Foul Play - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,15
what was in the cage. “It’s the chicken,” she said in a hoarse, choked whisper, feeling as though she’d been hit in the face with a pie.
Jake peered into the cage. “Oh, my—” Amy was right. It was Rhode Island Red … the rooster that broke Amy’s heart.
The brunette took a step backward. “What’s wrong? He isn’t dead, is he? Oh geez, don’t tell me he’s dead.”
He wasn’t dead, but Jake didn’t think he looked too good. He was hunkered down in the back of the cage with his eyes closed.
“Listen, Dr. Elliott,” the brunette said, “this rooster’s worth lots of money. He’s a television star. Do something!”
Jake set the cage on an examining table, opened it, and gingerly lifted out the rooster. The bird was lifeless on the table.
“I have to be honest with you,” Jake said. “We only treat domestic animals here. I haven’t had much experience with roosters.”
“Maybe it just needs vitamins. Maybe it’s anemic. Can roosters get mono? He’s been working awfully hard, ya know.”
After questioning her about the bird’s diet and any possible trauma it may have suffered, he listened to the bird’s heart. “How old is this fellow?”
The brunette shrugged. “I don’t know. I bought him a couple months ago at the farmers’ market.”
Jake stroked the glossy sienna feathers. “Why don’t you leave him here overnight. I’d like to run a few tests.”
“The tests won’t take too long, will they? He has to be up and dancing by Monday morning.”
Jake thought they’d be lucky if the bird was still breathing by Monday morning. “We’ll get started right away.”
“You sure he’ll be okay here?”
“I’ll put him in intensive care. He’ll be nice and safe. We need to keep him quiet.”
She took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “Poor bird. All those years on a dirty old chicken farm, and just when he makes it big … tragedy strikes.”
Jake bit his lip. This woman was going to be in deep trouble when the chicken died; the chicken had all the brains. “I’ll do what I can for him.”
It was six-thirty when Amy shut her computer down for the day, switched the phone over to the answering machine, and walked down the short hall, looking for Jake. She found him in intensive care, studying his patients, his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets.
“The puppy looks good,” she offered.
Jake smiled. “He’s a feisty little guy. Scarfed down all his food today.”
There was only one other occupant in the small room, and Amy didn’t know what to say about it. The rooster looked awful. “Did anything show up on Red’s tests?”
Jake shook his head no.
“You think he’ll be okay?”
“Just between you and me, Amy,” Jake said, his voice reflecting the helplessness he felt, “my professional opinion is that he’s cock-a-doodled his last doodle.”
“How awful.”
Jake stared thoughtfully at the bird. “I’d like to think of him as a very old rooster that’s led one hell of a life and is going out in a blaze of glory.”
“It’s still sad. He’s kind of pretty.”
“He might perk up. Maybe he’s just not cut out for show biz. Hot lights and a lot of noise aren’t parts of a rooster’s natural environment. We’ll let him have a restful night and reevaluate his condition first thing tomorrow.”
Amy slumped against the wall. “Boy, I feel really crummy about this. In all honesty, there’s a part of me that’s still bitter about being replaced by this chicken. I’m not mad at him, really, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the station have second thoughts on Monday morning.”
“Maybe you should iron your clown suit tonight. Just in case.”
Amy shook her head. “They made up their mind to have a new format. If it isn’t the chicken, it’ll be something else. Something new. Besides, there’s still the star’s trainer.”
“That trainer looks like a real dunderhead.”
“She has mega cleavage,” Amy said wistfully.
Jake adjusted the IV on the puppy and closed the cage door. “I don’t think cleavage is going to help her when they discover she’s a lot less entertaining than her pet.”
“Are you kidding me? We’re talking about a station that hired a bird to host a children’s show! You honestly think there’s any logic to their thinking?”
She was right, Jake thought. What a shame. Amy had to keep working as his receptionist. He made a concerted effort not to look ecstatic, but wasn’t totally successful.
“Well, you seem a little happier, anyway.”
“Me? I guess it’s because … I’m looking forward to our running date tonight.”
“Running!” Amy