“The only reason I can think of,” Sabin said, “is that the parrot is more important than would at first seem to be the case. I am quite certain that Casanova was with my father in the mountain cabin when my father was murdered. He, perhaps, saw something, or heard something, so he was removed and another parrot substituted. My father returned home on Friday, September second, long enough to pick up Casanova. We hadn’t expected him until Monday, September fifth.”
“But it would have been so much simpler and easier for the murderer to have killed the parrot,” Mason said.
“I realize that,” Sabin replied, “and I know that my theory is bizarre. Nevertheless, it is the only explanation I have been able to make in my own mind.”
“Why,” Mason asked, “didn’t you tell the police about this?”
Sabin shook his head. This time there was no attempt to disguise the weariness in his eyes or his voice. “I have come to realize,” he said, “that it is absolutely impossible for the police to keep matters from the newspapers, and I don’t have any great confidence in the ability of the police to solve a crime such as this. I think you will find that it has very deep ramifications, Mr. Mason. I’ve told the police no more than was absolutely necessary. I have not volunteered information. I am giving this information to you. I would suggest that you keep it from the police. Let them build up their own case.”
And Sabin indicated that he had told everything he knew by getting to his feet and extending his hand. “Thank you very much, Mr. Mason,” he said. “I’ll rest a lot easier in knowing that the matter is in your hands.”
Chapter two
Mason, pacing back and forth across his office, jerked out comments. Paul Drake, head of the Drake Detective Agency, his tall form draped crosswise across the overstuffed leather chair, made notes in a leather-backed notebook.
“That substituted parrot,” Mason said, “is a clue which we have in advance of the police... It’s a profane parrot... Later on, we’re going to find out why the murderer wanted to substitute parrots. Right now, we’re going to try and trace the profane parrot, which should be easy... We can’t hope to compete with the police, so we’ll ignore the commonplace factors.”
“How about the pink silk nightie?” Paul Drake asked, in his slow, drawling voice. “Do we do anything about that?”