Chapter 4 - A Bird That Repeats
Malcolm called from the house half an hour later. I could hear keys rattling and his breath quickening as he knelt by the piano.
"There's a plastic bird down here," he said. "Purple feathers. Yellow beak. One wing's broken."
I remembered it. Maya's grandfather had given it to her just before he died. It was a cheap talking toy from a pharmacy. Press the stomach, and it repeated a short recording in a ridiculous squeak. Maya loved it because he used to make it say, 'Birds are meant to sing.'
"Bring it," I said.
"The batteries are out."
"Bring it anyway."
There was a click, and then another voice came over the line. "Malcolm?" Sloane sounded almost cheerful. "What are you doing in there?"
"Getting clothes for Mom."
"You've got her clothes. I packed them."
"I'm checking on the piano."
A pause. "That filthy toy is still around? Throw it away."
Malcolm said nothing. I heard his footsteps move across the marble. The call ended.
Officer Alvarez came to see me shortly after. He asked for a full account, starting before the spill. I told him about the bananas we cut in the kitchen, the pink dress Sloane wanted spotless for photographs, Maya building a path of cushions, and the grape juice making a dark stain on the rug.
"Her first thought was that she'd be punished," I said. "Not that she'd hurt herself."
Alvarez wrote it down. "Did you witness anyone hit the child?"
"I saw Sloane raise her foot toward Maya. I moved between them. Then she struck me."
He promised nothing. He would document my injuries, interview witnesses, and seek video.
May you like
After he left, my phone rang from an unfamiliar number. I almost ignored it.
A woman whispered, "Mrs. Ellison? This is Denise. I cleaned your son's house until Sloane fired me. You don't know me well. But I know why the camera stopped working."
