Merry Market Murder(10)

Allison flipped to the last pages of each contract.

“This contract is meant to be used for all temporary vendors. Throughout it, the language is simply ‘Bailey’s Farmers’ Market’ and ‘Vendor.’ Until the last page. There, the vendor’s business name and the name of a representing officer are typed in on the computer. The Stuckey contract is identical to the Ridgeway’s except for the vendor and representative signature names.”

“So, Reggie . . . wait, I’ll say someone . . . copied everything, but used Wite-Out on the names and retyped them in?”

Allison laughed. “Yes. Look, you can even see the difference. The contract is, of course, written on a computer. You can see how someone actually rolled the Stuckey contract through a typewriter and added the names. The fonts are slightly different and the gs drop a little.”

“Where in the world does one find a typewriter nowadays? And how in the world did whoever did this think that they wouldn’t get caught?”

“I don’t know,” Allison said in response to both questions.

I sat back down as Allison continued to inspect the contracts.

“Are you just going to kick him out?” I asked after a moment.

“I probably could, based on this alone, but I think I’d better get the owners involved. I’ll tell Reggie not to set up until tomorrow, that the owners want to come out and first talk to him personally. The owners will want to get the police involved, too, I’m sure. It’s illegal to forge documents, but I’m not sure how illegal.”

“I can help on the police end,” I said, pulling out my cell phone to call Sam.

“Hang on,” Allison said. She pointed at the contracts. “Let me talk to the owners first. Let me make sure it wasn’t us or them who somehow did this.”

“What? Something more is bothering you, I can tell,” I said. I wasn’t using our twin intuition as much as I was just noticing the deep thought–invoked creases on her forehead.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would do this. I’m trying to picture the sequence of events. If Reggie wants to sell trees at Bailey’s, he calls me or the owners directly, and he’s told we’ve given an exclusive to someone else. Even if he knew who the exclusive was for, why would he bother to go to such extremes, and how did he get the contract?”

“We have a mystery on our hands.”

“We always have a mystery, it seems. I’m glad this one doesn’t involve a dead body,” Allison said.

“True,” I said, but I’ll never forget the wave of disquiet that ran down the back of my throat, though my chest and then chilled my toes. I’d never been one for premonitions but I was a big believer in jinxes. And as sure as I was that Vivienne Norton, burly Monson police officer, knew how to bake Christmas cookies, the next morning I knew that the wave of wonky I’d felt had been a jinx falling into place and affecting just about everyone involved.





Four





“I have no idea where Reggie went,” Allison said. “After you and I talked yesterday, I called the owners and then came out to let him know that they’d be by this afternoon to talk to him. They told me not to call the police, either. They had an office temp helping out last month during a big paperwork filing crisis—their words, not mine—and the temp employee was a female. They wanted to talk to her before they talked to Reggie, so they told me to hold off. I came out to talk to him but he wasn’t here.”

I stepped onto the running board on the driver’s side of Reggie’s truck and peered through the side window. The cab wasn’t like some big-rig cabs I’d seen with a living/sleeping space in the back, but it was plenty roomy. The driver and passenger seats were both covered in black-and-red-checkered fabric that had seen much better days. A sturdy, green Thermos was on its side on the passenger seat, and the smoky cigarette smell I thought I noticed coming through the closed window was confirmed by an open pack under the Thermos. I could even see a few flecks of tobacco next to the pack. I confirmed once again that the door was locked before I hopped down and hurried over to the passenger side.

“I checked it, too,” Allison said. “Locked.”

It was locked tight, no matter how many times I tried the handle.

“You haven’t seen him at all since earlier yesterday?” I asked as I rejoined her on the driver’s side.

“No. I haven’t really asked around, so I don’t know if anyone saw him leave in another vehicle, but if he has trees inside the truck, shouldn’t they be aired out or something?”