Chapter Twenty

There was an air of trepidation in the village when Bev awoke the next morning. Even Biscuit seemed on edge as he watched her do her morning chores. Today was the gourd competition, typically the most well-attended event of the entire festival. And it was Pigsend's last chance to prove to Petula that they could and should keep this festival—and perhaps Bev's last chance to find the saboteur.

Bev, Ida, and Vellora had come up with a plan for the contest to keep the list of people inside the town hall small. And, in the morning, when Petula came down for her morning pastry, Ida would be on hand to offer the plan.

"It's so early," Ida yawned, leaning on Bev's counter. "Do you really get up this early every morning?"

"Mm," Bev said. "Do you want another cuppa?"

"Perhaps not. I'm jittery enough as it is." She nodded at Biscuit, who was splayed out in front of the fire, snoring loudly. "At least one of us gets to sleep."

"He's good at that," Bev said. "Have another muffin. Small consolation for getting up so early."

"I've had three," Ida said. Then, after a breath, she grinned devilishly. "Okay, maybe one more." She dove into it, letting out a moan of happiness. "Allen's outdone himself again. Pumpkin on the gourd contest day?"

"He's getting a little cheeky with his baking," Bev said with a smile. "You do love to see it."

Upstairs, a door opened, and Ida straightened, turning to watch the staircase as Petula made her way down.

"Oh, good morning, Ms. Witzel," Petula said, stopping short on the upper stair. "What brings you over here so early? Surely, it can't be the sub-par baked goods."

Ida forced a smile as she put down the half-eaten muffins. "Well, I wanted to follow up on yesterday's town meeting. I think we have a good plan that will keep the chaos to a minimum. It's not ideal, of course, but—"

"Well? I don't have all morning."

"I think, instead of the usual audience, we limit the gourd competition attendance to contestants and judges. If something goes wrong, we'll have a shortlist of people to question. But hopefully, nothing will, and we can continue with the festival."

Petula stared at her, seeming to digest this information as well as the pumpkin muffin. "It's not standard, for sure. But there's nothing in the rule book about restricting access, I suppose."

"I agree it's not ideal," Ida said. "But if it's a choice between the festival closing early or allowing our farmers to compete, I think there would be unanimous consent to the latter."

"Very well. I trust you'll inform the soldiers and handle the security." Petula put the rest of the muffin in the small bin near the front desk. "And in the meantime, I'm off in search of a decent breakfast pastry."

~

"I still think she's up to something," Bev said as she helped Ida set up the tables in the town hall. Ida, of course, was doing all the heavy lifting, and Bev was simply adding the tablecloths and helping write up the numbers for each entry. "She left in a hurry."

"It's certainly fishy," Ida agreed. "She did agree to the plan, though. So perhaps a mark in her favor." She sighed as she easily moved the last table into position. "My sincere hope is that nothing goes wrong today or tomorrow, and we can close out this festival as a half-win."

"It's only the gourd contest today, right?" Bev asked. "Nothing else?"

"Just the vendors outside," Ida said. "So…well, I don't want to say nothing will go wrong, but it's hard to see how anything can."

Never say never, Bev thought to herself, but didn't want to voice it.

"Uh, good morning, ladies!" Sheriff Rustin walked into the hall, his voice booming. "I was told you were looking for me, Ida?"

Ida walked over to explain the new situation to him, and, although perplexed, the sheriff did as he was instructed. Farmers had already begun arriving to offload their entries. Pumpkins larger than wheelbarrows were carried in by any means necessary, sometimes requiring two or three different people. Trent Scrawl's pumpkin was easily the largest, but more surprising was that he and Herman carried it in together.

"I guess they've really buried the hatchet," Ida said, eyebrows raised.

"One can only hope," Bev replied with a chuckle.

"What do you mean, I can't come in?"

Mayor Twinsly's voice echoed from outside the hall, and Bev motioned to Ida that she'd handle it. Bev strode out to see Rustin looking uncomfortable as he stood in front of the door with his hands crossed.

"Ah, Mayor Twinsly," Bev said. "With all the…um…mishaps, we've decided to limit attendance to the contest entrants."

Twinsly snorted. "Surely, you can make an exception for the mayor of Middleburg."

"Sorry, no exceptions," Bev said, stepping out of the way to allow a farmer with a massive yellow squash to pass through. "We do hope you understand."

She made a face and stormed off, mumbling something about Hendry and her mismanaged festival.

"Boy, she's terrifying," Rustin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"A bit," Bev said with a chuckle. "But nothing you can't handle, hm?"

There were more arguments, more people who wanted to be let in and couldn't, and some who outright threw a tantrum when their spouse was allowed inside and they weren't. Bev hated that they'd had to implement this security measure, and hated even more that she still didn't have any solid motive.

But her three top suspects arrived together, with Petula leading the way. Bev watched them for any signs of guilt, but Ridge waved to her nicely and Marcelano had a sheepish grin as he nodded to Rustin.

"Morning, Rustin," Marcelano said. "Bev."

Petula didn't seem to have time for niceties. "Is Mr. Bonding here yet?" she asked, her nose in the air.

"Not yet," Bev said. "At least, I haven't seen him."

Petula glanced at a pocket watch before tucking it away. "It's nearly time for the contest. Punctuality is important for judges. Something that Mr. Bonding's aunt seemed not to impress upon him."

She stepped inside after that, and Bev scanned the festival beyond for any sign of Claude. She and Ida had come straight here after Petula had agreed to the plan, so she hadn't had a chance to greet him this morning.

Finally, about a minute to ten, Claude came running up the street, his face red with exertion and his hair a mess, babbling his apologies about sleeping in until he realized that Bev and Rustin were all but blocking his path.

"Bev, what are you…" He straightened. "What's going on?"

"We've limited entry to judges and contestants to avoid…uh…another incident," she said. "So it's a small crowd in there today."

"And Petula went for it?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Supposedly, it's not against the rules," Bev said. "But she's mentioned your lateness already, so you might want to get in there."

"Oh goodness. Thank you!"

He dashed inside, and Bev followed, lingering near the door as she motioned to Ida. The butcher gave her a thumbs-up, and Bev poked her head out to Rustin.

"That's all the contestants," she said. "If you wouldn't mind staying here to keep an eye on things."

"I suppose." He sighed as he took a seat on the front step. "I really wanted to go shopping today."

"Won't be long, I promise," Bev said.

She ducked back inside and took a seat at the back of the hall. Ida was in the process of handing out numbers as Petula and Claude spoke in hushed tones in the corner.

"All right, I think we're ready," Ida said. "If I could ask all the farmers to vacate the room, please."

A roar of protest echoed from the attendees, none of whom wanted their most-prized possession out of sight. Ida was taken aback by the ferocity, and cleared her throat as Petula and Claude looked on.

"This is merely a precautionary measure," she said. "The only people in the room will be Ms. Banks, Mr. Bonding, and myself."

But her words were drowned out by the raucous arguments, and Ida seemed to admit defeat. "Fine, but you need to go sit on the first row of benches, at least. And please keep comments to yourself during the judging."

Slowly, with much trepidation, the farmers left their precious gourds on the table and sat on the benches near the front of the room.

"Um. Ms. Er… Bev." Ida was looking at her nervously. "Petula wanted me to remind you that…um…there will be no one else in this room except contestants and the judges. Which I think is code for—"

"Do you think you can keep an eye on things?" Bev asked. "What about Ridge and Marcelano?"

"We've been given the boot as well," Ridge said with a smile.

Bev didn't like the sound of that. "Maybe we can relieve Rustin and keep watch on the door. Ida, are you sure you can handle things in here?"

She nodded. "There's only going to be us three near the gourds. If something goes awry, there's no way I'll miss it."

~

Rustin was pleased to be relieved from guard duty, so Bev took his spot on the front step while the soldiers flanked her on either side.

"All this security for a little festival," Ridge said.

"Well, when you've got this much on the line," Bev replied with a shrug. "We really want this festival to continue. Brings in a lot of money." She sat back on her hands, hoping she sounded confused and not accusatory. "I can't imagine anyone would want to cause harm here."

"Oh, she might," Ridge said, nodding to Twinsly, who was lurking around one of the vendor booths. "She's been talking about how she wants this thing in her town."

"Yeah, she might," Bev said with a chuckle. "But why would she threaten her own townsfolk's wares?

"That's how they throw you off the scent!" Marcelano said with a small laugh. "Get you thinking they're innocent then cut your legs off!"

Bev and Ridge turned to stare at him as he coughed nervously.

"I read a lot of fiction," he said.

"Every time I think I have an answer, something else pops up that doesn't make sense," Bev said.

"Then maybe you don't have all the information?" Marcelano said. "Maybe someone's got an ulterior motive that you don't know about."

"You gotta quit reading so much," Ridge said.

Bev hated to admit it, but he had a point. There were large gaps in her understanding of things, and until she uncovered those, she'd be hopelessly lost.

"Bev, listen…do you think Marcelano and I could step over there and grab one of those delicious-smelling turkey legs?"

"We didn't get breakfast," Marcelano said with a frown.

"No, no, go on," Bev said.

They didn't go far, walking to the turkey-leg vendor nearby and purchasing one each. Then they stood off to the side as they joked and talked and devoured their meal. If they'd been looking to disappear, they probably could've suggested a different vendor, or even gone to eat somewhere else. But they stayed put.

As Bev sat there, a shadow passed over her face.

"Just a shame I can't be in there to support my farmers."

Mayor Twinsly was back, perhaps thinking Bev was easily overpowered with the soldiers gone.

"Do they need much support from their mayor?" Bev asked, keeping one eye on the soldiers. "They seem to have it handled."

"Well, it may come as a surprise to you here in Pigsend, but caring for one's citizens is a hallmark of a good mayor," she said. "Perhaps if you ever wised up and dumped Jo Hendry, you might be able to see that."

Bev made a face, unable to help herself. "Why do you and Hendry have such bad blood, anyway? I've never seen you together."

"Oh, I have no problem with her," Twinsly said with a forced laugh. "But she, bless her, has never forgiven me for moving out of Pigsend and becoming mayor of a larger town."

"You're from Pigsend?" Bev said with a start.

"Why, of course." Twinsly chuckled. "My maiden name is Murtagh. Lazlo and Wilda are my cousins."

Bev nodded slowly. "That…makes a lot of sense."

"I grew up with the Pigsend Harvest Festival," she said, almost a little wistfully. "It used to be so much nicer, you know. I was ecstatic when I heard that the queen's judging corps would be here, and they'd be able to move it to Middleburg."

"So you do want that, hm?" Bev asked. "Badly enough that you'd sabotage us?"

"Oh, dear Bev, I don't need to do anything. Clearly, Jo Hendry's capable of mismanaging the festival on her own." She chuckled. "But it's cute you want to blame me. I hear you're the local sleuth in town."

"Unwillingly."

"I—"

Whatever she was going to say was lost at the sound of a loud cry in the distance. Followed by another then another. Bev caught the attention of the two soldiers, and they dropped their turkey legs without another thought, running toward the sound of the commotion, with Bev hot on their tails.

Bev hadn't a clue what to expect now—it seemed everything that could've gone wrong had, but she was a woman constantly being surprised.