The Penguin Who Knew Too Much(68)

“Maybe Sheila could introduce you to Martha,” I said. “Good boost for the shop, once you open it.”

Mother drew herself up to her full height. Which was exactly the same as my height, five ten—why did it look so much more impressive on her?

“I hardly care to be introduced to Martha Stewart by a purveyor of designer manure,” she said, in her most glacial tone.

Oops.

“Just as well,” I said. “After all, she's a suspect in Lanahan's murder.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“Who knows?” I said. “But even being a suspect could spoil her chances of being on television. I suspect Martha prefers her guests squeaky clean these days. Legally speaking, of course.”

“How unfortunate,” Mother said. But she was smiling as she walked off.

Within minutes the yard was empty, except for the odd stray sheep and Michael.

“Good riddance,” I said.

“Well, it was a nice party while it lasted,” Michael said. “But we don’t want to knock off too many guests the first day we’re officially moved in. I’d go over to the farm to help out, but it's time I took off to pick up Mom.”

“Now? I thought she wasn’t coming in till evening.”

“It will be evening by the time I get to the airport—she's flying into BWI instead of Dulles, apparently. Adds at least an hour to the drive, and I bet she saved maybe fifty dollars.”

“Two hours, round-trip,” I said. I thought of several other things I could add, but decided that none of them was something you wanted to say about a woman who was about to become your mother-in-law, so I bit them back. With an effort.

“Next time, I’m making the damned reservations,” Michael said. “And any other time, I’d just hire a limo service to pick her up.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.

“Do you want to come?” He sounded surprised.

“To be perfectly honest, no,” I said. “Right now the last thing I want to do is drive a couple of hours and sit around in an airport. But I figure it's probably the last thing you want to do, too,

and we haven’t spent much time together the last couple of days, and maybe you’d like some company on the way up.”

“I’d love company on the way up, but maybe I should go it alone. Spend some one-on-one time with Mom, to make up for the fact that we’re going to abandon her on Monday.”

“Good idea,” I said.

“And when I get back,” he said as he leaned over to kiss me good-bye, “I’ll tell you all about orgling.” “Orgling?”

He made an odd gurgling noise.

“That's orgling,” he said. “Part of the llama's mating ritual.” “Yuck,” I said. “Let's stick to champagne and roses.” “If you were a lady llama, that would drive you wild.” “You’ve been watching the llamas mate?”

“No, all our llamas are geldings. But Dr. Blake has been telling me all about llamas.”

“If he's been advising you to orgle at me, he's been spending too much time with his animals,” I said. “I prefer human mating rituals, thank you.”

“Hold that thought until I get back from BWI.”

“I will,” I said. “And meanwhile, speaking of Dr. Blake, I’m going to visit him. See if I can get some accurate information from him on the zoo's population.”

“And maybe a confession to murder?”

“Unlikely,” I said, shaking my head.

“I thought you suspected him.”

“I do,” I said. “But he's too sharp to confess.”

“You’ve tried to get him to?”

“Well, no,” I said. “He just doesn’t seem like the confessing kind. Maybe I should try.”

“Just be careful,” Michael said.

“I’ll make sure the staff at the Inn sees me arriving,” I said.

“Do that,” he said. “Or maybe you should just stay home and rest. Do you really expect you can solve the murder and the zoo's problems before we take off?”

“No,” I said. “And when we take off tomorrow for wherever it is we’re going, I’ll gladly leave the murder investigation to Chief Burke and the fate of the zoo to Dad and Dr. Blake. But until then—”

“Until then, you’re going to give it one last shot. Fire away, but be careful.” “Will do.”

Of course, as I pushed my way through the departing crowds to my car, I wondered if being seen by the Inn's staff would offer much protection if I were seriously worried about Blake. The Inn was notorious as a place people went when they didn’t want to be seen having lunch, dinner, or breakfast with someone other than their spouses. What if their guest services extended to providing alibis to special guests?