The Good, the Bad, and the Emus(25)

“We should call that detective of yours,” she said finally.

“And the police, surely.”

“What good would that do? I told them to look for her headlight. They claimed they did a good search, but they didn’t find this. You’re here half an hour and you find it. Hmph.”

“I stumbled over it,” I said. “Quite literally and very much by accident.”

“In the field, near the fence? Precisely where Weaver would have dropped it on his way back to his house?”

“No, it was a good fifteen or twenty feet back from the fence,” I said.

“Even better.” Annabel nodded. “He was running back to his house and he chucked it out into the field, as far as it would go.”

“But why would he have taken away Cordelia’s headlight and then chucked it away?” I asked.

“For the same reason he left that old kerosene lantern there,” she said. “To make it look as if Cordelia herself had started the fire by being careless with an open flame. It’s obvious.”

Not that obvious to me, but I didn’t want to argue with her.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Stanley’s number. He didn’t answer, so I left a voice mail.

“It’s Meg,” I said. “I found what Miss Annabel thinks could be Cordelia’s discarded headlight. Want to take a look at it before I turn it over to the local cops?”

“Of course he does,” Annabel muttered as I was hanging up.

“May I use your phone book?” I asked.

Annabel pointed to the counter where it lay, and I looked up the nonemergency number for the Riverton police and scribbled it down in my notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe. I could call them later, when Annabel wasn’t around to be annoyed.

“Do you have a paper bag we can put the headlight in?” I asked. “Preferably one that’s never been used.”

“What about a plastic sandwich bag?” Annabel asked.

“No, it’s damp. Dew, most likely. Wet evidence should go in paper, to keep it from deteriorating.”

“I thought you were a blacksmith, not a cop.” She stepped into the pantry and I could hear little scuffling noises as she rummaged through the shelves. “Would a lunch bag work?”

“A lunch bag would be perfect. My cousin Horace is a forensic crime-scene expert,” I explained. “You pick up a few things. Oh, and may I keep this, too, for the time being?” I held up the newer headlight. “So we have another one for comparison?”

“Fine with me,” she said. “We buy them by the dozen. Well, I do, now. Keep them all over the house. I have a horror of stumbling during a blackout and breaking my neck. I assume you’ll need two bags.”

“Please,” I said.

She emerged from the pantry carrying a package of brown paper lunch bags, a tape dispenser, and a box containing a pair of brand-new, lime-green kitchen gloves. I put a glove on my uninjured hand and I tucked the rusty headlight into a brown paper bag. Then we taped it shut and scribbled our initials over the tape and the bag, as Stanley had done the day before with the bag in which he’d stowed the kerosene lamp. I dumped the other headlight into its own bag without all the formalities.

“Thanks.” I took off the glove and its mate and held them out.

“No, keep them,” she said. “You might come across more evidence. And take the bags, too. I’ve got more. I buy them in bulk for when I pack bag lunches for the shelter.”

“Good idea.” I tucked the gloves into my pocket. “I’d better get back to Camp Emu and help Michael set up our tent.”

“You’re camping out with the rest of Blake’s Brigade?” she asked.

“We are,” I said. Blake’s Brigade was the nickname used on and off camera for the paid and volunteer crew Grandfather brought to his projects. I was a little surprised Annabel knew it. Perhaps the cousins were keeping a closer eye on Grandfather than I’d imagined. “I confess, I’m not sure I see the necessity for camping here when an hour’s drive would see us safely in our own beds. But the boys love the idea of camping.”

“Makes for better television,” Annabel said. “If he let you all go home to your own beds, you wouldn’t have all that footage of the volunteers crawling out of their sleeping bags before dawn and singing ‘Kumbayah’ around the campfire after a hard day’s work. Yes, I’ve watched some of the shows. I expect Cordelia snuck a peek occasionally, too. And thanked her lucky stars nobody expected her to tag along. Probably a good thing if you stay here with the brigade,” she added. “From what I’ve seen, Blake’s expeditions are long on book learning and theatrics and short on common sense.”