Murder With Peacocks(26)

"Yes, but they're not honeymooning yet. Or ever will be, if she doesn't get down here to pick out a dress."

"There's still time, dear. Why don't you fix us a nice omelet?"

We heard a knock and saw Michael's face at the back door.

"Have you seen Spike?" he asked, slightly breathless. "You know, Mom's dog?"

"No," I said. "Damn, we don't need any more disappearances."

"If you see him running around loose, just give him a wide berth and call me," Michael said. "He's not really vicious, just terminally irritable."

"You might try going down to the beach," I said, following him out. "Dogs always seem to like that. Lots of smelly seaweed and dead fish to wallow in."

"Your nephew and your father suggested that," he said. "Searching the beach for Spike, that is, not wallowing there. They went down to look."

"Or wallow, knowing Dad and Eric." Just then we saw Eric running toward us.

"Maybe you're in luck," I said.

"Meg!" Eric called, running up to us. "We found something down on the beach! I think it's a dead animal. Grandpa's down looking at it!" He ran over to the edge of the bluff and teetered there, pointing down.

"Stay away from the edge!" I shouted, grabbing for him. "You know it's not safe. It could cave in."

"Come see, Meg!" Eric pleaded.

"We'd better go," I told Michael. "We may have to carry Dad up the ladder."

"Ladder?" Michael said.

"It's a shortcut down to the beach," I explained over my shoulder as Eric tugged me along by the hand to the next-door neighbors' yard. "Most people go down to the Donleavys' house. They have an easy path down to the beach. But Dad likes to go down this rather precarious series of ladders our neighbor built straight down the side of the bluff to his dock.

"Dad!" I called as we reached the top of the ladder. "Do you need us for anything?"

"You keep the kids back, Meg," Dad called up.

"There's only Eric."

"Just keep him back, you hear?" Dad repeated, sounding anxious.

"Go on back to the house and see if your grandmother has the cookies ready," I told Eric, who trotted off eagerly.

"Is she baking cookies?" Michael asked, with interest.

"Mother? It's extremely unlikely. But by the time she convinces Eric of that, he'll have forgotten all about whatever it is Dad doesn't want him to see. It's very odd; I wonder why he's so worried about keeping the grandkids away."

"Surely he wouldn't want them to see a dead animal."

"I don't see why not. He was always dragging Pam and Rob and me to see dead animals and using them for little impromptu biology lessons. He does it all the time with the grandkids. Unless it's one of their animals, of course; even Dad has more sense than to do that. Oh, I hope it's not Duck; he wasn't following Eric."

"Or Spike," Michael said. "Mom would have a fit."

"Meg," Dad shouted up. "Who else is that with you?"

"Michael," I shouted back. "We sent Eric back to the house."

"Good!" said Dad. "Michael, would you mind climbing down here for a minute?" Michael shrugged and started down the ladder. A little too quickly.

"Take it slow!" I said. "That's an old ladder; there are a few rungs missing, and a few more will be very soon if you aren't careful."

"Right," he said, and continued at an excessively cautious pace. I stood at the top of the ladder peering down, rather idiotically, since the bushes were too thick for me to see anything. I could hear Dad and Michael talking in hushed tones.

"Meg," Dad called up. "We've found Mrs. Grover. Go call the sheriff."

"The sheriff," I repeated. "Right. And an ambulance?"

"Yes, not that they need to rush or anything," Michael said.

"And tell him to come prepared," Dad added. "There are some rather suspicious circumstances."

"Oh, dear," Mother said, after eavesdropping shamelessly on my conversation with the sheriff. "Poor Mrs. Grover. And here we all were so irritated because we thought she'd disappeared on purpose to annoy us. I suppose it should be a lesson to us."

I felt rather guilty about the uncharitable thoughts I'd had about Mrs. Grover--now, presumably, the late Mrs. Grover. But while I felt very sorry indeed for her, I couldn't help thinking that if she was going to die under suspicious circumstances, she couldn't have picked a better place to do it.

Of course, having met her, I felt sure that she'd have made every effort to die elsewhere if she'd had any idea of the deep personal and professional satisfaction a mystery buff like Dad would feel at the prospect of helping investigate her death.