“Are these feathers from the flamingo you’re keeping?”

I gave a stern look to Miss Martha and Louis while my fingers tightly gripped the pink feathers. My mind attempted to remain calm, but anger rose inside my body.

“Please, tell me now.” My voice said through almost gritted teeth, which took myself aback. This anger I felt, it didn’t seem warranted.

Louis and Miss Martha stared at me for some time until the latter broke the silence with laughter.

“Is this about those rumors from our next-door neighbors?” She giggled.

“Those Hamptons are too nosy for their own good,” Louis groaned. “They think they’re this neighborhood’s private eyes.”

“Remember that time they thought that Mr. Tell’s cat stole a neckla—”

“Pardon my interruption,” I said after a cough, “but you didn’t answer my question. Are these feathers from the flamingo you’ve been rumored to have?”

Miss Martha replied, “No, not at all Jessica dear. Some of our neighbors don’t appreciate my eccentrics with flamingos.”

“Yeah,” Louis added, “the Hamptons like to play Scooby-Doo and try to get involved in mysteries, aka other people’s personal business.”

I straightened up and took a breath.

“So, if that’s the real story behind the rumors, why are there pink feathers from the kitchen?”

“A-A prank by some of the neighborhood kids!” Louis stammered out.

“Y-Yes, sometimes I forget to close the kitchen window, and that leads to middle school children to sneak in, stealing cookies, break dishes, and prank me. One time, they tried to spray-paint the living room, but I caught them while they were in the act! They probably put feathers in my kitchen and blew a horn to fool us!” Miss Martha complained.

“It’s a damn shame those kids don’t have more to do in this area; L.A. should be made safer, so they don’t have to do stuff like this to have fun!” Louis frowned.

Miss Martha and Louis nodded in agreement while I stood and blinked.

Their nervousness was suspicious, but the explanation did hold water. This seemed like the type of story that Mackenzie Billings would fabricate; I bet she paid off those neighborhood kids and gossipers for false evidence and witness statements. For once, the thought of Miss Billings’ underhanded involvement in this comforted me.

“That’s…,” I said, “the most logical reason for this! I knew the rumors weren’t true!”

“What a relief,” Louis sighed, “we thought you’d… you’d be interrogating us about the supposed flamingo.”

“I knew a journalist like Jessie would be smart enough to realize something was wrong with that rumor. I’m so glad you have a level-headed girlfriend, Lou-Lou!”

Louis cringed at the mention of his nickname, and I laughed.

“I’m sorry if I appeared to have accused you, Miss Martha; an experienced ornithologist like you would know better than to have a… live…flamingo…in…your…house?” The last part of that sentence as an unmistakable pink bird walked through the kitchen door into the living room and stared right into my face.