Page 20 of Pumpkin Patch Peril
“That’s quite an accusation,” Helen said carefully, her journalist instincts engaged.
“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” Doris replied, her voice gaining strength again. “Ask anyone who’s competed against her. She doesn’t just play to win—she plays to destroy the competition. Last year at the county fair, she told Mrs. Petersen that the judging had been moved to an hour earlier, knowing full well Mrs. Petersen would miss it entirely.”
Mona’s phone buzzed with a text. She glanced down to see Brenda’s name on the screen.
Ladies, I’m getting desperate. People are starting to ask questions about my entry. Please tell me you have something
Doris’s sharp eyes caught the motion. She leaned over the table, her tone suddenly edged. “What was that? A message from Brenda? Why are you four poking around, asking all these questions? What’s going on here?”
Helen summoned her best reassuring smile. “Oh, just community chatter. Everyone’s buzzing about the competition—you know how it is.”
“We appreciate your time, Doris,” Mona added quickly, slipping her phone into her bag. “Your insight has been very helpful.”
“Hey now, wait a minute,” Doris said, her voice tightening. “Brenda’s not sending you after me, is she? I don’t want any trouble stirred up on account of her.”
Helen shook her head smoothly. “Nothing like that. Just trying to understand the bigger picture.”
Doris frowned, still watching them closely, but the next customer in line tugged at her attention.
Ida suddenly glanced at her watch and gasped. “Oh no! Look at the time!” She checked again to make sure she’d read it correctly, her eyes growing wide with panic. “I have to get to bingo!”
“How much time do you have?” Mona asked, automatically shifting into crisis mode.
“Fifteen minutes to get there, get settled, and organize my probability charts!” Ida said, already speed-walking toward the parking area. “Mrs. Henderson starts promptly, and if I miss the opening statistical analysis, my entire mathematical framework for the evening will be compromised!”
CHAPTER TEN
“Drive faster, Ruth!” Ida called from the back seat, clutching her spiral notebook like a life preserver. “Bingo starts in fourteen minutes, and I need time to set up my system!”
“I’m going as fast as I safely can,” Ruth replied, though she did press the accelerator a bit more firmly. The vintage Oldsmobile responded with a gentle surge of power, carrying them back toward Brook Ridge Falls as the sun painted the countryside in shades of gold and amber.
“What exactly do you need to set up?” Helen asked, twisting in her seat to look at Ida’s frantic preparation.
“Statistical analysis spreadsheets, strategic card placement, and careful observation of the room, “ Ida said seriously, flipping through her notebook to review her charts.
“Ida,” Mona said gently, “you do realize that bingo is a game of pure chance, right? Past results don’t influence future outcomes.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Ida replied, making final notations in her frequency analysis. “But everything haspatterns if you look hard enough. Even chaos has an underlying structure.”
Ruth pulled into the retirement center parking lot with time to spare, though Ida was already unbuckling her seatbelt before the car came to a complete stop.
“Come watch!” she called over her shoulder, practically bouncing with excitement. “You can see mathematical precision in action!”
“Well,” Mona said to the others, “we did promise to support her scientific endeavors.”
“Plus,” Helen added, “it might be interesting to see how this plays out.”
“And there’s usually pretty good coffee at bingo night,” Ruth concluded pragmatically.
The community center’s main hall had been transformed for the evening’s entertainment. Folding tables arranged in neat rows held dozens of bingo cards, dauber bottles, and the hopeful expressions of residents ready for an evening of competition. The air hummed with conversation, the rattle of balls in the wire cage, and the underlying current of anticipation that preceded any good game.
Ida had claimed a table near the front, spreading out her materials with the precision of a military strategist. She’d arranged four bingo cards in a perfect square, her spiral notebook open to tonight’s frequency predictions, and three different colored daubers positioned at strategic intervals.
“Ida,” called Betty Morrison from the next table over, “what in the world have you got there? Looks like you’re preparing for a final exam.”
“Scientific method,” Ida announced proudly, adjusting her cards one more time. “I’ve been analyzing caller tendencies and number frequency patterns. Tonight we put theory into practice.”
Word spread quickly through the assembled players that Ida Baker had developed a “system” for winning bingo. Soon, half the room was craning their necks to observe her elaborate setup.
