By dusk, many of the party-guests had had their fill of treats and were headed home for dinner. The musicians were eating their supper under the shelter before they too went home. Peony had taken the twins into the house for a nap. After a final word with Frodo about the state of his investigation, Aunt Prisca had been carried away in her chair. Aunt Dora had gone indoors. While everyone said that they'd had a splendid time, she couldn't help feeling as if a pall had been cast over her party and she wasn't certain why. The discovery of the pearls should have made her birthday a most exciting and memorable occasion.
Sam was still sitting at his table. Frodo felt sorry that he hadn't spent more of the day with his friend. As far as he'd observed, Sam had barely moved from the spot since they'd arrived.
"How are you, my dear?" Frodo asked as he approached the table. "You're not sorry you came, are you?"
Sam shook his head, but he smiled as Frodo sat down beside him. "I didn't expect to have lots o' fun, but I'm glad to see the little uns playing. They're having a good time." A bonfire had been built at the far end of the meadow to burn rubbish. Pippin and Sancho Proudfoot were entertaining the remaining children by tossing firecrackers into the fire to make loud and colorful explosions. "The way they've been running 'round today, they'll fall right to sleep as soon as we get `em home." Sam looked a little weary himself; when Frodo extended a hand to the side of his head, he rested his cheek against it and shut his eyes. "What about you? You enjoying yourself hunting after pies, Frodo?"
"Yes, I am--although this wasn't how I'd intended to spend my afternoon! But I've managed to clear three of my dearest female relations of the suspicion of thievery, so my time was well spent."
Sam looked interested. "Did you? I've been hearing some odd talk about Miss Dora since those pearls was found."
"I've learned that that pie wasn't baked here at the Old Place. Neither Aunt Dora, nor Peony, nor Angelica could've been near it before it went into the oven--and the pearls were surely inside it then. I told Aunt Prisca so before she went home, but she still wants to know who took her pearls. I hope to have the answer for her tomorrow." With his free hand, he brought a folded scrap of paper out of his breast pocket and held it up, although it was now too dark for Sam to see what was written on it. "The cherry pies were baked in a dozen kitchens here in Hobbiton and in Overhill, but no one seems to know which ones came from where. The empty pie pans all look alike. I've had a talk with Peony and some of the other Bagginses who were involved in the party preparations. Peony's given me a list of everyone who brought treats today, and what they brought. Tomorrow I shall go around and speak to the cooks. I've guessed that that pie wasn't meant for the party, Sam. Pippin said it was ridiculous for anyone to give a pie full of pearls to a party-full of hobbits, and he was quite right. And the thief couldn't expect that pie to be received by any particular person here today if he meant to pass it on. That's just as absurd. No, I do believe it came here by mistake." As he tucked the list back into his pocket, Frodo considered a new idea. "Sam, how do you make a cherry pie?"
Sam laughed at the question and raised his head from the support of Frodo's hand. "You thinking of baking one yourself, Frodo?"
"You know I know nothing about baking. But you do know, don't you?"
"'Course I do." Sam sat upright. "Well, there's two ways. Simple, you pit your cherries and pop 'em into the pie shell with a bit o' butter, then put some more crust atop and bake it in the oven. Fancier, you cut up your cherries and let 'em stew in a pot atop the stove with some sugar and maybe a drop or two of sweet wine, as if you were making jam, before you put `em in the pie."
"Which did we have today?" Frodo cast his memory back to the slice of pie on his plate when all the excitement had begun. "Fancy."
"That's right."
"And the one with the pearls in it was just the same?"
"Now, I didn't have a piece o' that, but it looked to be the same. It was just as much of a mess on the little lads' shirts. Pippin'll know." The last of the fireworks had gone off, and Pippin was leading the children in a ring around the dying fire.
"So you make the stewed cherries beforehand?" asked Frodo.
"It's best to," Sam answered. "If you're going to make your pie right away, you let the filling cool and sit `til it gels, so it don't make the bottom crust too soggy. Most folks stew a lot o' cherries when they're ripe and preserve `em for later. That's how you can have cherry pie in the winter. But old folks like Miss Dora like their pies sweet and mushy even when fresh cherries're at hand."
It seemed unlikely that a thief would try to hide the pearls in this mixture, but Frodo felt as if he'd gone a step farther in his investigation. The necklace couldn't have been concealed in fresh cherries; it would have been discovered by the kitchen staff while they were washing, pitting, and cutting. Could it have been hidden in the sugar? Yes, that was more likely. If the other kitchens in Hobbiton and Overhill were like his own, then they kept a store of sugar in a large ceramic bin in the pantry, which might last for months before it needed to be refilled. A thief might think that a reasonable place to hide stolen jewelry. If that thief were here today, he or she must have been just as amazed as everyone else when the pearls began to turn up. The next step was to discover whose kitchen that pie had come from, and what connection its residents had to Aunt Prisca.
Pippin returned for his banjolele, which he'd left in Sam's care. As he picked it up, he strummed a few jaunty chords and waggled his eyebrows at Frodo. "Time for one last dance?"
Frodo laughed. "Oh, very well!" He rose and turned to his partner with a little bow. "Sam, would you please honor me with a dance before we gather up the children and go home?" Before he received a reply, he took Sam by both hands to draw him to his feet. They headed toward the shadows at the edge of the bonfire, still hand in hand, spinning in a circle. Pippin followed, skipping to the tune he was playing. While the older children, Peony's sons and Sancho, were still busy playing with the fire, the little ones came to dance with them. Willa and Elanor bounced merrily around together, and when little Frodo fell on his bottom on the grass, Sam quickly scooped up his son with one arm and 'danced' with him as well.
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