Meg Langslow knows that murder is never pretty. And things are about to take an ugly turn. . . Go ahead...make Meg's day. It's not as if her life could get any weirder. Meg's long-lost paternal grandfather, Dr. Blake, entered her life a few years ago after seeing Meg's picture in the paper-she's a dead ringer for her grandmother, Cordelia, after all. Now local private investigator Stanley Denton has been hired to track down Cordelia's whereabouts...only to find that she mysteriously passed away within the year. And Meg's newly found cousin, Annabel, claims it was murder. So much for a festive family reunion... "A sprightly mystery...Andrews's readers, who have come to expect a little silliness, fun-loving characters, and endings that are tough to predict, won't be disappointed." - Publishers Weekly Stanley and Meg agree to help track down the killer and get justice for Cordelia. Dr. Blake has an idea about how to distract the locals from their investigation: He'll stage a rescue of the feral emus that have escaped from an abandoned local farm. When murder strikes again, Meg suspects that the killer may indeed be among the flock of rescue volunteers...but what now? While her grandfather pursues that lead, Meg continues to investigate both murders with a lot of help from Annabel, who can shed some light on some long-buried family secrets. But will they solve the case before the killer strikes again? "Andrews's smooth and erudite style, realistic snappy dialogue, and subtle humor create an intriguing and entertaining romp."- New York Journal of Books “If you long for more fun mysteries, a la Janet Evanovich, you'll love Donna Andrews's Meg Langslow series.” ― Charlotte Observer “A long-running series that gets better all the time. A fine blend of academic satire, screwball comedy, and murder.” ― Booklist “ Six Geese A-Slaying produces at least one chuckle--and sometimes a guffaw--per page. Joy to the world, indeed.” ― Richmond Times-Dispatch DONNA ANDREWS has won the Agatha, Anthony, and Barry Awards, an RT Book Reviews Award for best first novel, and four Lefty and two Toby Bromberg Awards for funniest mystery. She is a member of the Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and Novelists, Inc. Andrews lives in Reston, Virginia. She has written over 30 books in the Meg Langslow mystery series. Good, the Bad, and the Emus A Meg Langslow Mystery By Donna Andrews St. Martin's Press Copyright © 2015 Donna Andrews All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-250-00937-1 Chapter 1 “Be careful!” I said, looking up from the boxwood hedge I was pruning. “We don’t want another trip to the emergency room. We’ve used up our family quota for the week.” My twin four-year-old sons paid no attention, of course. Josh, who was supposed to be collecting the fallen twigs and leaves into small piles, continued to battle an invisible opponent, now using a particularly large, sharp stick I’d just pruned off the hedge. Jamie had volunteered for the task of loading the small piles into the wheelbarrow and ferrying them to the large pile by the driveway that was awaiting the eventual arrival of a borrowed chipper/shredder, but his active imagination had transformed the bright red wheelbarrow into a high-powered race car, to judge by his repeated growls of “Vroom! Vroom!” And his racetrack was starting to inch near the street in front of our house, and while it was a little-traveled country road, cars did pass by often enough that I didn’t want the boys getting complacent about playing there. Neither of them heard me. But I wasn’t really talking to the boys. My seventeen-year-old niece, Natalie, who would be serving as the boys’ babysitter this summer, snapped to attention. “Josh!” she called out. “Drop that stick before you put someone’s eye out! Jamie! Out of the street! Inside the hedge!” I returned to my snipping, satisfied that Natalie was on the case. And that she was beginning to get a handle on her job. She had taken care of the boys two summers ago, but apparently had forgotten how lively they could be. Then again, compared to two summers ago, their capacity for mischief and mayhem had grown exponentially. I’d gotten used to the change gradually, as they’d grown. Natalie was still catching up. In a day or so, once she was really up to speed, I could retreat for hours each day to the barn where I had my blacksmith’s workshop. In fact, I could start retreating the day after tomorrow, when Michael’s spring semester ended, and he’d have several weeks off before the summer session began. I could delegate training Natalie to him while I hit the anvil. I hadn’t had much time for iron work since the boys were born, and had almost given up selling at craft shows. Hard enough to get routine household chores done safely with two increasingly active munchkins underfoot. No way did I want them in the same room when I was heating steel to 2000 degrees Fahrenheit and then whacking on it with a three-pound hammer. I man