Merry Market Murder(76)
The world wasn’t full of women who looked like Mamma Maria, at least not naturally. The doll ornament had made me hyperaware of pretty, blonde women. I knew Mamma hadn’t had an affair with Reggie; she was far too young. Mamma’s conversation with Evie made me realize I’d been on the right track, though—the doll had been meant to portray Reggie’s illicit girlfriend. At that point, I thought that Patricia Archer or Stephanie Frugit must be the other woman. In my mind, I thought I could narrow it down further. Stephanie Frugit might live a lonely, isolated life, but I didn’t think she’d sought out an old love. She didn’t strike me as a person who ever went backward. If anyone, at the moment, Patricia was the most suspicious.
As for Evie not being at the Smithfield Market the day Reggie was killed, that might be important news. Sam needed to know about that, and he needed to know that she had plans to be at the parade that evening.
“I’ll tell Sam,” I said.
As Mamma walked to her car, she added, “Look for her tonight. Have Sam look for her. I can’t imagine that she’s attending the Christmas tree parade in Monson without a mission in mind. Maybe she’s going to confront the other woman—or something worse.”
Could she really be a threat? Anything was possible.
“I’ll call Sam right away,” I assured her.
Hobbit and I watched as Mamma steered the sedan up and out of the driveway.
“Did you hide inside first or did you just greet her without regard for your own safety?” I said to Hobbit.
The tail wag told me she’d done the second one. I sighed.
“Come on. Let’s call Sam.”
• • •
Sam still hadn’t tracked down Brenton. I told him the latest addition to the case and my thoughts about Stephanie and Patricia, but he was still hesitant to base suspicions on looks.
He was also interested in Evie’s actions, both this evening and the day of Reggie’s murder.
We made arrangements to meet at the parade. I was glad we’d spent yesterday evening enjoying our time together, because it sounded like Sam might be pulled a few different directions this evening. Duty called.
Hobbit would be a fine date anyway.
After some baking time and a short, restless nap, I loaded more cookies into the truck. I helped Hobbit into the passenger side and we headed for downtown. I’d switched into jeans and a thicker sweater because of the increasing chill in the air. The quickly darkening sky showed no sign of stars or moon. The chill was a good fit for the upcoming holiday and the air smelled perfectly clean and crisp.
Somehow the clouds formed a sort of pocket, and the lights from the decorations—those on the trees and those everywhere else—bounced off the bottom of the dark ceiling above and made it seem like downtown Monson and the parade were parts of our own little private, well-lit party. UFOs wouldn’t spot us under the cloud cover this night. I liked the pocket, but I also suddenly hoped for a little snow. No matter the paper tablecloths, a dust of white would be a perfect touch.
With no sign of Sam yet, Hobbit and I traveled slowly down one side of the parade and up the other. The crowd was huge, but only a little bigger than normal. The Saturday-night group was traditionally bigger than Friday’s, and last night’s had been healthily large. The thirty-minute trip from Smithfield was usually too far for a big influx, but I suspected the neighboring town’s contingent was larger this year than in previous years. Finding a place to park had been unusually difficult and the number of unfamiliar faces meant the parade’s reach was only growing.
I enjoyed looking at the trees again and consuming a multitude of treats, but I was anxious, too. I hoped I’d find or hear from Sam soon. I hoped he’d found Brenton and someone who looked like Mamma Maria who claimed to have had an affair with Reggie. I hoped Evie wasn’t spiking someone to death.
“Miss Becca,” a voice behind me said.
“Evie, hi! What a surprise,” I said when I turned. Speak of the devil. And, there were no spikes in sight.
She was different. It was as though she’d cleaned up, brushed her hair. I wasn’t much for frou-frou, but Evie carried herself a little differently, as though she’d been infused with a boost of confidence; or maybe it was self-respect.
“I haven’t been to this neck of woods in a long time. It’s good to get out a bit,” she said.
If that was true, she hadn’t come to Monson the day Reggie was killed like Mamma had perhaps thought. I hoped it was true.
I didn’t truly understand why Evie had come to the parade, but I thought her appearance must have something to do with the fact that there was no chance she’d be running into her ex-husband. I hoped that wasn’t because of something she’d done. For some reason, I’d taken a quick liking to her.