Zona Blaine clomped down the stairs wearing a short robe and a pair of her husband’s slip-ons. She still had nice legs, and, in spite of her pool-lounging in the hot valley sun, she had nice skin. She was cradling a basket full of laundry and talking to her bird, Boo Boo, who was perched high on her shoulder. She looked into the front room and said good morning to Walter’s cousin, Freddy, who was leaning forward on the couch with a cup of coffee so hot he was fanning it with a copy of a bird magazine. Freddy didn’t look so good. It had been a real shocker to Zona when she first got a load of him at the airport. He was beyond what one might term “a whiter shade of pale,” and he had dropped fifty pounds. He claimed it was malaria.

Zona swung open the garage door and loaded the washer. She was back in a second and said, “This bird is crazy.”

“Can it talk?” Freddy said.

“You should hear him. I go out into the garage and he says, ‘Whacha doin’?’ I say, ‘I’m doing the laundry, Boo Boo.’ He says, ‘Need any help?’ ”

“No!” Freddy declared.

“I’m not kidding. ‘Need any help?’ ”

“That’s wild. What else does he say?” Freddy cranked the footrest of the lounger down and made an assault on the hot cup of coffee. Zona wondered how he could drink it so hot.

“He does a one-way telephone conversation: ‘Yeah…uh-huh…yeah?’ Then he’ll pause, you know. ‘Oh, yeah? Uh-huh. That’s right.’ Pause again. ‘Oh, yeah? Ah-ha-ha-ha!’ ”

Freddy said, “Is it like parakeet chatter? Or is it like human?”

“It’s just like human. Parakeets—” Zona screwed up her face and cocked her head to the side. “ ‘Pretta bird, chich chich chich. Pretta bird.’ That’s all you get from parakeets.”

“Parakeets have got that tinny quality,” Freddy said. He picked up a bright blue butane lighter and shook a Kool from his pack. “What about Blaine’s parrot? That bird can talk.”

“Roberto? ‘I ham joost hey line man for zee county.’ ”

Freddy lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Roberto bit me on the cuticle last time I was out here. Took out a chunk of meat. I still got the scar.”

“African grays,” Zona said. “They are mean, but they're the best talkers. ‘Hey, hey, pretty wooman. Wot harrh you wearing such hey sexy blouse for? You h’rr making me so hot, bébé.’ ”

“He’s a smooth one, all right. He gets you to trust him and then he bites you. Does he bite Blaine?”

“He bites them one and all. Roberto is a real card. He’s a character,” Zona said.

“Who taught him all that Spanish? He must be a pre-owned bird. It’s always a sex trip or that stupid song.”

“Bésame Mucho,” Zona said.