When he’d finished tying up Aubrey, he came around and checked the rest of us. He must have been satisfied with Aubrey’s handiwork—he looked a little more relaxed and stuck his gun in his belt.

Not having the gun pointed at anyone made me feel a little bolder.

“So, did you kill Jasper Walker?” I asked.

“Hell, no,” Freddy said. “Him and me were friends.”

“He and I were friends, Freddy,” Aubrey said.

“You were not,” Freddy said. “You never could stand Jasper. But he was working with me in the bird business. He was the one who figured out where to get the cash so we could expand our operations—why would I kill him?”

“Thieves fall out,” I said. “Where did he get the cash?”

“The jerk never told me,” Freddy said. “And he never showed up with the rest of the cash he promised. He’s left me in the lurch, owing a hell of a lot of money to some really impatient guys.”

He shook his head as if disappointed with Jasper’s inconsiderateness.

“So you weren’t involved with the embezzlement?” I asked.

“The what?” Freddy said. He looked genuinely puzzled. As if he not only hadn’t been involved in embezzlement but didn’t even know what the word meant.

“Jasper was using the computer system he designed to steal money from the college,” I said. And apparently investing the proceeds in illegal finches.

“Don’t look at me,” Freddy said. “Computers are Jasper’s thing, not mine. And I had nothing to do with his death.” His voice sounded a little shrill, and I winced when he pulled the gun out of his belt again. “Look at that crazy wife of his. I was coming home a couple of nights ago, and she came tearing out of Jasper’s driveway like a bat out of hell. Almost sideswiped my truck. I just figured they’d had a fight until I heard he was dead. Then I realized she must have been running away after killing him.”

After killing him, or perhaps after finding his body?

“Did you tell the police about seeing Karen?” I asked aloud.

“No,” he said. “I figured, why cause her any trouble?”

“More like you didn’t want to talk to the police,” the fake bird-watcher said.

“Whatever,” Freddy said, with a shrug. He stuck the gun back in his belt. “You can tell them for me. I’m getting out of here.”

He picked up a small bird cage, strolled over to the aviary, and opened the door. He reached in, grabbed a bird, and put it in the cage. Then he peered around as if looking for a particular bird.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

He closed the door to the aviary and scanned the cages lining the far wall. He went over to pull the covers off the few that had them. Then he whirled and strode back to Aubrey.

“What the hell have you done with my birds?” he shouted, waving his gun at her.

Thirty-One

Was Freddy crazy? Two walls of the barn were lined with cages full of birds—some sleeping and others twittering softly. It looked like plenty of birds to me, but I try not to argue with people carrying guns.