“Uh, well.” For Uncle Eddie, I’d do anything. “I’ll get right on it. But what kind of cheating should I be looking for?”
“Tell her, Sam.” She folded her hands in her lap, nodding for him to proceed.
He began to deal a hand of ten cards each—gin rummy, if I had to guess. “Look for folks taking precooked chili out of their coolers or RVs, trying to pass it off as fresh.”
“Wouldn’t they have already brought it out?”
He shook his head and studied his hand. “Contestants panic near the end, especially the first-timers. That’s when they bring out that Tupperware container of chili they made at home, just in case.”
“How am I supposed to catch them?”
“Your presence is a reminder for them to do the right thing, follow the rules, not act on their baser instincts.” Bridget frowned over her cards.
I sighed. “Anything else?”
“Store-bought meat.” With a smile, she moved three cards together in her hand.
“Excuse me?”
Sam studied Bridget as she rearranged her hand once again. “All meat is to be cooked on-site. Some folks cheat by bringing precooked meat.”
The coffee was cooling and my patience was wearing thin. “Any tips on finding those prepared meats?”
“Wrappers,” they said in unison.
“Got it.” I’m afraid I stomped away. Found Whip and gave him his lukewarm cup of coffee, and explained to Lightfoot my new tasks.
“Sounds like that’s your priority.” Lightfoot tried not to smile.
I watched Whip drink his coffee and toddle back to his tent to finish his chili preparations. “What else did he tell you?”
“Not much.”
“What about the pacemaker serial number? Where else did Lucky keep it?”
“He couldn’t remember, but he did remember the doctor’s name: Samantha Castillo.”
“Have you called her yet?”
With a shake of his head, he pocketed his notepad and pencil. “You understand that we’re not talking about only one phone call.”
“True.” He would have to call the doctor’s office. That call would be followed by a call to the surgeon who’d implanted the pacemaker, which would be followed by a call to the manufacturer, and on and on.
Uncle Eddie appeared from behind Whip’s tent. One look at my face and he swooped in to give me a quick hug. “It’s gonna be okay, Jo Jo.”
“You bet it is. You still on patrol?”
He grimaced. “Only made one circuit, but apparently I’m supposed to keep this up until it’s time for the judging to start.”
“I’ll take this turn.” I glanced at my watch. “You see to Lenny and drink a cup of coffee. You can relieve me in fifteen, twenty minutes.”
In the daylight, more of my uncle’s gray hairs stood out. “Lightfoot? Uh, Detective Lightfoot, please tell me this was a heart attack.” Worry creased Uncle Eddie’s dear face.
“I wish I could, but the death looks suspicious.”
Uncle Eddie took his cowboy hat in his hands. “I don’t care if they demand my resignation.” His expression reminded me of a depressed basset hound. “It’s the kids at the Big Bend Children’s Home who’ll suffer. It took us months to plan this fund-raiser so they could buy new playground equipment.” With a sniff, he found his handkerchief in his pocket, blew his nose, and turned to go.
“Nonsense.” I grabbed him by the arm. “Look around. These chili cooks aren’t letting a little thing like death stand in their way, and neither will we.”
Lightfoot caught my silent plea. “Everything appears to be in order. Everyone is going about their business.”
From the parking lot appeared a familiar figure. Mayor Cogburn in his rhinestone cowboy getup with Mrs. Mayor at his side. Surprisingly, she had ignored her matching outfit for a prairie dress and bonnet. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing her costume from our recent Homestead Days Music Festival.
“Detective,” the mayor called, still a far piece away. “What in blue blazes is happening in these fairgrounds?”
“Uh, Jo Jo. I’ll take this round.” Uncle Eddie waved at the mayor and then turned tail and hurried away to hunt for chili-cooking cheaters.
“Where does your uncle think he’s going?”
“Howdy, Mayor Cogburn.” My smile stretched from ear to ear. “Mrs. Cogburn, that’s a beautiful costume.”
She straightened her bonnet and checked to make sure both her pearl earrings were still in place. “I bought this at a craft fair in Fredericksburg last weekend.”
“Eddie Martinez can’t run from me, young lady. He’s got some explaining to do.”
“How can I be of service, Mayor?” Lightfoot stuck out his hand.
The surprised mayor didn’t forget his manners and shook the officer’s hand. “You can start with the dead body.”
“Is it in there?” Mrs. Cogburn stared at the tent with wide, frightened eyes.
“No, ma’am. The body’s been taken to the morgue.”
She visibly relaxed. “Who was it? Surely not someone we know.” She took the mayor’s arm.
“A tourist, from what I hear.” Mayor Cogburn patted his wife’s hand.
“One of the chili cooks from out of town.”
“I heard he had a heart attack.”
Lightfoot shot a glance my way. “It’s possible, but not confirmed at this time.”
“Save your rhetoric for the media.” He nodded in my direction. “Let’s get it all out in the open.”
“But, Mr. Mayor, Josie’s writing for the Bugle these days.” Mrs. Cogburn gave me a warm smile, not realizing she was shooting my chance of gathering inside information in the foot.
“Hmm. That right?”
I assumed a downcast expression. “I do write the occasional article for them, sir.”
“Well, let’s just consider this a press conference. Let those magpies from Marfa and Fort Davis call the sheriff’s office for the nitpicking details.”
“Well?” Mayor Cogburn’s eyes narrowed.
“The dead man was hit on the back of the head or he fell. It’s unclear whether the blow killed him or he was dead before he hit his head,” Lightfoot said.
Well, well. Lightfoot hadn’t shared the bit about the stun gun in the chili, had he? And why was it there? Had it been dropped or hidden in Lucky’s flavorful concoction?
“Could this have been caused by negligence on the part of the cook-off organizers?” The mayoral couple in unison shifted their gaze to me, catching
