I gave her the gist of what I’d overheard last night, in between sips of her delicious and highly potent eggnog.

“Interesting,” she said when I’d finished. “Of course, it doesn’t rule out the possibility that one of them was lying to his friend.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But I don’t think either of them is that good a liar. That phrase Ronnie used—‘I know you’re still mad about the April thing’—do you have any idea what happened in April to upset them?”

She frowned and shook her head.

“No idea,” she said. “Must have been something pretty bad if they’re still upset about it eight months later.”

“Or maybe it’s something that they’re trying to prevent happening this coming April,” I suggested.

She continued to frown and shake her head. Then her face cleared.

“Of course,” she said, with a chuckle.

“You know what the April thing is?” I asked.

“It’s not a what,” she said. “It’s a who. April Hardaway. Her father owns the John Deere dealership in town. Caleb has been sweet on her for a year or two. Cute little redhead. No idea what she has to do with the pranks, though.”

“I think I might know,” I said. “Does she sing in the New Life Baptist choir?”

“She does,” the judge said. “I confess, I was surprised and a little disappointed that the choir director didn’t pick her for a solo.”

“He didn’t pick Kayla Butler either,” I said. “Ronnie’s cousin.”

“You think those two rascals pulled the whole skunk stunt because Lightfoot didn’t pick Ronnie’s cousin or Caleb’s little sweetheart?”

I nodded.

“Then why the ducks?”

“You’re asking why a duck?” I said, in my best Chico Marx accent. “Why not a chicken?”

Judge Jane frowned. Evidently she wasn’t a Marx Brothers fan.

“There is no ‘why the ducks,’” I said, in my normal voice. “Not with Ronnie and Caleb. Because they didn’t do the ducks. Someone else did. And if we knew why, maybe we’d know who.”

“Cui bono,” she said. “Which is Latin for ‘follow the money.’”

“Technically, Latin for ‘who benefits?’” I said. “And I’m not sure anyone benefits financially from the pranks.”

“Same thing.” The judge sipped her eggnog slowly. “Mark my words, somewhere down the line, someone will.”

A thought came to me and I turned it over in my mind, sipping my eggnog, until I decided that it was something I could safely bring up with the judge.

“It’s not just the fact that Caleb is your nephew, is it?” I asked. “There’s been bad blood before between Barliman Vess and some of the Shiffleys, right?”