Day 1
The Case of the Missing Turnips and the episode with the parrot had taken the stuffing out of me and since then life had somewhat slowed. I was a little older, none the wiser and had started to lose my hair, which wasn't helping with my already desperate appearance. Since those cases Leyhill had become a place of tranquility and I continued to be a jobs worth, mainly mucking out the pigs on the local farm. I had achieved some notoriety by winning the local "Muck spreader of the year" award, strangely there was only the judge in attendance and no other contestants, something to do with the smell? Mrs Wilcox still lived next door and there were rumours of her being behind a bung deal between Leyhill cricket club and Ashley Green cricket club to throw the final game of the season to allow Ashley Green to at least win a match. Muck spreading had prevented me from investigating. My mother had married Jock the Block, who had opened up a chain of underwear stores called Jocks Strap. And the only other excitement to have hit Leyhill was the proposed motorway extension that would have cut through the middle of the village, but when the contractors came to canvas the area they had mysteriously disappeared. Mrs Wilcox was spotted digging holes near the local chapel that very day but once again muck spreading had intervened and I was unable to substantiate those reports. I was bored.
Today was the day before the day before Leyhill's annual summer fete. A big event in the annual calendar of the village which ran alongside the annual Flower Show. In fact the two committees rather despised each other and had wanted to move the shows apart, but both events attracted large volumes of villages and townsfolk, who came with pots of cash, so the committees decided to bite their tongues and keep things as they were. For now at least. Mr Perth (the village councillor) had announced the fetes and flower shows events a week before, so the hype was building. Various stalls and sideshows would take centre stage and the Leyhill dog club were going to do a obedience demonstration, something they did every year. Last time out they lost two dogs because they saw a cat and gave chase. Their owners still attached. They were all last seen heading over the nearby hill. None returned apart from a very sly cat. Everyone was assured that this wouldn't happen this year. Fat chance most people replied. The flower shows centre piece was to be Mrs Hardwicks cake demonstration. Last year she blew up the village hall having left the gas on after she had forgot to take out her scones! Let's just say the scones were burnt.
As I sat at the dining table eating my porridge I had the realisation that all was rather to good. The weeks preparation for the fete had gone very smoothly. I hoped that something would happen at the fete to release the boredom. Perhaps an accident at the coconut shy or one of the dogs would disobey their owner and bite Mr Perth or PC Bob Pig? Or at least something that would allow me to put my muck spreading spade down and get back to investigating. And do you know what? Something unexpected did happen and it would take me on my greatest adventures yet and introduce me to a new master criminal, The Yellow Fingernail.
Find out what happens next time in Part 2 of On the Trail of the Yellow Fingernail - "Where's me coconuts!"
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