While I waited for everyone to “get back behind the wheel” and send ingredients to drive this story, I wrote this — Episode-9.  But don’t fret.  Because Ishita at “Kooky Cookyng” sent very interesting ingredients for Episode-10! I hope to have it ready this weekend, so please come back again.

Get ready… because today’s episode reveals the identity of the “dead man” found in Episode-1.

Many times when I was a child I sat in front of the TV and watched “The Galloping Gourmet” — the Graham Kerr  show. I realized that I would not experience any of the dishes he cooked until I was grownup and on my own — if ever.  Even so, I was always fascinated and entertained.  So this episode of our serial is a nod to Graham Kerr.  The three ingredients for this episode come from his culinary creation in the video at the end of the post.

Oh, by the way… for those of you who receive this blog via email, the videos are not active.  You will have to visit the blog, but all you have to do is click the link in the title or click on my name.

“What’s the matter, detective?  You’re not afraid of a little old birdie are you?” Marshal Moses Myrick asked Savannah’s finest, Dabney Daniels.

The older law man’s face looked as sour as his voice was gruff, but I saw a twinkle in his green pea eyes that made me suspect he was joking.  Dabney took another step backward, apparently without realizing.  It seemed like the cat had his tongue… or maybe I should say the parrot had it.  So I supplied on his behalf, “Cracker doesn’t seem to care for Detective Daniels.  Not at all really.”

“Cracker, you say?” the revenuer asked.

“Yes, that nasty bird went around screeching cracker-cracker-cracker for the better part of two days.  That was the only word it would say, until it came out with that vulgar comment it just made.  My granddaughter decided its name must be Cracker,” Granny explained with a frown at the parrot.

“Vulgar comment?” Moses Myrick queried.

“What she just said to you,” I began.  “Who’s your —”

“Paisley Idelle Peabody!  I’ll not have you using that kind of language in my house!” Granny flared and the law men chuckled.  However, when Granny Fanny’s glare transferred to them they discretely put serious expressions back on their faces.

Cracker prudently remained quiet, playing with a pod of vanilla that glittered in the sunlight as she twisted it.  I remembered Granny saying that you could tell a vanilla pod was good if it glittered.

“Oh Fanny,” the marshal said, and I immediately wondered how the illustrious revenuer came to be on a first name basis with my grandmother.  Not to mention the fact that the sourpuss seemed to be sweet on the bird!  “The parrot didn’t mean any harm.  In fact, she’s been doing her best to identify your dead body,” he added with a sly look at Dabney.

We all looked like a school of fish with our mouths open.  Cracker interrupted the silence by excitedly bobbing her head and squawking, “Who’s your daddy?”

Granny abruptly sat down and looked heavenward.  Then with a look of supreme patience, she turned to Myrick and silently bade him continue.  The marshal even gave Granny a wicked grin, as the parrot dropped the vanilla pod and fluttered back to his shoulder.

“The parrot’s owner — her daddy undoubtedly used to ask her ‘Who’s your daddy?’  To which she was supposed to reply Cracker,” Moses Myrick explained, but we were still puzzled.  As if to demonstrate, he practically cooed to the parrot, “Who’s your daddy, sweetheart?”

The parrot bobbed, wriggled, and turned circles, as if dancing.  I thought Granny’s eyes would pop out of her head.  Then the bird cried, “Cracker!”

Moses looked a tad impatient with our lack of comprehension.  “Her daddy was Cracker Jack Daddy, safecracker and up and coming mobster.  He was also the man who turned up dead at your local theatre.  Detective I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet,” he added pointedly.

“Oh!” I cried as my light bulb came on.  I turned to Detective Daniels.  “She’s so upset with you, because her ‘daddy’ didn’t come home, but you were there in stead.  Maybe she thinks you did something to him,” I said.  Then I moved to stroke the bird’s feathers.  “Oh Cracker, sweetie.  Dabney didn’t do anything to your daddy.  And I’m sorry, but he’s not coming back… but you already knew that, didn’t you.  Poor thing.”

The parrot cooed softly, but shot the detective one more suspicious look.  I handed her the vanilla pod she’d been playing with.  That’s when Granny noticed it.  “Where did you get that?” Granny demanded of the bird.

Cracker quickly escaped toward the kitchen.  “Oh no you don’t!” Granny said and ran after the parrot.  I heard a sauce pan crash to the floor.  “Get out of that you nasty bird!  That’s for my crème brulee.  No.  No!  Not the cream!  Get out of there!”

Then I heard the picture overturn and the cream splash.  I winced.  I would not want to be Cracker just then.

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