And when she was done, she was done. She stood abruptly and told me she had to get back to her stall, but it had been good to talk to me. She wasn’t necessarily friendly but she wasn’t evil.
I sat at the table a moment and thought about the conversation Evie and I had had, and then I weaved my way through the market and back to Mamma and asked her to keep our new secret. She agreed, and I left Smithfield with a pumpkin cream pie and only a few more pieces to the Reggie puzzle. I felt strongly that an affair had been part of the reason behind Evelyn and Reggie’s divorce and her move away from politics, but who had had the affair? I understood that infidelity could be devastating, but if it had occurred, it had demolished everything. A marriage and promising career, both gone.
Whatever had happened, clearly it had seemed like there was no way to salvage what Reggie and Evelyn had worked hard to create.
Was there anyone who could give me more answers?
Of course there was, but I just had to figure out who. And how to get them to tell me.
Fifteen
My cell phone buzzed only a few minutes after I pulled out of the now-crowded Smithfield Market parking lot.
“Hey, Sam,” I said.
“Are you still in Smithfield?”
“Just leaving. Would you like to hear what I learned with my crack-detective questioning skills?”
“Yes.” I heard the smile in his voice. “But I wondered if you wanted to do some tag-team detective work. You can tell me in person.”
“Oh yes,” I said. I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. He could have just been flirting, but all options were appealing.
“Meet me at Reggie Stuckey’s farm. Officers have been out to the house, and they talked to the same housekeeper you talked to. But after your intel, I’d like to get my own take.”
“And I’m invited?”
“There are some perks to dating a cop, you know.”
“Well, yeah, but . . .”
Sam laughed. “If it was a crime scene, you wouldn’t be invited, but since you’ve already been there and I’d like this to be casual . . .”
“Wait. You’re using me as an in? You want me to ease the way for you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I use my connections?”
“Indeed.” I smiled and hoped he heard it. “See you in about twenty.”
The trip back to the Stuckey farm was much quicker than I anticipated. I wasn’t slowed by tractors or pockets of traffic. Sam was at the spot off the main road that led down the other road to the farm. He’d parked his cruiser and was standing next to a recently placed “For Sale” sign as he typed something into his phone. He was in full cop mode, his uniform crisp and his hair smoothly slicked back.
He turned, smiled, and waved as I pulled my truck next to his car.
“Hey,” I said as I joined him by the sign.
“Hey,” he said as he finished typing. “Did you know the farm was for sale?”
“I didn’t see the sign here yesterday, but Ian told me he looked at this farm before he bought the land he now owns.” I looked at the Realtor’s name. I didn’t recognize it. “It must have been put up after I left yesterday.”
“I’m curious as to when the property really was put on the market and who made the decision to do so.”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged.
Sam punched a button on his phone and held the device up to his ear.
“Vivienne, call this Realtor and ask her for details regarding the Stuckey farm being listed for sale. Ask who put it on the market and when.” He recited the Realtor’s name and phone number that was written on the sign. “And has anyone checked if Stuckey had a life insurance policy or a will or something that would make someone a decision-maker regarding the sale of the farm? Uh-huh. Good. Well, check again, deeper maybe. Check with the bank just to be sure. We’re missing a connection that needs to be found. Thanks. Yeah, call me back. Thanks again.” He closed his phone and then peered down the road and fell into thought.
“Sam, should we get in there and see Gellie and Batman?”
“Batman?”
“The goose.”
“That’s right. You mentioned the goose. I think we should. Let’s leave your truck here. You can ride in the police car and tell me about your meeting with Evelyn.”
“Can I drive?”
“No.”
“Someday, I’m sure you’ll let me. I guess you have to get really serious about someone to let them drive your police car.”
I’d heard that Sam had taken charge of the Monson police motor pool, small though it might be, and he required all officers to pass annual refresher courses before he allowed them to drive. I’d overheard some of them groan good-naturedly about his strict rules and his protectiveness over the department’s vehicles.