Myron Wallace placed the telephone receiver in its cradle and turned to his nephew.

"Richard, I won’t be here for lunch. The Tenants Association is having an emergency meeting at twelve o’clock. Mabel Palmero’s apartment was burglarized this morning. The thief took a ruby necklace right off her dresser. It was the seventh burglary in last two weeks." His frown deepened. "That busybody policewoman, Arlene Scrimson, is telling everyone you must be the thief because the burglaries started the day after you arrived."

Richard sighed. "Uncle Myron, I’m sorry Officer Scrimson suspects me, but I can’t blame her. I’m sure the timing of my visit raises suspicions for many of your neighbors."

"You can’t possibly be the burglar, and I’m not saying that just because you’re my nephew," Myron said. "You’ve been right here with me during every burglary."

Richard shrugged. "That’s true, Uncle. Don’t worry about Officer Scrimson. You know the truth."

"I just don’t understand this latest burglary," Myron mused. "Mabel lives on the fourteenth floor. She swears she was in her kitchen when the necklace was stolen and she didn’t hear a sound. The strangest thing is the thief never touched three fifty dollar bills lying beside the necklace."

"You’d better go, Uncle Myron. You don’t want to be late. Would like me to go with you?" Richard asked.

"I wish you could. I’d love your company, but only building residents can attend emergency tenant meetings." Myron frowned. "I hate to leave you with nothing to do. Why don’t you take my car and explore the town a little while I’m gone?"

"I’d rather go exploring with my favorite uncle. I’ll clean Petrie’s cage while you’re gone."

Richard waited until he heard the door close behind his uncle, then hurried to the guest room, pulled his suitcase from the closet, and slipped his fingers into a tear in the lining. His breath caught in his throat as he laid four necklaces, a brooch, and two rings on the bed.

"If only I could get my hands on the bracelet that policewoman was wearing last night at the residents’ barbecue..."

"Richard? Are you here?

Richard’s heart pounded at the sound of his uncle’s voice. Why wasn’t Myron at the meeting?

"I’ll be right out, Uncle Myron," he called.

Richard stuffed the jewelry into the suitcase lining and closed the lid as Myron appeared in the guest room doorway with Officer Scrimson on his heels.

"Richard, Arlene wants to talk you about your bird. She claims it’s illegal for you to have him."

Officer Scrimson stepped in front of Myron and glared at Richard. "It is illegal. You can’t keep a crow without a permit," she insisted. "I belong to the American Society of Crows and Ravens. I know more about crows than you’d ever imagine."

"I have a permit for Petrie," Richard said, resisting the urge to tell Officer Scrimson his bird was none of her business. "I found him dragging a broken wing near my garage. I called a veterinarian who told me how to care for him and reminded me to apply for a permit to keep him until he’s ready to be released."

Officer Scrimson glanced at her watch.

"My partner should be here any minute to arrest you for the burglaries that have occurred here during the last two weeks."

Richard’s stomach clenched and his palms grew damp with sweat. Feigning indignation, he glared at the policewoman. "Have you lost your mind? I don’t need to stand here and let you accuse me of crimes I didn’t commit. Uncle Myron, I’m sorry my visit has to end on an unpleasant note, but I’m sure you understand why I can’t stay any longer. Petrie and I will be gone within an hour."

Officer Scrimson crossed the room and opened the bird cage before Richard could stop her. Petrie swooped around the guest room, then disappeared through an opened window.

Richard grabbed her arm. "What in the world are you doing?"

The chiming doorbell covered her reply. She hurried to the living room and opened the door to a uniformed policeman.

"Come in, Ed. Did you bring the search warrant?"

The policeman extended several papers. "I’ve got warrants to search this apartment and the suspect’s car."

"How can you call me a suspect? I’ve been with Uncle Myron when each burglary happened," Richard protested.

"But your crow wasn’t," Officer Scrimson said. "Crows are intelligent birds. They love items that sparkle and glitter. You trained Petrie to fly through open windows and steal jewelry. That’s how the burglaries occurred on the top floors of the buildings while the residents were home."

"That’s ridiculous," Richard protested.

Officer Scrimson opened her purse and extracted a black feather. "Is it? Mabel Palmero found this feather on her dresser top beside the untouched cash, which wouldn’t have appealed to your crow. Speaking of your crow, he should be returning any second with a gold bracelet I left on a night stand near an open window in my apartment."

As predicted, Petrie flew into the guest room, landed on the bed, and dropped the gold bracelet Officer Scrimson had worn to the barbecue on Richard’s suitcase.

Officer Scrimson smiled. "That’s all the proof we need. Will you open your suitcase or shall I?"