I realized that, if nothing else, my social life had changed dramatically because of the murder.
“Mr. Cartwright, I’d like to spend some time at your booth. I think I might have a great place for one of your sculptures,” Sam said.
“Really? Anytime. You’re even welcome to come to my apartment and see my workshop. I allow all law enforcement to visit and search the premises undeterred. Becca might have told you that,” Ian said, focusing on me as he finished the comment.
“That might be a good idea,” Sam said, as he patted my hand and looked at me. “Ian called and told me that it was your interrogation that made him remember he saw Abner at the Smithfield Market a while ago. Like I said, you might want to consider police work.”
Had Ian told Sam about our moment of romance? I looked at him and he, ever so slightly, shook his head. He hadn’t, which pleased me. I liked the idea of keeping my personal life personal. Besides, who likes a guy who kisses and tells?
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Sam, how about you and I go help Allison? Ian, we’ll see you later?”
“Yes, you will.”
Sam and I made our way down the aisle. I didn’t keep my arm through his because my hip was working better but, in execution of our plan, we walked close enough that we hopefully gave the impression we were
together
. I wondered if any of this “show” was necessary. I doubted that anyone would recognize Sam as an officer who had been on the scene the day of the murder. He didn’t look a thing like the uptight cop who didn’t sweat. He might have been able to show up at the dinner without using me as a date/ excuse. He smiled, and we chatted easily about unimportant matters. Everyone probably thought they were seeing me with my soon-to-be third ex-husband.
And no one really looked at us, anyway. Most of the vendors were either busy with customers, packing up their stalls, or visiting with family members who had shown up early for the dinner.
“I don’t think we’re making much of an impression,” Sam said.
“Did I tell you I’ve been married twice?”
“No.”
“Yes, they were both named Scott. Scott number one was an intellectual and part of my wild youthful days. Scott the second was a good ol’ country boy who didn’t know how to either get or hang on to a job. I’m not sure anyone takes my dates all that seriously. I hadn’t thought of that problem.”
“Hmm. Well, that could work to our advantage. The better I can blend into the background, the better I can eavesdrop. Plus, my name’s not Scott.”
“True.” I laughed. “And even with that shirt, I think you’re blending just fine.”
Sam laughed, too.
“Becca.” Stella waved us over from her booth. She’d packed up her bakery items, but there was still a scent of fresh bread hovering in the air. Her two teenagers, Jacquelyn and Richard, sat at the back of her stall and were engrossed in some sort of heated card game.
“Hi, Stella, how are you? Ricky, Jackie, hi.”
The kids waved and went back to their game.
“Great, but I haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?” Stella said.
“Busy with some other stuff. You know, business stuff.”
She smiled at me with a one-sided dimple.
“Uh-huh,” she said as she wagged her eyebrows at Sam. “Or is it that you have a new boyfriend?” Stella wasn’t shy.
“Oh, well, this is Sam. Sam, there isn’t a person in the universe who can bake better bread than Stella.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said, extending his hand again.
“You, too.” She was trying to figure out how she knew him, but she didn’t say anything. “Becca, I’m so glad Allison kept the dinner scheduled. It’ll be good for all of us.”
“I think so, too.”
“So, have you heard from Abner?” she asked, too forcefully. I realized that was why she’d called us over in the first place. She hadn’t been interested in Sam at all. She knew how close Abner and I were—everyone did. I thought about Barry’s questions in the parking lot a couple of days ago. No one knew what I’d been up to, but they noticed I’d been gone. And Abner had been gone. Did they wonder if Abner and I were both up to no good—perhaps together?
“No, not even once,” I lied.
“I wish we knew what was going on.”
“I’m sure the police have everything well in hand,” I said.
“Becca, Allison might need our help,” Sam said.
“Sure. Of course. Stella, we’ll see you at the dinner.”
We said our good-byes and continued down the aisle. We extended casual greetings to others and casual greetings were sent our way. When I really looked at Sam, I saw his serious eyes were in constant movement, but the rest of him kept up the appearance of a guy on a date. He really was a great cop.
The Fall Equinox Dinner was always held at the end of one of the aisles in a space that was mostly used for storage. A few tent walls were placed here and there, and no one saw the hidden display tables, product racks, and white boards. Allison had been hosting the dinner for ten years. It was always successful, and each year the storage items had to be pushed closer and closer together to make space for all attendees, the number of whom had grown considerably over time.
We greeted Allison as we entered the back area. She wore jeans and an old T-shirt, and her long, dark ponytail swung behind her as she carried a box of something to the front buffet table. She had three or four teenagers helping her. I was sure they were all the offspring or relatives of vendors, but I didn’t recognize any of them.
“Becca, Sam, hi!”
“Hey, Sis.” I hugged her.
“Allison, nice to see you again,” Sam said. “What can I do to help set up?”
“Oh, you could you help Sander with the platform. I’ve got a small band coming, and we need a better place for them than by the bar. Becca, I’d rather you just sat still.”
“No. I can help, too. Don’t start that with me. I’m fine, just a little stiff. Actually, the movement will be good for me.”
Allison looked at me a long moment. “Okay, help me unfold some chairs.”
“That’s better.” Allison and I went to get the chairs as Sam went to find the teenager named Sander.
“Becca,” she whispered to me as we were unfolding, “I really hope this isn’t in bad taste. Despite what everyone said the other day, I almost canceled it. I don’t want to appear disrespectful to the memory of Mr. Simonsen.”
“Allison, I think that canceling it would have been a bad idea. The vendors and their families look forward to it so much. It’ll help us all move forward.”
“It won’t be as much fun as it has been. I did cancel everything I’d originally planned and just got a small three-piece country-western group. I’m not doing any games or awards or anything. Just dinner, dessert, and a little music.”
“It’ll be perfect.”
“We’ll see. And I invited Pauline and Jessop Simonsen.”
“What did they say?” I wished I’d told Allison about Pauline’s total history of men, but it was too late now. If I mentioned anything about making sure the Simonsens didn’t sit by Barry’s family, she’d get more stressed than she already was. I’d have to try to intervene if necessary.
“I called and told them that we’ll offer a moment of silence in honor of Matt. I wanted them to know that it was something that was planned far in advance and . . . well, I just . . .”
“It’s all good, Sis,” I said. There were few moments in our thirty-five years when I was the soothing one. I had some terrific friends, but as my bad choices in husbands illustrated, my insight into people was sometimes nearsighted. Allison was usually the voice of reason. So, though I hadn’t had much practice, I hoped I did a decent job of soothing her concerns.
“I hope so. Hey, how’s it going with Officer Brion?” We both glanced to where Sam and Sander were setting up a microphone.
“Fine. He’s not so bad for a fake date.”
“I wonder how fake he thinks it is. Did you get a chance to talk to Ian?”
“Responding to those backwards, yes, I talked to Ian. No big deal. And what do you mean, ‘how fake he thinks it is’?”
“Becca, you’re brilliant. You graduated at the top of your class from a respected university, but somewhere along the way, you totally missed out on understanding men.”
“Guess I can’t argue with you there.”
“Allison, someone’s asking for you out front,” one of the teenagers said.
“Go on. I get what we’re supposed to do here. Sam and I can figure it out,” I said.
The party was definitely going to be mellower than it had ever been. In years past, there had been distinct themes—Carnivale, Hawaiian, Broadway. This year was originally was going to be Monte Carlo, but there were no gambling tables anywhere. Instead, everything was simple, white-tent-walled, and understated. The band arrived before Allison returned, and with the hope that I wasn’t stepping on her toes, I asked the three men dressed in checkered shirts, straw hats, and overalls if they knew any square dance stuff. Fortunately, they did, so under my guidance, Sam and the teenagers rearranged the tables just enough to leave a space for those interested in dancing. If no one wanted to dance, fine, but it was something.
“This looks nice,” Sam said once we’d spread the last white tablecloth.
“Almost, but I have one more idea. I need to find Linda. I’ll be right back,” I said.
“Uh, you want me to go with you?” Sam asked.
“How about you help the band with their instruments?” I said as one of the musicians lugged a big bass to the platform /stage area.
“Becca, what’re you up to?” Sam asked.
“I’m just asking Linda for some napkins, that’s all. Honest.” I crossed my heart.
“If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to look for you.”
“It’ll take me ten.” I smiled and waved as I left. Really, I wanted to find the checkerboard napkins I’d seen in Linda’s stall. However, I also wanted to talk to Barry. I wanted to forewarn him about the possibility of Mrs. Simonsen and Jessop showing up. I didn’t want Barry’s wife to feel uncomfortable.
I hurried first to Linda’s stall, where she had already packed up whatever was left over of her inventory. She was out of her pioneer garb and in jeans and a light sweater instead. Her blond curls that were normally hidden by a bonnet sprang up around her head in a halo. She was a very pretty woman even if the bonnet hid it sometimes. But there was something else that lit her up this late afternoon. She was talking to a man I’d never seen before. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. At first glance, I had the urge to inspect his chest for a big red S.
“Linda,” I said, pulling her attention away from Mr. Gorgeous.
“Oh, hi, Becca. How are you, darlin’?”
“Great. Hi,” I said to the man I hoped was her date. She’d have some good stories for me if he was.
“Hi.” He walked as though he’d practiced in front of a camera, and his teeth sparkled with a smile.
“Becca, this is Drew Forsyth. Drew, my very good friend Becca.”
“Nice to meet you, Becca,” he said in a perfect voice.
“You, too. You joining Linda for the dinner?” I asked.
“Yes, she was kind enough to invite me,” he said as he turned his glance to her. He really liked her; it was either that or he just smiled fondly in everyone’s direction.
“Great. We’ll have to sit together,” I said to Linda.
“I’ll plan on it. What’s up?” Linda said.
“You know those checkered napkins? You still have some?”
“I have a bunch.”
“Can I buy them off you?”
“No, but I’ll give you some. You want a whole box?”
“Yes, please. I’ll bring you some jam.”
Linda gathered the box of napkins from behind her back tent wall as Drew and I made small talk. There was no way he was as wonderful as he seemed to be. It wasn’t possible. I’d have to ask deep, probing questions at dinner.
The box of napkins secure under one arm, I headed toward Barry’s stall. Though most of the shoppers were now gone for the day, the aisles were becoming more crowded with vendors’ families, so when I first caught a glimpse of Barry, the view wasn’t clear. He was looking up as he spoke to someone. I craned my neck to see who it was, but between my short stature and the movement of the small but mobile crowd, I couldn’t tell exactly.
Finally, I got a quick look at the back of the person facing Barry. He was tall, very tall, and wore a hat on his head. He also wore a long trench coat with the collar turned up. I snaked my way through people and toward Barry and the person I presumed was Carl, though his disguise was awful. How would anyone not know that it was him? There were very few people in Monson with that tall, skinny build.
Barry happened to look in my direction just as I made my way around someone’s kids. His face flashed panic, and he pushed on the other person’s arm as he said something vehemently to him. He turned to look in my direction, but someone walked in front of me right at the moment when I would have seen the mystery person’s face. And then, much to my anger and disappointment, the tall person turned and ran in the other direction.
You’ve got to be kidding me,
I said to myself. What was going on? Why had Barry sent him away? I was perturbed at myself for having wanted to do him the favor of letting him know about the Simonsens. Whose side was he on?
“Barry, who was that?” I said as I reached his stall.
He shrugged and said, “Didn’t see anyone.”
I slammed the box of napkins down on an empty display table.
“Tell me who that was, or I’m going to have the police arrest you right this minute.”
“On what charges, Becca?”
“Murder.”
Barry’s face went red and pinched. That pose lasted for a good thirty seconds before he calmed down.
“Becca, do what you have to do, but I can’t tell you who that was,” he said.
“Was it Carl Monroe?”
“Who? No,” he said almost believably.