Read Online Murder Most Fowl by Edith Maxwell - Free Book Online

don’t get these activists, do you?” She gestured to the spray-painted words that read, “Stop Eating Animals,” accompanied by several obscenities.
    â€œNo, I don’t. When I saw Wayne on the television news this morning, he said they’d opened all the doors. Freeing the chickens.” Cam snorted, her hand on the door. “As if domesticated hens would even know what to do in the wild.” She gazed at the house. “Poor Wayne. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Chapter 6
    C am made her way down the long row of nesting boxes. The house held about four hundred hens, dozens already perched on roosting bars, some pecking the red nipples of the watering system, a long pipe that ran the length of the house about a foot off the ground with nipples set into it at regular intervals to provide fresh water on demand. Other hens roamed around the open space or dug in the bedding underfoot. The air was ripe with the smell of livestock, but not overpowering. She had no idea what system Wayne used for changing the bedding or how often he did it. This operation was ten times larger than her own small flock. In her coop, Cam simply shoveled out the floor, adding the soiled bedding to the compost pile, and then spread clean stuff around.
    As she reached into the pine shavings to pull out the last two eggs, the chicken house door at the end of the building squeaked open.
    â€œLadies,” Pete said. He stood silhouetted by the late afternoon sun.
    Felicity called a greeting from the other end of the building where she was scooping pelleted feed into a cylindrical feeder. The hens in that area clustered around her, gargling with excitement. Cam gently set her eggs in the now-full bucket and carried it toward Pete.
    â€œHow’s it going?” She set the heavy bucket down and stretched.
    Pete glanced at Felicity before speaking in a voice meant only for Cam’s ears. “This is a tough one.” He frowned. “I retrieved that object Dasha uncovered, but I haven’t had a chance to investigate what in heck it is.”
    â€œWon’t the autopsy show how Wayne died?”
    â€œShould. But that won’t get done until tomorrow, if we’re lucky.” He tapped the fingers of his right hand on his leg. “Dasha’s okay?” A softer look replaced the one of professional worry.
    â€œOf course. I think he likes being on the farm.”
    â€œHe likes you.” Now Pete’s soft look included Cam. “As do I.” He let out a sigh. “But I’m not going to be free tonight. I can predict that right now. Do you mind keeping him?”
    â€œNot at all. As long as you need me to. How are Greta and Megan doing?”
    His frown returned, with his heavy, dark eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Greta doesn’t like us treating this as a suspicious death. Not one bit.”
    Felicity strode toward them. “Detective, have you apprehended the perp?”
    Pete’s frown turned to a smile. “What kind of television are you watching, anyway?”
    Felicity smiled. “I don’t get to say ‘perp’ all that often.” Her smile fell away. “But it must be murder if you’re involved, right?”
    â€œI’m not at liberty to say. And I need to be getting back to work.”
    â€œI’m going to wash these in the barn and then we’ll clear out of here.” Cam gestured at the eggs.
    Pete picked up the bucket. “I’ll carry them for you.” He led the way out the door toward the barn a few yards away up the hill.
    Cam stepped ahead of him and slid the wide door open enough for them to get through, then took the bucket from him. “Thanks. Call when you can.”
    â€œYou know I will.” He cast a longing look at her before sliding the door closed after him.
    The creak of the wheels in the rusty track at the top of the door gritted in Cam’s ears.
    â€œI think you snagged a