Parrot's Secret

In the dead of night, Echo, the parrot in the living room, suddenly spoke.

"I'll call you back later. He isn't asleep yet."

I bolted upright on the sofa.

The living room was dead silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

Echo stood on his perch, head tilted, his bead-like green eyes shifting.

"Don't use the trust fund account. He'll notice."

The tone was a perfect imitation of my wife's. Even that slight upward lilt at the end of her sentences was there.

I froze, a sudden chill creeping down my spine.