Chapter Thirteen

Bev and Ida parted ways when they reached town, Ida taking Merv's blanket to the town hall and Bev and Biscuit heading back toward the inn. For a moment, Bev thought Biscuit might follow Ida and the delicious-smelling blanket, but after a few breaths, he turned and trotted after Bev.

"Was worth a shot," Bev said.

Her good deed for the day done, Bev set to her afternoon chores. The weather was on the warmer side, so she propped the back and front doors open to allow more airflow as she worked in the kitchen. Sometime during the afternoon, Biscuit disappeared from his blanket bed, but she didn't think much of it. Perhaps he'd finally gotten tired of hanging around the inn and found his former master.

Bev popped in to visit Vellora and pick up her daily meat order, hearing another earful from the butcher about her absent wife, and how Vellora was having to do all the work. As before, Bev listened and nodded and didn't say a word about it because it wasn't her business.

Everything was in the oven by mid-afternoon, and the kitchen was preemptively cleaned, so Bev decided to take a turn around the festival to get some fresh air and enjoy one of the last warm days of the season. She once again admired the leather boots, reminding herself she didn't need to spend her gold on something so frivolous, and visited more of the farmers who'd set up shop in the vendor space. Alice had finally brought her baking pumpkins out, and Bev purchased a few to make a soup for the following day, along with some heads of garlic and other things.

"Quite nice to walk to the town square to grab my goods instead of going all the way out to the market," Bev said with a chuckle.

"Nice for you," Alice replied as she handed over the pumpkins. "I still have to lug all this stuff here—and you know there's no room for my wagon."

"True." Bev smiled. "Speaking of pumpkins, the gourd contest is coming up soon, isn't it?"

"Not a moment too soon, if you ask me," Alice said. "Yesterday, I heard yelling from across the fields and saw Herman chasing Trent with a shovel."

"What in the world was Trent doing on your side of town?"

"Scoping out the competition, probably? Who knows. Either way, I'll be happy when they go back to hating each other from a distance."

With her tote heavy with produce, Bev returned to the inn to drop off the gourds. The dog still hadn't returned from whatever mischief he was getting into. She checked her compost pile and Sin's oats and didn't see him anywhere, which was a little odd.

"Not odd, Bev. He probably went home," she replied.

She was about to go sit in the front hall when loud voices echoed from the yard. With a frown, she walked out to see what the commotion was and found Mayor Hendry, Ida, Claude, and Petula arguing as they came up the small side road.

"What's going on?" Bev asked.

"Amateur hour, that's what!" Petula bellowed. "In all my years in the queen's official judging corps, I've never ever seen such a poorly managed festival."

"Poorly managed?" Ida gasped. "We've been working our tails off to keep things running smoothly!"

"And this is the first year in twenty that we've had any sort of calamity," Hendry added. "Might I also add it's the first year that it's been suggested that we move the festival to another town, and the mayor of that town happens to be visiting."

Petula turned to Hendry with a haughty look. "Surely, Jo, you aren't insinuating that the delegation from Middleburg had anything to do with this, are you?"

"I'm just stating facts, Petula," Hendry said.

"Hang on," Bev yelled, getting their attention. "What in the world is going on?"

Petula brandished a tattered mess of purple, and Bev's heart sank. Merv's blanket had been thoroughly destroyed, the yarn frayed to the point where it was broken in pieces and unraveling. The only way it was recognizable at all was the unique color.

"Who in the world did this?" Bev shook her head. "And when? I thought the main hall was filled with people."

"The when is easy," Ida said. "We'd hung up all the entries in the main hall—as is tradition. We want festivalgoers to be able to see them and admire the work of the artisans in town."

"And destroy it, too!" Petula said.

"Sometime between the initial judging and when the hall reopened," Ida continued, giving the judge a dirty look, "we found Merv's blanket missing. After a quick search, we found it…" She gave Bev a look. "Well, we found it in a forest near your inn, Bev. That's where we were coming from."

"It seems someone's sabotaging our contest entries," Hendry said. "First the pies, now this?"

"Not to mention Bev's garden was destroyed," Ida said.

"Now, that may not be—" Bev began, but she was quickly overruled.

"You know, the only contest that hasn't had a misstep was the jams," Hendry continued. "And it's awfully coincidental that every one of the finalists were from Middleburg."

"Jo, come now," Petula said.

"Bev, surely you have something to add," Ida said, her gaze pleading.

"I don't," Bev said, after a long moment—and it was the truth. There was nothing concrete connecting anyone from Middleburg to any of these mishaps. They could all be coincidental, for all she knew.

Hendry and Ida glared at her silence, almost like it was Bev's fault the festival was suffering these mishaps.

"I have to get back to the judging hall," Petula said. "Hopefully, there are no more complications with the handmade goods contest. Or any of them! Because I'm already halfway into writing my report for Her Majesty, and it's not good. You can rest assured that if there's one more mess-up, this festival won't be in Pigsend a year longer!"

~

The small crowd dispersed, and Bev returned to the kitchen where Biscuit was sleeping on his mat once more. As she approached, he lifted his head, stretched slowly, and let out a loud yawn.

"What is…" Did she see some purple in his mouth?

Surely not. He was a small dog. How much mischief could a dog his size get into?

Yet as he opened his whole mouth to her in a smile, Bev found a small piece of purple yarn wedged between his teeth. How the heck he'd managed to sneak into the town hall, steal Merv's blanket, and bring it back to his thicket without anyone noticing…she hadn't a clue. But this yarn was too unique to be anything else.

"Oh, buddy. I really wish you hadn't done that." Bev absentmindedly stroked his head. "You need better impulse control."

She sat back, running her hand over her face. She couldn't blame him for everything—though she could see a scenario where he'd climbed up on her kitchen table and eaten her rosemary bread, and it was plausible he'd been responsible for destroying her garden. But he hadn't been at the first round of the pie contest—or wait…

"Did you knock over the pie table?" Bev asked, looking at him suspiciously.

He'd shown up in her garden after that whole fiasco—and he'd actually knocked over one of the tables during the make-up round.

"Whether you're responsible for the pies or not," Bev said, as she stroked his velvety ears, "you're clearly guilty of destroying Merv's blanket. That was a very bad thing you did."

He tilted his head, almost confused.

"Look, I'll cover for you. I won't tell Hendry or Petula or any of them," Bev said. "But you can't… You gotta get out of town before someone else notices you're the problem. Can't say they'll be as nice as I've been."

She put her hand over her eyes, unsure where she could take him. If she locked him in her room for the duration of the festival, he'd howl and whine and scratch—and probably eat her rosemary and everything else he could get his snout into. She obviously couldn't let him run freely. Nor did she think she had the stomach to take him somewhere far from town and dump him. Although she had no question that he would find food, it seemed inhumane. The nights were getting colder, and perhaps she'd become a little used to him sleeping in her bed.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? She couldn't keep him. He had to go.

"Bev? Are you in here?"

Claude came into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face as he held the tattered remains of the purple blanket. Biscuit growled, then lifted his nose in the air and wagged his tail as he trotted toward the blanket.

"Biscuit, back off," Bev said, swatting him away.

"I have fantastic news," Claude said, eyeing Biscuit who'd jumped on his hind legs to reach the blanket.

"Did we find the culprit?"

"Er, no. But I've managed to convince Petula to delay the judging of the contest for a few hours. If we can get another blanket from…this Merv guy, he still has a chance of winning." Claude tilted his head, chewing his lip. "Hopefully? You think?"

"He has a closet full of them, actually," Bev said. "Gave us three to pick from."

"Brilliant!" Claude clapped his hands. "Can we go now?"

Bev glanced at the clock. There were three hours before dinner needed tending to, which gave them plenty of time to pop in and come back. Merv had seemed excited to be included in the contest, although he'd probably be devastated to learn that his hard work had been destroyed by a mischievous little pooch. And Claude, bless him, looked so pleased with himself for convincing Petula to bend the rules a little.

"All right," Bev said, holding her hands up. "I'll head there now."

"Would you…um…mind if I came with you?" Claude asked. "I'd love to meet the man responsible for such artistry. I'm a bit of a knitter myself, and I've never been able to accomplish these kinds of stitches. Maybe he could take me on as an apprentice."

Bev hesitated. Merv was always welcoming, but he probably wouldn't appreciate a steady stream of new people in his house. Still, Claude was responsible for his second chance in the contest.

"Won't Petula have a problem with that?" Bev said. "That seems a bit…biased."

"Well, that was part of the deal to delay the judgment. I said I would recuse myself from the knitted competition if she allowed him entry." He ducked his head, sheepishly. "I thought it was only fair."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," Bev said, once more checking the time. "But we'll have to make it a quick visit. Need to be back to make dinner."

~

There were four muffins left in Allen's basket, so Bev wrapped them in a tea towel as part of her apology to Merv and put them in a small tote along with the tattered remains of his blanket. Biscuit, unsurprisingly, nosed at the bag, and Bev knocked him back gently with her hip.

"You are relentless," she hissed at him.

"He is quite an…intense little dog," Claude said. "Where did you find him?"

"He found me," Bev said with a frown. "And he's caused nothing but trouble since he did."

The trip to Merv's house seemed to go quickly, but perhaps only because Bev was distracted with the question of what to do with the dog. As they passed so-and-so's house, she wondered who would want to take the mischievous creature for a few days. But then Bev imagined herself handing the dog off, telling them to make sure there was no way for him to climb up on tables, hiding food, keeping certain knitted goods away from him, and it seemed like a chaotic mess.

"I think it's very kind that you're so worried about him," Claude said as Bev explained her thoughts. "Especially since you've only had him a few days."

"I wish his owner would show up. But I can see why they're not eager to claim him."

Before she knew it, Bev was rapping at Merv's door, unprepared to explain the situation.

"My, that was quick!" he said with what Bev assumed was a surprised expression. "Did I win?"

"Oh…my goodness…" Claude's eyes had gotten big. "You are…"

"Merv, sorry. This is Claude, one of the judges," Bev said. "Claude, this is Merv."

The poor young man was agape with shock. "N-nice to meet you."

"Bev? Did I win?" Merv pressed.

"Uh, not exactly," Bev said, reaching into her bag. "Look, I'm terribly sorry. There was a mishap with your entry. Um…" She licked her lips as she pulled the remnants of the blanket out. "I'm so sorry."

"What in the world happened to it?" Merv said. "It looks like it was eaten. Did the dog finally get to it?"

Bev chuckled nervously, glancing at Claude. "Why would you say that?"

To her surprise, Merv chuckled. "Because it's the fur of a chimera. Smells interesting to him, I'm sure."

"C-Chimera?" Claude and Bev said at the same time.

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

"It's a bit of a mutt in the creature world," Merv said. "This one had the head of a lion and goat, with a snake's tail—obviously, the yarn came from the lion. I got a few skeins from a passing tradesman a few years ago and made the blanket. Difficult to work with, won't do that again for sure." He chuckled as he knelt toward Biscuit. "And you, little one, are full of curiosity."

"The judges have allowed you another entry, if you want," Bev said, nodding at Claude, who'd been hanging on Merv's every word. "Right, Claude?"

"Oh, right. Yes! Of course." He nodded quickly. "Provided that we get it in the next hour or two."

"Well, I've got a couple more options to share with you. Come with me."

Without fail, Biscuit bounded between Bev's legs and made a beeline for the open closet. Bev made a noise, but Merv held up his hand.

"It's fine. It's what they do." He opened the door and patted Biscuit on the head. "Let's see what else I have."

Bev heaved a sigh of relief that Merv didn't seem bothered by Biscuit's antics. Claude seemed enraptured by Merv's kitchen, and since Merv didn't say anything, Bev figured it was all right for the young judge to roam.

"You certainly do have a stubborn streak, don't you?" Merv said, gently moving a blanket out of reach of the dog.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with him," Bev said, lowering her voice so Claude wouldn't hear. "He's a bundle of trouble and relentless. Scented something from across the street and broke into a house where one of the pie makers was staying. I found him snout-deep in…." She glanced at Claude puttering around the kitchen and decided against mentioning the barus bauble. "…baking materials."

"Seriously?" Claude said, poking his head out of the kitchen. "What was he doing in there?"

"Her pie filling was irresistible, I suppose," Bev said with a look to Merv. "But keeping him out of trouble is next to impossible when all these other mishaps are happening."

The mole nodded slowly. "And you suspect he might be the cause."

She winced, nodding toward the kitchen, but Claude didn't show any indication he'd heard that, as he was inspecting Merv's collection of teas.

"I'm worried if I bring him back to town, he'll do something else and the whole of Pigsend will be out for him. The mayor's already nervous that the festival's going to get sent to another town. I don't know what she'd do to him if she found out he was responsible."

"Mm." Merv pulled out a blanket. "Why don't you let him stay here until the festival's over? I'm sure he'd be happy here."

Bev eyed him. "Are you…joking? He's a menace."

"Oh, he's curious. I'm sure we can come to an agreement while he stays here." He handed her a green blanket, not quite as intricate as the purple one, but soft as silk. "This one. What do you think?"

Bev glanced at the clock. She didn't have time to argue. "It's perfect. And if you're sure about keeping the dog here…"

"Quite. I think it'll be nice to have some company," he said. "After all, how much of a menace can he be?"