Chapter Eighteen

Since no one else volunteered, Bev, Biscuit, Trent, and Herman trudged out toward Herman's farm to see the destruction. Trent and Herman were still arm in arm, softly crying to one another like long-lost brothers. Bev and Biscuit followed, Bev shaking her head and hoping this newfound peace would endure beyond the week.

When they reached the farm, Bev wasn't really prepared for the destruction—and by Trent's mournful howl, neither was he. There was nothing but seeds, innards, and pieces of the hull scattered around the trampled pumpkin vines. In fact, it almost looked like…

"Were any animals found here last night?" Bev asked Herman.

"I—sniff—don't know what you mean?"

"Last night, all the livestock got loose. They were all over the place," Bev said. "I wonder if one of them was found in your pumpkin patch and did this."

It was a plausible solution, for sure. Bev could check with Ida to see if any of the search parties had come this way. And it would at least be an explanation that didn't immediately bring forth more questions, more unclear motives, more hidden suspects.

"You didn't see anyone in your patch last night, right?" Bev asked. Herman nodded. "When did you last see your pumpkins, and when did you check them this morning?"

"Oh, um…" He put his hand to his forehead. "They were good this morning around five when I woke up to water them. But seven…by seven they'd been smashed."

Bev scowled. So much for the errant livestock theory.

"And you didn't see anyone out this way?" she pressed, running her fingers over the trampled vines.

"I can't…" He shook his head. "I can't bear to look at it."

"Come on, Hermy, let's get you back home and make you a cuppa."

Trent half-carried his former nemesis back toward his house, leaving Bev and Biscuit to stare at the wreckage and do their own investigations. Bev knelt and ran her fingers along the destroyed pumpkins, looking for a foot- or hoofprint, but she couldn't discern much from the mess. Even though all the livestock had been put back in their pen, it still looked like one of them had been out here.

"C'mon, Biscuit," Bev said. "Let's put that sniffer to the test again."

She turned to the dog, finding him chewing on one of the pumpkin rinds.

"Oh, let's not add insult to injury," she said. "C'mon. Let's see what else we can find."

Bev wanted to check every possible theory before she left the farm, so she walked out to the road in search of prints or any other clues. As she was crawling in the brush, footsteps approached, followed by a horrified gasp.

"Oh, my…" Alice Estrich stood behind her. "I'd heard there was a brawl, but I didn't expect… Goodness gracious. Where's Herman?"

"Getting a cup of tea with Trent," Bev said, coming to her feet and wiping her knees. "They seem to have…uh…made up, I guess?"

"Miracles do happen, I suppose." She smiled. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah, wondering—did you happen to see any of those missing livestock from last night out this way?" The timing didn't match up, but it didn't hurt to ask anyway.

"I saw the search parties, but I don't think they found anything," Alice said. "Didn't really speak to them, though, so don't quote me on that."

"I won't, but I appreciate the insight," Bev said. "I mean, this looks like it was trampled by a large animal. But also…" She glanced at Alice. "There's that whole magical river thing that's out this way, too."

"Oh, pish-posh." Alice stepped back, waving her hands. "Don't be saying that too loud or you'll be running afoul of the queen's folks who're in town." She chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, Bev, I'd say you were obsessed with magic."

"No, can't say I am," Bev replied. "I'm sure Herman would appreciate a check-in from his neighbor later on today. He's pretty heartbroken."

"I'll do that. Maybe bring him a pie…" She paused, making a face. "Just perhaps not a pumpkin one." She glanced at the ground. "Your dog seems to be…enjoying the remnants, doesn't he?"

Bev spun around and found Biscuit on his belly gnawing on a large piece of pumpkin held between his front paws.

"What did I say?" Bev bellowed to him. "Quit eating the evidence, B!"

The dog dropped the pumpkin and sprinted away, this time under the fence and down the street.

"Drat," Bev said. "Guess I'd better follow him before he gets into more trouble. See you around, Alice."

~

Biscuit kept moving, slowing down to sniff bushes and lift his leg then speeding up when Bev got too close. She was once again perplexed by his behavior, as he was heading southeast, away from town. But when the familiar forest thicket appeared up ahead, she stopped and glanced at the sky.

"This stupid place again?" Bev sighed.

For the umpteenth time, she forced her way through the thicket and into the clearing. When she got there, Biscuit had something in his mouth. A piece of pumpkin.

"You didn't bring this here, right?" Bev said. No, the dog had dropped what he'd been chewing. And this was a huge piece, nearly the size of Biscuit's head.

So what in the world was a piece of Trent's pumpkin doing in this thicket…that seemed to be the repository for magic-laced objects?

Alice said Bev was obsessed with magic, but magic seemed to be the common thread between most of the mishaps. The bauble in the pie, Merv's magic blanket. Even though Biscuit hadn't been interested in Bev's rosemary, she could plausibly say there was something magical in there, too. The pig, too, was perhaps not as ordinary as it seemed. Now Herman's pumpkins, which had been grown in a magical river, had been destroyed.

"Is someone looking for magic?" Bev muttered. "Or am I seeing things I want to see?"

She took another tack, looking at the events from Hendry's perspective. Bev's rosemary and garden could've prevented her from being in the competition, leaving Stanton Bucko as the clear winner (that was, if Bev wanted to believe that her bread was that good). Next, the pie disaster—but that was when things fell apart.

If Hendry was right, and it was Middleburg, they wouldn't have toppled over a table with their own pies. There were Middleburg pie-makers who'd used late summer fruit and had to drop out of the competition.

Merv's blanket aside, there'd been Middleburg livestock missing, too. And although it could've been another debacle to mar the reputation of the Pigsend Harvest Festival, Bev couldn't see how any farmer from Middleburg would be fine with allowing their precious animals to wander off—even if it did mean moving the festival to their town.

No, as much as Hendry wanted it to be, Bev couldn't see a clear motive for Middleburg. Which left her with her only other option: that someone was on the hunt for someone or something magical. Just like Karolina and her team had been.

"Biscuit, do you see anything?" she asked. "Well, smell anything, I should say."

She wasn't sure what exactly she was looking for—only that it seemed all the things that were "magic" had been found in this thicket. Biscuit, of course, kept finding more pumpkin pieces—and there were, in fact, several—but Bev walked around the clearing slowly, looking for anything that seemed amiss. She found a small thread of purple yarn from Merv's quilt in the brambles, more remnants from her garden swept off to the side, and not much else.

Then, Biscuit seemed to scent something, circling the clearing for a moment before diving into the brush. When he emerged, he had something that looked like a collar in his mouth.

"What's this?" Bev said, inspecting it closer. It was far too big to go around Biscuit's neck, so it wasn't his. Made of leather, with…

Bev's eyes widened. It was engraved with the queen's signet. And as Bev examined it, she realized that while it might've been too big for Biscuit, it was just the right size to fit around that pig's neck.

She rose slowly, holding the collar in her hands. There were only three out-of-town people who belonged to the queen—Petula and her two soldiers.

"Hm."

Bev chewed on this new thought as she walked back to the inn, Biscuit trotting alongside her.

Ridge had been on watch when the livestock had gotten loose. He'd been the one out searching, too, and had taken the errant pig back to the pen.

Or had he?

Had Ridge, instead of taking the pig back to the pen, taken it to Herman's house in search of…something, and trampled his pumpkins for some reason unknown?

She considered each incident from the festival and tried to remember if she'd seen Ridge there. But he'd been missing from the table incident, and the town hall had been empty when Merv's blanket had gone missing. But there was someone who'd been at each incident and who very obviously worked for the queen.

Petula.

It made zero sense. Why would a member of the queen's official judging corps want to ruin the festival?

Maybe the moving-to-Middleburg angle isn't so crazy after all.

~

Bev had never been so eager to serve a meal before. As she walked out with her platter of meat and potatoes, she scanned the room for Petula and—she hoped—her two soldiers, but only the latter seemed to be in attendance. Petula would come back eventually, so Bev would catch her then. It would be difficult to ask questions without arousing suspicion, but Bev had a few in mind.

Biscuit, for once, was behaving very well, sleeping on the floor behind the front desk. But he'd also had his fill of lamb and potato skins, so perhaps he was overfull and sleepy.

As dinner got underway and the conversations grew louder, Bev found herself watching the two soldiers intensely. They seemed to be chastened, eating with their heads down and not talking with anyone else in the room. Was it an act or were they actually concerned for their jobs?

Eventually, Ridge must've noticed her watching because he wandered over. "Hey, Bev."

"How are you enjoying the meal?"

"Everyone was right. This is the best place in town to get dinner." He offered a bashful smile, and Bev almost bought it. "Look, I just…I wanted to thank you again for finding that pig last night. I really felt awful about everything, and at least now, Ms. Banks may not be so harsh in her write-up."

Bev forced an understanding smile. "Glad to help. Say… Out of curiosity, can you tell me exactly what happened? It seems so…far-fetched to me."

"Well, Marcelano and I were standing on the southern end of the holding pen," he said. "The animals were wandering around, but some of them were settling in to sleep. So when they all got quiet, we kind of thought they'd gone to sleep."

"And you said they all got quiet at once, right? Like they disappeared together?"

He nodded.

"That pig that I brought back," Bev said. "Do you know who he belongs to?"

"No. Didn't ask. Just glad to have him back where he belonged. You can be sure that Marcelano and I didn't sleep a wink last night. In fact…" He yawned. "I'm glad there's nothing to watch tonight because I'm exhausted."

"I bet. I wish I had a room for you," Bev said. "Are you guys still staying in Middleburg or—"

"No, Mayor Twinsly was able to shuffle some of her people around and we're staying with Lazlo Murtagh." He smiled. "We're grateful, too. It's not a long ride back to Middleburg, but I'm glad I don't have to do it tonight."

"Uh-huh," Bev said. Another Middleburg connection. "Did Petula arrange that, by chance?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Why?"

"Just trying to figure out whose side she's on," Bev said. "Seems like she's a little chummy with the Middleburg mayor. You know, Mayor Hendry and Twinsly keep accusing each other of sabotage."

He chuckled. "Just ridiculous, you know? These things happen sometimes. There was a festival in Hammerstown that had a bunch of mishaps, too. They managed to keep their festival, but…" He leaned in closer. "If you ask me, I think the judge got a nice sum of money for keeping his mouth shut about it."

"Well, I'll have to tell Hendry to adjust her strategy," Bev said with a chuckle.

"I wouldn't. Petula Banks takes her job very seriously," Ridge said. "If she even gets the faintest whiff of scandal, she'll pull out her rule book, and all heck'll break loose."

"Do you always travel with her?" Bev asked.

"Oh, no. We all rotate around. This is my first time working with Petula, but I've heard things from my fellow soldiers. And every one of them has proven true." His eyes dimmed a little. "Which is why I'm grateful you at least found the pig. No telling what she'd do to us if we hadn't."

Bev actually felt bad for him. "Well, I hope you guys get some good rest tonight."

"I sure will after this delicious meal. Thank you again."

Middleburg was now back in the mix, muddying the waters. Bev had never been so unsure about anything in her life. Just when she seemed to have a clear answer…

The front door opened, and Ida came rushing in, her eyes wide with fear. "Bev! Bev, come quick."

"Oh, good green earth, what now?" Bev groaned. "More pumpkins smashed?"

"No, nothing about…" She beckoned Bev to follow her into the kitchen.

"What is it?" Bev said, closing the door behind her. "What's happened?"

Ida ran a hand over her hair, causing a couple curls to come loose from her tight bun. "Petula said she'd seen enough. She's ready to officially recommend the Harvest Festival be moved to Middleburg."

Bev put her hand to her chest. "Goodness, Ida. You came in here like someone had died."

"Bev, this is serious," Ida said. "She said she was ready to cancel it today. No more contests, no more festival. Done." She shook her head, pacing the room. "Obviously, Hendry and I tried to convince her that was a bad idea, that we were looking for the culprits, and Petula asked what we had and so…"

"Ida, what did you do?" Bev said, leaning in closer.

She winced as she lifted her gaze to meet Bev's. "I called for a town meeting. And asked for you, by name, to give your testimony."