Five Weeks Earlier:

Francis stood with his arms crossed at his station, and watched Arthur and the other staff members hurry to get everything in place. The remaining teams were set up, ready to go, and looking confident. But Francis didn't feel confident at all.

"He wouldn't do that, you know," Bela spoke up, uneasy about how little Francis had spoken that day, "Arthur wouldn't tell someone wrong information to mess them up."

"He doesn't like me," Francis replied tersely, "I don't like him either. I'm sure it would be a relief for him if I was suddenly out of his hair."

"Well, he likes me," Bela replied, "He wouldn't-"

"Speaking of his hair, it looks awful," Francis went on as if she hadn't said anything, "Doesn't he do anything for it?"

"He's a very busy guy," Bela frowned, "Listen, Francis, you need to focus. I think you're a little distracted."

Francis shook his head and took a deep breath. This situation had been messing with him more than he'd anticipated, "I'm sorry, you're right. I've been having trouble staying on task since Jeanne-"

"It's alright," Bela patted his arm, "We can do this."

"Welcome back!" Antonio confidently announced the beginning of the competition to the cameras, "Let's get started!"

Francis stretched his arms, focusing on Antonio. After a moment or so of dramatics, he finally got to the moment of truth.

"Our remaining teams must now construct, without including any eggs," Antonio paused for dramatic effect. Francis found himself chewing on the inside of his lip. "A perfect batch of cupcakes!"

The audience buzzed with excitement at the challenge. Francis looked down the row at his fellow competitors. None of them looked worried or shocked. At least two of the other teams seemed smug about the announcement. Arthur was right, everyone already had known. Francis raised an eyebrow in the Englishman's direction. Arthur glanced back, but his expression remained emotionless.

"For this first challenge of the week, they have only thirty minutes! Good Luck."

{~*~*~*}

The Present

"Mr. Carriedo,"

"Please! Call me Toni!" Antonio sat across from the policeman, smiling as always, "Everyone does! Except my Mother. She says 'I have named you Antonio; that is your name! If I wanted you to be named Toni, that's what I would have called you!' She's funny that way. I should call her; I haven't called her yet this week. I don't want her to worry, you know."

Vash blinked at him, "…That's… nice?" He cleared his throat. "Mr. Carriedo, do you know why anyone might want to hurt Mr. Kirkland?"

"Oh no, nobody. I mean he does everything, doesn't he? Nothing will get done if he's gone. Everything loves how efficiently he does his job," Antonio suddenly laughed, "Well, except Lovino."

"Lovino Vargas? Why would you say that?"

The smile slid off Antonio's face, "I was just kidding, Lovino is a good guy. He's got a bit of a temper, but he would never hurt someone on purpose. It was just a joke, wow, you guys are serious."

Vash pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to five, "Mr. Carriedo, this is a serious investigation. Mr. Kirkland could have died. I need you to tell me the whole truth, and please, show some appreciation for the gravity of this situation! Now, let's try this again: Would anyone you know want to hurt Arthur?"

Antonio thought for a second, "I don't think so. I know I wouldn't! I mean, Arthur is always running damage control for me," Antonio suddenly looked a little embarrassed, "I love to speak with people, you know? I love to socialize, I just love people! And these chefs are some of the most interesting people I know! It's just so hard to keep secrets," he scratched the back of his head.

"Secrets?"

"For, eh, a week or so I may have spilled the next challenge," he laughed nervously.

"A week or so?"

"Well, yes, I mean until the judges stopped telling me."

"When was that?"

Antonio tapped his chin, "Just this week, I guess. It's the finale."

"So, you were telling the chefs what to expect? For six weeks?" Vash summarized, shaking his head, "What does this have to do with Arthur?"

"Not all the chefs, just one," Antonio protested, "Anyway, I knew it wasn't fair for just one or two of them to know. I don't want to help cheaters, and that would be cheating, right? But I wasn't sure what to do. So I call Arthur! He makes sure everyone knows the same amount of information. It was hard to get ahold of him most of the time, he was doing something after-hours."

Vash perked up, "After-hours? Could you elaborate?"

Antonio shrugged, apologetic, "No, sorry. All I know is that he was putting in a lot of overtime. I assumed it had something to do with the competition. There's so much to do! And he's so busy anyway. It didn't seem odd to me."

{~*~*~*}

Five Weeks Earlier:

"Don't do it," Arthur muttered under his breath, glaring as Feliciano went for the studio mixer at his station, "Do. Not."

Feliciano did. Arthur held his breath as he locked the bowl into place and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. Arthur sighed in relief.

"Oh, one moment Lovino," Feliciano chirped, "It hasn't been plugged in! Now, let's see," He scrambled for the plug, "Here we are! Now where's the outlet…"

Arthur couldn't shake the mental image of the Italian bursting into flames. There might have been nothing wrong with that particular mixer, but on the other hand that might have been the one that had been tampered with. Would it simply not turn on? Would it just mix more slowly than normal? Would it blow it up like some sort of kitchen-based bomb? Would it work perfectly? He was positive that he'd told everyone to bring hand mixers, and it looked as if the other teams had bidden his advice, even Francis. Perhaps they had just forgotten. Arthur covered his eyes with his clipboard, he couldn't look.

"Chef, try this," A deep voice said.

Arthur peered around his clipboard to see that Ludwig Beilschmidt, Chef Edelstein's assistant, had left his station to hand Feliciano a hand mixer, already plugged in.

"Oh," Feliciano looked at him wide-eyed, his face flooding with an infectious smile, "Gee, thank you! Wow, you're so much taller up close! You're Ludwig, right? I'm Feliciano, are you here to help us? Don't you need to help your Chef? This is so exciting, isn't it? Lovino, look who's here!"

Ludwig slowly backed away, obviously not expecting anything more than a 'thanks', "Yes… well…" He turned and bustled back to his station, his face turning red. Chef Edelstein glared at him, but thought himself too proper to say anything.

Arthur's shoulders slumped with relief and he leaned against the rail that led to the audience seating wearily. He had so much on his plate just making sure everything ran smoothly, how was he supposed to catch a saboteur on top of that? But what Ludwig had done gave him an idea. It was worth a shot, right?

{~*~*~*}

"Chef Braginski," Antonio said, looking a little nervous, "Unfortunately, even though Team Gingerbread produced perfectly cooked cupcakes, that just did not cut it this round. Your… unconventional flavor combos were a-a deal breaker for the judges," Antonio paused awkwardly, "I'm sorry?"

"You do not like borscht?" the chef asked calmly.

"Me? Oh, uh, yes I love it. I love borscht! Obviously. But I'm not… a judge?" Antonio shrugged.

Arthur couldn't blame Antonio for being a little on edge. The chef just had that kind of effect on people. Personally, Arthur wasn't sure what to make of him.

"That's alright, little man," Chef Braginski turned his unsettling smile to the cameras, "We cannot help that the judges have poor taste."

As the team exited, he turned to the stage crew, "Thank you all for doing your best, comrades," and then he vanished down the hall.

"Well, now that's over," Antonio broke the strange silence in the studio, "It's time to announce this week's winner! Let's see here," He opened an envelope handed to him by the judges, "Team Cannoli! Yay! Excellent work you guys! Chef Vargas, could you bring your fine self over here? The platter, please!"

Lovino rolled his eyes and walked over. Antonio tried to put an arm across his shoulder and Lovino pushed it off.

"Chef Vargas, Lovino, can I call you Lovino?"

"No."

Antonio laughed and tried to put an arm around him again. Lovino pushed it off again.

"Okay! Chef, please select your platter!"

Lovino confidently chose the middle lid, but Arthur saw how his hand shook when he lifted it.

"A whisk! Uh-oh!" Antonio beamed, "Whisks will not be allowed next week! Good luck, everybody! Let's see you all back here next time!"

The audience applauded.

"Cut! That's it everyone," Arthur announced, "Mr. Beilschmidt, do you have a moment?"

{~*~*~*}

The Present

"Mr. Beilschmidt, we understand you had an arrangement with Mr. Kirkland."

"That is correct," Ludwig sat stiffly in his chair, looking very serious.

"Could you tell us a little about that?" Vash asked.

"Of course," Ludwig's voice was focused and precise, but the policeman saw how he clenched his fists against his trouser legs, "Mr. Kirkland approached me after the second week of competition. He recognized that I wanted a fair competition as much as he did. He informed me that there was a saboteur about, and he needed help keeping order. He simply asked if I would be willing to keep an eye out for cheating, and to let him know if I saw anything."

"And did you agree?"

"Yes. Cheating is despicable. Competitions must take place the way they are designed, or they lose their point."

"I see," Vash wrote down something on his notepad, "Did he offer you anything in return?"

"Yes," Ludwig replied slowly, "He offered to let my team practice in the studio whenever we wish, not just during the allotted time slots. He also promised to speak with his boss about a small bit of monetary compensation. However, I never took him up on either of those offers. It didn't seem fair."

"Does Mr. Edelstein know that?"

Ludwig's face twitched. Vash couldn't tell if the man was suppressing a smile, if he was physically repulsed by the thought of his cooking partner, or if he was experiencing gastrointestinal discomfort.

"No. Mr. Kirkland and I agreed that letting the other competitors know might do more harm than good. He said letting Roderick know would be alright but-"

"That wouldn't seem fair," Vash finished.

Ludwig nodded curtly, "Of course, I wished to inform the police, but Mrs. Hedervary insisted that the affair be kept quiet. It was increasingly more difficult, as you could imagine. The sabotage seemed to get a little more dangerous every week."

"Could you tell us about that?" Vash finally had a reliable witness. He wanted to get as much out of him as possible.

Ludwig nodded, "I can only tell you what I know. But I will do my best."

Hi! This chapter turned out to be kind of transitionary, but things should start moving now! Thanks for sticking with me, see you guys next time!