Merry Market Murder(26)

“Can he hurt me?” I knew the answer to this was yes. Geese could be wicked mean.

She shrugged again. “Just be careful.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

I stepped away from the false security of the truck and walked a path that was ahead of both the goose and the woman.

The creature was pretty smart. It had quit running when she’d quit chasing it, but I was certain that its bill would be nipping and its wings would be flapping once she set everything in motion again.

“Good, yes, the other side of the driveway should work. Use your sidestepping abilities.”

To my knowledge I didn’t have any sidestepping abilities, but I nodded nonetheless and bent my knees in a wrestler stance.

“Well, you might want to look a little less intimidating. Try to look friendly, and then when he gets to you, grab him.”

“Whatever you say,” I muttered quietly but I stood upright.

The woman started running again, and so did the goose, sort of in my direction. I suddenly understood the need for sidestepping.

“You stupid bird!” she exclaimed.

I didn’t take the time to point out that she was being intimidating with her words so I would have probably been okay with my stance.

I moved to my left, I moved to my right, back and forth many times before the goose made it close enough that I could try to make some sort of move to catch it.

But how? I didn’t want to hurt it, no matter how awful or stupid it might be. How does one reach for a big, flapping animal with a long neck and stop it without potentially breaking said neck? The way I chose was quickly proved wrong.

I pulled my head back and thrust my hands forward toward its body. Somehow, I didn’t get my hands on any part of it, but it managed to take a nice bite out of my arm.

“Ow!” I said as pulled my injured arm back and let the goose pass by.

“Why’d you let it go?” the woman asked as I let her pass by, too.

I didn’t answer.

Finally, probably having had enough of the whole situation, Hobbit stuck her nose in the open space at the top of the passenger window of the truck and barked. One quick but loud exclamation.

And the goose slid to a web-footed stop. It turned and looked at the other creature on the premises. Hobbit and the goose had a stare-down as the woman walked calmly up to the goose and pulled something from its bill. I wondered if it was some skin from my arm.

The woman walked back to me and held up a gold-chained necklace. “Took it from the kitchen counter. It’ll be lucky if I don’t finally cook it for dinner. Can I help you? You here for a tree?”

“Not really.”

“Well, why then?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe I could get this cleaned up?” The bite was bleeding enough that I didn’t care if I was imposing.

“Sure, come on up to the house. You’ll probably want to leave the dog in the truck. God bless him, though. I would’ve been chasing that wretched thing all day if he or she hadn’t intervened.”

“She. Am I at the Stuckey Christmas Tree Farm?” I was fairly sure I’d found the right spot, but the wayward goose made me wonder.

“Yes, you are. I’m afraid Mr. Stuckey has met with a tragic end recently, but I think there’s someone here who can sell you a tree.”

“Well, I don’t really want a tree . . . it’s still a long story. Are you family member?”

“Heavens, no; I’m a housekeeper, recently hired at that. Reggie was the only family member, really, but he has a couple workers to help him with the trees.”

My list of questions was only growing.

“Any chance you’d have a minute to talk after I get this taken care of?” I said.

She squinted at me a long moment before she finally said, “I might, but you’ll have to tell me more about who you are.”

“Gladly.”

“Deal. This way then.”





Eight





Gellie (pronounced just like the stuff I made in my kitchen) took me inside the house through the front door. The tan-and-brown-toned entryway wasn’t big but it didn’t feel cramped, either. Even with a bleeding arm, it was difficult not to admire the staircase against the left wall. Its shiny wood steps and carved banister were steep and led directly to a small, railed walkway above. From my vantage point below, it seemed that one could choose to go either right or left and find places that begged to be discovered.

“Was this house redone, remodeled?” I asked as Gellie led me down a hallway next to the stairs. We passed a couple of large rooms on our right but I didn’t take the time to look into them. Ahead was something that garnered most of my attention—a huge aluminum table that I suspected to be the center island for a kitchen. But if the size of the end of the table I saw was any indication, the kitchen was enormous, probably bigger than the one in my converted barn.