Paws and Effect

by Scarlett English

  “Garrett!”

  I looked up at Nan’s worried sounding call and hurried to the entrance of the giant marquee where they were setting out tables and chairs. I had come early to see if they needed any help.

  She raised her head for a kiss but then clasped my arms. “It’s a disaster.”

  It probably wasn’t, but disaster, like beauty, was in the eye of the beholder. My lieutenant used to say that all the time and she was a very smart woman. “What’s happened?”

  “Alan Simmonds has chicken pox and Penny has a new job.”

  I blinked twice, tucked Nan’s arm in mine and steered her to where I could see Ella laying tablecloths. I knew—hoped—Ella would be able to translate for me.

  Ella looked up as we approached. “Oh Garrett, it’s so kind of you.”

  I froze. “No,” I said firmly backing up. “Before you ask, I will not dance on or around a pole, ride a tank, or fire a cannon, and if someone hands me a baby, I may not be responsible for my actions.”

  “But Garrett, you’re the police sergeant,” Nan argued.

  I glared at her in as firm a manner as I could manage. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.” I had been volunteered for enough madcap schemes by the pair of them.

  Nan sighed and for a second looked so disappointed I nearly caved anyway, just as Eric, Maisie’s dad, interrupted us.

  “Garrett, I can’t tell you how much this means. We’ve already had the Arkwrights pull out in protest.”

  “Because they are frightened of catching chicken pox?” I asked weakly.

  Eric paused frowning and glanced at Ella in bewilderment. “Who’s got chicken pox?”

  “Mary Simmonds’ youngest and Penny starts her new job today. At the new Marks and Spencer’s.”

  “Oh,” Eric nodded in apparent understanding. Must have been a British thing, the way they seemed to understand whatever form of communication they were using.

  I rubbed my head knowing I was going to have to ask. “And this has what to do with whatever I’ve just been volunteered for?”

  Ella smiled dropped her voice. “Mary runs Mary’s Berries on the high street.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. I was still no wiser.

  “It’s a pun on the name. She sells locally made wine.”

  “It’s really good.” Eric commented.

  “Mary always judges the wine-making competition, but since her son is sick, she can’t be here. And Penny has occasionally stepped in as backup, but she starts her new job today. And Maisie is entering so the Arkwrights pulled out in protest.”

  Understanding was starting to dawn, but I wasn’t sure I was going to like it.

  “It means,” Ella said quietly “we have no judge for the homemade wine. Maisie had entered, but because of everything that happened…”

  “She’s offered to pull out, but in my mind that makes her look guilty,” Eric said angrily. “I just can’t tell you how much it means to have your support, even obviously unofficially.”

  “And Doris Arkwright is no better than she should be,” Nan pronounced. “Airs and graces, hmpff.”

  I was being expertly backed into a corner.

  “And there’s no gooseberry,” Ella added clinching the deal. Even I had to laugh at that one.

  “So, what do I do?”

  “You just work your way down the line smelling and tasting each one—”

  “Sips only.” Ella cautioned.

  “And you’re sure there’s no gooseberry wine?” I teased but only half joking.

  Eric grinned and slapped me on the back. “And there’s nothing on each card to say who made it, so you don’t need to worry about being accused of playing favorites.”

  I allowed myself to be talked into it and then spent some time wandering around each stall, admiring everything and meeting people I still didn’t know, although after eight months I was pretty much known around the village, when I was stopped.

  “Sergeant O’Leary.”

  I glanced up and smiled at the “gnome’ lady as I secretly called her. She must have been a member of the Women’s Institute. I wondered if she had an entry in the contest. Did gnomes even drink wine? Come to think of it, I’d seen those little gnome wine toppers around at Christmas. They consisted mostly of pointy hats and white beards.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  She clasped my offered hand, “Have you made any arrests?”

  I didn’t think she meant either of the three I’d made this week—one for driving without due care and attention, one for breaking and entering, and the third was the little nine year old menace I caught for joyriding. Well, actually it wasn’t a car; it had been his twin sister’s bicycle, and obviously the arrest had just been me getting into the spirit of parental discipline. The menace’s mom was suitably grateful and pressed on me a half dozen fruit scones, which made me very popular at the meeting I went to at the station house.

  “In your case? No, ma’am, but we are working on some different lines of inquiry.”

  She looked disappointed and glanced around the room as if looking for someone. I saw her glaring at the array of cakes that my Nan was helping put out. Nan looked like she was about to drop a tray of little cakes until Roberta rushed over to help her.

  “Are you a fan of homemade cakes, ma’am?” Woolhampton was only about fifteen miles away but she might possibly have an entry.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked in an acerbic tone and narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you implying something about my weight?”

  “Oh no! Lord, no,” I said quickly. “I just wondered if perhaps…uh…” Since I had no idea how to finish that comment, I didn’t bother trying. I just dipped my head politely and took a step to walk away.

  “Actually, sergeant.” She clasped my arm to stop me moving. She had quite a grip. “Has the homemade wine competition been judged yet?”

  I flushed, expecting some sarcastic comment about that. “No ma’am, it’s in a half hour.”

  She actually smiled and dropped her hand. “Thank you. I always enjoy that one.”

  “Garrett?”

  I turned and saw Maisie coming toward me. She put up her hand. “I’m sure you’re not allowed to talk to me.”

  I glanced at her carefully. She looked scared to death. “Then we won’t talk,” I said seriously and stepped forward and gave her a big hug. She heaved a huge sigh of relief and hugged me back. For a tiny lady her hugs were fierce.

  When I glanced back, Miss Edgeware had gone. “This all looks amazing,” I said as we stopped at a stall manned by the Brownies. They were selling homemade toffee, and I was definitely going to try some. I was distracted as a certain little Brownie slipped her hand into mine and blinked her gorgeous eyes at me. I chuckled and swung Emma up into my arms. “Hey buddy. I didn’t think you’d recognize me without my uniform on.”

  Carmen, Emma’s mom came out from behind the stall. “Are you joking, Sergeant? Emma would recognize her hero anywhere.” I’d met Emma and her mom when I judged the infamous bonny baby competition at the Adlebury Spring Fair. “How’s she doing?”

  “New hearing aids,” Carmen said proudly. Emma had her head tucked into the crook of my neck and both her arms fastened tightly around my neck.

  “Maisie, love, how are you?” Carmen asked and both women hugged each other. “I’m so glad to see you here.”

  Maisie sighed. “A lot of people don’t seem to think the same.”

  Carmen scoffed. “Which is nonsense. Any one of your friends would tell that idiot Wainwright that’s been sniffing around that you wouldn’t hit someone with a car.” She leaned in as if going to share a secret. “You’d just batter them with that old baseball bat Eric keeps under the bar to deal with anyone who gets disorderly after a pint too many.”

  Maisie snorted, and Carmen glanced at me her eyes twinkling. “Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I didn’t hear a word,” I said innocently and paused as a very officious sounding voic
e announced the home brew and wine competition. I handed Emma back to her mom and told her I had a date night with the Brownies soon to practice for their road safety badge, so I would see her then. I knew Emma wasn’t old enough for Brownies yet, but her elder sister went, and I imagined Emma would tag along.

  I didn’t get a vocal reply as I knew it was something they were working on, and hoping the new hearing aids would help, but I got a kiss on my cheek and promised I would never wash it off. Maisie and I took a step away from the stall.

  Just then another of my favorite people stepped up to me. “If it isn’t my favorite Yank.” Yasmin Gold was, as her name suggested, utterly priceless. She originally came from Kingston, Jamaica, and settled in Adlebury ten years ago via the east end of London. Her accent was a mixture of West Indies and Cockney. She ran a foster home, and I’d been there to answer a complaint about noise from the neighbors.

  The noise in question was the regular Saturday night karaoke competition that was always finished before nine PM. By the time I had established that the complainant was trying to get the home shut down, because he wanted to sell his house and was convinced the home—four houses away—would lower property prices, I had warbled my way through a bad rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’” and Yasmin and I had belted out some vintage Aretha Franklin. My old lieutenant would have been very proud of me.

  Yasmin was also the President of The Women’s Institute. “Garrett, my darlin,’ I hope you’re ready for this.”

  I shook my head because I was pretty sure I wasn’t. “I think so? I just take a sip and if it doesn’t kill me it’s a winner?”

  She slapped my arm. “Behave.” She pointed to the first table with six glasses of what I assumed was beer. “Just take a swig, spit it out and then take a sip of water.”

  “Spit it out?” I repeated, not sure I had heard correctly.

  “There’s a bucket.” She leaned in. “If you spit them all out, then if one of them’s disgustin,’ no one will think you hate it. Saves hurt pride.”

  “Got it. Spit them all so you’re not singling anyone out.”

  Yasmin beamed and led me to the first one. I glanced at the card. The only information was a name. I smiled at the older gentleman sitting behind the table and picked up the glass. I wasn’t a fan of some of the English beers. I was more a Coors kind of guy, and since I’d been in England, I’d learned how good Guinness was. I sniffed the beer trying to look like I knew what I was doing—although I was pretty sure you were supposed to do that with wine—and took a gulp just as I caught sight of Ella talking to the Morris Dancer from Hell, and I idly wondered if it was possible for me to get fired if I threw the glass at Geoffrey.

  I still wasn’t thrilled over the date Ella’d been out on with him last week. I’d been a little worried when she hadn’t come home right away, though she often had emergency calls, and I figured that was what had happened. I may have sat up an hour or so past my bedtime reading. And making sure she got home okay. She told me the next morning when she brought me coffee about her little date. I was surprised at how much I didn’t like it. I was glad she was out enjoying herself, of course. I would have thought she’d have had better taste than Geoffrey Bonner, but whatever. She must have had fun, because she hadn’t made it home until close to ten. I only noticed the time, because I was still up watching TV—uh, reading—when she finally got home.

  I’d chugged two mouthfuls of the beer before I realized what I was doing, and froze. Well, now I was in trouble. I’d swallowed. Which meant I had to swallow them all.

  I didn’t dare glance at Yasmin, but put the glass down and smiled as if I was enjoying myself. Actually, it wasn’t half bad. “It tastes a little of honey,” I remarked to the man standing behind the table.

  “You have to add it at the last stages of the boil,” the man explained, looking pleased with himself. I looked down at the glass. That hadn’t been bad at all. “And of course, ninety-five percent of honey is fermentable.”

  I nodded and let Yasmin steer me to the next one. “I’d better not be carrying you out of here,” she scolded.

  I picked the next glass up. “It’s dark,” I remarked.

  “That’s a chocolate stout,” the same man who had obviously been appointed the local expert told me.

  “Garrett O’Leary.” I put my hand out. I couldn’t keep calling him “the man.”

  “This is Ernest Leech,” Yasmin introduced us. “He’s secretary of the Adlebury Vintner’s Association.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I answered and took a cautious sip. “Very nice,” I decreed after I swallowed. It was, but the honey beer was still my favorite.

  “This is a Chinook Hop,” Ernest said of the third one.

  I chuckled. “Sounds like a helicopter.”

  Ernest brightened. “Actually, the helicopter is named after the dry wind that blows through the Rockies, but I suppose you’d know that better than me.”

  I took a healthy swig because—it was nearly an American—a little like me I guessed and grinned. And the bitter taste hit me like…well, probably Eric’s baseball bat. I swallowed, coughed, and gratefully accepted the glass of water Yasmin handed me.

  Eyes watering, I moved to the next one. “This is a ruby red,” Ernest said. I couldn’t immediately think of a smart comeback to that so I tried to look interested. It must have worked because he went into a long diatribe about the barley being extra roasted, and something wasn’t as heavily hopped. I sipped cautiously and it wasn’t bad, so I swallowed and returned his grin feeling quite pleased with myself. By the time I’d reached the last one Ernest had explained all about ‘gruits’ being used before hops, and by the late middle ages the per-capita consumption of beer was sixty gallons.

  That gave me pause. “What, like every person drank sixty gallons of beer a year?” It made Tom seem like a lightweight.

  Ernest nodded, well…earnestly. “Water wasn’t safe to drink in most cases. Beer made it palatable so it was drunk at every meal.”

  I turned to Yasmin. “That’s fascinating. In fact,” I waved my empty glass at her “Nan would say I was flabbergasted.” Interesting word, and one I’d so been wanting to try out.

  She might have rolled her eyes at me. “I warned you,” she said darkly. I had no idea what she meant by that.

  “Oh dear,” Ella said appearing at my side. Yasmin nodded sagely at her, but I still had no idea why. Ernest seemed to like me and I was making new friends. I’d really worried for nothing. I pronounced the winner was the honey beer and everyone cheered a rather red-faced man standing at the back. I waved at him, because I was enjoying myself and wanted to congratulate him.

  “And he still has the wine to do,” Ella whispered.

  “I’d go get your car if I were you.”

  I had no idea what they were talking about and decided to remove my sweater. Ella had said it would be cool in the tent, but I was feeling extra roasted myself at that moment. I laughed because that was funny. “Where’s the wine?” I asked.

  Yasmin silently turned me around, and I walked towards table number two feeling quite confident.

  “This is Holly Robinson. She’s the treasurer of the Vintner’s Association and she’s going to guide you through the wines. There’s the bucket,” Yasmin said sternly. “Use it.” But I shook my head. That would have been rude after enjoying the beer, and as a community sergeant it was important I made a good impression.

  Holly smiled sweetly at me and pointed to the first glass. “This is a sherry.”

  I brightened. “Nan puts that in her trifle.”

  Holly smirked. “Not this one.”

  I picked up the tiny glass which seemed slippery in my large fingers and took a sip. It was a little strong and quite sweet, but there was barely two mouthfuls in there so I finished it off. “Very nice,” I said inadequately, really not knowing a lot about sherry, except it was really good in Nan’s trifle.

  The next was a “crisp white” so I was informed. I knew Ella
liked that so I took a decent mouthful, swallowed, and gasped as the fires of hell ran down my throat.

  “Ah,” Holly noted my reaction while I was praying someone might put a fire extinguisher in my mouth. “That’s an interesting fermenting process. The wine has been kept between seventy-four to seventy-eight degrees instead of the typical seventy to seventy-two, and extra yeast is added. Gives it an extra kick.”

  I practically inhaled the water Yasmin thrust at me.

  The next was a red wine. I wasn’t a fan and as my eyes were already watering from the last one I took a “pretend” sip and pronounced it “smooth with a daring overtone” I was pretty sure I’d heard that on some designer show Anna used to watch, and she might have been talking about make-up, but it sounded kind of catchy so I went with it. It seemed to be popular though, because quite a few people were laughing at this point.

  I frowned and peered at the table. I had to be over halfway at this point, and I thrust my hand out for the next glass a little too eagerly as it went flying off the table. It was a good job they were plastic. I was horrified and proceeded to hurriedly down the full second glass I was given. It was fizzy and made my nose itch, but I could hardly say that, so I went with “Awesome.” I turned rather quickly for what I hoped was the last one and like a clumsy idiot I managed to trip up. It was only the joint efforts of Yasmin and Ella that saved me, and I looked down at the floor accusingly, wondering why it seemed to be moving.

  Ella stayed on one side of me though, which was rather nice, and I slid my arm over her shoulders. “You’re really short,” I said in exasperation, because I wanted to put my arm around her waist.

  She nodded somberly. “You’re too tall.”

  I sighed and put a hand to my heart. “Maybe I should sit down?” That actually sounded rather good at this point. “Is there any more?”

  Ella bit her lip. “One.”

  I beckoned her. “Bring it on,” I said expansively, and wobbled a little. Eric appeared. He must have heard me say Ella was too short, but I definitely didn’t want to put my arm around his waist. He was grinning, so I laughed. I wasn’t sure what was funny, but a community sergeant supported the community, so I joined in. Although, it might have been the community supporting me at that point, because Earnest appeared on my other side helping Eric keep me upright.