It took everything I had to keep the smile off my face. When Bertie wanted to draw blood, she didn’t need a knife.
“Yes,” I said grimly. “I believe it does.”
“But—but no!” Dan was on full defense now. “I don’t want the rally cancelled. I never said I wanted the rally cancelled. I just want a fair judge. An honest judge. I know you can find one.”
Bertie was hardcore genius getting him to turn around like that.
“I happen to have a judge in mind,” she said. “Someone who will absolutely follow the rules and laws of the contest.”
She had him on her hook. Dan shifted the brim of his baseball hat, nervous as a worm. “All right. I trust you, Bertie. Always have. Who is it?”
“Delaney Reed,” she said, “would you please do Ordinary the great honor of becoming a judge for the Rhubarb Rally?”
Jean snorted. She knew I hated rhubarb. Ryder coughed, and I suspected he was covering a laugh—not coming down with sudden hay fever. Dan wasn’t the only worm on her hook.
I opened my mouth to say no, but the slight twitch of Bertie’s eyebrow stopped me.
I was wrong. She didn’t resemble a sparrow, she resembled a hawk. If I refused to judge, I was pretty sure she’d stab me with her apple knife.
Maybe I could talk her into letting me judge the art or textiles. Something non-edible.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d be happy to help out.”
“Well, I don’t know…” Dan muttered.
Seriously, nothing satisfied this man.
“We could always ask Molly if she’d judge,” Ryder suggested. “She’s got a culinary school background.”
Molly was Chris’s waitress. Nice girl. I was sure Dan had hassled her when he’d been at Jump Off Jack’s, just like he hassled everyone else. She’d probably be happy to throw him under the rhubarb bus.
I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder at Ryder to see if he was making up the culinary school thing. I hadn’t known she’d studied.
“Culinary school training is a very nice credential,” Bertie said.
“But she works for Chris Lagon!” Dan said.
“That’s right,” Ryder said, as if he’d forgotten. “Isn’t Grace Nordell a sommelier? She’s one of your neighbors, Dan.”
“Grace?” he said with even more disdain. “That busybody and snoop?”
“How about—” Ryder started.
“No,” Dan said. “I supposed Officer Reed is as good a choice as any.”
Jean took a breath that shook with suppressed laughter. I could see her shoulders trembling out of the corner of my eye, but her face was still and neutral.
“Excellent!” Bertie’s voice was a cheerful gavel nailing down the silence. She stood, walked around the desk, and plucked at Dan’s arm as if he were escorting her to a dance.
“I’m sure our very own police chief will be the most impartial of judges,” she said.
“I suppose,” he said. “But—”
She guided him out into the hallway and toward the door. “You don’t have any family entering into the contest, do you, Delaney dear?” she called over her shoulder. They were almost out of earshot.
“Nope.” I followed them. “Jean and Myra will be working crowd control and emergency response. Don’t have time to do anything more.”
“I’ll be sure to contact you with the judging schedule. I’m sure we can make it work with your other duties.”
