Swan for the Money: A Meg Langslow Mystery

but she had— has—quite a gift for raising miniature roses.”
    “Had,” the chief repeated. “She’s gone, then?”
    “Has,” Dad corrected. “We’re doing what we can.”
    The chief’s lips tightened. He could read the message on Dad’s face and in his tone.
    “Do you know Mrs. Sechrest?” the chief said, turning to Mrs. Winkleson.
    “Of course,” Mrs. Winkleson said. “Not well, but I know all the members of the rose club. No idea what she was doing out here the day before the show, though. Unless she was one of Ms. Langslow’s volunteers.”
    I shook my head.
    Just then the EMTs picked up the stretcher and began carefully picking their way across the rough ground and between the goats.
    “Getting back to what you saw,” the chief said, turning back to me. “Now that we know the de— the victim is not Mrs. Winkleson, is there any chance she could have been already lying here when you went by the first time? On your way to the house?”
    I thought for a few moments and shook my head.
    “No idea,” I said. “I was focused on getting to the house and not startling the goats. I don’t think I would have noticed if one of them was already lying down. I noticed her right away when I came back from the house, but I mistook her for a cluster of unconscious goats.”
    “If it makes any difference,” Dad said, “I doubt if it could have happened before you went up to the house.”
    He’d been following the EMTs but paused when he heard the chief’s question.
    “Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t think I spent more than half an hour on my trip up to the house.”
    Dad shook his head.
    “Still probably too long.”
    “You can tell that by the body?” the chief asked.
    “I can tell that by the blood,” Dad said. “There was quite a lot of it when Caroline and I first got here, but by now it’s been mostly washed off by the drizzle. And we had quite a frog-strangler there for a few minutes, just before I got the call to come out here. If she’d been attacked before that, there wouldn’t have been much blood left for us to see.”
    “He’s right,” I said. “I saw that myself, just in the short time I was with her. A whole lot of blood washing away before my eyes.”
    “What if she was stabbed before the first time Meg came by and continued to bleed the whole time?” the chief asked.
    My stomach churned at the thought. If that was how it had happened, my failure to see her the first time would probably end up costing her life.
    “No,” Dad said. “With those wounds, she’d have bled out inmuch less than half an hour. This had to have happened very close to when Meg found her.”
    Dad’s words set my mind more at ease, though apparently it was going to take a while for them to calm my stomach.
    The chief studied Dad’s face for a few moments, then nodded, as if grudgingly acknowledging a good point.
    “Do you need me here?” Dad asked. “If not, I’m going to ride along to the hospital.”
    “Go,” the chief said, waving toward the ambulance. “And keep me posted.”
    Dad nodded and hurried after the EMTs.
    “Did I see your cousin Horace over in the barn?” the chief asked.
    I nodded.
    “Want me to find him?” I asked. Caerphilly didn’t have any CSIs of its own, so the chief usually borrowed Horace on those rare occasions when a case warranted doing forensic work.
    The chief nodded, and I was happy to have a reason to leave the goat pasture.
    “If you’re quite through here—” Mrs. Winkleson began.
    “No, madam,” the chief said, interrupting her. “My officers and I are nowhere near through here, and I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to go back up to your house. I’ll come up later to find out what you can tell me about this sad business.”
    “Are you ordering me off my own property?”
    “No, madam,” the chief said. “I’m asking you to stay away from my crime scene. I’m investigating what I expect will soon become a murder, if it hasn’t already. The requirements of my investigation take precedence over anything else.”
    “The nerve!” Mrs. Winkleson exclaimed. From past experience, I could tell she was winding up for a full-scale hissy fit. I turned back to do what I could to head her off.
    “How terrible for you, Mrs. Winkleson!” I said. “Knowing that the person who tried to kill you is still at large! But of course, the chief will be doing everything he can to find the perpetrator before he can strike again, and in the