He let go of her hand and squeezed the back of his neck. “Here’s an idea. Calmly walk up and say,Hey Nate, how was your run? Thanks for leaving a pot of oatmeal on the stove for breakfast. Very tasty. I must get the recipe. Gave me the energy I needed to crank out half of today’s to-do list already. By the way, don’t be alarmed, but it looks like a fox got to one of the chickens.”
“That was entirely too wordy. But I am glad that you clarified you were out for a run. I was a little confused why you’d taken to wearing such tiny shorts.”
He dropped his hand from his neck and tugged the bottom of his shorts down a smidgeon. “These are the appropriate length for serious runners, just for the record.”
“Well, be sure that you add to the record that most people’s underwear covers more skin than those shorts.”
“Noted.”
“Now can we get back to Ms. Agnus? You think it was a fox?” She blew a stray curl away from her left eye only for it to bounce right back. Before Nate realized what he was doing, he reached for her curl. Then pretended to tug a piece of grass from her hair.
“Uh, yeah. That’s my best guess,” he said, dodging her bright-eyed gaze and saying the next thing that sprang to his mind. “We’ll obviously have to wait for local law enforcement to finish dusting for prints to see if we’re dealing with a fox or the next Hannibal Lecter.”
“Jokes won’t bring Ms. Agnus back, Nate.” She pretended to punch his stomach.
“I don’t think anything is going to bring Ms. Agnus back from the sounds of it.” Was she flirting with him?
“So how do we keep this from happening again,” she said, grabbing on to his sweaty forearm with both of her hands.
Kind of felt like she was flirting with him. That or he was so out of practice with how to act around a beautiful woman that he interpreted true emotional distress over murdered chickens as flirting. “For starters I suggest we stop naming the chickens.”
“I’m talking about serious ideas.”
“In that case we get a sketch artist to draw the fox so other chickens can be on the lookout.”
She dropped her hands only to give him a playful punch in the upper arm. Okay, that had to be flirting. “Make fun all you want, Nate, but Ms. Agnus was someone’s chicklet at one time. That poor dead chicken had a mother.”
“So does the fox.”
“Who cares about the fox’s mother? She probably taught the littlekiller everything he knows about decapitating chickens. Come see what I’m talking about.” She looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the chicken coop. “That fox better be ready to lawyer up. If I ever get a hold of him, I’m coming after him with the maximum death penalty.”
“Not just the minimum death penalty. You are severe.”
When they rounded the corner of the house, Nate saw the crime scene.Massacremight be a slight exaggeration, but not by much. He patted McKenna’s arm. “Go inside to my mom’s check-in desk. Should be some chalk. We can outline the body before we remove it.”
“I feel like Ms. Agnus deserves a lot more respect than what you’re giving her. She provided your mom and her guests with tasty eggs for years. Decades. Centuries.”
“Just how long do you think the average chicken lives?”
“Years. Decades. Centuries.”
Nate clamped his lips together to keep from smiling as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. “Why don’t you go gather the eggs and break the bad news to all the other chickens while I clean up the area?”
“Can’t. I’m too rattled. They say chickens sense that sort of thing.”
“Where exactly do you get your information on farm animals?”
“I think I’ll check on the goats instead. See if any of them have fainted and need revived.”
“They’re not fainting goats, but sure. Get a few statements. Maybe ask if they’d be willing to pick the fox out of a lineup.”
“I’m starting to feel like you’re being sarcastic.”
“Good ear. Do you work as an airport worker on the side?”
“Oh, go pick some eggs and ponder, why don’t you?”
“Now there’s a mic drop if I ever heard one.”
