Six Geese A-Slaying(65)

“Hands up!” Sammy shouted. He was aiming his gun at Norris. I backed away and Norris froze with both hands tightly clenched in the sheep’s thick fleece.

“Mr. Pruitt?” Horace said.

Norris was staring fixedly at Sammy’s gun with his mouth hanging open.

“Mr. Pruitt!” Horace said, more loudly.

Norris flinched, but didn’t answer. I suspected he was about to curl up and faint, like a startled possum.

“Norris?” I said gently. He shifted his gaze to me. “Remember we agreed you were going to talk to the police?”

He nodded.

“Sammy and Horace are just here to talk to you,” I said. “You don’t have any weapons, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Then why don’t you hold your hands up so they can see that,” I said.

Norris nodded, and began lifting his hands. Since he hadn’t relaxed his death grip on the sheep’s wool, the poor animal began struggling and baaing in protest as it felt itself being hoisted up by the fleece.

“Put down the sheep, Norris,” I said.

“Put down the what?” I looked over to see that Chief Burke had just arrived.

“The sheep,” I said. “That’s right,” I added, as Norris set the sheep down and patted it apologetically. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a little unsettling to see how easily Norris could lift a two-hundred-pound sheep. He lifted his hands high over his head and then looked to me for approval.

“That’s great, isn’t it, Chief,” I said, smiling and nodding at Norris.

“Fine,” the chief said. “Sammy, put that fool thing away before you shoot one of the sheep. Mr. Norris isn’t going to hurt anyone, is he?”

Norris shook his head vigorously.

“Thank you,” the chief said to me. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Look, Norris was here looking after the animals,” I said. “He and Clarence. If—”

I paused. Norris was still very skittish.

“If Norris has to leave,” I said, “and Clarence is still down at the station—”

“Don’t worry,” the chief said. “If we find it necessary to detain both Mr. Rutledge and Mr. Pruitt overnight, I’ll have someone look in on the animals.”

“You can always call me if you need help,” I said. “Or my dad, if you can find him. If Rose Noire’s in town, I’m sure she’ll be dropping by to check on them, but I don’t know for sure she is.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the animals, Chief,” Sammy said. Yes, if there was even a chance Rose Noire might show up, Sammy’s crush on her would ensure that he’d take every opportunity to visit the barn.

“I’ll help,” Horace said.

The chief nodded. His eyes were on Norris, and his body language clearly said that he couldn’t wait for me to leave so he could talk to his suspect in privacy.

I fed Ernest another carrot in passing, by way of farewell, and left them to it.

It was slow going outside—not that I minded. I had on enough layers to keep me warm, and I had plenty of time to fill before Michael’s show started. Before I had even gone two blocks, the chief and his forces left the barn, bundled themselves and Norris Pruitt into the three police cars they’d come in, and began slipping and sliding slowly in the other direction, toward the station.

As I hiked along, I tried to push Norris and the murder and all the unanswered questions about it out of my mind and occasionally I succeeded for whole minutes at a time.

I exchanged jovial Christmas greetings with various people I passed, all of them so completely bundled up against the biting cold that I had no idea who they were. I wondered if they recognized me or were simply greeting with enthusiasm anyone else brave enough to be out in the storm.

Foot traffic increased as I passed through Caerphilly’s small commercial area, and the stores were doing brisk business. Last-minute Christmas shoppers streamed out of the toy and department stores onto snowy sidewalks already crammed with shoppers whose grocery bags overflowed with milk, bread, and toilet paper—Nature’s White Sale, Michael called it.

Cars had almost completely disappeared, though, and even trucks and SUVs were getting scarce. Every so often a snowplow would cruise by, with one of the Shiffleys at the wheel, working to keep the roads clear. Of course, they were handicapped by not having the kind of full-sized snowplows you’d find in larger cities farther north, and this particular snow would have challenged the largest snowplow on the planet. The Shiffleys were losing ground. Though knowing the Shiffleys, they’d keep trying until they cleared the snow or until it melted or until they all got themselves stuck in various ditches and snowdrifts. Shiffleys were notoriously mule-headed.