Merry Market Murder(7)

“The one who works with the Christmas tree guy.”

“Billie?” I said.

“I don’t know her name; she wore a green beret. She walked by and when the two of them saw each other, they froze and stared—hatefully—at each other. I thought one of them might leap for the other one and we’d have some sort of brawl to deal with, but then the guy who works with the trees—the one who doesn’t look like Santa—joined her. He acted surprised to see Brenton, but he directed the woman out of there. They must know each other, and they must not like each other. At all.”

“How did Allison get involved?” I asked.

“She just happened to be walking by and Brenton yelled her name to get her attention. He got everyone’s attention. He yelled at her for letting the Christmas tree people sell at Bailey’s. He was adamant that he was supposed to have a vote about which vendors were welcome at Bailey’s—that we were all supposed to vote.”

“That’s true,” I said to Sam. “We vote on new vendors, but I’m certain there’s an exception for temporary parking lot vendors who aren’t paying for their space. I haven’t ever looked closely at my contract, but Allison was probably right, there’s probably some clause.”

He nodded, and we both looked back at Linda.

“Well, he wouldn’t let up and he wouldn’t tell her why he was so upset they were here. I think you two came in around the third round of back-and-forth,” she said as she paused and thought a moment. “It was all so un-Brenton.”

“I agree,” I said.

“There must be some sort of ugly history between Brenton and the Ridgeways,” Sam said.

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Linda said. She continued a beat later. “Don’t mean to be insensitive, but since you’re both here together, you two still coming to dinner the day after Christmas? Drew can hardly wait to use his new grill. I didn’t know where to hide it or how to wrap it, so he got his gift early.” Drew was Linda’s almost-two-months-returned and almost-brand-new husband. I’d been her number one back in July—our term for maid of honor—right before he’d left for Navy SEAL duty to someplace secret and dangerous. He was almost as amazing as she was, and they’d both been easygoing about my boyfriend . . . uh, love interest . . . switch-up. They had been as good of friends with Ian as they were with me, but they’d managed to remain friends with us both and with Sam, too.

“We’re planning on it,” I said as Sam smiled and nodded.

“Good. Well, I need to get back to work, but we’ll talk later. I really hope Brenton’s okay.” Linda hugged me quickly before she turned and wove her way back to her stall.

The Ridgeway trees hadn’t been at Bailey’s long enough to have contributed to our burgeoning crowd, so I chalked up the number of accidental bumps and excuse me’s I was getting to the pleasant weather and the growing holiday spirit. It didn’t feel like a big summer crowd, but a good-sized fall crowd at least. I wondered if the addition of the trees would give Bailey’s vendors a record December.

It was too late to follow Allison and Brenton. I turned to Sam, who was lost in thought, his face serious as he looked in the direction of the front office and the parking lot. He turned back toward me a second later, but I spoke before he did.

“You need to go check some things out? You need to maybe go ask some questions and see if you can figure out what was up with Brenton? Am I right?”

“Exactly.” Sam smiled.

“I know how you feel.”

“Yes, but I do such things in an official capacity. You’re just nosy.”

“Hopefully you’ll share whatever you find out.”

He raised one eyebrow and then said, “Come get your cookies. Vivienne might shoot me, or at least lock me in a holding cell, if I don’t make sure they’re in your hands.”

We ventured back toward the parking lot and his cruiser. The door to Allison’s office was shut tightly and neither Sam nor I could hear any loud voices. We both veered close enough to listen.

Just as Sam handed me the box of cookies, though, the Bailey’s Farmers’ Market world was disrupted again.

Bailey’s was on the edge of Monson, on a two-lane highway that led into the small center of the town in one direction and eventually to Columbia in the other direction.

A truck came rolling in from the direction of Columbia. It turned in to the Bailey’s lot and lumbered slowly forward toward the side of the parking lot opposite of where the similar Ridgeway truck was parked.

I noticed Denny, Billie, and Ned as they stopped moving the trees. Denny jumped down from his perch and joined Billie and Ned as the three of them stood in their own small group, pointing at and discussing the incoming truck.