The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

I’d better get moving.”
    “By the way, on this developer thing—”
    He turned and tilted his head as if asking a question. Probably whether my question was important enough to keep his aunt waiting.
    “Rob’s looking it up, but he thinks in Virginia you can’t seize land for economic development unless it’s blighted. Michael and I might need you to do a little work around the place to make damned sure no one in their right mind could call it blighted.”
    “Good call,” he said. “And once we’re sure where else they’re targeting, we can make sure they’re all showplaces.”
    “One more thing,” I said. “When did you find out about all this? I didn’t know anything until just now, when I ran into the surveyors.”
    He frowned and clenched his jaw.
    “I first heard about it Thursday,” he said, finally. “Parker told me. But it sounded so loony I thought he had to be wrong. Then yesterday, after I heard someone had killed him I began to think about it, and it didn’t sound nearly as loony. And then I started asking a few people some questions, and the more I asked, the saner Parker seemed.”
    “Where were you when he told you?”
    “On the sidewalk outside Geraldine’s bakery,” he said. “And before you ask, I have no idea if anyone was listening in. It was just past eight A.M. Thursday, and lots of people were coming and going, getting coffee and pastries. I suppose any one of them could have heard what he was saying. I didn’t get the idea he was trying to keep it a deep dark secret. Sorry; I know that’s no help.”
    He turned and strode off, dialing his cell phone as he went. Rallying the family troops? Shiffley trucks from all over the county would soon be converging on the courthouse.
    I wondered what the other three judges were doing. Two of them were Pruitts, and the other was a long-time business partner and golfing buddy of the mayor, so I wouldn’t want to bet on their chances of finding anyone willing to haul their stuff.
    Then again, if the lender was one of mayor’s buddies, maybe the other three judges weren’t being evicted.
    And how many other offices would be affected? And was it just offices? What other services would have to close down or relocate? We had well water and could get along without trash collection for a while, but what about the people in town?
    At least Timmy would have a classroom to go to on Monday. Back in the fifties, Mayor Pruitt’s grandfather had closed Caerphilly’s schools rather than integrate them, never expecting that the county would rebel and build a new central school system just outside the town limits.
    And what should I do about Randall’s theory? I’d forgotten to ask Randall if he’d already shared it with the chief.
    I pulled out my cell phone and called the nonemergency number for the police station.

Chapter 11
    “What’s up, Meg?” Debbie Anne.
    “I know the chief is pretty busy,” I began.
    “You have no idea.”
    “Ask him if he’s heard Randall Shiffley’s theory of why Parker Blair was murdered,” I said.
    “Is it a good theory?” she asked.
    “Beats me,” I said. “I’ll leave that to the chief. But it was news to me, and I just wanted to make sure Randall had told him. Gotta run!”
    I didn’t particularly have to run, but now, with any luck, Debbie Anne’s curiosity would be roused, and she’d nag the chief till he interviewed Randall.
    And I should tell Cousin Festus about what I’d learned from Randall. I called his number and got voice mail. I hung up. I didn’t want to leave as long and convoluted a message as this would take. E-mail would be better. I hung up and headed for the barn to use the computer in my office.
    The barn was quiet. A little too quiet. I saw no one—no humans, anyway—on the way into my office, and when I came out again, I saw only Clarence, feeding a bottle to one of the beagle puppies.
    “Meg!” he exclaimed. “Great! I could use the help.”
    I glanced around. Still no other Corsicans in evidence. I didn’t like the looks of this. Less than forty-eight hours and already they were deserting the ship.
    “Could you possibly keep an eye on things here, just for a little while?” Clarence asked. “I need to go figure out a proper outfit for the funeral.”
    “The funeral? You mean Parker’s? They can’t possibly be having it already.”
    “Not yet, but the chief says they’ll be releasing the body before long, and once he does, there’s no use waiting