Free Six Geese A-Slaying by Donna Andrews Page A

those things?” the chief asked.
    Dr. Smoot blinked in confusion for a second. The chief gestured slightly at his mouth.
    “Oh, thorry,” Dr. Smoot said. He reached into his mouth and extracted the fangs. “As I was saying, we won’t know till we’ve
     done the autopsy, but my preliminary opinion is that he died from a loss of blood resulting from a wound to the heart inflicted
     by a sharp wooden object.”
    “Someone killed him by shoving a stake through his heart?” Werzel asked.
    “We won’t know for sure until the autopsy,” Dr. Smoot said. “But essentially, yes.”
    Werzel glanced at Horace and then back at Dr. Smoot.
    “I love this town,” he murmured.
    “Do you want me to—” Dr. Smoot began.
    “Thank you, Dr. Smoot,” the chief said, with a glance at Werzel. “And now why don’t we leave Horace and Sammy alone to get
     on with it.”
    “With what?” Werzel asked. “An exorcism, maybe?”
    “Their forensic analysis of the crime scene. Horace, you carry on. Sammy, you stay with him and make sure the crime scene
     stays secure. Meg, do you mind if we use your old office in the barn for our incident center? We’ll move operations over there.”
    Werzel watched as Sammy and Horace stepped inside and Sammy pulled the door firmly shut. Then he glanced around.
    “You’ve done so well,” Rose Noire said to Dr. Smoot. “I should get back to the sheep. Just come find me if you start feeling
     stressed again.”
    “And I should get back to the camels,” Michael said. He went over and began untying Moe’s and Curley’s reins.
    “Elephants for me,” Dad added, turning as if to go.
    Chief Burke was frowning at something in his notebook.
    I studied my clipboard and turned to leave.
    “Where’s your barn?” Werzel asked.
    I pointed. He made another reflexive grab for his camera, swore under his breath when he came up with empty air, and headed
     over toward the barn, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
    Michael stopped untying the camels. Dad returned to the chief’s side. Sammy popped the door open again.
    “Coast clear?” he asked.
    “Clear,” the chief said. “Round up the rest of the officers and maybe a few reliable volunteers and secure the damned perimeter
     of my crime scene.”
    “Yes, sir!” Sammy loped off.
    The chief turned back to Dr. Smoot.
    “So did the stake kill him, or was it done after he died?” Chief Burke asked.
    “I can’t tell you till I do the post mortem,” Dr. Smoot said.
    “I assume the time of death—”
    “Impossible to say anything until after the post mortem!” Dr. Smoot exclaimed.
    “Impossible for you maybe,” I said. “But I can pin it down to a half-hour period.”
    They both looked at me.
    “I was checking people in for the parade, remember?” I said. “I happened to notice that Mr. Doleson arrived almost precisely
     at nine. I remember thinking he was the very last person to arrive on time. And I looked at my watch immediately after I found
     him, and it said nine-thirty-five. I wrote it down in my notebook, just in case. So allowing a few minutes for Eric and Cal
     to find me—”
    “Admirable precision,” the chief said, with a faint smile. “Of course, given the number of people with easy access to the
     crime scene during the window of opportunity, I doubt if this case will hinge entirely on the time of death, but you never
     know.”
    I nodded. No, odds were the time of death wouldn’t crack the case. But it might give alibis to some of the people I didn’t
     want to see suspected. And I realized that Spike, bless his evil little heart, had accidentally prevented Michael from being
     the last person to see the victim alive. Maybe I was overreacting, but I recalled that in the mystery books Dad read by the
     bagful, the last person to see the victim alive was always a key suspect. But between the time Mr. Doleson had kicked Spike
     out of the shed and slammed the door and the time I’d shown up to find the body, Michael