“One hundred and twenty, to be exact,” Randall said. “With the possibility of expansion if— Sorry, chief. Force of habit.”
“Patrolling over a hundred acres of fairgrounds,” the chief went on. “Unless we are reasonably sure that Ms. Sedgewick is either dangerous or in danger, I can’t justify putting a watch on her, if that’s what you mean.”
“No,” I said. “I just meant keep her in mind as you investigate the chicken theft.”
The chief nodded.
“So how are your patrols going?” He was looking at Randall.
Randall looked at me.
“I’ve got twenty-two volunteers so far,” I said. “I’m going to organize them in mixed teams.”
“Mixed how?” Randall asked.
“Geographically and by exhibition category,” I said. “And before you say I’m overthinking this—if whoever did this is an exhibitor, and I assume they’re among the leading suspects, what’s to stop him from volunteering for our patrol?” At least that was what serial killers always did in the mystery books and TV shows Dad loved so much. But I didn’t mention that, because I’d already figured out that it annoyed the chief when people made television-based assumptions about how his department worked.
“Involving himself in the investigation,” the chief said, nodding. “Not uncommon.”
“He’d be a fool not to volunteer,” Randall added.
“So we don’t send two chicken breeders to patrol the chicken tent,” I said. “We send a hog man from Tazewell and an apple grower from Gloucester. Different farm specialties; opposite ends of the state.”
They both nodded.
“I think we need to concentrate on the east side of the grounds,” Randall said. “Particularly the northeast corner where the Midway is.”
“Are you suspicious of the Midway people?” the chief asked. “Or Clay County?”
“Yes,” Vern said, and we all chuckled.
“Actually, it’s because we have that eight-foot chain-link fence around the rest of the perimeter.” Randall traced the fairground borders on the map. “South, west, north—all fenced in. But the east side backs up against really dense woods and a lot of swampland. We figured only locals could find their way in from back there, and most of them are already working the fair and don’t need to sneak in.”
“Next year, I think we need to fence in that side, too,” I said. It was an old argument between Randall and me.
“Next year,” Randall agreed. “But for now, I say we concentrate our patrols along the east.”
“Actually,” I said. “I was thinking we’d concentrate on the exhibit tents and barns.”
“Because you think the perpetrator is already inside?” the chief asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “But whether he’s sneaking into the fair or already in, he can’t do any damage if he can’t get at the exhibits.”
“Good point.” The chief nodded.
“But I’ll set up a few patrols in the northeast corner, too,” I added.
“Before I go,” the chief said. “Do you have a list of exhibitors?
“Meg can print you a list,” Randall said. “She’s set up a whole database of ’em. Come on—let’s show him.”
“I didn’t set up the database.” I turned on my laptop and opened the file. “It was Rob’s contribution to the Un-fair. One of the perks of having a brother who owns a computer game company.”
“I thought your brother was supremely nontechnical and only came up with the ideas for the games.” The chief was looking over my shoulder at the screen.
“He didn’t do it himself. He assigned his best database programmer to work with me on it. And I’ve got his help desk on speed dial in case we need anything fixed. What information do you want on the exhibitors?”
“What do you have?” The chief reached back and pulled up a folding chair to sit at my elbow.
“What doesn’t she have?” Randall said, with a chuckle.
“I’ll show you a sample record.” I called up the last record I’d viewed. “Here’s the people who lost the Russian Orloffs.”
“The Baskervilles,” Randall said.
“They’re not—” I began.
“Mr. Holmes!” Randall declaimed, in a not-very-authentic British accent. “They were the footprints of a gigantic hen! We are searching for the Hen of the Baskervilles!”
“That would be nice,” I said. “But the hen’s a bantam, not a giant, and their name is Bonneville. Why does everyone keep calling them Baskerville?”