Finding Elmo Read Online Free Page B

smirked. “I want him out of here. Now.”
    I tried to keep my voice low. Sure, it was Mr. Morgan’s party, but Rodney wasn’t causing any trouble. “His mom’s just—”
    Mr. Morgan turned his back and began walking to the dance floor. People clapped as he passed.
    â€œTim!” a small voice called out. Rodney was pushing through the crowd to get over to where I was. Why hadn’t he gone to getthe tray of samosas like I’d asked him to? And why was his face so pale?
    Rodney’s hand was over his mouth. His other hand was pointing at the palm tree. “E-E-lmo’s not on his swing,” he stammered. “Where’d he go?”

chapter seven
    Problems have a way of seeming really bad at night when you’re lying in bed and it’s too dark for shadows, but it was morning and I wasn’t feeling any better.
    â€œYou’re telling me there’s been a
bird
napping?” the police officer asked. He was jotting down notes on a pad of paper. From where I stood, the notebook was upside down, but I could make out the words
FourFeet and Feathers
and
cockatoo
—
mostly black, some red
.
    â€œThis is the first time I’ve heard of a
bird
napping.” The second police officer nudged the first one’s elbow.
    â€œHe is a very valuable bird,” I said, hoping this would make them take Elmo’s case more seriously.
    The first officer raised one eyebrow. “I see. How much is a bird like, what did you say his name was aga—?”
    â€œElmo. His name’s Elmo.” My nerves were shot. Elmo was gone. Birdnapped. What if he was locked up in some gerbil cage—or worse, a cardboard box?
    â€œHow much would you say a bird like Elmo is worth?” The police officer made a dollar sign on his note pad.
    â€œAbout two thousand dollars,” Dad said.
    I hadn’t been able to look at Dad all morning. I was too angry. This was his fault. If he hadn’t rented out the store for the party, I’d still have Elmo. It didn’t help that Dad was taking Elmo’s disappearanceso calmly. Wasn’t he worried? Didn’t he have a heart anymore?
    The second officer whistled. “Two thousand for a bird? Geez, if I had that kind of dough, I’d take a cruise.”
    I felt my face get hot. “Cockatoos are like people,” I said.
    â€œLook, kid, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” the second officer said. “Don’t go getting worked up. Why don’t you tell us some more about Elmo? He’s black with a brown head, he’s got some bright red on his tail feathers and he’s almost a foot and a half long. Anything else we should know?”
    â€œHere,” my dad said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Here’s a picture of Elmo with Tim.”
    I’d never seen the picture before. It shows Elmo perched on my forearm, looking up at my face. Looking at the picture made me feel even lonelier.
    â€œDoes this bird of yours say anything?” the first officer asked.
    I shook my head. “Nope, not a word. Cockatoos are smart, but they’re not talkers.”
    â€œHow much do those birds go for?” the second officer asked, pointing in Winifred and Hubert’s direction. They were back in the aviary, confined to their cages until Elmo was found. If only Winifred and Hubert could talk. Really talk, not just imitate what people say. Maybe then they could tell us what happened to Elmo.
    â€œThey’re more expensive,” Dad answered. “They go for over three thousand apiece.”
    The first officer tapped his pen against the tip of his nose. “Looks like whoever took your bird wasn’t much of an expert, or he’d have gone for one of those parrots. Can either of you think of any suspects? Anyone who’d want to steal your bird or cause trouble for the store?”
    â€œNope,” Dad said.
    â€œMe neither,” I added.
    The first