“Finch laundering,” Rob repeated. He and Aubrey burst into laughter. Okay, I admit I chuckled a bit myself.

“Why am I imagining a clothesline filled with brightly colored birds fluttering in the breeze?” I asked.

“Because you’re way old-fashioned,” Rob said. “Me, I see a passel of them tumbling round and round in the dryer.”

“Ouch!” Aubrey exclaimed. “They wouldn’t like that.”

“I always use the delicate cycle,” Rob said.

“Very funny,” Arroyo said, as if he didn’t really think it was the least bit amusing. “Finch launderers are the people who provide phony provenance to prove the birds are legal—that they were bred in captivity, either in this country or in a country where it’s legal to export them to the U.S. That way the smugglers have an easier time selling them. In the wild, Gouldian finches are endangered, and I’d bet anything those finches weren’t bred in captivity.”

“Endangered species,” I said. “Yeah, that’s probably what got Dr. Blake interested.”

“His heart’s in the right place,” Arroyo said. “I just wish he’d cooperate with us a little more. Do you think he stole Hamilton’s finches?”

“Seized, not stole,” I said. “At least that’s how Dr. Blake would see it. But yes, I’m pretty sure he did. Let’s concentrate on practical matters, shall we? Like getting ourselves untied and trying to catch Freddy? Preferably before whoever Freddy was talking to has time to get over here, because it sounded to me as if he was talking someone out of doing something a lot more drastic than tying us up.”

They all looked at me as if awaiting further instructions.

“That was an invitation to throw out some suggestions,” I said. “Anyone have an idea?”

“I can move my hands up and down,” Rob said. “I’ll start working on sawing through the tape with the corner of the post I’m tied to.”

His shoulders began twitching rhythmically.

“Well, this might help,” Aubrey said. “Paris! Julie!”

I heard a scuffling noise as the two poodles snapped to attention, and one of them barked gruffly.

“Come here!” Aubrey coaxed. “Here, Paris! Here Julie!”

More scuffling from the stall, and a little whining.

“Come here! Treats!”

The door to the stall swung open, bringing one of the dogs with it—it looked as if he had jumped up and used his paw to open the latch. Or her paw; I couldn’t exactly tell the two shaggy beasts apart. They trotted over and began licking Aubrey’s face.

“Good girl! Good boy!” she said, her voice a little muffled by all the fur around her.

“Well, that’s a start,” I said. “Now what can they do? Gnaw the duct tape off? Maybe go fetch Chief Burke?”

“I don’t know yet,” Aubrey said. “Down girl! Settle down.”

Just then Spike came trotting out of the stall and looked around expectantly.

“Oh, great,” I said. “Spike’s loose.”

“Do they fetch?” Arroyo asked. “Hamilton left his duct tape and utility knife over there in the corner.”

We all craned to see. Yes, the utility knife was lying in plain sight. If Hamilton hadn’t taped us to the posts, any of us could have crawled over to get it.