“What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”
“Who?” said the owl.
“No, what,” I started to explain, “It’s a joke,” as the owl stepped aside to let me in. Then I remembered that the owl doesn’t do jokes. Might as well get down to business. “I need your advice. There’s been a murder.”
“Who?”
“Good question. J. Chesterton Winthrop. In his own bedroom.” Owl just shook his head sadly. I went on to fill in the details, the death of the hare and the parrot, what Sam found in the hall of records about the two Winthrop girls. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to admit that I had moved beyond an, um, professional relationship with one of the sisters.
Owl fixed me a disapproving look. “Who?”
“Lulu. I’m not even sure Rebecca goes in for that kind of thing. I can’t say I’m sorry about it. Of course, if Lulu turns out to be the prime suspect in a murder, a certain party is going to step in and take over, sooner or later.”
“Who?”
“The chief of police. And he’s going to tie it back to the murders of Whiskers and Manny. But there’s one thing I can’t figure: Why would she tip me off like that — about her own sister?”
“Who?” the owl asked politely.
“Rebecca. You’d think she’d keep a thing like that to herself. You know, maybe there’s bad blood between those two. Say, just talking about this is helping me think everything through — it’s all starting to make sense. I knew I came to the right bird!”
“Who?” said the owl, with a faint smile.
“You of course. Don’t be so modest.”