Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

The Fete

The snooty sounding secretary of Mr. Oakby Snr informed Imogen that his employer was currently out of town and would like to arrange a meeting with Ms. Fox on the weekend of the fete. Imogen purposefully rustled with the pages of her daybook, making pensive noises, just to snub the bloke a tad, and then agreed on a lunch with Mr. Wrong Oakby on Sunday, at one fifteen.

There were certain festivities to be organised and supervised on Saturday, and Sunday evening there were fireworks and a bonfire, but Sunday afternoon the Mayor would be free. Imogen felt a noticeable degree of vengeful smugness imagining the face of Mr. Oakby when another Mr. Oakby entered the posh bistro in Abernathy that had been chosen as the meeting place. The café was generally considered ideal for romantic dates - and, as Imogen suspected Mr. Oakby Snr knew perfectly well, a common place to take one's mistress out for a brunch. Imogen would be endlessly uncomfortable, had she considered to show up. Instead, presently she was smiling a coy smile while writing down the date and time.

When the call was over, she looked down at her daybook and was surprised to see a small doodle of a poppy flower in the corner of the page. It'd been years since she'd drawn anything. She shrugged and turned on her work computer. It was time to start the day. 

The air smelled of coffee, the devices in her office were humming warming up, she could hear the Mayor move in his office. Life was good, and all was right.

***

Saturday weather was as if ordered on Amazon - sunny and warm and perfect for the fete. The area of the meres, away from the construction zone of the bypass, scrubbed clean and renovated, now featured the Fleckney Woulds Arboretum. It was a neat little park, with the infamous Scarlet benches arranged around a small central fountain. Some exotic trees had been chosen and tended to by the Fleckney Woulds Gardening Club. The town had paid for everything, including the paths, bins, and lights.

All possible artisans - potters, painters, bead bracelet makers - had gotten together, happy for an extra opportunity to show their creations, normally only sold during the Fleckney Woulds Christmas Market. There was a tea tent as well, and every baker in town had brought their goods, perfectly displayed, and filling the tent with most delicious smells. There was expected a cake competition, of course. 

Small shows and vendors were all ready as well, all the classics, including Punch & Judy, Tug of War, and even the miniature train ride. Imogen remembered the little engine from her childhood. It had been forgotten and abandoned when she was at school, but a personal letter and a neat little sum out of the town budget had convinced Mr. Simmons, the owner, to bring it back to life. It was newly painted, brightly polished, and Imogen laughed happily when hearing its little 'toot-toot.'

The Mayor cut the red ribbon and pronounced a speech, which was, as always, thankfully short and endlessly charming - and the festivities started. After settling a few matters with the head of the Town Fete committee, which would be Mrs. Harris, Imogen gave the woman a wave and head into the crowd to look for Oliver who was taking care of the little'uns.

She found all three of them trying to win a prize in one of the tents. They were throwing rings onto pegs and squealing. Imogen giggled.

"Having fun?"

"Look, Auntie, we're trying to get the monkey!" Kathy pointed at one of the prizes, an appallingly purple stuffy toy above the head of Mr. Kross, the fishmonger, and today's quoits supervisor.

"How much money have you spent on these rings, Olly?" Imogen asked with a quiet laugh.

"We could buy three monkeys by now," Oliver whispered. "But they really want it!"