Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 40, No. 6, June, 1995

Edgar sat down in his swivel chair with a disappointed look. “Ah, Thaddeus,” he sighed. “You have a long way to go before you are able to fill the boots of any great private investigator. You had the perfect opportunity to find out what our client was about, and you muffed it.”

The phone on Edgar’s desk jangled loudly. Edgar picked it up before the reproved Thaddeus could get back to his own desk to answer it and heard the satin voice of Edwina Lamore.

“I’m so glad I caught you, Mr. Snavely. I received the oddest phone call last night. A Miss Snodgrass called to tell me that she had seen one of the circulars I had distributed. She told me that a man she knew had sold her a cockatoo just yesterday for one thousand dollars. From the description in my circular, she believed it to be my Foo-Foo. She said she would return it to me, but I would have to reimburse her for the money she paid for the bird.”

“It is possible that this ‘Miss Snodgrass’ is telling the truth,” said Edgar. “It is also possible that Miss Snodgrass is an accomplice of your friend Cranston, and this is his way of getting money for the bird without showing up himself. He might be afraid that you would have him arrested for birdnapping.”

“You are so clever, Mr. Snavely. But what shall I do? I do want my Foo-Foo back. She is very valuable to me.”

Edgar thought for a moment. “Do you have a telephone number so that you might get in touch with Miss Snodgrass?... Good. Call her and have her bring the bird to my office tomorrow at precisely nine A.M.

“I would like you to be here also, Miss Lamore, with the one thousand dollars. If Miss Snodgrass’s story is true, it will cost you a thousand dollars, but you will have your bird. If her story is not true, with some discreet questioning I should get a lead as to where we can find Igor Cranston.”

“Do you think this Miss Snodgrass has Miss Lamore’s bird?” asked Thaddeus when Edgar had hung up the phone.

“All will be revealed in time,” said Edgar. “Not only will Edwina Lamore and Miss Snodgrass be here tomorrow, but I will also invite a surprise guest, my friend police captain James LeStreet. We should have a very interesting get-together.”

A none-too-happy Captain LeStreet was the first of the guests to arrive at Edgar’s office the next morning.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, but Dottie insisted I stop off on my way to work. What’s going on, Edgar?”

“I won’t keep you long, James. I am having a particular person here in a little while. I thought you might want to be here to see if you would recognize her — or him — as a participant in the Bloomingsax shooting.”

“Her? Him? Are you still on that disguise kick? I told you it was a man that we all saw. If that’s what you asked me here for...”

The door opened, interrupting the captain’s protests. A tallish woman, about forty, with fiery red hair piled high on her head and wearing an orange two-piece suit, walked in. She carried a brown purse in her left hand, and in her right hand she carried a black bird stand topped with a crossbar. A string on the crossbar was tied to the leg of a large white cockatoo perched there.

“Hello. I’m Miss Snodgrass. I’m to meet a Miss Lamore here,” she said.

“Come in,” said Edgar. “I am Edgar Snavely. This is my assistant, Thaddeus Dinsmore, and the other gentleman is Captain LeStreet of the Ocean City Police Department.”

Miss Snodgrass’s jaw noticeably tightened. “What is the law doing here? I am just a good citizen doing her duty by returning someone’s property. I’m doing nothing illegal.”

“Have no fear, Miss Snodgrass,” soothed Edgar. “We are all here for the same reason: to meet Miss Edwina Lamore.”

As if on cue, the door opened once again, and Edwina Lamore entered.

“Foo-Foo!” she cried as soon as she saw the bird.

At the sound of her name, the bird spread her wings, which seemed to fill the room, and leaped from the stand in the direction of Edwina. Unfortunately for Foo-Foo, the cord securing her leg to the bird stand pulled taut. The bird made a sudden, unplanned mid-air U-turn, which caused her to crash-land on Miss Snodgrass’s hair. As a result, the bird, the stand, and Miss Snodgrass’s bright red hair fell to the floor of the office. There was a split second of silence as everyone stared at the melange of black bird stand, white bird, and red hair on the floor. Snodgrass was busy trying to hide “her” bald head with his purse.

“The Bloomingsax shooter!” exclaimed Captain LeStreet.

“Igor Cranston!” cried Edwina.

Snodgrass, née Cranston, tried a quick turn to make a hasty exit through the office door but was hampered by a too-tight skirt. He was brought to the floor with a flying tackle by the quick acting Thaddeus. Captain LeStreet, who moved pretty quickly for a short, overweight cop, helped Thaddeus push Cranston into a chair, and the two of them held him there.