Pumpkin Patch Peril (Brook Ridge Falls Ladies' Detective Club Book 1), page 12
“Who is it?” Brenda pressed urgently. “Who stole my pumpkin?”
Mona smiled, and there was something almost mysterious in her expression. “Let’s just say I’m going to let that be a surprise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The pumpkin contest tent was full of eager spectators. At the front were Gertrude and two other contestants with their giant pumpkins, the judge holding the red ribbon he had just pinned on Sally Dinsmore’s entry.
Gertrude was beaming with anticipation as Mona and the others slipped into the tent.
Ruth whispered to Mona, “Why won’t you tell us what you found?”
“Shhh, I need to gather my thoughts,” Mona replied quietly.
Just as the judge was announcing the winner, Brenda shot up from her seat. “Wait, wait!” she called out. “I have something to say! Gertrude isn’t really the winner, you see. I have a bigger pumpkin! But mine was stolen!”
A grumble rippled through the crowd. Someone shouted out, “Doesn’t count!”
Gertrude nodded vigorously. “Yeah, doesn’t count. Mine is here!”
“But it’s not fair!” Brenda protested. “Even Mona can vouch for me, can’t you?” Brenda gestured toward Mona, who stood up, commanding the attention of the audience.
“Well, Brenda, I do know what happened,” Mona said calmly.
“See!” Brenda said, nodding smugly.
Mona added, “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” as she made her way to the front of the tent.
The crowd fell silent, all eyes fixed on Mona as she took her position near the judge’s table. She cleared her throat and began.
“Brenda hired us to find her prize-winning pumpkin that she claimed was stolen. She even gave us a suspect to start with—Gertrude, since she was her rival to win.” Mona turned to Brenda with a measured look. “But that might have been a mistake.”
Brenda’s confident expression began to waver slightly.
“You told us the pumpkin was in your barn,” Mona continued, her voice carrying clearly through the tent. “Gertrude would have had to use a tractor to haul it away, so we inspected the tire tracks.”
She paused dramatically, letting the tension build. “Gertrude’s tractor did not match.”
The crowd murmured with growing interest. Gertrude looked vindicated but puzzled.
“Neither did the Knowles’.” Gasps erupted from various corners of the tent, and Mona raised her hand for quiet. “Yes, I had to suspect them because they’re next door to Brenda, and there’s an ongoing dispute over Brenda’s use of pesticides since the Wilkersons’ farm is certified organic.”
Tom Knowles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But why would that make me steal a pumpkin?”
Mona shrugged slightly. “Spite, perhaps. Neighbor disputes can escalate in unexpected ways.”
“I would never stoop to theft,” Tom said firmly, his voice carrying a note of wounded dignity.
“We know that now,” Mona acknowledged. “Your tractor tires didn’t match the tracks either. However...” She paused again, scanning the crowd, “we did find something interesting in Brenda’s barn. A charm—one of those delicate silver pieces that Ivy makes.”
More gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave. Several people turned to look at Ivy, who was sitting near the back, her face pale with shock.
“Don’t worry, Ivy,” Mona said gently. “The charm didn’t belong to you.”
She turned deliberately to face the other side of the tent. “It belonged to Laura Henderson.”
The gasping intensified. Laura Henderson stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the ground. “Now wait just a minute—”
“Laura!” Brenda exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “You stole my pumpkin!”
Mona shook her head slowly. “No, Brenda. Laura didn’t steal your pumpkin.”
The tent fell silent again, the contradiction hanging in the air.
“But she was in your barn,” Mona continued. “Not to steal a pumpkin, though. She was there to steal something else entirely—some of your pesticide-laden fertilizer.”
Brenda’s forehead wrinkled in genuine confusion. “What? Why would she want that?”
“She wanted to get rid of it. Dispose of it properly so it wouldn’t contaminate the earth and water.”
“That’s expensive!” Brenda yelled. “You owe me for that!”
Mona cut in before the argument could escalate. “The funny thing is Laura didn’t see any giant pumpkin in your barn when she was there.”
“Well, it must have already been stolen by then!” Brenda insisted, but there was a note of desperation creeping into her voice.
Mona shook her head slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t think so, Brenda. Laura was there when you were at the bean supper on Saturday night. You said the pumpkin was stolen on Sunday night.”
The crowd sensed something building, a revelation approaching. The tent was so quiet you could hear the autumn wind rustling the canvas walls.
Brenda was starting to get indignant now, her voice rising. “What do you mean? Of course it was stolen! Why else would I hire you?”
Mona looked directly at her, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle but inexorable. “There’s one thing that bothered me from the very beginning of this case.”
She paused, letting the words settle.
“When we visited Gertrude yesterday, she was more than happy to show us her prize-winning pumpkin. Do you remember what she told us about it?”
Gertrude nodded eagerly. “I said it was still on the vine because it would continue to grow right up until contest day!”
“Exactly,” Mona said. “Still on the vine, still growing. Which is what any serious pumpkin competitor would do—keep that pumpkin growing until the very last possible moment.”
The logic was starting to dawn on several faces in the crowd. Ruth leaned forward in her seat, her eyes bright with understanding.
“Which makes me wonder,” Mona continued, her voice gaining strength, “why in the world would you cut yours off the vine and put it in the barn? Wouldn’t you want it to continue growing?”
Brenda’s face went pale. She looked around the tent as if searching for an escape route. “I... I didn’t want anyone to steal it.”
The crowd shifted restlessly in their seats, sensing the weakness in her explanation.
“But Brenda,” Mona said softly, “cutting it off the vine would stop it from growing entirely. Meanwhile, Gertrude’s pumpkin would keep getting bigger and bigger, day by day. You’d be guaranteeing that you’d lose.”
The silence stretched out uncomfortably. Brenda opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“And then I remembered something Doris mentioned.” Mona’s voice was almost conversational now, but every person in that tent was hanging on her words. “She said something very interesting about your nature, Brenda. She said you would rather invent something than lose a contest.”
Brenda’s shoulders began to sag.
“You’re incredibly competitive—everyone knows that. You’ve won the pumpkin contest for years. The thought of losing to Gertrude must have been unbearable.” Mona’s voice remained gentle, almost sympathetic. “So you came up with a plan. If you couldn’t win legitimately, you’d find another way. Create a mystery, hire investigators, make yourself the victim instead of the loser.”
The crowd was completely silent now, absorbing the implications.
Mona took a step closer to Brenda. “You never had a giant pumpkin at all, did you, Brenda? There was nothing to steal because there was nothing there to begin with.”
Brenda looked down at the ground, her hands trembling. The tent was so quiet that her shaky breathing seemed loud.
Finally, she looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “I... I just couldn’t bear to lose. I thought if I hired you, it would make it all seem more legitimate.”
Gertrude’s triumphant expression immediately softened. “Oh, Brenda...”
“It’s in my nature,” Brenda continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stand not being the best at something. When I saw how big Gertrude’s pumpkin was getting, and I knew mine wasn’t going to measure up... I panicked. I’m sorry, everyone. I’m so sorry.”
The crowd stirred with a mixture of disappointment and sympathy. Judge Patterson cleared his throat awkwardly.
Gertrude walked over to Brenda and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Aww, I’m sorry this happened, Brenda. Competition brings out the worst in all of us sometimes. I’m sure you’ll beat me fair and square next year.”
“You’re too kind,” Brenda sniffled. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Gertrude said warmly. “What matters is learning from them.”
As the crowd began to disperse, buzzing with conversation about the dramatic revelation, Mona walked back toward her friends with a satisfied smile.
Ida was beaming. “Mona, that was absolutely brilliant detective work!”
Ruth grabbed Mona’s hand and squeezed it. “The way you laid out all the evidence, step by step—it was like watching a master at work!”
Helen nodded enthusiastically. “I knew something was fishy about that whole story from the beginning, but I never would have figured out what really happened.”
“Team effort,” Mona said modestly, but she was grinning.
Ruth threw her arm around Mona’s shoulders. “You know what this calls for?”
“What?” Ida and Helen asked in unison.
“A celebration at the Cup and Cake!” Ruth announced.
All four women high-fived in succession—first Mona and Ruth, then Ida joining in, then Helen completing the circle.
“Another case closed,” Helen said with satisfaction.
“And we still have never lost one!” Ida added triumphantly.
“Not even close,” Ruth laughed. “Though I have to admit, this one had me scratching my head for a while.”
As they walked toward the exit of the tent, arm in arm, Mona looked back once at Brenda, who was being comforted by several other townspeople. Even Gertrude was still there, offering kind words.
“You know,” Mona said thoughtfully, “I almost feel sorry for her.”
“She did try to deceive us,” Helen pointed out.
“True, but think about the pressure she must have felt. Three years of winning, and then facing the possibility of losing...” Mona shook her head. “Competition can make people do strange things.”
“Well, at least now she can start fresh next year,” Ida said. “Maybe she’ll actually grow a real giant pumpkin.”
“Or maybe she’ll discover she’s good at something else entirely,” Ruth suggested. “Sometimes losing teaches us more than winning ever could.”
Another case closed. Another mystery solved. And the undefeated streak of Mona’s little detective club remained unbroken.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The familiar warmth of Cup and Cake wrapped around them as they stepped inside, still buzzing from the festival. The café was nearly empty, the air sweet with coffee and sugar.
“Corner table,” Ruth declared, steering them to their usual spot. “Detectives need proper headquarters.”
Lexy came over with the coffeepot, smirking. “Well, you ladies look mighty pleased with yourselves. What’s going on—did you finally solve that pumpkin case?”
“We did,” Ida said proudly, dropping her enormous purse on the table with a thud.
Lexy poured coffee, eyes dancing. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Spill.”
“Brenda never had a giant pumpkin,” Ruth said, reaching straight for a scone. “The whole theft was a story she made up because she couldn’t stand to lose to Gertrude.”
Lexy let out a low whistle. “No kidding. So she hired you to investigate a pumpkin that never existed?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Mona said, stirring cream into her coffee.
“Pride does strange things,” Helen added gently.
Before Lexy could respond, the café door chimed. Jack walked in. He grinned when he saw them. “There’s my troublemakers. I hear you caused quite the scene at the festival.”
“We solved the case,” Ida announced, sitting straighter.
Jack looked puzzled. “Case? What case?”
“The missing pumpkin,” Ruth said casually, as if that explained everything.
Jack blinked. “Pumpkin?”
“Exactly!” Ida said, jabbing her finger in the air. “That’s why Brenda never called in a police report—because there was no real crime to report.”
Jack chuckled, pulling up a chair. “Well then, who needs the police when we’ve got the Brook Ridge Falls Ladies Detective Agency solving all our crimes?”
The four women beamed at each other.
“To the Ladies Detective Agency!” Ruth declared, raising her cup.
“To good friends,” Mona added warmly.
“To snacks and science!” Ida said, patting her purse full of “evidence.”
“To never letting a mystery go unsolved,” Helen finished.
Their cups clinked together, the sound ringing cheerfully through the cozy café. Jack just shook his head with fond exasperation.
“You’re all going to give me gray hair,” he muttered.
“Too late,” Ida said sweetly. “You already have some.”
Their laughter rose again, filling the café. Outside, Main Street glowed in the golden light of late afternoon. Inside, with coffee, pastries, and a mystery wrapped up, the Ladies Detective Agency was already half-joking about the next case.
And in Brook Ridge Falls, there was always a next case.
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