Chapter Six

After spending most of the morning having awkward conversations with townsfolk, Bev was happy to walk into the butcher shop. Ida was manning the front counter while Vellora worked in the back, and both seemed pleased to see Bev.

"We went up to Earl's to help, but…uh…your lovely guests seem to have it under control," Ida said. "They'd already gotten the roof and most of the walls up."

"Where did you say they came from?" Vellora asked.

"They didn't say. But I'm glad they were around to lend a hand."

"How goes the investigation?" Ida asked. "Do you have anything juicy to share with us?"

"Hardly," Bev said. "And I wouldn't call it an investigation quite yet. Just trying to see if anyone saw anything. So far…nothing."

"I'm sure you'll find some clue or small detail that unravels the entire thing," Ida said with a sigh. "After all, if it wasn't for you, we'd probably be sitting in a prison."

"Or a hundred-fifty gold coins poorer," Vellora added.

"I didn't do… Well, Bernie revealed himself. I only brought the players together," Bev said, waving her hand. She was happier to forget the whole solstice incident had happened, but the butchers seemed to recall it with fonder memories. "And the Harvest Festival—"

"Was all you," Ida said. "You're the one who found the proof in Claude's room."

"Biscuit found it," Bev said.

"Oh, stop being so modest." Ida wiped down the counter absentmindedly. "And just spill. I want to know what you've found."

"I told you, not much," Bev said. "Earl thought he saw some kids near his yard before it went up in flames, but they weren't forthcoming."

"Which kids?" Vellora asked.

"Vicky's brother, the Norris boy, and Gilda's sister," Bev said.

"Yeah, I've seen them skulking around town together," Ida said. "Or, well, they look like they're causing trouble."

"How does one look like they're causing trouble?" Bev asked.

"You know." She shrugged. "Loitering. Snickering. Talking amongst themselves. You know, miscreant stuff."

"I hardly think standing around laughing is problematic," Vellora said.

"No, but they're the only teenagers in town who don't have jobs," Ida said. "Idle hands and whatever that saying is."

"Vicky said the same thing," Bev said. "Grant was the only one I got to speak with directly, and he sure didn't act innocent. His sister said she'd put pressure on him, but something tells me that's not going to work. Seems like they're in something of a tiff at the moment. Vicky kept talking about him needing to support himself."

"Well, I should say so!" Ida said. "Fourteen and not even interested in a trade? At his age, I'd already been working in the shop alongside my father for years. Glad I did—can't imagine how I would've struggled to keep this business afloat had I not learned all I could from him before he and my mother died."

"I suppose that's important, too," Bev said. "Bardoff is hoping to expose the kids to all manner of occupations—both in and out of town. I think he's hoping they'll broaden their horizons to be more than just farmers."

"And that's a nice dream for someone with the wherewithal to leave Pigsend and study in a faraway school," Ida said. "But the kids around here? They're gonna end up in the same industries as their parents. And that's a good thing. Because if all the kids left to go be scholars, who'd be our farriers? Our blacksmiths? Our—"

"Butchers?" Bev prompted, earning a bashful look from Ida.

"Well…" She cleared her throat. "Okay, maybe I'm projecting a little. But the point remains: they need to be doing something useful or this isn't the last fire they'll set."

"Allegedly set," Bev said. "Remember, no one saw anything."

"So Grant says," Ida said. "But why would he rat out his friends?"

"I will say, Vicky's brother's always been a bit snotty to me," Vellora said. "She puts up with a lot from him, in my opinion."

"She doesn't really have much of a choice, you know," Ida said. To Bev's confused face, she explained, "Their mom died during the dragon pox epidemic, and their father left to…well, he told his kids he'd be back after he made his fortunes in the war."

"Did he?" Bev asked.

"No one's heard from him. Didn't show up on the rolls, either," Ida said, glancing at Vellora, who had that faraway look in her eye she got whenever someone mentioned the bloody war between the kingside and queenside.

"You think he'd abandon his family like that?" Vellora asked.

"I think…" Ida shrugged. "I think he wasn't making much of himself here. From what I understand, it was something of a scandal that he married Ashla. She came from money, and threw it all away for love. But I guess her family was right after all, since he left their children in the lurch. Thank goodness for Apolinary."

"Yeah?" Bev asked. "Why?"

"Well, when Rosie Kelooke retired, Apolinary was in need of an assistant. She took Vicky under her wing. Rented her the apartment for a deep discount, too. Girl was barely sixteen at the time, and her brother wasn't yet ten."

"I wonder why Vicky's ready to kick him out, then?" Bev asked.

"Well, I would think it's obvious," Vellora said with a knowing smile. "I assume she thinks she's going to be a bride soon."

"Oh, you're probably right, Vel," Ida said. "Nobody wants their little brother hanging around when they're enjoying marital bliss."

"Somebody had better tell Allen, then," Bev said. "He hasn't said a word about it to me."

"Me neither," Ida said with a shake of her head. "But I suppose we'll all hear about it when it happens."

"If it happens," Vellora said, watching the bakery across the street. "Allen might just chicken out."

"We won't let him, will we, Bev?" Ida said, her eyes going wistful. "Oh, how wonderful it would be to have another wedding in town."

"I'd certainly like the business," Bev said.

"Too true," Ida said. "Speaking of, those old ladies you're hosting are something else, aren't they?"

"Have you met them?" Bev asked.

Ida nodded. "When we stopped in at Earl's, they paid us two extra gold coins so we'd double whatever you'd ordered for dinner. Said you were practically starving them."

"That's an exaggeration," Bev said. "There was nearly a pound of meat per person last night!"

"Well, now there'll be two," Ida said with a chuckle.

"You know, I've half a mind to think they burned down the warehouse," Bev said.

"And rebuilt it?" Vellora laughed. "That seems unlikely."

"Unlikelier things have happened, especially in this town." Bev rapped her fingers on the counter. "Vicky thought I should ask Earl who else he was making furniture for. Maybe someone wanted revenge."

"Or maybe she just wanted you to stop asking about her brother," Vellora said.

"I'm sure, but it's worth looking into if Earl thinks someone set it intentionally." Bev shrugged. "At least until I can get something else out of the kids."

"Who are we to argue? You are the expert," Ida said with a giggle. "Boy, who'da thought Bev would turn into our resident detective?"

"We do have a sheriff." Bev made a face. "Where is he, anyway? Didn't see him at the fire or around town today."

"Maybe that's another mystery for you to solve," Vellora said. "The Disappearance of Sheriff Rustin."

"Har har." Bev glared at them both. "Seriously, have either of you seen him?"

"Not since we've been back." Ida waved off Bev's concern. "Oh, I'm sure he's fine. Probably on a little holiday. Sheriffs deserve that every so often."

"Even ones that don't do much around town," Vellora added.

"I suppose." Bev shrugged. "Did the grannies give you their preference for meat?"

"I've got it almost ready for you," Vellora said. "Might take you a couple trips, though."

"I'll help," Ida said with a wink.

~

There was a lot of meat—roughly the same amount Bev ordered for the Harvest Festival nights. That three old ladies could put all this food away was another curiosity Bev couldn't get out of her head, but thus far…well, it didn't seem to warrant investigating. They'd rebuilt Earl's warehouse, they'd paid gold coins to the butchers and the baker for the extra food, and they'd just been as nice as could be to Bev and everyone else. The only thing Bev had to complain about was she'd had to break out her large pots and pans.

At exactly six o'clock, Bev brought out dinner, and as expected, the grannies were ready with their plates and forks. Earl, Etheldra, and Bardoff were behind them, watching with a mixture of scrutiny and amusement.

"Got enough food, there, Bev?" Etheldra asked as Bev hoisted the platter onto the table.

"Oh, that's mostly for us, dearie," Janet said.

"We asked the butchers to double the order," Rita replied.

"Really?" Etheldra gave them a look. "You're going to eat all this food?"

"And how!" Gladys said, shoveling large pieces of beef onto her plate. They took more than half of the meat, but as there was so much, there was plenty for the three locals to share—and all of the rosemary bread.

"Oh, we're not much for the bread and grains," Rita said.

"No?" Etheldra waved around her own piece. "But this bread's won awards."

"We're big meat-eaters," Gladys replied.

"Always have been. Just something delicious about a seared piece of meat." Janet took a large bite of the beef. "Outstanding, Bev."

"Suppose you've built up an appetite, what with rebuilding Earl's workhouse," Etheldra said, her voice sharp and clear. "Just so kind of you to do it. Amazed you have the skills."

"Oh, when you live as long as we have, you do find yourself learning different things," Gladys said.

"But you're…well, you're old," Etheldra said.

"So are you, Etheldra," Bev said with a look.

"Yes, and I'm not rebuilding workshops in a matter of hours," she replied with a thin smile.

"We're younger than we look." Janet glanced around at the mostly empty plates. "Has everyone had enough? Mind if we finish off the rest?"

Nobody said anything to the contrary, so the three grannies rose and helped themselves to more meat and potatoes, and still none of the bread. Etheldra stared at them then turned to Bev as if expecting Bev to say something about it. But she just shrugged. They were allowed to eat as much as they wanted, especially as they'd paid extra for the privilege.

Earl, who'd been quiet most of the evening, was the first to finish his plate, and brought it to Bev with a tight smile. "How did… How did it go today? Chatting with the neighbors?"

Bev felt Etheldra's beady eyes on her. The last thing Bev wanted was the taciturn tea-shop owner performing another interrogation of her own, as she'd done during the solstice. Although the grannies seemed impervious to her bluntness, Bev doubted the Norrises or Vicky or Gilda would take too kindly to the tea shop owner's bluntness. Nor did Bev think Etheldra could get more out of them than Bev had. Probably better to keep things closer to the vest.

"Why don't we step into the kitchen, Earl?" Bev said.

Earl followed her inside, and Biscuit sat by the door, as if he knew to listen for eavesdroppers. Not that Bev was harboring a closely guarded secret, but she did prefer this conversation to happen in private.

She offered Earl the other stool against her kitchen table, but he declined, holding his hat between his hands as if he'd done something wrong.

"So?" He gripped his hat tighter. "What'd you find out?"

"Spoke with Holly, Gilda, and Vicky," Bev said. "They all swear their kids weren't in your backyard."

His gray eyebrows narrowed quickly. "Then they're lying. I saw them there."

"Earl, you were here at the inn when the explosion happened," Bev said with a frustrated sigh. "Remember? So you can't say definitively if they were there or not."

"But surely you found something that…" Earl cleared his throat. "Someone set that fire, Bev."

"To what end?" Bev asked.

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "Well, I don't know. If it was those kids, probably just to cause trouble—"

"But what if it wasn't the kids?" Bev asked. "What if it was someone else entirely?"

He paused. "I don't follow."

"If you think it was set intentionally, maybe it's worth asking what the target was." Bev sat on her stool. "Is there anyone in town who thinks you've wronged them?"

He shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, no."

She hadn't thought so, but the question had to be asked. "Then who else were you making furniture for?"

He bristled. "Hardly see why that's relevant."

"There's a chance someone set the fire to get back at someone," Bev said. "If not you, then maybe someone you were making furniture for."

"That's ridiculous. It's furniture." Earl scoffed. "I thought you were gonna take this seriously, Bev? After all I've…" He stopped. "Well, I just thought you'd help me. But if I was wrong—"

"I am helping, Earl." She crossed the room to put a comforting hand on his arm. "But unless you have someone who said they saw the three kids actually set the fire, there's really nothing else I can do. We can't just blindly accuse them of something when we don't have proof. That's not fair."

"Suppose not," he said. "But I just know they had something to do with it."

"I promise I'm not letting them off the hook," Bev said. "And the moment I find something that puts them in your workshop when the fire started, I'll be sure to tell you. But in the meantime, I have to keep exploring other options, just in case there's something we're missing. Sometimes, the answers aren't clear until you start looking at all possible scenarios." She squeezed his arm. "Trust me on this, okay? I've done this a few times now."

He gave her a half-smile. "Sorry, Bev. I'm just not used to being the focus of these things. Looking at them from afar, it seems like you just fix everything."

"Well, I'm not promising I'll fix anything." Bev sighed as she sat back down on her stool. "But I do need to know who else had furniture in your workshop."

"Hendry had a set of chairs," he said, counting off on his fingers. "I was also working on something for Bathilda, but that wasn't in the shop, and a couple of picture frames for Ramone and their brother." He sighed, shaking his head. "All that work, gone. I didn't have a chance to really think about it until I walked into the empty workshop this evening." His eyes grew misty. "Just hours and hours of work. Makes me tired thinking about having to redo it all."

Bev had no words of comfort for that. "Was the shop rebuilt to your standards?"

"And then some," he said. "Not that I coulda told them otherwise if it hadn't been. They're awfully pushy. Nice as they can be, but pushy."

"I can see that," Bev said.

"Told me to kick my feet up and relax while they did all the work." He pushed his cap up as he scratched his forehead. "I'm grateful to 'em for doing it. Can't imagine how far behind I'd be if I were still framing it in. I swear, Mayor Hendry came by three times today to see when those chairs would be ready."

"The ones that…" Bev let out a frustrated sigh. "She knows they were burnt up, right?"

"She's insistent."

Interesting. "Do you know what she's using them for?"

"Sitting, I reckon." He smiled. "You know the mayor. She likes things done on her time. I told her I'd work on them as quick as I can."

"Not too quickly," Bev said. "It's been a hard couple of days for you, Earl. You should take a few days and relax. Let the mayor fret about her chairs."

"You know I can't do that. Not in my nature." He pulled his cap back on. "You have a good night, Bev. Be sure to take care of those ladies. Goodness knows they took care of my shop today." He slipped out the back door and into the night.

Bev stood with her hands on her hips, looking down at her laelaps.

"Well, Biscuit, I guess we're going to pay Mayor Hendry a visit tomorrow."