Chapter 16: The Unusual Witness

Detective Alan Grayson had seen his fair share of bizarre cases, but never one where the key witness was a parrot.

The call had come in just past midnight—an anonymous tip about a possible homicide at the suburban home of David Whitmore, a retired journalist. The neighbors reported hearing a loud commotion earlier in the evening, followed by an eerie silence. When the officers arrived, they found Whitmore slumped over his mahogany desk, a single gunshot wound in his temple. The house showed no signs of forced entry, and nothing appeared stolen. It seemed like a clean, calculated hit.

Yet, there was one witness—a vibrant green parrot perched inside a large brass cage in the corner of the study. The bird flapped its wings excitedly when Alan approached.

"Who killed Whitmore?" Alan muttered, half-joking, as he surveyed the crime scene.

"No! Don't do it!" the parrot squawked suddenly, its voice eerily human-like.

Alan's spine stiffened. The other officers exchanged glances.

"What did you just say?" Alan turned to the parrot.

The bird cocked its head. "Don't do it! No! Please!"

Alan felt a chill creep up his spine. It was as if the bird was replaying the last moments of its owner's life.

"Does it say anything else?" Alan asked, motioning for one of the officers to start recording.

The parrot let out a whistle, then mimicked the sound of a gunshot. "Bang! You'll regret this!" It cawed before flapping its wings again.

Alan rubbed his temple. "Well, that's definitely not normal."

One of the forensic techs leaned in. "Parrots mimic what they hear. If it's repeating those phrases, it might've overheard the murder."

Alan nodded. "Let's get an audio expert to analyze this. This bird might be our best witness."

The next morning, Alan sat at his desk, listening to the audio clips they had extracted from the parrot's squawking. The bird repeated the same sequence of words, occasionally switching tones, as if mimicking different voices. One phrase stood out: "You'll regret this."

Alan had a nagging suspicion. "What if Whitmore knew his killer? There was no forced entry, and this wasn't a robbery."

His partner, Detective Lisa Monroe, flipped through Whitmore's files. "He was working on something before he died. A new investigation. Look at this."

She placed a stack of papers on the desk. Headlines, notes, and printed emails detailed a corruption scandal involving a local businessman, Leonard Caldwell. Whitmore had been digging deep into Caldwell's company, connecting it to money laundering and political bribery.

Alan exhaled. "If Whitmore was onto something big, that's a motive. Maybe Caldwell wanted him silenced."

Lisa nodded. "We should pay Caldwell a visit."

Leonard Caldwell was a man accustomed to power, his arrogance evident as he lounged in his office chair. "Detectives, I have nothing to hide. I barely knew Whitmore."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting, considering he had an entire file dedicated to your business practices."

Caldwell scoffed. "Journalists poke their noses where they don't belong. It's their job."

"And murderers clean up messes," Lisa countered.

Caldwell leaned forward, smirking. "Do you have evidence, detectives? Or just wild accusations?"

Alan's jaw tightened. "Did you visit Whitmore last night?"

Caldwell shrugged. "I was at a charity gala. Hundreds of people saw me."

Lisa set a voice recorder on the desk. "We have a witness who heard the killer's voice."

Caldwell frowned. "And who might that be?"

Alan smiled. "Whitmore's parrot."

Caldwell burst into laughter. "A parrot? Really? That's your witness?"

Lisa pressed play. The parrot's voice filled the room. "You'll regret this! No! Please! Bang!"

Caldwell's face drained of color. His fingers twitched slightly.

"Something wrong?" Alan asked, noting the shift in Caldwell's demeanor.

Caldwell cleared his throat. "I have nothing more to say. Unless you have actual evidence, I suggest you leave."

Alan exchanged a glance with Lisa. Caldwell was hiding something.

That night, Alan played the audio over and over, analyzing every detail. Then it hit him—the tonal difference. The parrot had mimicked not one but two voices.

"Lisa, the parrot mimicked two people. One was Whitmore, pleading. But the other... it was the killer."

Lisa's eyes widened. "If we can isolate that voice, we might be able to match it."

They sent the recording to the lab for analysis.

Two days later, the results came in. The voice saying, "You'll regret this," was a near-perfect match to Caldwell's right-hand man—Marcus Vance.

Alan and Lisa wasted no time bringing Vance in for questioning.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Vance said, avoiding eye contact.

Alan pressed play. "You'll regret this!" the parrot's voice echoed in the interrogation room.

Vance stiffened.

Lisa leaned in. "Funny thing about parrots, Marcus. They don't just repeat words—they repeat voices. And that's yours."

Beads of sweat formed on Vance's forehead. "I—"

Alan folded his arms. "You were at Whitmore's house. You threatened him. Then you shot him."

Vance's breathing grew erratic. "It wasn't supposed to go that far! He was digging too deep! Caldwell ordered me to scare him off. But Whitmore—he wouldn't back down. He called me a coward. Said he'd expose everything. I just... I lost control."

Lisa's expression was unreadable. "And then you pulled the trigger."

Vance dropped his head. "Yeah."

Alan exhaled. "That's all we needed to hear."

Days later, Whitmore's parrot was relocated to a bird sanctuary, away from the chaos of a murder investigation. As Alan watched the bird settle into its new home, he shook his head in amazement.

"You solved a murder, little guy."

The parrot blinked at him, then let out a familiar phrase.

"You'll regret this!"

Alan chuckled. "Not this time."

As he walked away, he made a mental note—never underestimate the silent witnesses.