Page 52 of The Hitman’s Final Job

“The organizing committee met on Tuesday,” Tess says, sounding like she has gossip she can’t wait to share. “There have been developments.”

“Do we want to know?” Vaughn asks.

“Absolutely. But first, Clay show them Brenda.”

Clayton produces his phone like a proud father showing what his newborn baby can do at three hours old, but I’ll have to hand it to him, the pumpkin is extraordinary.

“She’s magnificent,” Vaughn says.

“She’s been growing consistently since the start of August,” Tess says. “She just keeps going. Clayton has been talking to her every morning.”

“Plants respond to attention,” he explains. “As we’re heading toward the end of September, it’s important to double-down my efforts. She’ll stop growing soon.”

“They do,” Vaughn agrees.

I gasp. “I’ll remind you of that next time you’re teasing me for talking to your squashes,” I say.

“Now,” Tess says, leaning forward slightly, “I have it on good authority—and by good, I mean Maria, who heard it from David, who heard it from someone at the hardware store—that Chris from Riverside Outfitters has been growing something at the back of the store.”

“A giant pumpkin?” Vaughn asks.

“Yes,” Tess confirms. “Possibly a very large one. No one has been able to confirm because Chris has put up a screen around the growing area, which is either because he’s very serious about the competition or because”—she pauses for dramatic effect—“he’s also growing other things.”

“Like what?”

Clayton clears his throat. “You know. For the other competition. Chris is very competitive about it. Has been cross-pollinating things.”

“I definitely have a contender for the dick competition,” I say.

Vaughn turns to me. “You can’t just— The correct term is the phallic gourd competition.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said⁠—”

“I said dick competition. Which is what everyone is calling it.”

“Not everyone,” he protests.

“Tess,” I say, getting her attention, “what is everyone calling it?”

She looks between us. “The dick competition.”

Vaughn puts down his fork.

“Where is it being held?” I ask. “Because I’m assuming it’s not next to the children’s pumpkin carving.”

“No,” she says. “What they’ve decided is that every evening during the festival, there’ll be a display at the Ridgeline⁠—”

“That’s Dante’s bar,” Vaughn says to me. “He’s Maria’s brother.”

“The Knot Today ladies will come in every evening at seven to judge the entries for that day and select who goes through to the final. The winner gets announced on the last night of the festival.”

“What’s the prize?” Clayton asks.

“Ah,” Tess says. “This is where it gets interesting. Chris has suggested an Atlantis Cruise, and now I’m wishing I’d found a good contender in my garden, but such is luck, all my gourds are regular shaped.”

I choke on my wine.