Merry Market Murder(67)

But Elias turned back to face me again. “How about I give you a lift?”

“You want to drive me into the orchard?”

“Yes, but not in my truck. I have a four-wheeler. It’ll be quicker that way.”

I appreciated the accommodating attitude switch.

“Great! Thanks!”

If I hadn’t had a mission in mind, I might have enjoyed the ride on the back of the four-wheeler as Elias steered us though rows of apple trees. I’d walked through a number of orchards in my day. I’d picked fruit, both from low-hanging branches and from top rungs of ladders, but there was something magically different about Frugit Orchard. I’d never quite experienced anything like the alternating shades of light and shadow, the cool breeze that had somehow found its way into the trees. There was something special about the light and the shadow, as if it was touched by something unreal, something from a fairy-tale forest where castles were located. There were no apples on the trees, but I was certain I could smell their sweetness anyway.

Elias drove us up a ridge and then down a hill, and then turned the four-wheeler to the left. He stopped, flipped on a brake, and rose to stand on the footrests as he looked around.

“See her?” I asked, raising my voice over the noise of the engine.

“Maybe.” Elias sat down again and I wrapped my arms around his waist as he turned the accelerator handle.

After another few minutes up the path, we turned right and suddenly came upon Stephanie Frugit.

Stephanie lived up to her reputation even when she was alone and inspecting her orchard. She sat on a beautiful sable horse, and wore chaps, a Western blouse, and a feminine cowboy hat. Out from under the hat, her long hair shone in the sunshine and framed her shoulders perfectly as the breeze blew it just enough to make the highlights glimmer.

After Elias turned the key on the vehicle, she said, “That was a noisy arrival.”

“Sorry, Ms. Frugit, but she wasn’t going to leave.”

“I understand, Elias. I knew she’d be back again soon anyway,” Stephanie said.

“How did you know?” I said.

“Because I sensed you would figure out some of what I couldn’t tell you. You’d want to talk to me, and I wanted to talk to you again, too. So, tell me, did you figure it out?”

I looked at Elias.

“It’s okay; Elias has worked for me for years. He knows many of my secrets.”

“Brenton used to be a Ridgeway.”

Stephanie smiled and then dismounted the horse. “That’s right. Very good. How did you figure it out? Old public records? Maybe our divorce papers? Did my uncle tell you?”

“No, I didn’t even think about looking at your divorce papers, and your uncle might be one of the best liars I’ve ever known; I got nothing from Barry. Were you a Ridgeway, too?”

“Only by marriage, and only briefly.”

“I found out from his original Bailey’s application. He noted the recent name change.”

Stephanie laughed. “Of course. The answer was right there all the time. Isn’t that usually the way it is?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t my experience that answers were usually that close at hand, but maybe life’s questions had been easier for her than me.

“Here, Elias, take Applewood. Becca and I will walk a little. We’ll come back here, so we won’t go far, and we won’t be gone long.”

Stephanie led the way to the next row and we began walking slowly under the arch of branches.

“When Brenton and I were married, he was a Ridgeway. Our divorce records mention his last name. That’s why I wondered about the public records,” she repeated.

I still didn’t know for sure if Brenton was a sibling to the three other Ridgeways I’d met, but I thought I’d act as if that’s what I’d discovered, and start with a more general question. “What happened, Stephanie—why did he change his name and leave his family?”

“They did something that he thought was the reason for their father’s death, something that caused great stress to the family. He blamed them, Denny, Ned, and Billie equally.”

Definitely siblings. “You aren’t going to tell me what it was, are you?”

“I can’t, but not because of any loyalty to Brenton. My only promise to him was that I wouldn’t be forthcoming to anyone about his identity. It was legal, you know, the way he changed his name. He wasn’t hiding from anyone. Brenton never would hide. It wasn’t his style. But he hoped that time and distance between him and the Ridgeway name would grow until no one knew or remembered.”

“It must have been ugly.”

“Yes, very. You told me Brenton behaved strangely around the Ridgeways. I’m not surprised. He will never be able to forgive them. Never. They’ve all been able to keep their distance from each other. I imagine Brenton seeing the Ridgeways at Bailey’s was akin to people he despised moving into his house. He would have felt angry, hurt, and betrayed.”