And then, just as I drew level with the closer end of Mr. Weaver’s house, I realized, in one of those sidelong glances, that someone was in the yard. Doing something in the border next to Miss Annabel’s fence.
I made a show of peering down the road to see if anything was coming, then turned, and pretended to notice Mr. Weaver for the first time.
“Good afternoon,” I called out, in my most cheerful tone.
Weaver froze, then glanced up and stared at me for a few moments before replying.
Was it Cordelia’s face working its magic again? Not necessarily. He’d frozen—almost flinched, actually—as soon as he heard my voice.
“Afternoon,” he said. His facial expression suggested that, whatever I might think, his afternoon wasn’t good. Though it might improve slightly if I left.
He had the pallor of someone who doesn’t go outdoors all that much. I guessed he was in his sixties, and surmised, from the pattern of the wrinkles on his long, rather horsy face, that over those sixty-odd years he’d spent a great deal more time frowning than smiling.
He continued to stare up at me for a few moments. Then he turned his attention back to the flower bed. Actually, flower bed probably wasn’t the right word. I’d have called it a weed bed. If he plucked out every sprig of dandelion, pigweed, plantain, crabgrass, curly dock, chickweed, knotweed, and ragweed, he’d have nothing left but bare dirt.
Probably not an observation that would charm him. I found myself wishing I’d spent more time preparing a conversational gambit. “Hello, I was wondering if you murdered my grandmother?” wasn’t exactly a question I could ask. I decided to go with the other, less sensitive reason I was in town.
“By the way, I was just wondering if you had any information about the emus,” I said.
“Emus?” He had frozen again and was frowning up at me as if this were a trick question.
“They’re large, flightless, gray-brown birds—a lot like ostriches, but a little smaller. They—”
“I know what an emu is,” he snapped. “Seen enough of them these last few years. Don’t belong here. Someone should deal with them before it’s too late. But why are you so interested in the emus?”
“My grandfather’s here to deal with them,” I said. “He’s going to round them up and take them away to a wildlife sanctuary.”
“Take them away?” Weaver was all attention now. “Out of Riverton?”
He wasn’t suddenly getting possessive about the town emus, was he?
“To the Willner Wildlife Sanctuary,” I said. “It’s only about an hour from here.”
“Good riddance,” he said. “There’s some people in town who want to turn the farm those damned emus escaped from into a sanctuary for them.”
From his tone, I deduced that he wasn’t a supporter of the proposed ratite sanctuary.
“That’s an interesting idea,” I said. “But it hasn’t happened yet, and Grandfather doesn’t think we can afford to wait any longer to do something about the emus. Especially since there’s an established sanctuary so close.”
That seemed to please him.
“So that’s what the commotion behind my house is all about?” He seemed to find this amusing. “Bunch of bird nuts come to rescue the emus?”
“Pretty much.”
“How long are they going to be there? They’re not sleeping over there, are they?” Suddenly his face changed, as he realized the commotion might be going on into the night. “Not even noon and the police have already been out there. Don’t deny it—I heard the siren.”
“It was an ambulance,” I said. “One of the volunteers was taken ill.”
“This is a quiet, respectable neighborhood,” he said.
“I know it will be annoying,” I said. “Miss Annabel’s already pretty steamed about the commotion, too, but she knows if she makes a fuss, Grandfather could very well lose his temper and storm off without rescuing the emus.”
“And what’s more—steamed about it, is she?” A slow smile was spreading across his face.
“Livid,” I said. “I certainly hope she doesn’t have a heart problem, or high blood pressure, because this could set it off. You’ll probably see me running in and out a dozen times a day, trying to placate her and keep her from kicking us out.”
“She’s too fussy by half,” he said. “What’s the big deal about a little noise? How long’s this thing gonna take, anyway?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “I wish I did; it would calm Miss Annabel down a bit. First we have to find the emus. As I said before, I was wondering if, living out here at the edge of town, you ever saw any of them nearby.”