Merry Market Murder(32)

When she hung up the phone, I held up the onion.

She blinked and said, “That’s . . . interesting.”

“I know. It’s, as far as I know, the world’s first onion Christmas ornament.”

“Me, too. I have never seen another one like it. Did you make it?”

“No, someone left it in my stall today. Someone left an eggshell ornament in my truck yesterday, too, with the number 1987 written on it. I’m assuming it’s the same person.”

“Really? Who?”

“There’s the mystery.”

“Let me see.”

I handed it to Allison and she turned it every direction. “It’s the South Carolina state seal.”

“It is.”

“You have a proud South Carolinian admirer.”

“Or something else.”

“Like?”

“I think someone is trying to communicate something to me other than Season’s Greetings. These are the pieces to some sort of puzzle.”

“A puzzle to where the real gift is hidden, maybe? That’s a cute idea.”

“Or . . . well, there was a murder here.”

“Clues to the killer?” Allison asked.

“That’s pretty far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“I think so. But maybe we can work to figure out the clues before we jump to conclusions. My interpretation is that something happened in South Carolina in 1987 and that something will lead you somewhere that’s important to the ornaments, or their creator. That’ll take some research.”

“I’ll look into it.”

She handed me the onion. “Did you discuss this with Sam?”

“Not yet. He only knows about the egg.”

“Talk to him. Maybe his police officer eyes and instincts will see things we aren’t trained to see.”

“I will.”

Changing the subject, Allison said, “Sam released Brenton quickly yesterday. I tried to talk to Brenton again this morning, but he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t violent, but he also wasn’t interested in talking to me.”

I’d been trying to somehow tie the ornaments to Brenton, but I couldn’t detect any real connection. Nevertheless, he was on my mind, too.

“Me, either. He’s embarrassed. Sam said there was no real reason to arrest him and once he cooled down a little and Sam told Brenton that he shouldn’t behave the way he was behaving, Sam just wanted to let him go. He likes Brenton.”

“Everyone likes Brenton. I wish I understood the history between him and the Ridgeways. I thought about asking Denny, but it feels like we as a market might have already been less-than-stellar hosts, and it might just be none of my business anyway,” Allison said.

I’d thought about talking to Denny, too, but I’d been so busy that I hadn’t yet made the effort.

“Did you know Brenton was once married?” I said.

“Sure. I know his ex-wife—not well, but as well as anyone, I suppose.”

“Who is she?”

“You didn’t know that Brenton was once married to Stephanie Frugit?” Allison said.

“As in Frugit Orchard, Stephanie Frugit?” I said as I sat up straight. How did I not know this?

“It was a long time ago, but yes, the one and only Stephanie Frugit is Brenton’s ex-wife. She’s the one who told Brenton he should sell his dog biscuits here at Bailey’s. Of course, that was after she laughed at the idea of her orchard having a stall here.”

The Frugit Orchard issue had occurred about ten years earlier. I remembered Allison’s anger at the way she felt she’d been treated by Stephanie when Allison suggested that a Frugit Orchard apple stall at the then up-and-coming Bailey’s would benefit everyone involved. Stephanie Frugit had laughed at the idea and had even been quoted as saying “That little Monson market would never be able to handle the popularity of a Frugit Orchard apple stand” to a newspaper reporter who was writing a story on Monson businesses.

The worst part of the entire episode was that the apples were delicious, probably some of the best I’d ever eaten. I knew that Linda only purchased Frugit Orchard apples. They were easy to find; they were sold in most South Carolina grocery stores, and they were the number-one apple brand sold by all the local produce wholesalers. They were almost everywhere, except at Bailey’s. Over the years as Bailey’s had grown, I’d sometimes wondered if Stephanie Frugit might reconsider and set up at stall at the market. But knowing what I knew of her stubborn and way-too-proud reputation, I thought it unlikely.

“No matter how hard I try to create that picture in my mind, I can’t imagine Brenton married to Stephanie Frugit. In fact, from what I know about them both, I can’t even imagine them liking each other,” I said.