“Yes.” Mr. Beamish’s manner was more quiet, but in his own way he seemed just as moved. “Those are my Sumatrans. I can’t thank you enough.”
He was looking at me.
“Vern found them,” I said.
“Me and the state police,” Vern said. “But we never would have known where to look if Meg hadn’t collared that lowlife Plunkett.”
The door opened again and Randall stepped in.
“I’ve found her,” he said into his phone. “Meg, I need a minute of your time.”
“We’re a little busy here,” the chief said. “Is it important?”
“Very.” Randall turned to me. “Are you in favor of terminating our agreement with Clay County and hosting the entire Un-fair in Caerphilly County?”
“For next year?” I asked. “Absolutely.”
“And the rest of this year, too,” Randall said. “I’ve been on the phone with all the other Un-fair board members already, and if you’re in favor, it’s unanimous. I’ve got people standing by to start the move as soon as you cast your vote and the chief gives the okay.”
“Sounds great to me,” I said.
“Provided you leave the area around the murder scene untouched, I see no reason to delay the move,” the chief said.
“It’s a go,” Randall said into the phone and hung up. “Between the Shiffley Construction Company and the Shiffley Moving Company, we’ve got a pretty good crew. And all the Midway people are up for it. And we’ve got a lot of exhibitor volunteers. Especially the chicken farmers and winemakers. But it’s a big job. Chief, can you release Meg to handle a few little things for me? I’d like to get over and supervise.”
“Also fine with me,” the chief said.
“What kind of things?” I was always suspicious when Randall tried to delegate “a few little things.”
“Well, for one thing, we need to organize a shuttle service from our overflow parking areas,” Randall said.
“Overflow parking areas?” I echoed. “We’ve never even filled the parking areas we’ve got.”
“We will today,” Randall said. “People started lining up outside the ticket office hours ago, and that online ticket sale thing you had us set up went wild this morning. Parking lot’s close to full already, so I’ve arranged overflow at a couple of farms along the road from town. And you know my cousin Norbert—the one who runs all those charter busses to Atlantic City? I’ve got him bringing over every bus and van he can round up. But someone needs to pull it all together.”
“Roger.” I was already scribbling in my notebook. “I guess this answers my question about whether the murders and chicken thefts are going to ruin the fair.”
“They might have if you hadn’t solved them all so quickly and dramatically,” Randall said. “Which reminds me—I thought you might like to represent the fair management at a couple of ribbon presentations. Biggest pumpkin, for example. After all the time I spent convincing the judges to declare that poor kid’s smashed pumpkin eligible, I want someone from management there to make sure they don’t change their minds at the last minute.”
“How’d the kid do, anyway?” I asked.
“Came in fifth,” Randall said. “He thinks he might have made it as high as third if Plunkett hadn’t smashed his pumpkin. And he’s determined to come back even stronger next year.”
“Good,” I said. “We want him going home energized and determined, not demoralized. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, and someone from the Guinness Book of Records might be calling you,” Randall went on. “There’s no shame losing to this year’s first-place winner. It’s well over a ton and might be a contender for the new world record. They’re going to try to send someone by to verify it today or tomorrow.”
“Awesome.” I scribbled more notes. “Any word on the quilt cleanup?”
“I hear Daphne worked her usual magic,” Randall said. “The judging’s this afternoon, so we’ll find out soon enough if it did the trick. We might want to have someone show up there as well.”
“Speaking of judging, we need to get Anton and Anna ready, now that they’re back.” Mr. Bonneville picked up the cage containing the Orloffs. “The bantam event is at ten.”
Mrs. Bonneville walked over and took both my hands in hers.
“Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”
With that, they left.
“But you can start getting an idea whenever you want,” Mr. Beamish said. “Just tell me when you want your Sumatrans delivered. Eggs, chicks, young birds—you name it.”