Six Geese A-Slaying(25)

“I know what it is,” I said, closing my eyes with exasperation. “It’s a goose’s tail feather.”





Chapter 9

Horace held up the tail feather and peered at it.

“No, no,” Dad said. “I don’t see how this could come from a goose. It’s—”

“Not a real goose,” I said. “One of the six geese a-laying. The SPOOR members. They’re all dressed up in Canada goose costumes, complete with tail feathers that look a lot like that.”

“Oh, dear,” Dad said, shaking his head. “You’re right—it could be part of their costumes. But I’m sure no one in SPOOR would commit murder.”

“I’m not,” I said. “Some of them are total loons.”

“They’re very passionate about birds and the environment,” Dad said. “But I can’t imagine . . . oh, dear.”

As president of SPOOR, he clearly wasn’t happy about the fact that his fellow environmental activists had just become prime suspects.

The chief, on the other hand, brightened.

“So this tail feather belongs to one of the six people dressed up as geese?” he asked. Clearly he thought his life had just gotten a lot easier.

“Not exactly. Only six of them are marching in the parade in costume. But a few more than that showed up in costume and had to be dissuaded from joining in.”

“How many more?” the chief asked, with something closer to his usual mid-case scowl.

“Thirty-seven in all,” I said.

“Thirty-eight, counting Mrs. Markland,” Dad put in.

“Yes, but Mrs. Markland was here in spirit only, last time I heard. She wasn’t here in costume, shaking her tail feathers all over the yard.”

“In other words,” the chief said, “there are thirty-odd people running around in costumes that could have shed this feather.”

“Odd’s definitely the word for them,” I said. “And they’ve been running around, practicing their high kicks and line dancing all morning. And shedding feathers like crazy, I imagine. So if someone wanted to cast suspicion on SPOOR . . .”

“Oh, good point!” Dad exclaimed.

The chief didn’t seem as charmed by my analysis.

“So as evidence, it might be pretty darn useless,” he said, scowling down as if it was the poor feather’s fault.

“I’m sure many people have it in for SPOOR!” Dad proclaimed. “In our quest to preserve the natural habitat we have no doubt angered many vested interests.”

The chief made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl and stepped back out of the shed,

Horace bagged the offending feather and whisked it out of sight.

“You don’t really think one of the SPOOR members could possibly have done it, do you?” Dad asked.

He sounded so forlorn that I hesitated to say what I really thought—that yes, it was not only possible but probable that the killer was a SPOOR member—or if not, SPOOR could easily collect a quorum to elect the killer to honorary membership.

Dad must have read my answer on my face.

“Well, if it was someone from SPOOR who did it, I’m sure they meant well,” he said.

“Where’s Meg?” I heard someone outside say. I reluctantly pulled my head out of the shed.

“Right here,” I said.

Minerva Burke was standing beside her husband, which meant that either the chief’s officers hadn’t completely secured the perimeter of the crime scene yet or they weren’t suicidal enough to try and keep Minerva out.

“People are starting to ask what’s wrong. And quite a few of them have questions for you.”

I glanced at my watch, and flinched when I saw how close to parade time we were.

“Chief?” I asked.

He looked up with a slight frown of preoccupation.

“I hate to bother you when I know you’re swamped but—well, you’re swamped. Would I be correct in assuming that I should start looking for another wise man to take your place in the parade?”

For a second, his face lit up with relief and utter joy. Then he quickly rearranged it into an expression of apologetic regret.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know it puts you in a bind, and I really was very flattered to be asked, but under the circum-stances—”

“Henry!” Minerva Burke exclaimed. “You don’t mean you’re going to leave her high and dry without a wise man?”

“No, I’m not going to leave her high and dry,” the chief snapped back. “I’m going to give her back the costume, and she’s going to recruit a new wise man from the hundreds of suspects milling around here trying to mess up my crime scene.”