Free Owls Well That Ends Well by Donna Andrews

out of his leather jacket with one hand while holding his cell phone in the other. I went over to help him out. That doing so allowed me to eavesdrop was, of course, purely incidental.
    From the frown that crossed his face when he saw me, I deduced that he’d neither forgiven nor forgotten my so-called meddling in the last murder case we had in Caerphilly.
    “Yes, I know I gave Clyde the day off for his cousin’s wedding,” he was saying into the phone. “But we’ve got a situation here. You tell him to head on over here as soon as they’re safely hitched. And—hold on,” he said, with a look of alarm. “I’ll have to call you back.”
    I followed the chief’s gaze and saw a short, plump African-American woman swathed in white robes and wearing a Cleopatra-style headdress. She held Darth Vader’s hand and frowned at the chief.
    “I declare,” she said. “If you’re too triflin’ to buy your grandson a measly hamburger …”
    “Minerva,” the chief said, in a stage whisper. “We have a serious crime going on here.”
    “Dad, it’s probably time for Eric’s lunch,” I said. “Why don’t you take the chief’s grandson along and feed them both?”
    Dad looked crestfallen. He wanted to stay at the crime scene.
    “We’ll make points with the chief,” I whispered to him. “And with Mother; she won’t want Eric to see this. Come back when you’ve found someone reliable to watch them both.”
    Dad’s expression lightened.
    “Come along, Frankie,” he said, offering Darth Vader his left wing. “Do you like hamburgers or hot dogs?”
    “Yes,” Darth Vader said.
    Minerva Burke nodded approvingly and returned to whatever table interested her. Chief Burke looked relieved.
    “Thank you kindly,” he said. “Of course, she’ll want to take Frankie home when she learns we have to shut the shopping down for the time being.”
    “I was afraid you’d say that,” I said, with a sigh.
    “Ladies and gentlemen!” the chief shouted. “Ladies and gentlemen!”
    I hadn’t realized before how loud the yard sale was. And it wasn’t a single, identifiable noise, but the general hum of several hundred people bargaining, conversing, and trading rumors about the murder with their friends and neighbors, mixed in with the louder, more sporadic noises of children playing, parents calling or scolding, radios pumping out tunes or talk shows, grills sizzling, and the occasional honking of my brother’s Harpo horn. About a third of the people in the yard seemed intent on ignoring the murder and continuing to shop. Another third clustered around the edge of the roped-off area, arranged in height order, frankly staring at the crime scene. The rest dashed back and forth, trying to do both at once and annoying everyone.
    The chief tried several times to make himself heard, with no success. Shoppers and rubberneckers alike ignored him.
    “Allow me,” Michael said. He stepped up onto the cashier’s table and drew himself up to his full height.
    “Attention, shoppers!” he proclaimed, and his resonant stage actor’s voice cut through the general noise and silenced it as a hawk’s cry would cut off the normal cheerful chatter around a bird feeder.
    “Attention shoppers!” he repeated. “Due to an unfortunate occurrence, we regret that we have to suspend the yard sale temporarily, by order of the Caerphilly Police Department. If you’ll all please take the items you now have and form an orderly line leading to the checkout area and stand by for instructions from our chief of police …”
    Murmurs of mingled outrage and curiosity ran through the part of the crowd still shopping, while the ones gathered around the murder scene pretended to think the announcement didn’t apply to them.
    People began to comply. At least the ones still shopping. They didn’t go happily, and they weren’t quick about it, and I suspect no power on Earth could have kept them from picking up a few more items as they passed various