Merry Market Murder(58)

“Yes. It was a small piece for a garden. It was a simple wind fan, short, not meant to be tall. Did you find it?”

“I might have found part of it.”

“Should I come back?”

“Only if you want to. I’ll show it to Allison. I think that the wind fan has been disassembled and used to make a Christmas tree ornament.”

“That’s strange.”

“I know.” I thought about telling him about the other ornaments, but I decided that Allison and Sam should know about this one first.

“I’ll follow up tomorrow. Just have Allison call me if she wants me to come back in. I didn’t mention the missing piece to her because I wasn’t sure if it was missing or I was just too busy to remember everything.”

“I understand. I’ll let her know. Talk to you later.” I clicked off the call.

“Becca, what’s the deal with the ornaments? It’s getting a little creepy,” Linda said.

“I agree. And, I don’t know.” I looked around the market and then at my stall. There were plenty of shoppers, but the crowd had lessened a little, and I didn’t have very many jars left to sell. “Uh, I need to find Allison. Do you mind . . . ?”

“Not at all. Go. Get this ornament thing figured out.”

Somehow I quickly zoned in on Allison. I happened to call her right at the moment she was stepping out of her office. My call sent her back inside, and I met her there a minute later.

“Uh, that’s interesting,” Allison said as she looked at the ornament. “And you’re 100 percent positive that this wasn’t from Ian? Just a friendly gesture?”

“I’m sure. He could tell by the tone of my voice that I needed to know the truth.”

“Becca, I don’t have any idea what’s going on, but it’s kind of harmless.”

“In a somewhat disturbing way. I really do think someone’s leaving clues as to who the killer is. I’m feeling it even more after my conversation with Evelyn, and Sam’s and my search of Reggie’s house. There’s something with the Ridgeways, Reggie Stuckey, and Brenton, maybe their pasts.”

“Brenton is the anomaly,” Allison said. “Reggie’s murder could have something to do with Christmas tree farming, but how does Brenton fit in?”

“I think we should ask him again. Just you and me. Let’s try.”

“I’d love to, but he called me this morning. He won’t be back at the market until the new year. We’ll be quiet tomorrow because of the parade, but he’s taking some extended time off. He claims that his Internet orders are getting backed up and he needs to get them taken care of. He left some flyers on his display table yesterday before he left.”

Though I’d been preparing the cookies for the parade, the fact that the town preparations would begin tomorrow caught me off guard. I felt like I’d misplaced a day or two somewhere. I didn’t admit as much to Allison. “Brenton’s ex-wife mentioned something that might apply to him—that maybe he’s not who he said he is. How do we find out more about Brenton Jones without asking him?” I said.

“Sounds like a job for the police. Sam and the other officers have access to public records and such. They can track him, see what he’s been up to. They’re probably working on it already.”

“As far as I know, Brenton has been around Monson forever,” I said.

“He’s worked at the market almost since its inception in 1990. Oh, wait, hang on.” Allison reached to the file drawer on the side of her desk and opened it. She quickly found the file she was looking for, pulled it out, and placed it on the top of her desk. “Shoot. I guess he’s been archived. I forget who has and who hasn’t. This is Brenton’s file, but he’s been here so long that I sent his original application to the market’s archives. All the file has now is copies of his equipment request forms and a new phone and e-mail contact sheet. I can request the application be faxed over.”

Without waiting for me to comment, Allison picked up the handset of her phone and punched a number. “I have to leave a message. No one’s answering.” She left the message and then hung up the phone.

“I gotta say, sis, I feel weird about thinking that Brenton has anything at all to do with a murder,” I said. “He’s a friend. I feel disloyal, and I don’t like it.”

“Me, either,” Allison agreed. “I still don’t think he’s a killer, but his behavior has been so strange, so different. It bears looking at more closely. I don’t think he’s having some sort of mental breakdown or anything like that. I think he’s angry about the Ridgeways, plain and simple. I think he has some connection to them and that connection is either the reason Reggie Stuckey was murdered or a clue to who the killer is.”