Life will never be the same for Meg Langslow after family secrets are revealed, introducing a whole new layer of intrigue in Donna Andrews's beloved series. Meg's long-lost paternal grandfather, Dr. Blake, has hired Stanley Denton to find her grandmother Cordelia. Dr. Blake was reunited with his family when he saw Meg's picture―she's a dead ringer for Cordelia―and now Stanley has found a trail to his long-lost love in a small town less than an hour's drive away. He convinces Meg to come with him to meet her, but unfortunately, the woman they meet is Cordelia's cousin―Cordelia died several years ago, and the cousin suspects she was murdered by her long-time neighbor. Stanley and Meg agree to help track down the killer and get justice for Cordelia. Grandfather even has perfect cover--he will come to stage a rescue of the feral emus and ostriches (escaped from an abandoned farm) that infest this town. He dashes off to organize the rescue―which will, of course, involve most of Meg's family and friends in Caerphilly. But then, the evil neighbor is murdered, and not only Cordelia's cousin but also the entire contingent of emu-rescuers, who have had conflict with the neighbor, are suspects. Only Meg and the cousin―who seems to share a lot of telling traits with Meg―can find the real killer and clear the air in The Good, the Bad, and the Emus , the newest beverage-spittingly funny installment in this uproarious series from the one-and-only Donna Andrews. “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 is a winner of the Agatha, Anthony, and Barry Awards, a Romantic Times Award for best first novel, and two Lefty and two Toby Bromberg awards for funniest mystery. She spends her free time gardening at her home in Reston, Virginia. 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 managed to get in a little time at the anvil during Caerphilly College’s semester breaks, when Michael was not only willing but eager to spend time with the boys. But I never had enough time to stock my booth for even a modest-sized craft show. And while the higher salary Michael now earned as a tenured professor in the drama department meant we could manage without my crafting income, the money I’d earn would