesn’t make the news any less disturbing. Next they’ll be printing your name in the paper. It won’t take people long to realize who B. L. is.”

  “They can speculate all they want, but they’ll never be sure,” said Lloyd. “How do you want to handle this?”

  “I’d just as soon admit to being Jenkins and get it over with. It’s not like my participation can have any impact on the case.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Tad looked to Ethan for support. “Don’t you agree?”

  “For now, yes. We just continue as if nothing is out of the ordinary.”

  * * *

  Birdie rode by the construction site on her way to meet Mattie at the warehouse they called their studio. She snickered. Studio indeed. Maybe in time they’d have some money to put into it and spruce it up.

  She was surprised to see so much activity going on at Birdie’s Nest. Men were everywhere doing one job or another. A man hollered, waved his hat and headed her way. It was Mr. Teague, the architect. Stunned at the amount of work they’d done, she dismounted and let Strawberry drag the reins and munch on the grass as she walked toward the man. Fortunately, they’d leveled the ground for the drive and she didn’t have to worry about where she put her feet in the overgrown vegetation.

  He whipped off his hat. “Hello, Mrs. Lockhart.” He wave toward all the construction. “What do you think?”

  “I’m amazed.” She couldn’t believe how much they’d gotten done. The cellar looked almost finished and they’d started some framing. Where had the money come from? “Mr. Teague. I don’t have enough money for this. Surely you didn’t buy this on credit.”

  “No, ma’am. Your husband came by the office earlier in the week. He’d opened an account at the bank for me to draw funds from as needed.”

  Birdie’s chin quivered and she cleared her throat to keep from crying. Darned hormones. Mr. Teague didn’t seem to notice. He continued to update her on the work they’d done. “I’ve put in an order for the brick, but you might want to go by the brickyard in the next day or two and decide on the color.”

  She threw her arms around the astounded man’s
neck, almost knocking him to the ground. “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Teague. I surely will.”

  Mr. Teague patted her on the back. “Now, now, ma’am, don’t be thanking me. Thank that husband of yours.”

  She pulled back and wiped at the tears on her face. “You can bet I will.”

  “Good, good.” He pulled a paper from his suit coat pocket and handed it to her. “This is a list of some things you’ll need to decide on soon so I can order in supplies.”

  Birdie glanced at the sheet, the writing covering almost the entire page listed items from wood for paneling and floors, to wall paper choices. She hugged it to her heart. At last, it was really happening. They were building Birdie’s Nest. “I’ll see to it, Mr. Teague.”

  She sang all the way to the warehouse. When she arrived, she found Mattie sitting at the desk. Unable to contain herself, she rushed the woman from behind and hugged her around the neck.

  “What on earth, child?”

  Birdie removed her arms, scooted paper out of the way and sat on the desk. “They’re actually building Birdie’s Nest. You need to ride by and take a look.”

  “Where’d you get the money?”

  “Tad. He’s paying for it.” Birdie teared up again. She swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. “Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

  “Well, he sure is, but why the tears?”

  “I’m so happy, Mattie.” She grabbed one of the older woman’s hands and squeezed. “We’re also going to have a baby.”

  “A baby?” Mattie’s face lit and then she broke into tears. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Birdie had never seen the older woman cry, even when she was overcome with joy. “Mattie, are you all right?”

  She sniffed and smiled through her tears. “I think Joseph and I are going to become parents too.” She dropped her head to her hands. “I’d given up on ever having a child. I’ve been making excuses for my symptoms for weeks.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Birdie pulled Mattie from her chair and danced her around the room. Suddenly the room swayed a bit and Birdie held a hand to her head. “Whoa, we better sit down.”