“All the winemakers and farmers around here hate me,” she said. “They’re jealous of my success, and they don’t want to let someone new into their closed little club. And Brett’s ex-wife, of course. She’ll never forgive me for taking away her husband.”
Actually, I suspected Molly could forgive Genette quite easily, provided she didn’t also lose her beloved farm.
“Have you told Chief Burke your concerns?” I asked. “It might help him solve the case.”
“Oh, yeah, like a hick town cop’s really going to have much luck solving a murder like this.”
“He spent over a decade in the Baltimore PD’s homicide bureau,” I said. “He knows a few things about solving murders. So I suggest you tell him what you told me.”
“And just what was that?” The chief had come up behind us.
“She thinks the killer was after her, not Brett,” I said. “I’ll let her explain it.”
I strolled back to the fair at a considerably slower pace, and pulled out my cell phone to call Randall.
“I hear you had quite a time last night,” he said.
“You have no idea,” I said. “Can the Shiffley Moving Company do a rush job?”
“How rush?”
“Today.”
“I could ask my cousins, but it’d cost an arm and a leg. What’s the rush?”
“Genette wants to leave. I have no idea if the chief’s going to let her leave town, but there’s no reason not to let her pack up her stuff if she wants. And you have no idea how much morale in the wine pavilion will improve if we can get rid of that hideous booth of hers.”
“That’s different,” he said. “I’ll have some men over there within the hour.”
“And cost is no object; she said so herself,” I added.
“That’s good, because we jack up the price a bit if we know in advance someone’s going to be a pain in the you-know-what.”
“And while you’re organizing, we either need to get Chief Burke to release the crime scene or we’re going to need some carpenters to build another gate to the Midway. Actually, I think we need a new gate in either case, because we don’t really want crowds gawking at the old one.”
“Damn. Hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. I’m on it.”
I hung up before I realized that I’d just delegated to Randall for a change. It felt good.
I made it down to the front gate in time to supervise the opening. By nine o’clock, three or four times as many people were waiting as there had been on Thursday, and I could see more cars streaming into the parking lot. Were they coming to see the fair or gawk at the scene of the crime? As long as they paid their admission fees, I didn’t much care.
I made the rounds, checking up on the various barns and tents. In the farmers’ market, Rose Noire was doing a brisk business in her own potpourri and Molly’s cheese. In the arts and crafts pavilion, there was still a gaping hole in the quilt section where Rosalie’s Baltimore Album quilt should have been.
“Any news on the quilt?” I asked one of the nearby quilters. I didn’t need to say more than that—we both knew what quilt I meant.
“Daphne’s optimistic,” she said. “And determined.”
I winced. I didn’t want to hear “optimistic” and “determined.” I wanted to hear that Daphne had already eradicated all the red mud and horse manure stains and the beautiful Baltimore quilt was on its way back to be hung again in a place of honor.
“Where’s the owner?” I asked.
“Rosalie? Not here.” She sounded as relieved as I felt. “Back at the campground in her trailer. Your father prescribed a sedative, and we’ve been taking turns sitting with her.”
“Good work,” I said.
In the wine pavilion, the exhibitors were watching with undisguised delight as a posse of Shiffleys disassembled Genette’s booth. I hadn’t seen so much toasting and glass clinking since the last time I attended a wedding.
Although one of the winemakers who didn’t look quite as cheerful as the rest took me aside.
“Have you seen Paul Morot today?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Why?”
“He was hanging around outside all day yesterday, staring at the tent.”
“He was waiting for Genette to leave so he could come in and ask a few people about jobs,” I said. “Mother was going to give him a signal when the coast was clear.”
“I heard that,” he said. “And I’m one of the ones he would have talked to. And if I’d known he was looking, I’d have definitely given him a job. But your mother says he was never there when she went to give the signal. And he didn’t come in and talk to anyone—I asked around. And he’s not here today. And not answering his cell phone.”