Some Like It Hawk(62)

Two Shiffleys came ambling up. The two who’d slept in the crawl space.

“Mission accomplished,” one of them said to Rose Noire. “And we’ll keep an eye out in case he does it again.”

With that, they saluted and strolled off.

“Mission?” I asked.

“They’ve been rearranging the planters for me. Last night, someone moved all the ones over in the food tent area so they made a path leading directly to the Hamishburger stand. You couldn’t even get to any of the church tents without either climbing over geraniums or going a block out of your way.”

“What a jerk,” I said, shaking my head.

“Of course, we can’t prove Hamish did it,” Rose Noire said.

“Do we need proof?” I asked. “It’s obvious who did it.”

“We need proof if we’re going to kick him out of the town square,” Rose Noire said. “There’s a lot of sentiment in favor of it, but we can’t kick him out just because no one likes him and we suspect he’s been up to something sneaky. If we catch him in the act…”

“Brilliant,” I said. “Although I still say we should get rid of those damned things, too.” I paused beside her little cart, loaded with the gallon plastic milk jugs in which she carried the water, and waved at a line of planters.

“Don’t be negative,” she said, her hands fluttering over the geraniums as if she wanted to block my harsh words from their ears and couldn’t quite figure out how. “Plants are living creatures! How would you feel if someone walked up and told me we should get rid of you?”

“They’re annuals,” I said. “I’m sure they’re philosophical about their tiny roles in the great pageant of life. And actually I didn’t mean getting rid of the flowers. They’re very nice. What if you hauled them all someplace, dumped the dirt, returned the planters to the garden club, and planted the geraniums in a nice sunny place where someone could easily sprinkle them with a hose every day or two? They could live out the rest of their short lives in peace and quiet. I’d even volunteer our yard, and I’m sure Mother would say the same thing.”

“It’s a thought,” Rose Noire said. “But we don’t exactly have time to do that today, do we? Caroline’s waiting for you at the tent.”

Yes, Caroline would be waiting for me, and who knew when I’d have another moment to call my own. So I found a quiet, shady spot by the food tents, pulled out my cell phone, and fished Stanley Denton’s card out of my wallet.

When I called his cell phone, I got voice mail after four rings.

“Hi,” I said. “This is Meg Langslow. I wanted to ask you something.” I added my cell phone number and hung up.

Not the most informative message in the world, but I didn’t think any of the questions I wanted to ask him were ones he wanted to answer, so I thought vagueness would be my best tactic.

Then I left the same message on his office voice mail.

At least I got a live person at the Caerphilly Inn, although asking them to put me through to Denton produced, after seven rings, yet another voice mail. I called back and left my message at the desk instead. Now if I went looking for Denton at the Inn, I could honestly say I’d been trying very hard to reach him.

By the time I finished that, I saw Caroline trotting toward me. Behind her were the two Shiffleys again, now carrying the large pigeon cage.

“There you are!” she said. “I’m ready to go to the zoo now. If you go and fetch your car, these nice young men will load the pigeons on it.”

“If I’d known you’d be back so fast, I wouldn’t have gone all the way to the parking lot,” I grumbled. “I really should check on what’s going on at the tent.”

“Rose Noire’s there,” one of the Shiffleys said. “Watching the wildlife.”

And the trapdoor, I assumed. I turned and trudged back toward the parking lot. On my way, I spotted Horace, trotting briskly up the courthouse steps with his evidence kit in his hand. He waved at me. No, he didn’t just wave. He gave me a Churchillian V for Victory salute with his free hand. I responded in kind, and felt strangely lighthearted.

The pigeons proved to be far less entertaining companions than Caroline’s wild animals. They cooed and fluttered occasionally. Caroline seemed lost in her thoughts. I had resigned myself to a quiet drive when Caroline finally spoke up.

“Don’t turn around and gawk or anything, but there’s a black van following us.”





Chapter 24




I glanced in the rearview mirror, being careful not to move my head.