Merry Market Murder(31)

“I found it in my stall. It looks like someone turned an onion into a Christmas ornament, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll be,” he said as he took it from my hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a thing. Can’t say it’s an attractive way to use an onion, but I do think it’s creative. Who’d you say made it?”

“I don’t know. It was on my side table. I’d like to find whoever did it, though. I’m curious.”

Bo laughed. “You are the curious type.” He handed me back the ornament. “It’s a plain white onion. I’ve sold a number of them today. And yesterday, the day before, and so on. Sometimes I remember who I sell specific onions to, particularly if the customer is picky and they take their time going through them all, but this one, pre-decoration, doesn’t stand out.”

I turned the onion and tried to come up with another question, but I was blank.

“What’s that circle?” Bo asked.

“It’s South Carolina’s state seal.”

“Oh, sure, of course it is. You know . . .” he began. He rubbed his chin.

“What?”

“I’ve seen that recently, today or yesterday. I didn’t realize it, but now that I see it again and know what it is, I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere else.”

“Here, at Bailey’s?”

“I don’t know. Shoot, I could have seen it on something official, something that it belongs on, but I didn’t pay it any attention until now. I’ll think about it and let you know if I remember. I’m kind of curious, too. I’d like to know who’s so darn creative, particularly if it’s with one of my onions.”

“Thanks.” I thought hard about what I could say that might help him remember more. “Has Sam bought any onions in the last couple days?”

“No.” Bo shook his head.

“What about vendors? Who’s bought from you today and yesterday, if you can remember?” Something told me my Secret Santa was someone I knew, someone who worked at Bailey’s. Even a frequent customer didn’t make much sense. The personal touch, no matter what it might mean, might help me figure out if I knew the ornament artist.

“Gosh, let’s see.” Bo rubbed his chin again. “Brenton bought something—just one onion, but I can’t remember if it was yellow or white. He buys onions one at a time all the time—though he switches up what kind. Allison bought a whole bunch of them, all kinds again. Oh, and that tree guy, the one who looks like Santa, bought a bunch of white ones. I think that’s about it.”

Brenton, Allison, and Denny. I didn’t see any of them taking the time to create ornaments from eggs or onions, though they were all possible covert artists. But why? And, it was possible that the egg had been stolen from Jeannine’s stall. If so, maybe the onion had been stolen, too.

“Bo, do you count your inventory every day?” I asked.

“Gosh, no, I do everything by weight and it’s just an estimated weight at that. I haven’t used a scale in years. I can pick up a bag of onions and know what it weighs. I’m pretty close to accurate.”

I didn’t keep a close inventory, either, but I knew how many jars fit into each box and it was pretty easy to have a good daily guesstimate. Neither Bo nor I was meticulous like Jeannine, and we never would be.

“Thanks, Bo. I’d love to know if you remember where else you saw the seal.”

“Sure. I’ll call you if it comes to me.”

Hobbit and I walked away from Bo’s stall with no real next destination in mind. When that happens, I usually just roam, which eventually leads me to my sister’s office. I caught her in the aisle, just as she was hurrying back to it.

“Hey, sis. Hey, girl,” she said as she reached down and patted Hobbit’s head. “I’ve got to make a quick call. Come with me.”

I sat in the same chair I’d sat in the day before, and Hobbit found a space next to me that she could fit herself into. Allison’s office was small, but today almost all the available extra space was taken up with boxes of flyers.

“They were supposed to go to the post office. They’re our mail piece to announce the Ridgeway Farm trees. The printer messed up and sent them here. That’s who I have to call. Give me just a few minutes.”

Allison used her firm but friendly voice to inform the printer of their mistake. From the side of the conversation that I heard, I thought they might be trying to place the blame on her, but she managed to remind them of the initial agreement, an agreement that had been written and then signed. As was usual, she handled the problem perfectly.