Merry Market Murder(59)

“Really?”

“I’m not sure, Becs, but a look at his application just to see if there’s anything there won’t hurt anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t he just tell the police about the connection, particularly if he’s not directly involved?” I said.

“You well know that people’s motives for doing or not doing something can be personal and sometimes muddled.”

“True,” I said.

“What? You’re thinking about something else,” Allison said.

“Kind of. If Brenton’s ex-wife won’t tell me more about him, maybe someone else will.”

“Like?”

“Fellow market vendors.”

“I suppose you could try.” She looked at her watch. “But you’d better hurry. After today, most everyone will be involved with the parade for a couple days, and then there’s Christmas. I suspect vendors will be making their way out of here soon, if they haven’t already, and will be hard to find for a while.”

With that, we both stood. Still holding the tree ornament, I turned one way down an aisle while Allison turned the other. I’d interrupted her original plan but she didn’t miss a beat and was back on track to her market duties.

My first plan, my only one really, was to find Barry. He’d been the one to tell me about Brenton’s ex-wife in the first place. Stephanie was his niece, so he probably knew more about Brenton. But I was sidetracked along the way; I was so close to the Bailey’s entrance that I had a perfect view of the Ridgeway setup. I didn’t see Ned, but Denny and Billie were both there; Denny working with a tree, Billie sitting on a lawn chair again, but looking at some papers this time. They didn’t look busy, so I took advantage of the lull and hurried over to try to talk to Denny.

“Becca, how are you?” he said as though he didn’t remember the discomfort from our last conversation.

“Hi, Becca,” Billie said but she remained seated.

“Hi. Wow, you’ve sold some trees. That’s great!”

“Yes, we’re doing well,” Denny said.

“Mind if I ask how you are all keeping up at your farm? You have some employees?”

“A few, but right now Ned is there. It’ll slow down here tomorrow, but we’ll all deliver the trees to the parade and another employee will man the fort down here.”

I nodded.

“What’s that?” Denny said as he pointed to the metal tree I was still holding.

“That, I believe, is a Christmas tree ornament. I have a Secret Santa.”

Denny laughed and Billie glanced over briefly, but returned her attention back to the papers a second later.

I was still bothered that Denny didn’t ho-ho-ho.

“You and your fella will have something to put on your tree now. You still planning on coming up on Sunday?” Denny said.

“Yes, we’re looking forward to it.”

“Good, can’t wait to have you up there.”

“Denny, can I ask you another question that’s probably too personal to ask?” I said, waiting for him to cross him arms again, like the last time I’d asked if I could snoop more deeply than was probably acceptable.

But he didn’t cross his arms this time. He didn’t protest. Instead, his eyes actually twinkled. I liked that. “I get the sense that’s never stopped you before. Sure—I won’t promise that I’ll answer, but let’s have a seat.” He guided me away from Billie to the other end of the tree corral. There were no chairs, so I just assumed he wanted to move away from his sister if someone was going to ask him a potentially too-personal question.

“Look, I know you said you don’t know Brenton. What if I just ask if there’s some sort of connection between the two of you, but not what that connection is. It’s just you and me, Denny, and I’d really like to know.”

Denny thought a long, long time before he answered, but I steeled myself silent for as long as it took.

“Gosh, Becca, I don’t know . . . I don’t feel like I should tell you. It’s not my place, if you know what I mean.”

“So there is a connection?”

Denny put his finger next to his nose, a gesture that made me smile. He was almost the spitting image of the Santa from a book my parents read every year to Allison and me when we were little; the all-time classic and favorite, The Night Before Christmas.

But Denny didn’t magically disappear back up a chimney to his waiting sleigh and reindeer like the Santa in the book did. His eyes even stopped twinkling. “Yes, Becca, there is a connection.”

Again, I was struck by his choice of words. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose.