“I can’t keep it in stock. Patrick's animals really don’t produce an adequate supply.”
Possibly the first time anyone had made that complaint about penned animals.
“I’ve started negotiating with the Clay County Zoo to augment the supply.”
“I didn’t know Clay County had a zoo,” I said. “Though I suppose I should have guessed that if we had one, they’d want one too.” Caerphilly and Clay counties were such bitter rivals—in everything from high school football to the agricultural competitions at the state fair—that I was almost surprised to find the border between the two guarded only by back-to-back dueling signs telling motorists going in either direction that they were now leaving the most beautiful county in Virginia.
“Well, it's not much of a zoo,” she said, in the condescending tone most Caerphillians used when speaking of our less fortunate neighbors. “Not really much more than a glorified petting zoo. But it would be, technically, zoo poop.”
“And is there some special virtue to zoo poop that makes people pay a premium for it?”
“Not really,” she said. “It's the cachet. It's different—exotic! They can tell their friends they feed their prize azaleas nothing but ZooperPoop!”
“I’m not that fond of my azaleas,” I said, eyeing the price tag. Short of the filet mignon I’d fixed for our Valentine's Day champagne dinner, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fed Michael and myself something that expensive.
“It mostly sells in upscale garden stores. I only keep a few bags at the store for when the rich people from town come out. So can I get on with it?”
“Be my guest,” I said. “The llamas and camels really should be moved to the pasture next door as soon as someone has the time to do it.”
“Right,” she said. “I’ll look there for them next time.”
I’d been hoping she’d volunteer to do the moving, but perhaps I should have just asked outright instead of hinting. She grabbed a shovel and a pair of buckets from the back of her truck and trudged toward the temporary llama pen. I returned to my seat on the front porch.
“That damned Smoot here yet?”
I turned to see Chief Burke standing in the doorway behind me, frowning out at the road. “What's a Smoot?” I asked.
“Dr. Smoot, the new medical examiner,” he said. “We’ve got the body excavated enough to move it, if he’d just show up to pronounce.”
Dad appeared just behind the chief.
“If you’re getting impatient—,” Dad began.
“If I’m getting impatient, I’ll call Smoot to find out where the hell he is,” the chief said. “Thanks all the same.”
“Do you have any idea who the deceased is?” Dad asked.
“You know he won’t tell you,” I said. “But if you’re curious, I bet I could make a pretty good guess who our uninvited guest is.”
“And who would that be?” the chief said, looking rather smug, as if he didn’t think my guess was likely to be on target.
“Patrick Lanahan.”
“How the hell did you know?” the chief asked, scowling.
Chapter 6
“She's right?” Dad asked. “It is Patrick? Amazing!”
“You’re darned right it's amazing,” the chief said. “And I want to know how she knows.”
“Not because I had anything to do with putting him there,” I said.
“Then why did you think it would be him?”
“I must have talked to half a dozen people this morning who haven’t seen him for days,” I said. “And it's a small town, so while I suppose it's possible for two people to mysteriously go missing, it's unlikely, so odds are he's the one.”
It sounded weak—more like good guesswork than anything else—but after a moment the chief nodded. Which meant I didn’t have to tell him my second, more self-centered reason for guessing that the body was Lanahan's: that right now, if I tried to think of someone whose death was likely to cause me the greatest number of problems, Patrick Lanahan would probably head the list. Who knew how long the penguins, llamas, and camels would be with us?
Or for that matter, how many other people Dad had already told that they could drop off their unwanted animal visitors with me?
I felt a momentary pang of guilt. I didn’t particularly like the fact that my first reaction to hearing about the death of another human being was annoyance at how it would inconvenience me. I made a silent vow to learn more about Lanahan when I got the chance. Maybe he’d turn out to be a wonderful person who cared deeply about his animal charges and had done much to make the world a better place. A philanthropist who’d made profound contributions to preserving endangered species. Or at least a decent guy who hadn’t deserved whatever had happened to him. For the time being, though, I felt a strong but unreasonable grudge against him.