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Duck the Halls(36)

By:Donna Andrews


I ran down into the basement, because while I’d done a lot of laundry over the last several days, none of it had yet traveled upstairs from the enormous folding table I’d installed. “Getting dressed in the basement” was my own private shorthand for being woefully behind not just on niceties but on essential household chores. I needed to tackle the folding table soon.

But not right now. I collected clean clothes and a clean bath sheet. I heard voices coming down the hall from the library, and voices coming up the front step. Someone else would have to deal with them. I ran upstairs, laid out the clean clothes on my side of the bed, then dumped my dirty clothes in the hamper, snagged my fuzzy robe, and marched into the bathroom. I was trying to decide between the cinnamon-apple-spice bubble bath Michael’s mother had given me last Christmas—nice enough, but not my favorite, although, it would be tactful to finish it off before she arrived, probably bearing this year’s bubble bath offering—or Rose Noire’s homemade rose and lavender soak, which was my favorite, and tended to vanish almost as soon as a new supply arrived. And after my bath—

I was reaching to turn the faucet when I heard a noise behind me.

“Quack-quack-quack!”

I whirled, throwing my robe around me as I did.

A large white duck waddled out of the shower stall.





Chapter 16


I pulled on my robe and belted it as I peered into every cranny of the bathroom.

No one there. Just the duck. Which looked up at me expectantly.

“Quack-quack-quack!” it said again. It fluttered up to the rim of the tub and marched up and down, looking down at the tub and then up again at me.

I could see that the plug was in the tub. The old, worn-out plug, which leaked slightly—replacing it was another one of those neglected tasks. I suspected that someone had filled the tub with water, put the duck in it, and then left, not realizing that eventually our winged visitor would be left high and dry.

“No,” I said. “I am not filling the bathtub for you.”

I left the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind me. I put my nice clean clothes on, which seemed a bit of a waste, since I hadn’t managed to get myself clean to go with them, but I didn’t fancy digging the dirty ones out of the hamper.

I pulled out my cell phone. Should I call 911? No. I put it away again. The duck didn’t necessarily mean that our house had been hit by the prankster. There could be some other perfectly logical reason for the duck in our tub. Maybe it was intended as a Christmas present. Not for me or Michael, presumably, or the giver wouldn’t have hidden it in our bathroom. And I had a hard time imagining anyone in my family giving the boys a duck. My nephew Eric had had a pet duck for many years, and they all knew how much trouble it had been. And they all knew we’d only just adjusted to the amount of work required by the chickens we’d acquired this fall. I’d spent the last several months making it very clear to anyone I could even imagine giving the boys a present exactly how we’d feel if they inflicted more livestock on us.

Maybe someone in the family had been helping with the duck removal at St. Byblig’s and failed to notice one of the trespassers stowing away in his vehicle. And by someone in the family I mainly meant either Rob or Dad. Anyone else would have noticed a stowaway duck long before they got all the way out here or, failing to notice it, would find something a lot more sensible to do with it—either taking it back to town or stowing it in the barn for the time being. I couldn’t imagine anyone but Rob or maybe Dad putting the duck in our tub.

I could tell by glancing at the cars outside that neither of my prime suspects was around to be confronted.

And I really needed that nap.

So I collected the duck, took him upstairs to Rob’s bathroom, drew him an inch or so of water in the tub, and made sure the door was closed firmly.

I wasn’t keen on having that soaking bath until I’d cleaned the bathroom thoroughly to remove the last vestiges of the duck’s occupancy, so I settled for a hot shower before my nap.

And I actually did manage to sleep for an hour and a half before my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe began whispering in my ear that I should be paying attention to it. After that, sleep was impossible, so I went downstairs to see what was up.

I ran into Rose Noire in the hall.

“Do you have any idea why there was a duck in Rob’s bathroom?” she asked.

“I put it there,” I said.

She blinked.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Why did you put the duck in Rob’s bathroom?”

“I was afraid it would keep me awake if I left it in Michael’s and my bathroom. And before you ask, I have no idea why there was a duck in our bathroom. Maybe it’s left over from the church prank.”