Chapter Eleven

As much as Bev needed another clue to emerge, she hoped it wouldn't come at the expense of another building. So far, no one had gotten hurt in the calamities, and Bev didn't know how long that luck would hold. Still, without more information, Bev was somewhat stymied in her investigation.

She passed through the shops on the outskirts of town, her mind elsewhere until she spotted the telltale blue of Janet's hair inside Bernard Rickshaw's apothecary shop.

"What in the world are they doing in there?" she muttered to herself.

Not that there was anything wrong with being in the apothecary. They'd been working hard; perhaps they needed something to ease the aches and pains from their labor. Or perhaps it was completely innocent.

But the grannies remained something of a mystery to Bev, and perhaps this was her chance to find out what, exactly, they were in town for.

They bustled out of the apothecary, chattering to each other with wide smiles and nary a care in the world. Once they were far enough down the road, Bev hurried into Bernard's shop, hoping he would be able to tell her what they'd purchased from him.

Unfortunately, Bev found herself face-to-face with the gaggle of schoolchildren. They filled the space between the apothecary's counter and the front door—the reason the grannies had been standing near the window. Bev herself couldn't get too far inside, having to scoot sideways to close the door. Even though there wasn't much room to move, there seemed to be even fewer kids in attendance than at the butcher's. But the trio of miscreants were there, clumped together as usual.

Bev peered out the window. The grannies had stopped to chat with Rosie Kelooke, who seemed uncharacteristically pleasant with them.

"What's your favorite tincture ingredient?" the schoolteacher asked Bernard.

"Oh, well…" Bernard rubbed the back of his head. "Probably cinnamon, I'd say."

"Cinnamon?" PJ rolled his eyes.

"Are we making pastries?" Valta said, back in attendance.

"Let's not visit the baker, shall we?" Grant said, making a face. "See him too much as it is."

"Children, why don't we listen?" Bardoff said with a warning glance. "Why do you like cinnamon so much, Bernard?"

Bev once again craned her neck to watch the street. The grannies were still talking with Rosie.

"Oh, it's quite useful," he said, opening a tin of powder. "Prevents infection, increases blood flow, and can be used to treat pain in the body." He walked over to the candle. "And it does this, too."

He sprinkled the cinnamon over the fire, which caused multicolored sparks as they burned. "This might not look very dangerous," he said. "But get a load of cinnamon powder near an open flame, and you're looking at a huge fireball!" He looked up, his eyes sparkling in hopes the kids would find it as fascinating as he did.

Based on their bored looks, it hadn't worked.

"Ah, well. Excellent description, Bernard," Bardoff said with a nervous grin. "Let's not set any large quantities of cinnamon on fire, shall we? Why don't we work on making our healing tinctures? Come, come, get into groups, please. It appears Bernard has a customer, so let's let him tend to her, shall we?"

The children moved slowly, and Bev waited, bouncing on her heels for a moment, until Bernard waved her forward.

"Well, Bev?" Bernard's face brightened as he approached the counter. "Don't tell me Sin needs another calming draught."

"No, she's just fine," Bev said, keeping a watchful eye on the grannies out the window. Rosie seemed to be inching toward her house, which meant the grannies would be moving on soon. What in the world are they up to? "What did the grannies want?"

"The gr… Oh! Rita, Janet, and Gladys?" He beamed. "Another tincture for heartburn. You know, old age and all."

Heartburn? That seemed…well, likely, she supposed. But disappointingly mundane. "Surprised they weren't at Alice's still," Bev said.

"Told me they'd finished up first thing this morning," Bernard said. "Amazing how fast they can rebuild things, eh? Here they got Earl's workshop back up in a few hours."

Bev nodded, watching them out the window. For as fast as they rebuilt things, they certainly didn't walk very quickly. "What's in a heartburn tincture?"

"Just some peppermint and grain alcohol," he said. "I'd just made a big batch this morning. Been a lot of it in town lately. Bathilda, Apolinary, Rosie Kelooke, even. Probably all that nasty weather we'd had, made everyone a bit tetchy." He leaned in, glancing Bev up and down. "I assume that's why you're looking for one, right?"

"Y-yes, of course," Bev said. "Old age and heartburn."

He hummed happily as he took down the tin from the back wall and pulled out a small vial, handing it to Bev. She popped the cork, sniffing it and finding it to be exactly what Bernard had described—no weird magical aftertaste.

"Take that right before bed, and you should be right as rain," Bernard said. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Bev shook her head, pocketing the vial. "That's all. Appreciate it." She placed a silver on the counter, looking out the window to make sure the grannies were still in sight.

They weren't.

"It's only—"

"Keep the change!"

~

Bev hurried out the front door, looking left and right down the street. The grannies had last been talking with Rosie Kelooke, and while Bev wasn't the biggest fan of the retired seamstress—or her demonic chickens—curiosity was getting the better of her.

"Excuse me, Rosie!" Bev said, waving at her before the other woman walked into her house. Bev remained on the outside of the small fence, keeping a wary eye on the chickens clucking ominously on the ground below. They looked harmless enough, with white poufs on their heads and multicolored feathers. But Bev knew better than to cross them.

Rosie turned, giving Bev a sneer as she called from her front porch, "What do you want, Bev? More of my tree?"

"Um… No, not today." Bev chuckled nervously as one demonic chicken clucked as it walked by. "Just wanted to ask what you were chatting with the gr…with my inn guests about?"

"I hardly see how that's any of your concern," Rosie said with a look. "Can't a person have a conversation?"

"They sure can," Bev said. "But…" How in the world could she phrase this? "Just curious, I suppose. They've not been very forthcoming about why they're in town and—"

"And you think they're burning down workshops, I take it?" Rosie asked, lifting her nose higher. "Heard you're back on the case, as it were. Suppose there's not much to do at the inn if you're spending your days uncovering every little mystery that happens in town."

Bev forced a smile. "Well, if you don't want to help, then—"

"We were discussing Bernard's heartburn tinctures," she said. "If you must be so nosy."

"Really?" Bev asked. "Why?"

"Well, when I was out tending to my birds the other day, they stopped in and complimented me on my mint. Asked if they could have a bit for their heartburn. I told them it wasn't for sale, but directed them toward Bernard's shop and said that he had the best tinctures in town." She paused, lifting her chin higher. "They merely stopped by to thank me for my guidance. Nothing nefarious at all."

"Oh." Bernard had mentioned Rosie was getting heartburn medicine as well. "I see."

"Not everyone has some horrible secret that you need to expose, Bev," Rosie said. "In fact, I find their company far preferable to yours. Even my chickens found them positively delightful."

Bev wasn't sure that was a vote of confidence. "Well, I do apologize for taking up more of your time, Rosie. One last question: do you happen to know where they went? I'd like to catch up with them, if I can."

Or to follow them from afar to find out where they were going.

"Harrumph." Rosie pointed toward town. "They went that way."

~

Bev rushed down the street, looking this way and that until Rita's red hair caught her attention. They were meandering quite slowly, arm in arm, talking up a storm as if they hadn't seen each other in a long time. They weren't headed back to the inn, nor did they seem to be heading anywhere in particular. But everyone in town seemed to know who they were.

What in the world could their "business" be?

They stopped in to see Gilda at the blacksmith's shop, and Bev hid near Earl's rebuilt workshop as she strained her ears to listen. Although the fires in the shop made it hard to hear, the grannies seemed to leave with a bag full of nails—then headed toward Bev in the workshop. Bev scrambled, jumping the fence to hide in the Norrises's yard before they turned the corner.

Earl walked out of his house, waving them down and greeting them in the side yard. "Really, I must pay you for this."

"Don't you worry your little head about it," Janet said, waving him off.

"Where in the world did you bring all this gold from?" Earl asked. "You're practically saints."

Bev had to agree. In fact, she could see a scenario where the grannies destroyed property, rebuilt it, and asked the owners to pay them for their efforts—except the grannies were rebuilding and footing the bill. It just didn't make a lick of sense.

Unfortunately, Bev hadn't done a good job of hiding behind the fence, because Gladys stood in front of her, her gray head cocked to the side.

"What in the world are you doing, Bev?" she asked.

"Oh, um." Bev stood, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Just…um…"

"Bev!" Janet said, walking over. "Well, isn't this a lovely coincidence?"

"How was your visit with your friend?" Rita asked.

"L-lovely," Bev said, climbing over the short fence to join her. "Except he didn't quite help me with what I'd gone to ask him about."

"And what was that, dear?" Gladys asked.

"Well, I was hoping he'd help me figure out what's happening in town," Bev replied, watching them intently. "But so far, he's about as stumped as I am."

"Oh, never you mind about that," Rita said, taking one of Bev's arms. "You have enough to worry about."

"And if you don't, then you should enjoy this beautiful spring weather," Janet said, taking Bev's other arm.

"I love this time of year," Gladys said.

"Yes, me too… Except for all the cleaning I have to do back at the inn." Bev needed an excuse to get away from them so she could keep following them. "Which I should probably get back to, so—"

"Oh, cleaning?" Janet gasped.

"I love cleaning." Rita smiled brightly.

Gladys clapped her hands. "Let us help! Please."

Bev had to fight to hide her grimace. She did actually need to continue her spring cleaning—and they'd shown themselves adept at most things they'd attempted. But how was she supposed to find out why they were in town if they were helping her clean?

Before she could argue, she found herself being frog-marched back to the inn with Janet on one side and Rita on the other.

"So you finished up at Alice's? You're quick," Bev said, hoping to get a bit more information out of them.

"Barns and workshops are easy," Janet said.

"It's the houses with rooms that take the most time," Rita said.

"We would've spent more time at Earl's, but he was a little too particular about his cabinets," Gladys said.

"Which is his right, cousin," Rita said.

"Indeed."

"Do you just travel the countryside rebuilding structures that fall down?" Bev asked. "Or is this a special trip?"

Janet smiled. "We go where we're needed."

"And where the wind blows," Gladys added.

Rita grinned. "And where the food's good!"

"Needed?" Bev said as she opened the front door to the inn. "Do you know where you're needed, or are you—"

They didn't answer, setting immediately to tidying everything they could get their wizened hands on. Gladys took down the curtains so she could wash them outside. Rita moved the table and chairs to get to the rug she said she was going to take out to clean. Janet found a rag and was cleaning the hearthstones.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bev asked, finally finding her tongue. "Surely, there are other things more important. You said you have business in town to attend to—"

"Oh, not today!" Gladys said.

"You've been such a dear to us," Rita replied, rolling up the rug.

Janet plucked Bev's medal off the hearth and rubbed it with the rag. "Happy to help."

"I have to say," Bev said, a little lost. "You three showed up just in time. Where did you say you were from?"

"Here and there!" Janet chirped.

"What are you in town to do?"

"This and that!" Gladys said, taking the curtains out the front door.

"You just get to baking, dearie. We'll have this spic-and-span in no time," Janet said.

Bev didn't move immediately, torn between asking more questions and actually needing to get to work on the evening's dinner. Eventually, Janet and Gladys's prodding sent her into the kitchen, but she kept the door open to listen to their conversation.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much of one, save the back and forth of them discussing what task to do next. Bev kneaded and shaped her rosemary bread into loaves, chopped vegetables, and got the meat delivery from the butchers in the oven. But there wasn't a discussion of past towns, homes, or anything, just who was going to dust the table and who was going to mop the floor.

The chatter and cleaning continued all the way until dinner, when Earl, Etheldra, and Bardoff joined them. Earl, especially, had grown fond of them, carrying the lion's share of the conversation. But the grannies had a habit of diverting the subject every time he asked about where they'd come from or how they got to know carpentry so well. Based on the suspicious look from Etheldra, she also had her doubts.

When dinner was over, and the locals said their goodbyes, Bev finally gathered her courage to come out and ask them the question that had been on her tongue all day.

"Do you know what's causing all the destruction in town?" Bev asked, putting her hand on her hips. "And are you responsible?"

Janet twittered in laughter. "Oh, goodness, do you think we had something to do with it?"

"We've been here at the inn," Rita said, gesturing to the room.

Gladys nodded brightly. "Just happy to help these lovely townsfolk."

Bev pursed her lips. "You didn't answer my—"

The ground rumbled again, accompanied by a loud roar that reverberated in Bev's bones. The grannies stared at each other, something unspoken between them, before glancing toward the door.

"What in the world was that?" Bev asked.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, dear," Gladys said, adjusting her gray bun, which had gone askew.

Sure enough, loud voices began echoing down the street, calling for help. Gladys, Janet, and Rita put down their cleaning supplies and walked out the door with resignation on their faces. Bev put dinner in the oven and followed suit.