Sickle-y Cruel

Chapter 4: Someone Grumpy and Someone Much Too Friendly

"So, how'd it go with the boy?" I ask after some walking.

"Well, Miss Swift was able to convince Miss June to let her watch over Young Mr. Peter. She said she was going to take him to the park and see if she could understand how he feels." My companion explains.

I nod. We continue walking till we finally come to the farm.They enter the premise, taking a good look around before approaching the door to what seems to be the main house. Mike knocks on the door, greeting the occupant with a smile.

"Hello, Sir." Mike chimes.

The man sighs. "What do you want?" An old, gravely voice questions rather rudely.

Mike flinches, leaning back some as if to hide behind me. The man who answered the door is old but seemingly well built, probably due to farm work. He has short white hair along with a rough beard and mustache. A few small chicken feathers stick out of his shirt's breast pocket. Gallus gallus domesticus, the scientific name for chicken, meaning these are probably his traditional feather. The man's yellow eyes glare at the ravenettes, us, that dared to step onto his property and bother him.

"I said, what do you want?" The man snaps.

Mike jumps again, his face twisting into fright and confusion as he tries to understand the reason behind the tone. He's pretty much hiding behind me and peeking over my shoulder at this point. Being benevolent, Mike isn't really well suited to unkind moods. I sigh, realizing that I'd have to take over in conversing with the unpleasant fellow. I'm nongregarious, meaning I'm not the best to talk to nor do I enjoy talking to most people. So, I'm rather uncomfortable to be put in this position.

"Hello to you too, Sir." I say with a bit of tone. "We are here to speak with a Mr. George Gallus-" I start.

"Well, you've spoken with him. Now, go away." The man says, starting to close the door only to be stopped by my foot.

"-about a murder investigation." I finish, scowling at the man.

The schlump reopens the door, frowning in aggravation. "What murder?" He snaps.

"The murder of Miss Jane Sparrow." I answer, equally as snappy.

The man's frustration takes a drastic drop, replaced by surprised. "No..." He says in disbelief before straightening and regaining his glare. "She did buy grain for the bakery from me, but I didn't kill her. She was my client; why would I?" He says, going to close the door again but once again stopped by my foot.

"Plenty of reasons could be possible, but I didn't come here to accuse you with little proof. Thanks for making yourself look more suspicious." I state rudely. "No, what I came here to do was to ask why one of your farm's sickles is the murder weapon."

The door opens once more, showing a flabbergasted version of the man's face.

" 'Property of Gallus Farm' correct? I mean, the inscription was there, covered in blood but there." I explain, with a thin patience.

Mr. Gallus leans in the door frame, looking down at the ground. Crow looks at the man uncertainly before moving forward. He places a hand on the concerned male's shoulder.

"S-sir, we know why your fingerprints are on the tool, b-but could you please tell us why Mr. William Nightjar's are as well?" Crow questions carefully and hesitantly.

"Yes. The lad was helping me out with farm work. My wife's been much too concerned with my health as of late, so she went and asked him to volunteer." Gallus answers with an edge of annoyance.

"Thank you sir. There isn't much more to question as of right now." Crow says politely. "So, we'll come to see you again if we must."

The man huffs his annoyance. "Then here's to hoping you won't have to." He grumbles, entering the house again and putting a hand on the door.