Murder With Peacocks(58)

I burst out laughing, right in the middle of one of Reverend Pugh's more touching anecdotes. Everyone looked at me disapprovingly. Including Dad, damn it.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't know what came over me." And I fled to the kitchen to get the giggles out of my system, smothering my mouth with a dish towel so I wouldn't further embarrass the family.

And as I expected, very shortly Dad found his way to the kitchen.

"Of course, wakes today aren't the same thing at all," he said over his shoulder as he walked in. I could almost hear the sighs of relief in the dining room when the swinging door swung closed.

"Any more peaches?" he asked.

"In the fridge." And while he was poking about in the refrigerator, I slipped up behind him and snagged a large brown paper bag that was hanging out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't see any peaches," he said, turning.

"You were about to lose this," I said, while squeezing the bag slightly to verify its contents.

"Oh, good job, Meg! I wouldn't want to misplace that," Dad said, snatching at the bag. I whisked it away.

"First tell me why you're carrying Great-Aunt Sophy around in a paper bag."

"It's a long story."

"I have time," I said, wiggling the bag just beyond his grasp. "Give me one good reason not to put her back where she came from. No, on second thought, you'd just steal her again. Give me one good reason not to hide her where you'll never find her."

"I need her."

"So I gathered; what are you going to do with her?"

"I'm going to switch her with someone else ... in a similar condition."

"Going to? You've had her for nearly two weeks; what are you waiting for?"

"To tell you the truth, I haven't located the other party," Dad said, looking discouraged. "I've looked everywhere I could."

"If you mean the late Emma Wendell, she's in a cardboard box in Mrs. Grover's suitcase. In Jake's guest room. Unless Jake has moved her for some reason. That is what this ridiculous charade has been all about, isn't it?"

Dad's face lit up. "Meg, that's wonderful! But how do you know?"

"Michael and I burgled his house. We didn't find anything incriminating, I should point out."

"No, of course not. But are you sure it was Emma Wendell?"

"Can you think of anyone else whose remains Mrs. Grover would be lugging around in a box marked Emma? I think the odds are good."

"Yes," he said. "And Michael helped you."

"In a manner of speaking."

"Good man, Michael," Dad said, warmly. "That was very enterprising of both of you, not to mention brave and very thoughtful."

"Foolhardy and futile were the words I would have used," I said. "But thanks anyway.

Now that you know where to find her, what are you going to do with her?"

"Run some tests."

"Is that what you've been doing all this time with Great-Aunt Sophy?"

"Well, no. Actually, I've been on a stakeout."

"A stakeout?" I echoed.

"Yes," he said. "You see, I realize that Jake couldn't possibly have killed Jane Grover, but I still think he was mixed up in it somehow. Maybe he hired someone to do it. Or maybe he knows something he's afraid to tell. Something that might mean that your mother's in danger. So I've been staking his house out for the last ten days."

"Staking it out from where?"

"The big dogwood tree in his yard. His phone's just inside the window on that side of the house, and I can hear every conversation he has and see anyone who comes to the front door. And I've rigged a mirror so I can keep an eye on his back door. Jake can't move a muscle without my finding out about it. At least while I'm there."

I closed my eyes and sighed. I wondered if Jake had really failed to notice Dad perching in his dogwood tree for the past ten days. None of the neighbors had mentioned it. That was a good sign, wasn't it? I made a mental note to cruise by Jake's house later to see how well camouflaged Dad was. Perhaps I should start building a cover story in case someone noticed him. Babble about some rare species of bird Dad suspected of nesting in the neighborhood. Yes, the sheriff would probably buy that.

"Sooner or later, he'll leave the house unlocked and I can pull the switch, now that I know where his late wife is," Dad continued. "I didn't have that much time to search the one time I could get in. But now--"

"Let me do it, Dad," I said. He looked doubtful.

"I'm not sure I should let you. If he finds out we're on to him--"

"I'll get Michael to help me," I said. As I suspected, that did the trick.

"Oh, well, that's all right, then," Dad said. "Just let me know when you've pulled it off."