“No way we can adequately cover this whole area with the personnel I have available,” he said. “Try not to recruit any hotheads, and I don’t want any of your vigilantes armed.”
“Roger.” I stopped short of saluting. “I’m going to do my recruiting during a detailed inspection of every single tent and barn where a theft might have taken place. I think we need to warn the exhibitors.”
“We already alerted the media,” Randall said.
“And now we need to make sure the exhibitors get the straight scoop from us,” I said. “Not whatever melodramatic account the newspapers and radios come up with.”
Randall and the chief both nodded glumly.
As I was walking away from the fair office, my cell phone rang. Michael.
“The boys and I are over at the sheep barn,” he said. “I found your note—what’s up?”
I explained, as succinctly as I could, how my morning had gone so far. And how I expected to spend the rest of the morning, and who knows how much of the afternoon.
“I’ll keep the boys busy, then,” he said. “We came over a little late because they wanted to help Rose Noire. At least I think we helped. I didn’t realize Horace really was on a case. I thought he just figured out a way to dodge the potpourri.”
“All too real,” I said. “Last time I passed by, things were slow over at the pony rides. The boys would love that. And there’s a children’s concert on the main stage at two.”
“I’ll make sure someone else is minding the booth at two.” Michael and several of his fellow llama aficionados had set up an information booth topped with a large banner proclaiming THE JOY OF LLAMAS! They were determined to have at least one llama and one human on duty at all times to answer any questions from the public, and Michael, as the booth organizer and local host, would probably be filling in any time they couldn’t get coverage. I wasn’t sure I’d have been happy to be that tied down, but Michael was enthusiastic. And he planned to keep the boys with him during his shifts—to demonstrate how family-friendly llamas were—so I didn’t have to worry about a babysitter and would know exactly where to find the three of them most of the time.
“Good idea,” I said. “Actually, I’d make it one thirty, to give you time to walk over to the stage.”
“Any chance you’ll join us for that?”
“I’ll try.”
If I hurried and got through all the barns, tents, and pavilions efficiently, I probably could make the concert. Especially if I focused on briefing the volunteers in charge of each building and left it to them to bring all the exhibitors up to speed. At least I hoped I could safely leave it to them. We had to strike a difficult balance, making people aware of the thefts and vandalism without upsetting them so much they’d pack up and leave.
I was a little worried, at first, that the volunteers would overreact. But most of them caught on right away. Recruiting for the patrols actually helped encourage people, and a surprising number of people signed up. I was collecting dozens of names and cell phone numbers to work from.
I even managed to convince Bill Dauber to hand over running the chicken tent to a different volunteer.
“Just until the Bonnevilles either calm down or leave,” I said.
He actually looked relieved and hurried off to his new assignment, guarding the far end of the parking lot.
I had finished with all three poultry tents and the pig, sheep, and cow barns and was briefing the volunteer in charge of the horse barn when I made a depressing discovery.
“I might have another theft for you,” one horse breeder said. “Someone stole one of my horse blankets.”
“You’re sure it couldn’t have just been misplaced?” I asked.
He looked at me over his glasses with his lips pursed disapprovingly.
“I have special blankets made for all my horses,” he said. “With their names embroidered on them. Costs a pretty penny, and I’m careful about keeping track of them.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Just asking. So what happened?”
“I got the horses settled into their stalls last night,” he said. “With the blankets on, in case it got cool. Sometimes does in September. There was a stable boy on duty here in the barn, but he must have napped. Anyway, I came in this morning and found someone had taken away Mosby’s blanket and replaced it with an old quilt.”
I felt a slight chill when I heard those words.
“Could you show me?” I asked.
My tone of voice must have satisfied him that I was taking his loss seriously. He led me down the row of stalls. We were in the draft horse section of the barn. Here and there, the enormous heads of Shires, Clydesdales, and Percherons hung out over the stall doors, watching us go by.