Swan for the Money: A Meg Langslow Mystery

looked at her expectantly.
    “If I were poisoning Mrs. Winkleson,” she said, her voice suddenly very stern, “I wouldn’t have botched it.”
    “This is all very interesting,” the chief said. “But it’s getting late. Mrs. Langslow, if you please . . .”
    Mother smiled graciously at him, and sailed toward the archway to the hall.
    “Why don’t you two go home?” Dad said. “I’ll wait for your mother.”
    “Good idea,” I said. “I don’t want any more adventures to-night.”
    “Before you go,” the chief said, “just one more thing.”

Chapter 34
     
     
     
     
    “Just one more thing,” I repeated. “Isn’t that what Columbo always used to say?”
    “Yes,” said Dad, the mystery buff. “Just before he asked the critical question that trapped the killer.”
    He was beaming with delight at seeing real life echo one of his beloved mystery icons. The chief and I both sighed identical patient sighs.
    “All I wanted to ask,” the chief said, “was how you knew it was a spiked drink? As opposed to the food, I mean.”
    “I don’t,” I said. “I assumed it. After all, everyone was eating the crab croquettes. Everyone who isn’t allergic to crab, that is,” I added, looking pointedly at Mother, who had paused dramatically in the archway to listen. “It would have been hard to poison one and make sure she got it. And almost everyone knew Mrs. Winkleson always drank Black Russians.”
    “Yes,” Mother said. “You should see the fuss she puts up when someone can’t serve her one. The ABC store is perpetually out of Kahlúa these days.”
    “So any number of people would have known that was likely to be Mrs. Winkleson’s glass?” the chief asked.
    “Everyone in the garden club,” I said. “And all of her staff. And I should think her family, too.”
    “And we warned the caterers,” Mother said. “I’m sorry,” she added, seeing the chief’s crestfallen face. “Not a very useful bit of evidence, is it?”
    “It is what it is,” the chief said. “If you don’t mind.”
    The chief indicated the way to his interrogation room and followed Mother out.
    I fished Horace’s truck keys out of my bag and handed them to Dad.
    “Here,” I said. “Could you give these to Horace? Tell him I’m sorry about the windshield wipers?”
    He nodded, pocketed the keys, sat down on one of the couches, and closed his eyes.
    “I’ll give you a ride down to your car if you like,” Rob said.
    “I like,” I said. “It should be pretty safe outside, with the whole county police force here, and ordinarily I’d welcome the exercise, but to night I’m so tired I’d probably fall asleep on the way, in midstride.”
    Rob dropped me off, waited until I was safely in my car, and then waved good-bye and pulled out.
    I dumped my tote in the passenger seat and was about to start my car when I saw a slight flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye and stopped to peer into the darkness beyond the horse barn. What had moved? Then again, what did it matter? Silly to be so on edge at the slightest movement on a farm filled with birds and animals, not to mention police officers. It was probably just one of the vampire horses, being permitted to enjoy the night air in spite of the rain. Or perhaps an insomniacgoat. Unlikely to be a marauding black swan at this time of night. whatever it was, certainly not my problem.
    Except that it might be prowling near the barns where I had, at last, gotten everything set up perfectly for tomorrow’s show, or possibly in the pasture where Mrs. Sechrest had been killed. That was Chief Burke’s problem, not mine, but maybe he’d want to hear about it if someone was sneaking around his crime scene. For that matter, there was still the mystery of the disappearing farm animals. Still, not my problem.
    Then a vision popped into my brain of a small dog, soaking wet and hungry, wandering about in the dark. What if I’d spotted Mimi?
    I reached under the car seat for the big flashlight I kept there. I didn’t turn it on— yet. I wasn’t quite sure whether I wanted to use it for light when I located the source of the movement, or as a weapon. I shoved my purse under the seat and made sure my cell phone was in my pocket, in case I needed to call for help or report anything to the police. Then I set out to track down the source of the motion.
    No one lurking behind the barn. Only a few huddled shapes at the far end of the goat pasture, where I remembered there