most of the balcony, which wrapped around the top floor of the thirty-story Enclave, into an aviary for the birds she rescued. She’d enclosed the space with parrot-proof screening and crammed it with trees, water features and interesting toys for her patients to amuse themselves. Lazarus was the only bird in residence right now, which was rare. She usually nursed at least two injured birds back to health at any given time. He’d be rehabbed enough to go to a permanent sanctuary somewhere soon, and while that thought should make her happy, instead it depressed her.
She was getting too attached. That happened when she cared for a bird too long. But she never kept a patient no matter how much she loved it, believing birds should always fly free when they were physically able.
While Lazarus squawked his encouragement, she changed the plastic floor protection and gave him a new supply of black oil sunflower seeds. She cleaned the huge aviary every day, not only for the health of the birds but to avoid complaints from the condo association wing nuts. There were some who didn’t appreciate her rehab clinic.
When done, she stepped close to stroke the macaw’s soft feathers. “Good boy,” she murmured when he didn’t back away. Only recently had he allowed her to touch him. Lazarus was definitely getting better. She knew she couldn’t save every bird, but this one at least should have a happy life from now on.
If Detective Hammer had agreed to confiscate the birds from the pet shop, she could have saved them, too. She flashed to his murder investigation and the photo of the dead man, something she couldn’t stop doing since the interview in Dr. Trujillo’s office yesterday.
Person of interest, indeed.
Lazarus made a chortling sound and ducked his head into her hand, wanting more, which pleased June.
“I know, Laz, I know. I need to stop thinking about that mean ol’ detective.”
The phone rang, and she stepped back inside to answer, sliding the door shut behind her with a last look at the preening macaw.
“Girl, whatever you’re doing tomorrow night, cancel,” a familiar female voice said after her hello.
June collapsed onto her sofa, settling in for a chat with her best friend from high school, Sandy Taylor. It’d been a while. “Why? What’s going on?”
“A party at the Turf Club. And not just any party, the annual Labor Day costume gala.”
“The Turf Club? You know I’m not a member anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll come as my guest. Donna is in town from Atlanta visiting her mom, so I’m rounding up the old gang for a mini reunion.”
“Seriously?”
“Donna and Carole are both on board. You have to come.”
“Well, I really don’t have to,” June said, not sure she wanted to and scrambling for an excuse. A reunion with her wealthy Pinecrest Prep friends could be fun—or it could be disastrous. A painful reminder of what she had lost.
“Yes, you do. Remember the outfits we wore Halloween our senior year?”
“How could I forget? We almost got suspended by Dean Holly when we entered the gym.”
“That’s the exact look I want all of us to rock tomorrow night.”
“High-class hookers at the stuffy Turf Club? No way.”
Sandy laughed, a carefree sound from a beautiful young woman with absolutely no problems. Funny how their lives had taken such different directions. They’d once been so close they pretended to be sisters.
“I can’t wait to shake the place up,” Sandy said. “You know it’s just what that boring group needs.”
June remained silent. No, she didn’t really know. She hadn’t stepped on the property since her parents were arrested.
“Come on, Junie. It’ll be fun. Say you’ll join us.”
“What does your prim and proper husband say about this plan?”
“Paul will love the idea. He’s always said he decided to marry me that very Halloween night.”
“We did look good.”
“We’ll look even better now that we’re not awkward teenagers.”
“You were never awkward, Sandy.”
“That’s true. But I fill out the dress better now.”
And there was the excuse June needed. “Sorry, but I didn’t keep that costume.”
“Of course not. I’m sending you one identical to mine.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Oh, stop it with the false pride,” Sandy said. “I want us to be twins just like in the old days.”
“Sandy, really, I—”
“I need you to do this for me, Junie,” Sandy said, an edge creeping into her voice.
“What’s wrong?”
After a pause, Sandy said, “My perfect marriage is falling apart.”
June sucked in a breath. So much for her envy of Sandy’s glamorous life. “Oh, God, Sandy. I’m sorry. What—”
“It’s not hopeless, but I need to spice things up with Paul, remind him why he fell in love with me.”
“You don’t need me to do that,” June said softly.
“Yes, I do. Please, Junie. I know this will work.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not on the phone. Maybe Saturday night. Please, please come. It won’t be the same without you.”
June remained silent. She had nothing special planned that night, but wasn’t sure a costume ball at a swank club that was once her parents’ favorite haunt was the most ideal way to spend her free time.
“We’re all going in a limo,” Sandy added, as if that final detail would clinch the deal. “We’ll pick you up around eight.”
“Okay,” June said, not wanting to think how much tomorrow night would cost her friend. “Why not.”
“Don’t sound so glum. We’re going to have a blast.”
After receiving a few more details about the evening, including some gossip about their friends, June stepped back into the aviary. Lazarus gave a halfhearted squawk, but ignored her and kept eating as she sat in her own favorite perch, a sturdy cloth macramé chair suspended from the ceiling. From here she could either watch her patients or look out over the clear waters of Biscayne Bay and beyond Miami Beach to the Atlantic Ocean, a stunning vista that normally calmed her.
Unfortunately the view didn’t have its usual effect. She took deep breaths and tried to wrench herself out of a long-gone past.
