A Secret to Die For

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Bright and early the following morning Brian went to his bank to deposit the check, keeping out fifty dollars. From there, he went to the grocery store a block from his apartment, got as many flattened boxes as he could carry, and returned to his place to pack what he’d be taking with him. It was discouraging when he realized there was still one box left after he’d filled the others with his clothes, books, and the few other things he wanted to keep. “Doesn’t say much for my life, that I have so few possessions at my age,” he said under his breath as he waited for the cab he’d called to arrive.

When it did, the driver helped him put the boxes in the back. “Where to?” the driver asked. When Brian gave him the address, the driver chuckled. “Moving up in the world or moving back home to the parents?”

“Moving into what used to be my grandfather’s house, before he died,” Brian replied.

“You inherited it? Must be nice.”

Rather than go into details, since it was none of the man’s business, Brian said “Yes, it is,” and left it at that.

When they pulled up in front of the house and began putting the boxes on the front porch, a woman walking by with her dog eyed Brian with suspicion. He smiled at her, waving the keys, which seemed to mollify her. Thankfully, as far as he was concerned, she didn’t stop to ask who he was and why he was there.

After paying the cabbie, with a decent tip for all his help, Brian unlocked the front door, remembering at the last second to turn off the alarm, and began carrying the boxes inside. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud shriek, followed by several more. Then he realized it was Sir Kenith.

He finished bringing in the boxes, locked the door, and hurried up to the solarium. The minute Brian was inside; the macaw flew down from a high branch, landing on his shoulder. “Hello, hello, missed you,” the bird said.

“Umm, hello to you,” Brian replied in surprise, figuring that was something the bird picked up from his grandfather. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry,” the macaw replied, mimicking Brian’s voice.

With a laugh, the bird still on his shoulder, Brian went to the cabinet holding its food. At first he wondered where he was supposed to put it, until he looked around and saw cups attached to the lower branches of some of the trees. He filled a couple of them and Sir Kenith jumped off his shoulder to eat.

With that taken care of, Brian went down the hallway, checking out the bedrooms. He didn’t want to take over what he knew had to be the one his grandfather had used. It was too big and imposing, in his opinion. There was a smaller one next to it, painted beige, with a queen-sized bed, a fireplace, and windows on two of the walls which let in the sunlight, making it seem homey and…’friendly’ was the best word he could think of. The bed was already made up, with a blue comforter that matched the armchair in front of one of the windows.

As he unpacked his clothes and put them away in the closet and the dresser, he wondered where fresh linens were stored. He found them in a cupboard in the hallway and added the few clean towels and sheets he owned to the piles. Not that my sheets will fit the bed, but oh, well.

That brought up the question of whether there was a washer and dryer somewhere in the house. He found them in the basement, along with the furnace, hot-water heater, and a workbench with enough tools to fix anything that might need it.

Back on the first floor, he wondered which bookcase he could use for his books. They were all full—in the living room, the study, and even in the small parlor, he guessed it was called, which had large windows and glass French doors overlooking a patio behind the house. The shelves held mostly books, although there were some knickknacks on them as well.

“If I rearrange some of the books and move the knickknacks, will it mess up whatever it is the guy, Conley, is doing?” he asked himself. He decided he didn’t care. For the next year this is my house. If I want to rearrange things, I will.

He found places in the living room for some of the small statues his grandfather had collected, wondering as he did if they had any value. Not that he cared. They’d belonged to Alistair, so as far as he was concerned they stayed in the house, even if they were worth thousands of dollars. When he finished, he moved some of his grandfather’s books to clear two shelves in the study for his small collection. Standing back when he’d finished, he shook his head. His stood out like a sore thumb. It is what it is he decided. At least mine aren’t trash. Just more up-to-date than it looks like his are.

By then, it was time to fix something to eat and head to the coffee shop. When he checked the fridge, he was happily surprised to find it stocked with fresh food. Mr. Johnson’s doing, he figured. Either he made it happen yesterday afternoon, or he knew I couldn’t turn down living here and prepared ahead of time. He made a sandwich, eating it as he changed out of his grubby jeans and T-shirt into his work clothes. Then he took off after checking on Sir Kenith. The bird was asleep when he walked into the solarium, or so he thought until the macaw opened an eye and immediately flew down to land on his shoulder, saying “Hello, hello. Kiss me.”

Laughing, Brian kissed his beak. “I’ll be back after work.”

“Work, work, work. Bad,” the macaw replied in what Brian surmised was a close imitation of his grandfather’s voice and words.

“Not if you want food, Sir K,” Brian told him. He’d decided to shorten the bird’s name for convenience sake.

“Food. Hungry.”

“Good lord, I just fed you.” Despite saying that, Brian refilled two of the cups—one with grain, the other with fresh fruit. Then, after the bird began eating, he left.