The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 56

"Quite the pumpkin you got here. Think you'll make the front page of the paper?" Tom says. Raps a knuckle on the side of a behemoth pumpkin.

The bloated fortress of fruit sits on a skid in Betrug City Park. Joins a few dozen other orange monstrosities.

The farmer barely visible from the other side of it shakes his head.

"No touching. Not before weigh-in, please," the farmer says. Face turns flush.

"Sorry about that. Just seeing if it was real," Tom says. Gives it another knock. "That's no fake."

Tom adjusts the shoulder strap on his overalls. The store in Minot didn't have the right size. Too big. But they work.

"This was a good year for pumpkins," the farmer says. "They like hot summers. Plenty of rain. You grow pumpkins at all?"

Tom glances at Beth. She shakes her head. Tugs at her shirt. Her outfit has the opposite problem. Too small.

" No, horticulture isn't our thing. We're more in the ag programs side of things," Beth says.

The farmer nods. The U.S. Department of Agriculture is always visiting.

"So you guys must be federals. With the crop insurance program, huh?" the farmer says.

"Yeah, crop insurance. Just in town for the festival. Catch up on some business," Tom says. Opens a copy of the Betrug Beagle. Flips to a feature on the festival. "Any chance you know the judge, Gus? Where'd he be?"

The farmer points. Aims at a man sitting at a table. "Yeah. That guy. That's ol' Gus."

"Thanks much," Beth says.

Tom takes a knee to roll up the cuffs of his overalls. Beth hunches down next to him.

"Why did we need disguises again?" she says.

"To fit in," Tom says.

"I think we were better off with the suits," Beth says.

"We don't need to get anybody worked up. That's the point. Not sure how many people even know about Wil or the investigation," Tom says.

"It wasn't in the paper. They must not know," Beth says.

"Yeah, but did you read the lead story? The Johnsons had the Andersons over for dinner last week. Had grilled pork chops and a quote, nice salad, unquote. Apple pie for dessert even," Tom says. "This place is crawling in intrigue."

Beth smirks.

"Maybe it wouldn't have been in the paper anyway," she says. "Doesn't seem like the Bugle is all that interested."

They rise and reach Gus. Introduce themselves as bean counters with the USDA. Need to talk to him about something important.

"Sorry, guys. I need to start the pumpkin judging," Gus says. Points to a large, flat scale on the other side of the park. "The weigh-ins are about to start."

"Maybe we can meet up afterward," Beth says.

"Nope. Busy. You might try calling ahead of time. I'm sure the USDA has my phone number," Gus says.

Tom reaches into his overalls. Pulls out a business card. Bears the seal of the U.S. Department of Justice, not the USDA. Hands it to Gus.

"Make some time. Tonight. After the festival," Tom says.

Gus looks at the card. Then at Tom and Beth. Now he understands why they didn't call ahead of time. Why the agents' clothes don't fit.

Not that Gus tailors his clothes. But out here, the clothes wear the person, not the other way around. Happens when you work with your hands.

"You sure you don't want to talk to Red? He's the sheriff," Gus says.

"No," Tom says. "We want to talk to you."

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