During the night he’d conjured up his usual array of nightmares. Is that the doorbell? He realized the constant ding-donging had awakened him. He rarely slept in, but he’d stayed up late clearing out boxes. By the time he’d finished, he dropped from exhaustion. No time to grumble. He’d see to the door, get rid of whoever it was, and then get busy finishing up his office. Everett stumbled over a shoe, nearly smacking his head on a bedpost. His brain whispered the word caffeine. And lots of it. No time right now, he told himself as he yanked on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt. He made his way to the front door, but just as he opened it, a Pets Lovers of America van sped away from the curb leaving a trail of blue smoke. There on his porch sat a large cage. A parrot, the colors of a Hawaiian shirt, sat perched on a twig. Everett leaned down to the level of the bird’s eye. “Who are you?” The animal scooted across the branch and crooked his neck upward as if to size him up.
