06 Bushel Full of Murder Page 8

  “My pleasure.”

  As expertly as his big body could accomplish, he maneuvered around the front table and walked down the aisle toward the market exit. I watched his high cowboy hat move above most of the summer shoppers, some of them in straw hats, but their hats seemed much less important than Harry’s.

  As with the day before, it didn’t take long to sell out of product. I was still ahead with inventory, but I wouldn’t be for long if this pace kept up.

  I hadn’t really expected to come back to an empty stall, because that wasn’t the way farmers’ market shoppers behaved—no one just took something they wanted. But I had expected a note or two of complaint, or maybe some cash on the table with a note explaining what had been purchased in my absence. As it was, Harry truly had saved the day.

  Recently, I’d thought about hiring an assistant. Between the market, the farm, and my continually increasing retail business at the Maytabee’s shops, I always had something that needed to be done and I always felt a little behind schedule. Even when I was technically on schedule, a growing to-do list always loomed ahead. The things that had been holding me back from making the hire were tied to my personality. I’d want an assistant to be able to help everywhere and also be completely flexible, at all times. That wasn’t fair. I had to fix myself and my inconsistent routine before I brought someone in who’d have to put up with me.

  I threw the empty boxes into the back of my truck and closed my stall when it seemed we’d hit a lull in business. I stepped around to the front of Linda’s stall just as she was selling what looked like her last pie of the day.

  “Hey,” she said as she smoothed back her hair. “I hope the big guy who can’t possibly be from around here was supposed to be in your stall earlier. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but he looked like he was doing everything as it was supposed to be done. I couldn’t have offered much help at the time anyway.”

  “He’s a friend from Arizona. A police officer,” I said.

  “Really? What’s he doing here?”

  “Chasing someone.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting. Tell me more.”

  I hadn’t talked much to anyone other than Sam about what happened in Arizona. The time that had passed mellowed the memories and I found that I enjoyed sharing some of the details with Linda. It was still a scary story, just not as scary as it had been.

  And even though a family member and other market vendors were involved in the investigation of Robert Ship’s murder, I told Linda everything I knew. She listened intently.

  “Becca, your cousin didn’t kill anyone,” she said when I was done. “I only met her in passing yesterday, but she’s not a murderer. It just wouldn’t be in her. I have a hard time thinking she could have hurt that restaurant manager, too. Now, stealing a recipe—I don’t know. That certainly sounds like something a young, inexperienced person might be tempted to do. It’s somehow a less harmful crime in some people’s eyes. I hope she didn’t, but perhaps if she did, she should let the authorities know as soon as possible. If she did steal it, I bet she’s scared to death. At the moment I feel sorry for her. Now, if she proves to be guilty of either assault or murder, I’ll take back that sympathy.”

  Though we were friends, Linda would never say something she didn’t mean. I appreciated her comments and insight. I was sure my cousin was scared, but I didn’t know how to ease her fears.

  “Betsy couldn’t kill anyone, either,” Linda continued. “Although I wonder about her sometimes. She’s a mystery, isn’t she?”

  “She is. I don’t know anything about her family. I suppose we’ve never been close, but I know a little about almost all the vendors’ families.”

  “I’m in the same boat. I’ve had some friendly conversations with her, but I don’t know one thing about her personal life. I don’t even know if she has a significant other. She never brings anyone to the market’s family events. She and I live very close to each other, but we’ve never socialized together. My fault as much as hers, I suppose, but you just get those vibes from some people, definitely from Betsy—‘work relationships only.’ Now, Jeff—I wouldn’t be surprised by anything he did. He’s different, and makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Do you know anything about his personal life?”

  “I know he dates lots and lots of women. And doesn’t call them the next day if you know what I mean. I wish I didn’t know that much, but when he first started working here, I happened to overhear some conversations.”

  “Yeah, I’m not surprised, either. I wonder how much Allison knows about either of them.”

  “If anyone knows anything, it would be Allison.”

  We talked a few minutes more about how Linda’s husband, Drew, a Navy SEAL, and Sam seemed to get along so well and how we both thought they were probably plotting ways to save the world whenever they were together. We laughed, but there was a serious ring to the laughter.

  I helped her gather her empty boxes and load them in the van. As I waved a good-bye to her taillights, I decided I still had a few things to do before I left for the day.

  I hurried toward Jeff’s cart; this was much more easily accomplished without the earlier crowd to slow me down. I wasn’t surprised to find that it didn’t look to have been opened for business today. His table was folded and leaning against the side of the cart. I inspected everything for another note or something that might be important, but I didn’t find anything. However, if he’d left the market as permanently as it seemed Betsy had, he would have taken the cart and table with him. Unless he had been picked up by the police before even making it in.

  I turned away from the cart and walked back out to the parking lot. I had a hunch that’s where I’d find Allison. But this time the hunch was wrong. There was no sign of her, but someone else captured my attention.

  All of the trucks except Peyton’s were open for business, their serving counter doors either pushed up or pushed out and supported by sturdy metal rods. Either the trucks’ food hadn’t quite caught on yet, or business had hit a lull. There were no customers outside any of them. However, the cupcake lady, Basha Bonahan, stood outside Peyton’s closed truck, her hands on her hips and her focus on something on the top right part of the side panel.

  I made a beeline to her. “Hi,” I said.

  She started slightly. “Oh! I didn’t see or hear you, young lady. Maybe clear your throat or something next time.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” Basha shook her head. “I’m a little jumpy, I guess. Did you hear about the murder?”

  “I did,” I said.

  “That man was just here yesterday. He seemed . . . well, I’m not sure he seemed like much of anything, but he didn’t seem like someone who would be murdered. Whatever that means, I guess.” Tears filled her eyes, but they didn’t fall.

  “I’m sorry, Basha. This is a terrible shock.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Gracious, I didn’t even know him. It’s just . . . unsettling, that’s all. I’m sorry for his family, and I keep looking over my own shoulder.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you know him?” she asked.

  “No, not really.”

  She turned her eyes back to the truck. I inspected her profile as she seemed to recover.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  Basha blinked and then looked at me again. “Just at the truck. I heard the young woman who owns this one was . . . what’s the word? Detained by the police regarding the murder.”

  I nodded. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but I thought you were looking at the top corner up there specifically. Is there something about the way the trucks work that made you look there?”

  “No, nothing. That’s just where my eyes fell,” she said.

  I didn’t quite believe her, but I didn’t know why. It was just a side panel—there were no dents, nothing strange.

  “Anyway, I guess I should get back. It’s been quiet for an hour, but we had business ear
lier. I hope it picks up some tomorrow.” Basha turned and walked quickly away.

  The entire exchange left me feeling somewhat confused. She’d been emotional one second, almost taciturn the next. Blatantly curious about the corner of the truck from what I’d observed, and then claiming to me she wasn’t looking at anything specific. And then she’d marched back to the duties at hand.

  “Hey,” I said as I hurried to catch up to her. “I’ve wanted to be a customer since the second I saw you pull into the lot. I’d love a cupcake.”

  Basha laughed. “Come on over, I’ll hook you up.”

  Again, her personality shifted. Now she seemed downright jovial. I waited outside as she hoisted herself into the business part of the truck and came over to the counter. She pointed at the handwritten menu board folded open on the counter, which listed the flavors she’d made today. “What can I get you?”

  Key Lime Disco, Maple Bacon Sizzle, Piña Colada Party, Strawberry Cheesecake Swirl, Chocolate Coma, and Lemon Pucker.

  “I’ll take two of each,” I said.

  “Dessert for the family?”

  “Maybe,” I said with a smile.

  Basha nodded knowingly.

  Shortly, I had the box of cupcakes, but no answers to my questions about what Basha had been looking at. Another customer appeared so I stepped out of the way after our brief transaction, and resumed my search for Allison.

  It was by chance (though sometimes I called these incidents twin-moments) that I happened to see her standing at the market entrance by her office building just as she looked my direction and waved me over.

  As I passed each food truck, I glanced inside them, ready to wave if the proprietors were available. The only person I was able to greet was Daryl, who stood at the counter of his wing truck and watched me though those tilted glasses. Would it be rude to ask if one of his ears was that much higher than the other or if he’d just done something to bend the glasses? He scowled when he waved and made me uncomfortable. I didn’t see either Mel or Hank in their trucks and I wondered where they’d gone, so I stepped up the pace as I hurried toward Allison.

  “Cupcakes?” she said with an enthusiastic but weary smile when she saw the box under my arm.

  “Couldn’t resist,” I said.

  “I tried one earlier and thought it was delicious. I also had a taco. I recommend Paco, I mean Mel, and his tacos.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I am. Peyton’s on her way back. Sam’s bringing her,” Allison said.

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Peyton’s not being held but she isn’t in the clear yet. I don’t know exactly what that means and I hope you try to get some details from Sam when you can. I told Sam I would be responsible for her. I’ll watch her.”

  “I’ll get whatever I can from him. Any word from Jeff?”

  “Nothing. I tried to call him earlier, but only a couple of times. Haven’t heard from him. Hopefully Sam can give you more information about that, too. Maybe they talked to him today. There they are.” Allison nodded toward the parking lot entrance.

  A police cruiser moved slowly through the parking lot. It was followed by a smaller car—Harry’s rental.

  Peyton was seated in the front passenger seat of the cruiser. She glanced at us through the window, making it clear that she was not a happy cousin.

  Sam got out of the car first. He opened the door for Peyton at the same time Harry got out of his rental. We became an awkward group of five.

  “Allison, Becca,” Peyton said as she barely looked up from the ground.

  For a long moment the rest of us blinked at each other.

  “Peyton needs to stay in town,” Sam finally said. “I let her know that Harry’s here because of some trouble in Arizona. She recognized him.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she mumbled as she crossed her arms in front of herself.

  “Truthfully, there’s not a lot that tells us you did do something wrong, Peyton,” Sam said. He turned to Allison. “But there are some questions that we need answered before we know for sure. She would like to go ahead and open her food truck tomorrow if it’s okay with you.”

  “Of course. And you’ll stay with me, too, Peyton. Okay?” Allison said.

  “Or me,” I said.

  “That won’t work,” Allison said. “Conflict of interest or something considering you and Sam are dating.”

  “This is the guy?” Peyton said, uncrossing her arms and standing straighter.

  I nodded quickly. Now was not the moment to discuss my love life.

  “Well, he hasn’t been a complete jerk, I guess,” Peyton said.

  “That’s good,” I said evenly.

  “Anyway,” Sam continued. “It’s fine if you want to stay with Allison. In fact, it’s what we would prefer.”

  “Gee, thanks for the permission.” Peyton blanched. “Sorry. I’m not happy with how the day has gone and I should be more respectful. Thank you.”

  She sounded like she meant it. Sort of.

  “All right. It’s settled. Come with me,” Allison said as she gently took Peyton’s arm. “Tomorrow’s another day. Let me finish a few things in my office and then we can go home.”

  “Harry, where are you staying?” Sam asked as Allison and Peyton disappeared into Allison’s office.

  “Small hotel on the way to a town called Smithfield.”

  “Why don’t you stay at my house?” Sam said. “I’m at Becca’s most of the time. You’ll pretty much have the place to yourself.”

  Harry seemed momentarily confused by the offer, and then said, “I don’t want to impose.”

  “No imposition,” Sam said. “It probably seems empty most days and a potential target for theft. You’ll make it look a little lived-in.”

  Target for theft. I loved it when he talked cop.

  “In that case, thanks.”

  “Get your stuff, and then both of you come over for dinner,” I said. “I need to get home to Hobbit.”

  Arrangements were made, and as much as I wanted Sam and Harry to give me all the details about everything that had happened that day, I knew they wouldn’t as we stood in the parking lot. My only hope was that I could get them to talk during dinner. Sam didn’t really drink, but I was so curious about the day’s events that the idea of liquoring them up crossed my mind.

  When I was the only one left outside Allison’s office building, I turned to go back through the market and to my stall. But then I stopped as intuition tickled at the back of my neck. I turned around one more time to look toward the trucks. Basha was outside again and looking at the top right corner of Peyton’s side panel.

  “What in the world?” I muttered.

  I had an urge to go back and ask her again, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I’d have to find a better way to get her to talk to me. I could try to ply her with some strawberry jam. Maybe she could use some for her cheesecake cupcakes.

  As I walked past Allison’s office, I leaned in to see if I could hear anything, but no sound made it out.

  Once in the comfort of my own truck, I set the box of cupcakes on the passenger side of the bench seat and was glad to finally head back home to Hobbit.

  Eight

  Hobbit was as happy to see me as I was to see her. I kept the distractions at bay during our evening frolic. By the time we’d run around the strawberries and pumpkins a few times, we were both panting. Hobbit found relief in her newly filled water bowl, and I found relief with the tallest glass of iced tea I could pour.

  Dinner was grilled burgers and a mix of other stuff I found in the fridge. Tomato and mozzarella salad, with sides of cucumbers and strawberries, went well with the giant burgers.

  It was a meal even a big guy like Harry could enjoy. Though he was plenty used to heat, our humidity could take down even the strongest man if he wasn’t used to it. The shaded patio was surprisingly comfortable by dinnertime, the heat and humidity both now tolerable. Sam and I told Har
ry that we could go into the air-conditioned inside whenever he wanted to. He didn’t seem to want to.

  “This is beautiful,” Harry said after dinner and as he looked back over the rolling hills and toward my crops, which spread up a slope to the side of the house and patio. “So green.”

  “Though there isn’t as much green in the desert, I was surprised to find as much color as I did,” I said.

  “It’s a beautiful place, too. They both are, but in different ways. Arizona is home. I’ve been out of the state a time or two, but I’m always a little jostled when there isn’t any cactus around,” Harry said with a smile. He’d removed the hat but he still seemed a little too big for the space he took up—in a good way, though, as if his mere presence invited you into his life. His bigness somehow made you think that if there was room for him, there was also plenty room for you and anyone else. I knew differently, though. In fact, he was more guarded than welcoming, but I was sure his demeanor was a helpful trait for his career choice.

  Hobbit shifted on the ground beside my feet. “Any chance I could ask you two some questions? About today?” I said.

  “Of course,” Harry said.

  I’d seen the quick sideways glance Sam and Harry shared when I’d asked.

  “We’ll answer what we can, Becca. Some of your questions might be either unanswerable at this time or perhaps something we have to keep to ourselves,” Sam said.

  Again, I loved cop mode.

  “Did you tell Sam about everything from Arizona, the things you think Peyton might have been involved in?” I said to Harry.

  “Every bit of it,” Harry said.

  “Sam, what do the Arizona events have to do with your murder investigation? I guess what I’m asking is, is there any reason you can see how everything would somehow be tied together?”

  “No way at all,” Sam said. “But again, Becca, we can’t rule out anything at this point. We don’t have enough to disregard any possible connection, however unlikely it may be.”

  I nodded. “Did Peyton admit to anything yet? Maybe even something she did in Arizona?”

  “No,” Sam and Harry said.