Some Like It Hawk(92)

“By this afternoon you’ll be neck deep in lost children, heat prostrations, teenagers mishandling fireworks, belligerent drunks, and people who think ‘no parking’ signs don’t apply to them,” Denton said. “And another day will go by without our finding critical evidence. Not to mention that every day increases the chance that any evidence will be lost or compromised.”

“If it hasn’t been compromised yet, a few more hours won’t hurt,” the chief said. “And if the day goes to hell in a handbasket the way you’re expecting, I’ll reconsider deputizing Meg. If she’s willing.”

I glanced at Michael.

“Your call,” he said softly. And I knew that, like me, he was probably thinking about what could happen if the Evil Lender got its way. The threat to our house, Dad’s farm, and our working farmer neighbors—all of us whose land FPF was hoping to seize and hand over to a developer. I imagined condos covering the pastures where Rose Noire grew her herbs and a sleek but soulless clubhouse swallowing up the house we’d worked so hard to get in shape and the yard where even now our sons were playing so happily. And no doubt strip malls, parking lots, and fast-food joints after that.

“I’m in,” I said. “Chief, consider me deputized, and if you decide you want to use me, just call me. Until then, I’ll be in the tent.”

Before the chief left with Denton, I pulled out the spare forensic kit Horace kept at our house and carefully transferred its contents into a box.

“Horace would never go out on a case without this,” I said.

“Any objection if I put my clothes in there?” he asked. “I’m just wearing my shorts under this outfit.”

“Good idea,” I said. “No need to risk a fur-induced heatstroke. And remember,” I added, probably for the tenth time, “if anyone tries to talk to you, just nod or shrug or shake your head. Horace often gets pretty preoccupied when he’s on a case, and he hates talking in the suit. Spoils the effect.”

Denton nodded, took a deep breath, and slid the headpiece on. Then he followed the chief out to his car.

“So you’re going to be helping the chief with his investigations?” Michael asked.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said. “He only said that to placate Denton.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Help me load the llamas into the trailer, will you? I promised Caroline I’d bring them in for her petting zoo.”

“Petting zoo? She brought hyenas and wolves. Who’s going to want to pet them?”

“I think she’s borrowing some sheep and goats for the petting zoo,” Michael replied. “Plus the usual assortment of cute animals from the shelter.”

“That’s more like it,” I said. “Just make sure they know to keep the fans going so none of the animals get overheated.” Caerphilly Days had been a boon for the county’s new animal shelter, thanks to an innovation Caroline had introduced. In addition to displaying the adoptable animals from the shelter on one weekend a month, we also had several large, clearly marked donation boxes for guilt offerings from people who saw the cute animals but couldn’t take one home. For the moment, the county shelter was almost self-sustaining.

It took both Michael’s truck and my van to haul the llamas, Eric and the boys, Rob, and Caroline. Eric and Rob were telling Josh and Jamie all about the upcoming fireworks. I wasn’t sure how much the boys understood, and I knew it wasn’t wise, working them up to a fever pitch of excitement about something that wasn’t going to happen for hours. But keeping them happy till things went boom would be Eric’s problem. Well, mostly Eric’s problem.

I unloaded everyone else at the petting zoo and parked the truck. I could see what the chief meant—traffic was already bad.

But that was good for the festival. All three of the churches were selling coffee as fast as they could brew it and they’d all come up with a breakfast menu. Tourists were lining up for Baptist ham biscuits, Episcopal coffee cake and fruit smoothies, and Catholic doughnuts still warm from the fryer.

Apparently Rose Noire had anticipated the traffic and arrived even earlier than usual. I found her standing in front of the tent, broom in hand, staring up at the sky.

“Good morning,” I said. “Planning to take a ride before things get busy?”

“Look!” She pointed up at the sky. “There’s a huge bird circling overhead. Is it the hawk or the vulture?”

I studied the bird’s silhouette for a few moments.

“The vulture, I think.”

“How horrible!”