Merry Market Murder(13)

“You found Mr. Stuckey’s body?” she asked me.

“Yes. Allison and Denny Ridgeway were there, too.” I sounded way too defensive already. I’d found a few dead bodies in my time, and Officer Norton had an accusatory tone to her voice, emphasizing that she remembered my involvement, peripheral though it might have been. I cleared my throat.

“Tell me the events that led up to you opening the back of his truck. Why did you—the three of you—decide it was something that needed to be done?”

“We couldn’t find Reggie,” I said. “And we were worried about him and about the trees.”

I explained that we’d checked the cab, that Allison had said that she hadn’t received an answer when she’d called Reggie’s office that morning, and that the Ridgeways hadn’t seen him.

“So, Mr. Ridgeway said that the three members of his group hadn’t seen Mr. Stuckey? He was specific about all three of them?” she said.

I thought back. “I think he said ‘we,’ but I don’t know if that was meant to be specific to the three of them. I don’t know if he really knew if the others had or hadn’t seen Reggie.”

“What dealings did you have with Reggie Stuckey?”

“None. I’d never seen him or met him before yesterday. I’ve probably heard of his farm, but I can’t remember when. I’ve often heard about the Ridgeway Farm.”

“Those Ridegway trees are amazing,” she said as she jotted in her small, black notebook. There was a rising tone to her voice, as if she wanted me to add something.

I didn’t know what exactly to say, so I just went with, “Uh-huh, that’s what I’ve heard for years, and the ones they brought to sell at the market look perfect.”

She looked up from the notebook. “You’ve never had a Ridgeway tree?”

“I’ve never had a real Christmas tree. Mom was allergic.”

“That’s a shame.” She tsk’ed and shook her head.

Now I felt like defending my mom. But she was good with finger painting, never cared if we made a mess—or something along those lines. I cleared my throat again.

“So, what do you know about the contract between the deceased victim Reggie Stuckey and Bailey’s Farmers’ Market?”

“Nothing specific. I know that both Denny and Reggie thought they had the exclusive right to sell trees at Bailey’s this year, but I don’t know the contract details,” I said, quickly and easily. Even I was impressed by my smooth lie. I would tell Sam later about my meeting with Allison and our inspection of the two tree vendor contracts. When I told him, he would tell me that I should have told Officer Norton and he’d pretend he was irritated that I hadn’t. But I didn’t care. Evidently, she already knew something about the contract was bothersome and I didn’t think that she was intimating that Allison was involved with Reggie Stuckey’s murder, but she was curious about people who were a part of the market, curious about something my sister had been involved in creating. I’d give the full information to Sam and he’d know the right way to deal with it. I didn’t want to risk saying anything that might—even a little bit of might—make Allison look in any way involved.

“Did you hear the argument yesterday in the parking lot?”

“Yes, but it was more a slight confrontation than an argument.”

“Can you tell me exactly what you remember?”

“Sure.” I told her what had been said between the parties involved. It hadn’t been a particularly angry meeting; more tense than angry, but it could have become more heated if Allison hadn’t been able to stall everyone for a day or two.

“What do you think would have happened if Reggie Stuckey had been found to be lying about his selling-at-Bailey’s status?” Officer Norton asked.

“I guess Allison would have asked him to leave.”

“Why would someone go to such lengths to lie about being a vendor? It seems so elaborate and wasteful. His truck was packed with trees, and they might not be sellable at this point,” Officer Norton said, but she wasn’t really asking me a question. She was pondering aloud.

Nonetheless, I said, “I don’t know.”

Since I was facing the entrance to the market, I saw when Brenton turned his truck in to the lot. I also noticed the expression on his face. I was almost certain it bore the same crankiness from the day before, but this time it only lasted a brief instant. Then the disdain transformed into something that caused his face to become as pale white as I’d ever seen. He slowed the truck slightly and looked furtively around the lot.