Swan for the Money by Donna Andrews Page B

two more than I can spare,” he said. “I can’t pull any more officers away from their other responsibilities on the very small chance that the poor dog is wandering the farm instead of locked up in a cage somewhere.”
    “I think two officers is an impressive number, considering the small size of our police force,” I said. “But could you use some volunteers?”
    Silence on the other end. The fact that he hadn’t immediately rejected my idea was a good sign.
    “I have all these volunteers coming to set up the rose show. Quite possibly more than I need,” I said. “How about if I put the surplus at your disposal to augment the search?”
    Another silence. But only a short one this time.
    “Thank you,” the chief said. “Warn them that there’s only a small chance of actually finding the dog out there, and if they’re still willing, have them report to Sergeant Shiffley. He’s one of the two officers conducting the search.”
    “Will do,” I said.
    Okay, it wasn’t much, but I felt I’d made some small contribution to rescuing poor Mimi the Maltese. And possibly a contribution to my own sanity. If any really annoying volunteers showed up, I could send them out to help Epp Shiffley.
    Mr. Darby brought his pickup to a stop near Horace’s truck in a small courtyard surrounded on three sides by barns. Sammy and Horace, carrying a folding cafeteria table, disappeared into the one on the left.
    Apparently Caroline and my grandfather used the drive to cajole Mr. Darby into promising them a tour of the farm. They were thanking him profusely as he helped them out of the cab.
    “We’ll just wait right here till you have the time to take us around,” Caroline said.
    “Thanks for the ride,” I said, as I scraped some of the mud off my jeans. At least I assumed it was only mud. Surely he didn’t take the horses or cows riding in the pickup.
    I must have glanced toward one of the barns at the thought.
    “You did get the word not to use the horse barn?” Mr. Darby asked me, suddenly looking anxious.
    “Don’t worry, Mr. Darby,” I said. “We only need the two barns. And I’m sorry if using those is inconveniencing you.”
    “No problem,” he said. “Just let me know if you need anything.” With that, he climbed back into the pickup and drove back toward the house.
    “Well, that went well,” Caroline said, as she waved goodbye. “He seems eager to show us around.”
    “You don’t think he might be a little too eager?” my grandfather asked. “As if perhaps there’s something he’s hoping we’ll find? Something he dares not report himself?”
    If he asked me, I’d have said Mr. Darby was not the overeager one.
    “Just don’t tick her off until after the show,” I said.
    “Even if we find an imminent danger to the animals!” My grandfather drew himself up to his full six foot whatever and his eyes flashed. I’d have been more startled if I hadn’t seen him do the same thing so often, on cue, in just about every episode of his “Animals at Risk” shows on the Animal Planet channel. I almost looked around to spot the hidden film crew.
    “If you find animals in danger, then of course you should do something,” I said. “I suggest anonymous phone calls to the police, the local branch of the Humane Society, and that investigative reporter at the college newspaper. Because remember, if she finds out you reported her and kicks me and the rose show out, you lose your easy access for snooping around.”
    “Good point, Monty,” Caroline said. “We’ll be discreet.”
    For some reason, I didn’t find that very reassuring.

Chapter 8
     
     
     
    The rain suddenly changed from drizzle to downpour, so I sprinted the rest of the way to the nearest barn, hauled the door open, and we all dashed in.
    “This is the cow barn,” I said. “Now also known as the show barn. It’s where we’ll be putting the roses once they’re ready to be judged. The barn directly across is for goats and sheep.