“I need help with something.” She crooked her finger at him. He did not want to go.
“Are you going to tell me what went on here?” he asked in as stern a voice as he dared. Daphne Charlene was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and she could be difficult. He pitied the few who didn’t understand that about her.
She straightened. “I won the contest this year.”
Behind him, someone said, “Boo. Hiss.” It sounded like Valene’s wily aunt, Dixie Lou Grey.Thatwoman could be quite a handful.
“Congratulations. Why does this place look like a chili bomb went off?”
“There were several people who didn’t think I deserved the award. Can you believe it?”
Valene muttered, “And they started a food fight in revolt.”
“Evidently.” Wyatt glanced around the chili sodden area. “Who started it?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Valene said with an exaggerated shrug, though her tone suggested she did.
Wyatt looked down at her, fighting the urge to sling his arm around her shoulders and hug her to his side. Forevermore. He didn’t even care that doing so would make his uniform chili-stained forever.
“Oh, yeah? Not one single little clue?”
Valene looked up at the sky, then to the left at the treetops at the edge of the park area. If she knew who started it, it was clear she wasn’t going to tell him. That likely meant she was related to the instigator, but Dixie Lou Grey would never admit to anything even if cornered. If undeniable proof of a misdeed was provided, she’d either shrug and express an outlandish reason for her actions or clam up and refuse to discuss it further. As if anyone with two wits to rub together would buy her forgetful old lady act.
“What do you need my help with?” Wyatt finally asked Daphne Charlene.
She straightened, crossed her arms and said, “I need police protection and I want you to do it.”
Valene snorted. Wyatt silently agreed. “Protection from what?”
“The angry mob.”
“What angry mob?” He looked around them. Granted, the area looked like an angry mob had recently run through it, but there was currently no action here.
“The one that started this whole mess because I won fair and square.” Her face screwed up in an expression of almost convincing misery and she started to cry.
Hunter, the coward, grimaced and quick-stepped away to check out some of the demolished booths.
“Okay. Don’t cry.” Wyatt moved closer to Daphne Charlene. “You’ll be fine.”
She flung her arms around his neck again. He wanted to sigh and push her away, but he couldn’t. He turned his head and caught the eye of the lead judge.
“You’re going to clean this all up, right?”
The man looked like he was being asked to be the sacrificial lamb staked to the ground to catch a dangerous predator.
The man surveyed the chili chaos and shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “Well, I didn’t do it.”
“But you’re in charge of this whole contest, isn’t that right?”
The man sighed deeply. “I guess.”
“That was a yes or no question.”
The second deep sigh came with an eye roll. “Yes.”
Wyatt looked at the vast chili-splashed zone. “I know for a fact a permit has been issued for a wedding reception here tomorrow afternoon. Therefore, when you do the cleanup you will have to ensure there is no chili anywhere. Not on the pavilion or the benches or the picnic tables or the grounds.” Given the amount of chili on the grass, that last point seemed like a herculean task.
The judge lifted his arms in disbelief. “How? How do you expect me to accomplish that?”
