"It was a cheap frowzy cage in a cheap, frowzy living room in Cincinnati. Empty husks of birdseed lay in a pile on the floor under the cage, awaiting a clean-up that would never come. The room didn't seem to care. It was that kind of room. The killer was that kind of bird.
"Phillip Parakeet's the name. I'm a private detective. Decent birds scrub floors to hire me to find out why their hoodlum sons get murdered. That's what happened in this case."
"There's the kid, dead as a door nail, killed for a few seeds just like all the others. Of course he was no altar boy. He was a heavy-set, swarthy bird with a hunger to be a "big shot." As everyone knew, the most important part of his dress lay snugly under his feathers, a sharpened cuttle bone seldom seen, but when it was, sure to be felt by somebody. It's still on him.
Whoever did this was somebody he let close to him, somebody he knew, somebody he trusted. The last thing he saw was betrayal. He was a cheap seed hustler, but he deserved better than that."
"At first I thought a human did it. They're always playing tricks on their pets. They think it's funny. But...naaaaah...murder requires brains, and humans just aren't smart enough."
"I should know. I'm always looking into their eyes to see if somebody's home, but there never is."
"Then there's the dopey hamster that lives on the other side of the room. We can eliminate him as a suspect."
"His cage door's been left open for two weeks now and he still hasn't found his way out. He's lost in the tunnels of his own stupid house."
"The fish isn't very bright either."
"But who can blame him? He's been swimming in the humans' beer for months. No, he didn't do it."
"That leaves only one viable suspect, and (Sniff! Sniff!) if I'm not mistaken she's just landed on the bar behind me! Nobody but Vivian Parakeet uses that kind of heavy, sensuous perfume.
Don't get fooled by the lovely face. Her complexion is as false as her jewelry. Maybe you can't see the ravages of dissipation that lay beneath the paint and powder, the hard, cruel lines about the worldly eyes, the ruthless greed in the painted, obscenely small beak. Even so, you can't help wondering what's under those feathers."
"As you can see, the poor victim didn't stand a chance. All Vivian had to do was stand there with her lithe, slender figure, overdressed in vivid blue feathers, that were both too short and too tight. Birds with more experience would have recognized her for the false and dangerous beacon of allure that she was, but to the kid she was marvelous, something to worship and possess. It's an old story that too often ends in...
But I have more investigating to do, and I'll need privacy to do it. Er...put that cover over the cage, will you? I'll see you tomorrow!"
