The pet magazines had virtually nothing about birds at all, though they had some interesting articles on dog care and training. I put them aside for Rob, who seemed to be taking an increasing interest in Spike’s welfare. Two of the three bird magazines appeared to deal exclusively with bird watching, so I put them aside for Dad. But Bird Talk, with a brightly colored close-up of a parrot on the cover, looked like the ticket. They had eighteen or twenty pages of ads from places selling birds—mostly parrots, macaws, and other exotics, but a few places offered canaries, parakeets, and cockatiels.

The Belle Glade Bird Farm wasn’t among them, though. No other aviaries anywhere near Caerphilly, so they weren’t advertising under an alternate name. And they weren’t listed among the several hundred vendors providing specialized bird merchandise, from cages and perches to food and toys. There were even people selling bird car seats and little bird harnesses, similar to what I was still considering buying for Timmy.

I couldn’t find Belle Glade in the classified section of the Clarion, either. They weren’t even in the Caerphilly Shopper, the free weekly advertising rag. In fact—

I hopped out of my perch, dashed back to the car and rummaged under the seat, where I kept a spare copy of the local phone book. Aubrey Hamilton was listed, but Belle Glade Bird Farm didn’t appear in the white or yellow pages.

So Belle Glade wasn’t an established bird breeder. In fact, it looked as if someone—Aubrey Hamilton or her reclusive nephew—was just breeding a few birds in the barn.

I’d also seen an article in Bird Talk about all the ghastly things that could be wrong with your birds if you bought them from anyone but a responsible breeder. Could Belle Glade be one of those irresponsible, fly-by-night breeders the article condemned so roundly?

Perhaps I’d mention the bird farm to Dad and Dr. Blake. No doubt they’d go dashing off to check the place out, and I could stop worrying about it.

“Auntie Meg! Take me, too!”

Timmy came running up and launched himself at my leg. Rose Noire came puffing along behind.

“He got very upset when he saw you go up to the car,” she said. “He seemed to think you were leaving him behind.”

“No, I’m not leaving him anywhere,” I said, putting my arm around Timmy. “Who wants some ice cream?”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Timmy scrambled into his car seat and sat completely still waiting for me to buckle him in. I found myself wishing I’d resorted to bribery much earlier.

After ice cream, we went home, and Rose Noire retired to one of the guest rooms to lie down with a lavender-scented compress over her eyes while Timmy and I played, had lunch, napped, and played some more. I didn’t get much done, but then I couldn’t think of much else that needed doing.

Well, with one exception. I wanted to find someone to babysit Timmy this evening. I had several expeditions I wanted to make. Probably a lost cause, finding someone in time to follow Nadine to see what I could learn about her travel plans, but perhaps a return visit to her house after six might be fruitful. Or some snooping around the Belle Glade Bird Farm. Maybe even a little stroll around the college campus, to see if I could find an excuse to go back to Karen’s office. The financial administration building wasn’t that far from the drama department—if I ran into anyone, I could always pretend I was on my way to see Michael. But all of these were expeditions I’d rather make under the cover of darkness, and without a toddler underfoot. And baby sitters were proving strangely hard to find.