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“Whatever the neighbors have. If the neighbor has a pool, they want the bigger pool. If their neighbor has a new car, they also want one, only bigger and flashier and more expensive. The human mind is a parrot, Dooley. A mimicking machine.”

“Like Camilla.”

“Like Camilla.”

“So if Odelia has a cat, her neighbor also wants a cat, only bigger and better?”

“Um… well, maybe this parrot thing doesn’t apply to cats,” I allowed. Odelia’s neighbor Kurt Mayfield hates cats, for some reason, and each time we hold one of our impromptu rehearsals in the backyard likes to show his lack of appreciation by throwing shoes in our direction, and not because he likes us so much and ran out of bouquets.

We’d arrived in a backyard where the owner had added a nice verandah to the house, with a lot of nice-looking flowers blooming inside the structure. It all looked very colorful, and reminded me of the rainforest, or what little I’d seen of it on TV.

“There!” Dooley suddenly cried, and pointed with his paw in the direction of the verandah.

I glanced over, and discovered he was right. What initially I’d taken for another flower turned out to be a very large bird of colorful plumage instead. It had red plumes, but also green ones and blue ones and yellow ones. As if a kid had been given a box of crayons and told to draw the most vivid and most colorful bird imaginable.

We moved closer to the house, and I saw that a window in the verandah was ajar, so we hopped up onto the garden table and I put my face against the crack.“Hey, there,” I said by way of introduction. “Is your name by any chance Camilla?”

The parrot slowly turned in my direction, a visible frown on her face.“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Max,” I said. “And I would like to have a word with you, Mrs. Parrot.”

“I’m not a parrot,” said the parrot. “I’m a macaw.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Macaw.”

“Who’s that scrawny mongrel next to you, big cat?” asked the macaw.

“That’s Dooley. He’s my friend and also a detective, just like me.”

“A detective, eh? Now that’s a first. Most cats I know are hunters. Killers.”

“We’re not that kind of cats,” I assured her. “In fact I can’t even remember the last time I did any hunting. Or killing, for that matter.”

“No, I guess you prefer your meals straight from the can or aluminum pouch.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So the thing is, we would like to pick your brain, Mrs. Macaw.”

“You want to do what with my brain?” asked the parrot—or macaw.

“Pick it,” I said. “You know, like, pick your brain.”

“I knew it. Stay away from me, cat. And don’t come anywhere near my brain. I like my brain just the way it is, and don’t want it picked to pieces, if it’s all the same to you.”

“No, it’s just an expression,” I said. “All we want to do is ask you a couple of questions, that’s all. There will be no picking of brains going on. No brain business whatsoever.”

“She thinks we’re Hannibal Lecter, Max,” said Dooley, seated beside me and following the conversation with rapt attention. “She thinks we like to eat brains.”

“We do not want to eat your brain,” I said, just to make my meaning perfectly clear. “No brain will be eaten in the course of this interview. We just want to, um, consult it.”

“Download it,” Dooley added.

“She doesn’t know what downloading is, Dooley. She’s obviously very, very old, and probably has never even seen a computer.”

“Oh, I’ve seen a computer,” said the big parrot. “I even use it from time to time. If you stay right there and don’t come any closer, I’ll show you.” The parrot moved over to a round-shaped device that stood in the corner of the verandah, and cleared her throat for a moment, then spoke into it, enunciating very clearly, “Alexa, are cats dangerous?”

The device immediately answered,“Cats are predators and prey on birds and small mammals. It is estimated that the seventy-six million cats in the United States hunt and kill billions of animals annually. My advice? Steer clear if you’re a bird or a mammal.”

“Thanks, Alexa,” said the parrot gratefully. “I will.”

“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” I said.

“What is it, Max?” asked Dooley, who couldn’t see very well, since the window was a little steamed up because of all the plants inside the verandah—a regular rainforest.

“Here, take my place,” I said, and switched places with him.

“You want another demonstration? Fine? Watch this, cat,” said the parrot. “Alexa, who is the most lethal pet in existence?”

“The cat is the most vicious pet in existence.”

“That’s not very nice,” said Dooley.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s not true,” I said. “What about snakes and spiders and scorpions?”

“I specifically asked most viciouspet,” said Camilla.

“Snakes and spiders and scorpions are pets,” I said. “At least to some people.”

“Can you please stop leering at me, cat?” asked Camilla. “And salivating?”

“I’m not leering, though,” said Dooley. “I’m just trying to figure out if the skeleton in our human’s basement belongs to someone who used to live there. That’s all. I don’t want to leer at you, Mrs. Parrot. Or salivate, whatever salivate means.”