“And the parrot?” Mason asked. “Did you kill the parrot?”
“Good heavens, no! Why should I want to kill the parrot?”
“You probably noticed,” Mason said, “that the parrot kept repeating, ‘Put down that gun, Helen... don’t shoot... My God, you’ve shot me.’ ”
“Well, you can’t blame that on me,” she said. “My husband purchased that parrot at a pet store on Friday the second. I’m not responsible for anything a parrot says. What’s more, that parrot never was anywhere near that cabin.”
Sudden tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t believe, I simply can’t believe that he ever intended to do anything which wasn’t for my complete happiness. Oh, God, why did he have to die. He was so gentle and kind and considerate and had such a wonderful character.”
Mason crossed over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy,” he said, “save your nerves as much as you can. You’re going through an ordeal tonight before the coroner’s jury.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, choking back sobs. “T-t-tell them I refuse to answer questions? I understand that’s what the b-b-best lawyers tell c-c-clients who are accused of m-m-murder.”
Mason said, “On the contrary, you’re going to go on that witness stand and answer all their questions. No matter how they hurl accusations at you, or how they try to browbeat you, you’re going to keep your head and simply tell the truth. It’s going to be an ordeal, but you’re going to emerge with flying colors.”
“That isn’t the attitude you adopted last night,” she said. “Then you were trying to keep me away from the police.”
“Not the police,” Mason said. “I was trying to keep you away from a parrot killer.”