Six Geese A-Slaying(85)

“Werzel may have deleted them, but as any of Rob’s techies will tell you, deleted doesn’t mean gone for good. The computer techs have probably already got those photos back. And I’m sure they can find some traces of blood on the lens.”

“Outstanding,” Michael murmured.

We listened to the carols in comfortable silence for a few minutes. “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” gave way to “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” I was about to suggest that we call it a night and retire to the feed room when—

“Meg! Michael! What are you two doing here?”

I started and opened my eyes to see Dad, Dr. Blake, Caroline, Randall Shiffley, Clarence, and Mother standing over us.

“Getting away from the crowds,” Michael said. “At least that was the idea,” he added, sotto voce.

“What are all of you doing here?” I countered.

“Got to replace that reindeer hoof Caroline broke over the killer’s head,” Dad said.

“Reindeer hoof?”

“He means the plaster cow leg,” Caroline explained. “Unless the police messed with the molds, they should still be in here.”

They all trooped into the feed room where Michael and I had set up our sleeping bags. Well, most of them trooped in—the feed room was a little small to hold them all. Mother and Caroline stood outside looking on.

“Is this going to take long?” Michael asked, rather plaintively.

“Only an hour or so,” Mother said.

“Isn’t it going to be a little difficult to make plausible reindeer tracks in this much snow?” I asked. “I remember the last time Dad did this, there were only patches of snow, and it was pretty easy to keep from making human footprints too near the reindeer tracks. But in this much snow—”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Caroline said. “We’re going to use the boom lift!”

“I’ll put the arm out level to the ground,” Randall said, sticking his head out of the door. “And move it along real slow, so they can make beautiful hoof prints ten or fifteen feet out in the middle of that unspoiled patch of snow in the town square.”

“And sleigh tracks!” Clarence exclaimed. “We’ve got a pair of sleigh runners so we can make the sleigh tracks, too!”

“That sounds like fun,” Michael said. He sounded as if he was almost tempted to help. But then he yawned prodigiously.

“James,” Mother said, “why don’t you do that out here?”

“Why?” Dad said, from in the feed room.

“Because Meg and Michael have had a very long day,” Mother said. “And I think they would like to rest.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded like a suggestion, and the plaster hoofcasters might have protested. But Mother was using the “she who must be obeyed voice,” and even Dr. Blake obediently helped pick up their gear and carry it to the far end of the barn.

“And try to be quiet,” Mother said. “After all—”

“What’s that?”

We all stopped and listened.

“Could that be bells?” Caroline asked.

Yes, it definitely sounded like sleigh bells going by the barn. Actually, more like over the barn.

“Who’s running around with sleigh bells at this hour of the night?” Dad asked. What he really meant, of course, was who else had stolen his idea. He dashed for the door, and the others followed him out into the snow. We could hear them stumbling about outside and shouting to each other.

“They went that way!” we heard Clarence call.

“Impossible!” Dr. Blake shouted.

“I’ll have them keep it down when they get tired and come back in,” Mother said. “Good night, dears.”

She gave us each a kiss on the cheek and a slight but definite shove in the direction of the feed room. I noticed that our previously limp stockings were now bulging with goodies—how had she managed that in so short a time?

The sleigh bells jingled by again—this time they were definitely overhead.

“Good night, Mother,” I said. “And say good night to Dad and Grandfather and Caroline and Clarence and—”

“And all the rest of the Waltons, yes,” she said. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

For once I decided to let Mother have the last word.