Bushel Full of Murder (14 page)

“Jeff’s not a bad guy,” Ian added. “He keeps to himself, and he’s resolutely single, but not terrible. He strikes me as an independent sort, but I can’t imagine him not getting a business license.”

“I’m surprised Allison allowed Jeff to keep his cart,” George added.

“Oh,” I said. “I think Jeff told her he was working on things, and even though it’s unlike Allison, she never did follow up completely. She’s not happy with herself, I’m sure.” I paused. “But there is another part to this.”

I told Ian and George about Peyton and her behavior and her poor timing regarding the murder. I didn’t, however, tell them about Harry’s reason for visiting Monson, about my cousin’s alleged involvement in the lesser Arizona crimes. I wasn’t sure why my gut told me to keep that information to myself, but I always listened to my gut. Besides, somehow her poor timing in Arizona only made her poor timing in South Carolina worse. Maybe I didn’t want to pile more problems on.

“Ian mentioned your cousin was visiting. I got the impression he thought she was cute,” George said.

Ian’s eyes got big as he looked at George. Then he smiled. “Well, I’m not sure that’s what I said.”

George shrugged. “I could hear it in your voice.”

“She’s very cute. She’s beautiful, actually. And she might have noticed Ian, too,” I said without even one small thread of territorial jealousy zipping through me. Yeah, it might be
weird if Ian and one of my relatives were to date, but as long as it wasn’t my mom or sister, I didn’t think it would bother me too much. In fact, the idea of seeing Ian happy was important to me; maybe more important than I’d acknowledged to myself until that very moment.

Of course, at the moment Peyton was a potential thief and killer, so I didn’t think now was the time to fix them up.

Nevertheless I said, “You two should join us for dinner at my mom’s house.”

“Becca, that wasn’t obvious at all,” Ian said with another smile.

“What do you think, Ian? Should we?” George said.

“As great at it would be to see Becca’s family, I have way too much work to do around here. But thanks, you two, for the assistance with my personal life.”

“Always here to help,” George said. “Thanks for the invite, Becca, but I’ll pass, too. I’m tired. A rain check would be great, though.”

“Of course.”

I left with the lavender oil and a deeper sense of “rightness” in my soul. Yes, our breakup had been difficult—for both of us. And even if ultimately we had been okay together in a long-term, deeper relationship, I had no doubt now that we were going to be able to be real friends. Whatever axis had been off-kilter had now righted itself.

There were so many occasions when grown-up stuff threw me for a loop; it was nice to feel a sense of maturity without panic over whether or not I’d done the right thing.

Of course, choosing the correct path wasn’t always my
strong suit, I thought as I turned the opposite direction I was supposed to go to get to my parents’ house. I was going to be late, I decided. Maybe since everything had been so effortless at Ian’s, I had the need to do something risky, something that might send me down the wrong path.

Bailey’s was open on Friday and Saturday nights until about nine during the summer and early fall. But tonight, Wednesday, everything shut down at around six, and like most evenings when Bailey’s shut down, it really shut down. Quitting time, if selling out of product for the day hadn’t occurred earlier, was a welcome moment for vendors who not only spent their days outside at the market, but also spent lots of time tending their crops or making their products. Farmers’ market work was physical, and wasn’t for sissies. Being done for the day held a great sense of satisfaction, as well as a moment to know that a well-earned rest was hopefully soon to come.

I’d come back to the market after it had closed a time or two over the years. I’d needed to pick up a forgotten item, or fix a display table, or replace one. It happened. It was an open
air market. Though there were tent walls, there was a sense that the stalls were all part of one single, really big place. There were no doors except on the small building that housed Allison’s office. Anyone or any creature could walk through the market at any time. We’d all experienced a surprise cat or dog, or chicken for that matter, there to greet us as we unloaded in the morning.

I didn’t like being on the market grounds at night; there were no nearby streetlights and it was too dark once the lighted sign in the parking lot was powered down. Currently the sun hadn’t quite set all the way and the stalls, parking lot, and food trucks were all bathed in a murky glow that seemed peaceful, if not eerie.

The food trucks were shut tight, silent soldiers lined up along the edge of the parking lot. My truck was the only other vehicle in sight, and when my headlights hit the food trucks, they seemed more like they were lurking and waiting for me, rather than just parked. My imagination sprouted and I could visualize the trucks coming to life as I slowly approached them.

I laughed at myself and shook off the willies.

“All right, Peyton, let’s see what you were up to,” I said as I parked and repeated to myself that they were only trucks, not creatures in a science fiction book or movie.

However, once I turned the key and my truck was as silent as the others, I had to fight a chill up my spine.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I muttered as I opened the door and got out.

I moved to almost the same spot I’d seen Basha standing in and stared up at the side panel of Peyton’s truck, at the
corner. I even put my hands on my hips, mimicking Basha’s pose. There wasn’t much light left, but when I looked hard, I thought I might be seeing something. Maybe.

Along the top and back edge of the panel was a pipe—could be a tube. Again, maybe. At the top corner, there was a cap over the pipe. I only noticed the cap because it wasn’t on straight.

“Did you put something in there?” I said.

I looked around. I knew there was a ladder in Allison’s office, but I didn’t want to disturb the key on the top of the door frame and let myself in. There were probably other ladders on the market premises, but I wasn’t going to search for them. I jumped into my truck, maneuvered the bed up next to the back corner of Peyton’s. I grabbed the flashlight out of my glove box and scurried up the side of my truck’s bed, ultimately balancing one foot on the side and one on the tailgate. I was short but from there I could reach the cap. I held the flashlight in my armpit as I used one hand to hold me up and one to yank off the cap. It came off easily, almost too easily. I teetered, but rebalanced quickly.

I grabbed the flashlight and aimed it inside the pipe, which confirmed that it was, in deed, a hollow tube. I saw nothing. Well, not much of anything, at least. There were some small clumps of dirt, but nothing else; no rolled-up treasure map or diary page with a confession of crimes committed, like I’d hoped to find. I thought the dirt could be from the bag I’d seen Peyton with, but dirt was dirt, for the most part.

“This is dumb,” I said to the open mouth of the tube. I put the flashlight under my arm and reached to return the cap to its spot.

“What’re you doing?” a voice said from somewhere to my right.

I screamed and lost my balance. My feet slipped and the rest of me fell toward the voice as the cap and the flashlight flew in other undetermined directions.

I assumed the voice was attached to the arms that caught me. I landed in them much more gracefully than I thought I was capable of doing.

“You okay?” It was Mel, of Paco’s Tacos.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. Thanks, though, for being quick enough to keep me from falling,” I said as I squirmed out of his arms.

“No problem,” he said as his now empty hands moved to his hips. “What were you doing up there?”

“It’s a long story.” I wiped my hands on my shorts. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I was, well, we were getting ready to pull out a deck of cards.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hank, Daryl, and I just finished cleaning up our trucks. We were going to play a game of cards before we went to the hotel.”

I looked at the trucks and then at Mel. “Where are you playing cards? I didn’t see any of you.”

“Hank and Daryl are on the other side setting up the card table. You’re Becca, right?”

“I am. I make and sell jams and preserves.”

“Right. We’ve talked. You were helping Peyton earlier. And you’re Peyton’s cousin?”

“I am.”

Mel rubbed his chin as he looked at me a long moment and then back up at Peyton’s truck. “I have time for a story if you’d like to tell me what’s going on.”

“I think I’d better tell my cousin first. Maybe catch me tomorrow, but thanks a bunch for catching me
tonight
.” I smiled.

Mel smiled back and then looked at me for another long, awkward moment. His surfer dude persona contradicted whatever seemed to be going on behind his eyes. I couldn’t be sure if he was thinking or plotting, but something was happening in there.

I turned to gather the flashlight from the truck bed so I could search for the pipe cap.

“Hey,” Mel said. “About Peyton. I don’t want to seem creepy, but do you know if she’s single? She’s . . . she’s very pretty, and I thought about asking her out, but if she’s got a boyfriend, you could save me from embarrassing myself too much.”

“I honestly don’t know,” I said as I pulled out the flashlight and shined it on the ground around us. “You could ask her, though. It never hurts to ask.”

I didn’t know one thing about Peyton’s love life other than the bad choice she’d made to follow a guy to Arizona. I didn’t know the types of guys she was interested in, except for Ian, but he’s intriguing even if he doesn’t fit a type. The only things I knew about Mel were that he was good with tacos, he had sharp reflexes, and he’d seemed helpful with the generators.

“Sure. She’s a little different,” he said.

“How do you mean?” I swung the light up to his face but pulled it away when he lifted his hand to shield his eyes.

“I saw you spying on her back there the other day.” He nodded toward the grass patch. “I guess I was spying, too. Or I was just curious about what you were up to. I saw you crouch and then watch her come out the back of her truck for a second. Does what you were doing tonight have anything to do with that?”

“No,” I said. Either I could ask him more questions about what he saw or thought he saw or how he happened to see what he thought he saw, or I could get out of there and hurry to my parents’ late dinner, which was now really late. I opted for the last choice.

Mel nodded. “Just wondered.” He looked up at the truck again. “Did you figure out what was going on, back there, I mean?”

“No. Did you?”

“No, but I didn’t ask her. I thought it was none of my business, and like I said, I think she’s pretty. I didn’t want to scare her away or anything.”

I heard a hint of amusement in his voice but I wasn’t sure what kind of amusement it was; did he find something funny or was he trying to be clever?

I shined the light on the ground again. I found the cap next to my rear tire. I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. I decided I would give Peyton the cap at dinner and tell her what I’d been up to. I’d also mention that both Mel and I had seen her behaving “curiously.” It was time to get some answers.

“Want to join us?” Mel said. “For cards?”

“You’re really going to play here?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s a beautiful night and none of us want to be stuck in our hotel rooms yet.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “No thanks, though. I need to get going.”

“See you tomorrow,” Mel said. He lifted his hand and waved before turning and disappearing through the space between Peyton’s and his trucks.

I was curious enough about the nighttime card game that once he was out of sight, I followed his path and peeked carefully around to the backside. True to his word, he, Hank, and Daryl were seated around a card table with a battery-powered lantern on top.

“Everything okay?” Hank asked Mel.

“Yeah, just a market worker.”

“Really? This time of night?”

“I know. Weird. She’s Peyton’s cousin.”

“Oh,” Hank said as if Mel’s explanation adequately explained what was going on. “I wonder if Peyton is single.”

“I wondered the same thing.”

“Gentlemen,” Daryl said. “We’re traveling food truck chefs. We’re not traveling salesmen. ‘The road ain’t no place to start a family’—to quote from one of the best bands of all time.”

“Good point,” Mel said.

But there was something in the way that Hank remained silent. My eyes were drawn to him. Both Mel and Daryl looked at him, too, as if they also expected a comment.

He finally spoke. “I don’t know, she’s pretty. But maybe
‘I’m just talkin’ ’bout tonight’—to quote from one of the best country singers of all time.”

Mel and Daryl laughed.

I didn’t need to hear more, so I slipped backward through the slot and got into my truck.

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to talk to Peyton. She had a right to know that I’d spied on her. I would tell her tonight at my parents’ house. I would tell her everything, and maybe she’d do the same with me.