Read Online Six Geese A-Slaying by Donna Andrews - Free Book Online Page B

of the Nativity, but if I even hinted that Ernest would
     take the spotlight off his beloved sheep, that would do the trick.
    First things first, though. Finding Dr. Smoot was more important than preserving the historical accuracy of the parade.
    The shepherds were all seated on the ground, just as the carol described, except for Seth himself, who was standing in the
     midst of his flock, wearing a brown homespun shepherd’s robe, holding a rough-hewn shepherd’s crook, and staring over the
     fields, seemingly unaware of the dozen tourists snapping his picture. I couldn’t blame them—he was attractive in a weathered,
     forty-something way, and he certainly had his shepherd act down cold, possibly because he was a full-time sheep farmer in
     real life.
    I just wasn’t sure it was such a good idea, his planning to march in the parade with a flock of thirty sheep.
    “Can’t you just bring a couple of sheep?” I’d suggested when I heard about his plans.
    “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night,” he’d said. I
     couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a yes or a no.
    “Right,” I’d said. “But couldn’t you just keep watch over two?”
    “Two? We’re not reenacting Noah’s ark. Two sheep are not a flock.”
    “How about three, then?”
    Of course he’d ignored me. He’d learn. Seth’s sheep were an adventurous lot. Even when he left them in the pasture, they spent
     a large portion of their time finding ways of slipping past the fence so they could roam the countryside. And he wanted to
     take them traipsing halfway across the county? He’d be hunting down stray sheep for days.
    But that was his problem, not mine. I glanced in the direction he was frowning and spotted my cousin Rosemary Keenan, or Rose
     Noire, as she now preferred to be called. She was also dressed in a homespun shepherd’s robe—doubtless handwoven out of sustainable
     organic cotton, since Rose Noire had become a leading light in Caerphilly’s environmental and New Age circles. She was patting
     what at first looked like a heap of black fabric wrapped around her legs.
    I’d found Dr. Smoot.

Chapter 8
    “Now, now,” Rose Noire was saying. “Don’t let this undo all the progress you’ve made!”
    I sighed. Rose Noire had been practicing therapy without a license on Dr. Smoot, trying to cure his claustrophobia by encouraging
     him to act out his related childhood terror of vampires. He was a little less claustrophobic than he had been, but the so-called
     therapy had sparked his new obsession with the supernatural. Not what I’d call real progress.
    “It’s just so small and dark,” he said.
    “Dr. Smoot,” I called.
    “I’m not going back,” he wailed, clinging tighter to Rose Noire.
    “You don’t have to go in the shed,” I said. “We can open all the doors and shine some really bright lights in there, and you
     can examine the body from outside.”
    “Oh, dear, there really is a body, then?” Rose Noire asked. “That’s terrible. Such negative karma for the whole parade.”
    “Not to mention a real bummer for the victim,” I said. Rose Noire didn’t appear to notice my sarcasm.
    “I’m going to do a blessing for everyone in the parade,” she 68 said, spreading her hands out as if to embrace the immediate
     world and then waving them around like a conductor.
    “Great,” I said. I meant it. I wasn’t entirely convinced that having my cousin walk around burning sage and trying to beam
     positive thoughts at everyone would do any good—but if it didn’t work, at least it did no harm, and if it did work, I wanted
     as much of it as possible for today’s star-crossed parade. “But please don’t tell anyone the reason you’re blessing things,”
     I added. “The chief wants to keep it pretty quiet for now, so he doesn’t have a crowd control problem at the crime scene.”
    I was in favor of keeping it quiet, too. If only we