The Chinese Parrot

John Rayburn doesn’t just narrate *The Chinese Parrot*—he performs it. His Tony the parrot is a highlight, delivering lines like *“Bad man. Very bad.”* with the kind of inflection that makes you laugh even as you wonder who’s going to get whacked next. Rayburn’s Charlie Chan, meanwhile, is all laconic charm and razor-sharp observation, his voice dripping with that famous “Confucius say…” cadence without ever veering into parody. The pacing is brisk, with the mystery unfolding like a serpent uncoiling, revealing layers of deception with each chapter. The only stumble is when Biggers leans too hard into racial stereotypes during extended passages in Chinatown—awkward by modern standards, though it’s undeniably part of the era’s tone. Where this audiobook truly shines is in its atmosphere. The production immerses you in 1920s California, from the scent of jasmine in a San Francisco alley to the flicker of studio lights in Hollywood’s heyday. The murder plot itself is ludicrously convoluted (in the best way), with red herrings flying faster than a studio exec’s temper. Rayburn sells it all, whether he’s playing the wide-eyed tourist, the cunning villain, or the ever-patient Chan. If you love mysteries that feel like a time capsule—equal parts clever and campy—this one’s a treat. Just be ready to suspend disbelief when the parrot’s testimony gets a little… *wordy*.