The Real Macaw: A Meg Langslow Mystery

track her down tomorrow,” he said. “Thanks. For this, and for not trying to make away with the papers you found at Blair’s house. Although maybe I shouldn’t thank you for expanding my suspect list.”
    “I thought I’d narrowed it down,” I said. “And don’t try to convince me that you hate having the mayor at the head of your suspect list.”
    He smiled slightly.
    “The girlfriends are still suspects, too,” he said. “And now I pretty much have to interrogate every susceptible female who works down at the town hall, in case one of them gave him the contract and killed him to cover it up. Well, time enough for that tomorrow. Night.”
    I went back to the house. I was exhausted from getting even less sleep than usual, but curiously energized by the evening’s events. I had the sinking feeling that if I went to bed right now, I’d toss and turn for hours.
    I decided to fix myself a cup of tea. Herbal tea, of course, but not one of Rose Noire’s odd brews. Maybe some old-fashioned rose hip tea.
    I grabbed a mug, filled it with water, and put it in the microwave.
    Just as I was taking the cup out, Caroline came in.
    “That was amazing!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe how well the county is pulling together!”
    Clearly she also needed to unwind.
    “Would you like some tea?” I asked.
    “Love some. You were pitch perfect.”
    I handed her a couple of boxes of tea bags, set the heated cup in front of her, and put another in the microwave for myself. I leaned against the counter and nodded as she enthused over the meeting.
    The microwave dinged. The back door opened.
    “Caroline?”
    It was Ms. Ellie, the librarian.
    “I’m right here,” Caroline said. “You look agitated. Meg, fix her some tea.”
    I put the second mug down at a place for Ms. Ellie and started a third.
    Ms. Ellie did look agitated. And I’d never seen her agitated—not even when one of the juvenile delinquent Pruitts turned his ill-tempered dog loose in the children’s room during story hour.
    “I have favors to ask,” she said. “Of both of you. Caroline, may I borrow your truck? The big one?”
    “Well, sure, if you need it,” Caroline said. “What’s up?”
    “The big move.”
    “It’s definite, then?” I asked.
    “Committee’s leaning that way,” she said. “And the county board’s standing by in the barn to take a vote as soon as the committee makes its recommendation. And your cousin’s advising the committee, by the way.”
    “If Festus thinks the big evacuation is the best plan, I won’t argue,” I said.
    “So we have to move all the books out of the library,” Ms. Ellie said. “Not just the books, of course. We have to move everything. But the books are the main problem. So, Caroline, may we use your truck?”
    “Of course you may,” she said. “And I’ll send word down to the sanctuary to bring any other vehicles we can scrounge up. Damn, but this is crazy. How can the lender do this without giving people some kind of notice?”
    “According to what we just found out, they did give Mayor Pruitt notice, months ago,” Ms. Ellie said. “Not that the mayor told anyone, of course, except for a few of his cronies. He says he’s been working to find a solution, but you know damn well he’s only been sitting on his rear, assuming that they’d never go so far as to seize the county’s property.”
    I winced slightly. Maybe the mayor had been counting on his eminent domain scheme to keep the lender at bay. Was this demand from the lender that we turn over the county buildings already in the cards, or had my call to Cousin Festus helped trigger it?
    I heard a wail from the baby monitor, followed by a murmured “I’ve got it” from Michael.
    The microwave dinged. I shoved my worries aside and made my cup of tea before anyone else arrived to preempt me.
    And just in time, too. Randall Shiffley ambled into the kitchen.
    “Want some tea?” Caroline asked.
    “I’m fine,” he said.
    I nodded. I hadn’t pegged Randall for a tea drinker.
    “Beer and sodas in the fridge,” I said.
    Randall opened the door and helped himself to a Coke.
    “Ms. Ellie,” he said. “I just wanted to say that as soon as we finish down at the courthouse, we’ll come over to the library.”
    “That will help,” she said.
    “And Chauncy is sending over some boxes.”
    Chauncy, I assumed, was the Shiffley in charge of the small family-run moving company.
    “I don’t suppose we could get the use of