Merry Market Murder(6)

Allison was good at everything, including situations rife with anger, but for the first time in a long time I thought I heard uncertainty in her voice.

Sam and I moved behind her and to the edge of the aisle. No one paid us any attention, but everyone, vendors and customers alike, was standing and watching the showdown, if that’s what it truly was.

“I just know the rules, Allison. I know that I’m supposed to get a vote. I would have argued and voted no. I would have convinced everyone else, too. They shouldn’t be here,” Brenton said.

“You do get a vote, Brenton, but this was an unusual circumstance. This isn’t a permanent vendor. Come with me to my office and I’ll point that part of the contract out to you.”

“I don’t want to go to your office. I want them out of here.”

“Who does he want out of here?” I asked Abner, the wildflower man, though I thought I knew who he was talking about.

“Those Christmas trees folks,” Abner said.

“Why?”

Abner shrugged. “Dunno. Allison’s been trying to get that out of him or get him out of here. Brenton’s causing quite the scene.”

“Sam,” I said as I put my hand on his arm.

“Already on it,” he said.

He had taken a step forward, and the thought that that was the first time I’d “taken advantage” of his position of authority flitted through my mind. I wanted him to be the police officer and get the situation in front of us handled. Something was wrong with Brenton; his tone was threatening toward my sister. I didn’t know how long the show had been going on, but it was time for it to be over, and Sam was here, in uniform and everything. My prompting him forward had been almost an unconscious maneuver.

Sam threaded his way around a couple of curious customers and was standing next to Allison a few seconds later.

“Allison,” he said in greeting.

She looked surprised to see him, but her face neutralized quickly.

“Sam,” she said.

“Brenton, how’re you doing?” Sam turned his attention to the angry man in the Yankees cap.

“I’m not happy, but this isn’t a police matter, Sam,” Brenton said.

“I don’t know. Someone sure seems to be disturbing the peace around here.”

Brenton’s eyebrows came together as he looked hard at Sam. A moment later, he looked around at the crowd that had gathered. It was as if he finally noticed the audience. He shuffled his feet, lifted his cap, and then put it back on his head.

“I’m not happy, that’s all,” he muttered.

Allison put her hand on Sam’s arm, but kept her glance toward Brenton. “I’m sorry about that, Brenton, and I want to better understand what’s going on. Come on, come with me to my office.”

Brenton hesitated, but only briefly. He looked at the crowd and then at Sam again. “Sure. Okay, sure.”

The disturbance was suddenly over and the crowd began to disperse and return to minding their own business and shopping lists. I joined Sam just as he asked Allison if she wanted him to attend the meeting with Brenton.

“No, Sam, he’s harmless. He’s just having an extraordinarily bad day, and I’m truly concerned about him. We’ll be fine.”

Sam didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t push it.

I didn’t know what to think. I agreed with Allison, but something had made one of the mellowest men ever behave as unlike himself as I thought possible. I didn’t say anything, but thought that Sam and I would follow behind Allison and keep watch by the entrance of the market, which just happened to be right where Sam’s car was parked. We could trail and spy on them casually.

“Hey,” a voice said behind me, stopping us from executing my sneaky plan.

“Linda, hey,” I said.

“Hi, Linda,” Sam said.

As my neighbor vendor and best friend, Linda was like family to me, and she and Sam had grown closer since we’d started dating. She baked fruit pies and played the part of prairie woman perfectly in her pioneer skirt and apron. She sometimes wore a bonnet, too, but as I’d become used to lately, the bonnet had gone missing and her short, blonde curls were free and bouncy.

“That was interesting,” she said.

“Do you know how it started?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was close by the whole time. I was talking to Abner when Brenton got to his stall. He was agitated, stomping around, rough with his inventory, hurrying and putting bags of dog biscuits up on his tables, but not neatly. It was strange. I was going to go talk to him when Abner and I finished, but then that woman walked in.”

“Which woman?” Sam and I asked at the same time.