Swan for the Money: A Meg Langslow Mystery

hope the other swan doesn’t agree with you,” Caroline said. “It’s safe enough down there.”
    But our agitation appeared to have annoyed the nearer swan. It stirred slightly, and half rose.
    “Damn,” I said. “It might be getting ready to attack. You two start walking that way as fast as you can. I’ll see if I can create a diversion.”
    “I can help with the diversion,” my grandfather said.
    “Someone has to protect Caroline,” I said.
    “Besides, you old fool, Meg might be able to outrun the creature,” Caroline said. “I know I can’t, and I doubt you can either.”
    Grumbling, he gave Caroline his arm and the two of them turned to walk down the long road to the barns.
    Just then a pickup came rattling up the drive.
    “Hang on,” I said. “Help has arrived!”
    The pickup pulled to a stop beside Dr. Blake and Caroline and the driver got out— a lanky figure in black jeans, a white shirt, and a gray tweed jacket. I strolled over to join them.
    “Morning, Mr. Darby,” I said. “Mr. Adam Darby is Mrs. Winkleson’s farm manager. This is Caroline Willner of the Willner Wildlife Sanctuary, and my grandfather, Dr. Montgomery Blake.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” my grandfather said, subjecting poor Mr. Darby to his punishingly firm handshake. “We’ve been admiring your setup here. Very impressive.”
    “Thank you,” Mr. Darby said. As usual, his long face wore an expression of anxiety and gloom, and his shoulders were hunched as if expecting bad news to arrive at any second. But he did brighten slightly at my grandfather’s words— though probably only someone who’d met him before could tell.
    “We seem to have a slight problem,” I said, indicating my swan-infested car.
    “Oh, dear. This isn’t good.” Mr. Darby looked even more lugubrious than usual. He just stood there staring blankly at the swan instead of picking up on my subtle plea for help. Perhaps subtlety wasn’t his forte.
    “What do you do when the swans are somewhere you don’t want them?” I asked.
    “We give them a wide berth,” he said. “No telling what itwould do if you tried to chase it off. I’ll give you a ride down to the barns. You can rescue your car later when the swan’s gone.”
    “Thank you so much.”
    Mr. Darby managed to squeeze Caroline and Dr. Blake into the pickup, but I had to make do with the truck bed. He’d been hauling something dirty in it. The truck bed was half covered with mud. Still, better than walking down half a mile of equally muddy road.
    As we drove down, I saw the two police officers. They were still slowly and methodically combing the same field they’d been in when we arrived. At this rate, it was going to take them several days to search the whole farm.
    On impulse, I pulled out my cell phone and called Chief Burke.
    “It’s about the dognapping,” I said, after we’d exchanged hellos. “I see you only have two officers searching the fields—”
    “And that’s already two more than I can spare,” he said. “I can’t pull any more officers away from their other responsibilities on the very small chance that the poor dog is wandering the farm instead of locked up in a cage somewhere.”
    “I think two officers is an impressive number, considering the small size of our police force,” I said. “But could you use some volunteers?”
    Silence on the other end. The fact that he hadn’t immediately rejected my idea was a good sign.
    “I have all these volunteers coming to set up the rose show. Quite possibly more than I need,” I said. “How about if I put the surplus at your disposal to augment the search?”
    Another silence. But only a short one this time.
    “Thank you,” the chief said. “Warn them that there’s only a small chance of actually finding the dog out there, and if they’re still willing, have them report to Sergeant Shiffley. He’s one of the two officers conducting the search.”
    “Will do,” I said.
    Okay, it wasn’t much, but I felt I’d made some small contribution to rescuing poor Mimi the Maltese. And possibly a contribution to my own sanity. If any really annoying volunteers showed up, I could send them out to help Epp Shiffley.
    Mr. Darby brought his pickup to a stop near Horace’s truck in a small courtyard surrounded on three sides by barns. Sammy and Horace, carrying a folding cafeteria table, disappeared into the one on the left.
    Apparently Caroline and my grandfather used the drive to cajole Mr. Darby into