“The way he was lurking around tonight, you mean?” I was scribbling a note on my task list to remind me to talk to Annabel about the security issue.
“It’s not just the lurking tonight,” Stanley said. “He’s behaving furtively. Like a man with something to hide. Spent a lot of time weeding his flower beds today, all on the side closest to Miss Annabel’s house, and if he pulled more than a dozen weeds I’d be astonished. Then he didn’t answer the doorbell when I went over to interview him this afternoon.”
“Are you sure he was home?”
“I did an hour or so of surveillance before ringing the doorbell. That’s how I know he was pretending to weed. He was there all right. And ignored fifteen minutes of doorbell ringing. Then, about half an hour after I disappeared from his doorstep, he dashed out his front door and drove away as if en route to a fire. Of course, there’s no law against behaving furtively. And no law requiring anyone to talk to a private eye who shows up on your doorstep. But still…”
“And no law against keeping an eye on our camp, but I think it’s creepy of him to turn out the lights, sneak to the back of his property, and gawk at us from the shrubbery.”
“With binoculars,” Stanley added, nodding.
“Binoculars? You’re sure?”
“I was using night-vision goggles,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket and placing them on the table. “And a camera designed for taking pictures in darkness. I got some nice shots of his Peeping Tom act.”
“You private eyes have all the fun,” I said. “And all the cool toys.”
He smiled and sipped his tea. I pulled out my notebook and added a few tasks. Including finding out where to get night-vision goggles. The boys would adore them.
“Did you see Weaver over at camp at any time today?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But I wasn’t really there a whole lot. You’re thinking maybe he snuck out the back door while you were watching the front and left the present for Grandfather?”
“Crossed my mind,” he said. “Seems unlikely. The candy might have been a last-minute improvisation, but someone went to a bit of trouble beforehand to pick out that wolf decanter for your grandfather. I’m betting someone had that thing all ready to go a while ago and took advantage of the chaotic first day of camp to sneak it into his trailer.”
I nodded.
“What are you planning for tomorrow?” he asked, after watching me scribble for a few moments.
“Grandfather and the troops are going up to the defunct emu ranch first thing in the morning,” I said. “All the zoologists and volunteers will be looking for traces of the birds, and the film crew will be tagging along, capturing everything that might be useful for the eventual television special. I think their working title is something like In Search of the Feral Emu.
“That’s what Dr. Blake is up to,” he said. “What about you?”
“I’m going to tag along long enough to satisfy my curiosity about the emu ranch,” I said. “And then I plan to leave Michael and the boys to enjoy the roundup and come back here. Talk Miss Annabel into hiring your friend for home security. Probably take a nap while the tent is quiet.”
“Any chance you could spend some more time at the library?” he said.
“Sure,” I said. “What do you want me to look up?”
“If I knew that, I’d go down and do it myself,” he said with a sigh. “Follow your nose. We know about Weaver’s feud with the ladies, but what if Cordelia had other enemies that Annabel didn’t think were important? The more we know about this town, the better our chances of solving this. And see what you can do to befriend some of the townspeople. Use that familiar face of yours and see if you can get some of them to open up. And while you’re at it—if you get a chance to talk to Chief Heedles, see what you can find out.”
“You want me to tackle her instead of you?” I asked. “Play the fellow-woman-in-a-male-dominated-profession card?”
“Only if you see a chance to do it naturally,” he said. “But yes, I have a feeling she’d talk more readily to you than to me. Funny—not the first time I’ve felt a little resentment from a law enforcement officer, but I always attributed it to testosterone, not turf.”
I nodded and scribbled a few more lines in my notebook. And then I glanced down the page and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Stanley asked.
“My to-do list is growing like a kudzu vine and I don’t see an end in sight,” I said. “And half the new items have something to do with Cordelia, and I’m starting to wonder why I’m spending so much time trying to find out about her.”