Fowl Play
Tappersfield was the very edge of nowhere. It was nearly impossible to find on a map if it was on your map at all. But for the folks of Lewis County, Tappersfield was the center of the universe. Word had it that folks all the way from Tuckersville would make the annual pilgrimage to the Tappersfield Fair. And on the corner of Main Street and 1st Avenue sat Westley & Son Veterinarians—the premier rural veterinarians west of the Mississippi.
Jack Westley was the third generation of Westley's to run the town. His father opened the veterinary office sixty-five years ago, and his grandfather was the founder of the Tappersfield Fair fifty years before that. Both had served as Mayor, and now it was Jack's turn.
He hated all of it. Had for years.
Jack had wanted one thing his whole life: to be anywhere that wasn't here. He tried to enlist in the Navy straight out of high school, but the local recruiter sent him home to his father with a slap on the back. In Tappersfield, everyone knew his fate.
Jack sighed as he flipped the lock on the front door. Today had been a long day of patients preening and prepping. The Fair started tomorrow, which meant livestock had to be certified with clean bills of health and competitors fretted over their elaborate chickens. Jack walked to his desk and slumped in the chair, imagining the sounds of waves and the smell of sea salt. He fiddled with the stopwatch on his desk, a reminder to himself that time was always slipping away. One more day, he thought, and he would leave this all behind.
Jack's phone let out a shrill chirp that broke his daydream. "What is the over-under?" came the grabbled voice on the other end. Jack rolled his eyes. Gladys thought she lived in a gangster movie with her fumbling attempts at subterfuge.
"Come in the back door, and we'll talk." Jack glanced out the window briefly to see if the street out front was empty. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was the town's bookie, but it seemed untoward that the Fair’s head judge would also take the bets. He wasn't the only judge at the Fair, which was good enough justification for most folks. But he tried to be prudent anyway.
Gladys was toe-tapping from anticipation. "You've seen the birds, so what do you think?" She crossed and uncrossed her arms.
"Well, it's clearly between you, Susan, and Bob. Honestly, it's a tossup. But I think it'll be you or Susan." Jack hedged, trying not to give too much more away.
"Fine. Then $300 on my sweet Henrietta to win and $100 on Susan's bird coming second. Plus a little something for your services." She pulled out a tight curl of bills.
Jack pulled the ledger from his pocket and noted her bets before walking Gladys to the door. Now for the real show.
"Oh,” he started, trying for a casual inflection. “Before I forget, I noticed Henrietta's feathers looked a bit dry. This’ll help shine her up for tomorrow." He handed over a small tincture bottle and opened the door.
There stood Bob and Susan, looking nothing if not maligned. They were right on time.
Without a second thought, Jack launched straight into politician mode. He was the Mayor of Tappersfield, beloved town veterinarian, and head judge of the Fair. He used those titles like a shield, jumping in before someone else could have the first word.
"Evening, Ms. Stillwater, Mr. Hardy. I wasn't expecting either of you until a bit later. My assistant has been out visiting her mother, so clearly, I've got everything all turned around. If we can all agree to discretion, I’ll get you sorted."
Susan's eyes narrowed in on the tincture bottle in Gladys's hand. "What's that? Are you helping the competition? That's utterly unfair!" She started to work herself into indignation.
"Nonsense. Mrs. Gripps was here for the same reasons as you, checking that her paperwork was in order. She mentioned that her chicks were having trouble with her new feed, so I gave her something to help." Jack banked on their inclination toward honesty. "But if it makes you feel better, you and Mr. Hardy can both have this same tonic for your own birds. If you step inside, I'll get you both on your ways."
Gladys looked as if she were about to speak, thinking her advantage for tomorrow was slipping away. Jack flashed her a smile and a wink, easing the unspoken objection. "Gladys, fair is fair. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."
With that, all three seemed to relax. Gladys slipped into her car and the others stepped into the office. There were at least a few things he'd miss about small-town life after all these years, Jack thought. Gullibility was one.
As soon as Bob’s taillights disappeared down Main Street, Jack gathered his takings and dropped his ledger into a nearby trashcan. For two entire seconds, he regretted missing the events of the Fair.
*****
As the sun broke over the horizon, Jack found himself with a glass of champagne and an overly friendly flight attendant. "We'll be taking off shortly, Mr. Westley. Anything else I can get for you?" Jack shook his head and nestled in for the long-haul flight to somewhere tropical.
It wasn't until five days later that he bothered looking up his hometown newspaper. The headlines were immaculate.
"Upset at Tappersfield Fair! Newcomer wins top prize as three contestants disqualified."
He almost felt sorry for Gladys, Bob, and Susan. They were all quoted in the article saying they never placed a bet and didn't know why their chickens’ feathers turned a garish shade of blue.
The accompanying picture shows the gleaming face of Todd Green and his father George. George knew all Jack wanted was a one-way ticket to anywhere. Jack raised his beer in thanks.
NYCMidnight Flash Fiction Challenge 2022
Round 2 Prompts: Crime Caper | A Veterinary Office | A Stopwatch
Result: 7th Place
