Bushel Full of Murder (9 page)

“Peyton’s not being held but she isn’t in the clear yet. I don’t know exactly what that means and I hope you try to get some details from Sam when you can. I told Sam I would be responsible for her. I’ll watch her.”

“I’ll get whatever I can from him. Any word from Jeff?”

“Nothing. I tried to call him earlier, but only a couple of times. Haven’t heard from him. Hopefully Sam can give you more information about that, too. Maybe they talked to him today. There they are.” Allison nodded toward the parking lot entrance.

A police cruiser moved slowly through the parking lot. It was followed by a smaller car—Harry’s rental.

Peyton was seated in the front passenger seat of the cruiser. She glanced at us through the window, making it clear that she was not a happy cousin.

Sam got out of the car first. He opened the door for Peyton at the same time Harry got out of his rental. We became an awkward group of five.

“Allison, Becca,” Peyton said as she barely looked up from the ground.

For a long moment the rest of us blinked at each other.

“Peyton needs to stay in town,” Sam finally said. “I let
her know that Harry’s here because of some trouble in Arizona. She recognized him.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she mumbled as she crossed her arms in front of herself.

“Truthfully, there’s not a lot that tells us you
did
do something wrong, Peyton,” Sam said. He turned to Allison. “But there are some questions that we need answered before we know for sure. She would like to go ahead and open her food truck tomorrow if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course. And you’ll stay with me, too, Peyton. Okay?” Allison said.

“Or me,” I said.

“That won’t work,” Allison said. “Conflict of interest or something considering you and Sam are dating.”

“This is the guy?” Peyton said, uncrossing her arms and standing straighter.

I nodded quickly. Now was not the moment to discuss my love life.

“Well, he hasn’t been a complete jerk, I guess,” Peyton said.

“That’s good,” I said evenly.

“Anyway,” Sam continued. “It’s fine if you want to stay with Allison. In fact, it’s what we would prefer.”

“Gee, thanks for the permission.” Peyton blanched. “Sorry. I’m not happy with how the day has gone and I should be more respectful. Thank you.”

She sounded like she meant it. Sort of.

“All right. It’s settled. Come with me,” Allison said as she gently took Peyton’s arm. “Tomorrow’s another day. Let
me finish a few things in my office and then we can go home.”

“Harry, where are you staying?” Sam asked as Allison and Peyton disappeared into Allison’s office.

“Small hotel on the way to a town called Smithfield.”

“Why don’t you stay at my house?” Sam said. “I’m at Becca’s most of the time. You’ll pretty much have the place to yourself.”

Harry seemed momentarily confused by the offer, and then said, “I don’t want to impose.”

“No imposition,” Sam said. “It probably seems empty most days and a potential target for theft. You’ll make it look a little lived-in.”

Target for theft.
I loved it when he talked cop.

“In that case, thanks.”

“Get your stuff, and then both of you come over for dinner,” I said. “I need to get home to Hobbit.”

Arrangements were made, and as much as I wanted Sam and Harry to give me all the details about everything that had happened that day, I knew they wouldn’t as we stood in the parking lot. My only hope was that I could get them to talk during dinner. Sam didn’t really drink, but I was so curious about the day’s events that the idea of liquoring them up crossed my mind.

When I was the only one left outside Allison’s office building, I turned to go back through the market and to my stall. But then I stopped as intuition tickled at the back of my neck. I turned around one more time to look toward the trucks. Basha was outside again and looking at the top right corner of Peyton’s side panel.

“What in the world?” I muttered.

I had an urge to go back and ask her again, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I’d have to find a better way to get her to talk to me. I could try to ply her with some strawberry jam. Maybe she could use some for her cheesecake cupcakes.

As I walked past Allison’s office, I leaned in to see if I could hear anything, but no sound made it out.

Once in the comfort of my own truck, I set the box of cupcakes on the passenger side of the bench seat and was glad to finally head back home to
Hobbit.

Hobbit was as happy to see me as I was to see her. I kept the distractions at bay during our evening frolic. By the time we’d run around the strawberries and pumpkins a few times, we were both panting. Hobbit found relief in her newly filled water bowl, and I found relief with the tallest glass of iced tea I could pour.

Dinner was grilled burgers and a mix of other stuff I found in the fridge. Tomato and mozzarella salad, with sides of cucumbers and strawberries, went well with the giant burgers.

It was a meal even a big guy like Harry could enjoy. Though he was plenty used to heat, our humidity could take down even the strongest man if he wasn’t used to it. The shaded patio was surprisingly comfortable by dinnertime, the heat and humidity both now tolerable. Sam and I told
Harry that we could go into the air-conditioned inside whenever he wanted to. He didn’t seem to want to.

“This is beautiful,” Harry said after dinner and as he looked back over the rolling hills and toward my crops, which spread up a slope to the side of the house and patio. “So green.”

“Though there isn’t as much green in the desert, I was surprised to find as much color as I did,” I said.

“It’s a beautiful place, too. They both are, but in different ways. Arizona is home. I’ve been out of the state a time or two, but I’m always a little jostled when there isn’t any cactus around,” Harry said with a smile. He’d removed the hat but he still seemed a little too big for the space he took up—in a good way, though, as if his mere presence invited you into his life. His bigness somehow made you think that if there was room for him, there was also plenty room for you and anyone else. I knew differently, though. In fact, he was more guarded than welcoming, but I was sure his demeanor was a helpful trait for his career choice.

Hobbit shifted on the ground beside my feet. “Any chance I could ask you two some questions? About today?” I said.

“Of course,” Harry said.

I’d seen the quick sideways glance Sam and Harry shared when I’d asked.

“We’ll answer what we can, Becca. Some of your questions might be either unanswerable at this time or perhaps something we have to keep to ourselves,” Sam said.

Again, I loved cop mode.

“Did you tell Sam about everything from Arizona, the things you think Peyton might have been involved in?” I said to Harry.

“Every bit of it,” Harry said.

“Sam, what do the Arizona events have to do with your murder investigation? I guess what I’m asking is, is there any reason you can see how everything would somehow be tied together?”

“No way at all,” Sam said. “But again, Becca, we can’t rule out anything at this point. We don’t have enough to disregard any possible connection, however unlikely it may be.”

I nodded. “Did Peyton admit to anything yet? Maybe even something she did in Arizona?”

“No,” Sam and Harry said.

“Okay,” I continued. “What about Betsy? Did you ever talk to her? Did you know she left the market?”

“I did know she left. Allison called me,” Sam said. “We haven’t talked to Betsy, but . . . well, we think she had an alibi that we’ve confirmed via a third party. She drove up to the Smithfield market early this morning and talked to the manager there. It was thanks to Allison that we even talked to Smithfield. She didn’t think Betsy would want to give up a market business and she thought Betsy might try Smithfield. That’s exactly what she did, before she left the note at Bailey’s.”

“Really? Why would she want to leave Bailey’s for Smithfield? I mean, it’s a great market, but I don’t understand.”

“I think Allison would like to have that answer, too. And we still want to talk to Betsy, but she isn’t a priority at this point.”

Sam looked pointedly at Harry and seemed to contemplate his next words, but I didn’t think it was because he was concerned about saying something he shouldn’t in front of the other police officer. He just liked to think before he spoke. I needed more of that in me.

“Becca, I’ll tell you our theory of the order of events from this morning, if you’d like to know them. You might better understand why we’re talking to who we’re talking to,” Sam said.

I scooted my plate back on the table and leaned on my elbows. I wanted to give Sam my full and undivided attention. I couldn’t believe he was offering to share the information, but I tried to hide my surprise and just look matter-of-fact. “Please.”

“Right.” He’d scooted his chair back from the table. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “We got the call early this morning, but you knew that part. The call came from Mr. Lyle Manner, an employee at the bank. He found Mr. Robert Ship’s body in the parking lot behind the bank.”

I interrupted, but I couldn’t help myself. “Sam, the whole bankers’ hours joke is kind of based in fact. I’ve never known bankers to get to work early. I’m sure it was just plain weird that Mr. Ship was at the bank in the first place, but what was Mr. Manner doing there so early?”

“Good question, Becca,” Harry said.

“Very good.” Sam smiled, but only a little. “Yes, they were both there, and both starting their workdays early. Mr. Manner was there to meet your cousin, Peyton.” Sam paused and studied me a moment, but then continued. “We’re trying to understand the details better, but she claims not to have had a bank account set up in Arizona. It’s strange because that’s practically impossible to do these days, but we’re looking into it, and though the crimes here and the crimes in Arizona aren’t necessarily tied together, that bit of news did interest Harry.”

“Right,” I said to Harry. “You mentioned that there was no way to figure out where Peyton got the money for her truck, that it didn’t show up on paper until it appeared in the truck seller’s account.”

“That’s right. Peyton has a personal account, but I never found a business account. To repeat what Sam said, that’s a pretty hard thing to do these days, have a business without a business account.”

“Nevertheless,” Sam continued, “Lyle Manner agreed to meet Peyton early to discuss setting up an account. She requested the early time, and he agreed. She was waiting for him, sitting on the curb on one side of the bank’s back parking lot. It wasn’t until they were at the back door together—Manner and Peyton—that Manner saw Ship’s body off to the left behind a Dumpster. We’re not sure why Mr. Ship was at the bank. We hope to find out.”

“Oh, no,” I said.

“Right,” Sam said.

“Peyton was there alone with the body for a while?”

“It appears that way at this time.”

“How was he killed?

“Blunt object, we think an industrial pipe of some sort, to the head, but we don’t have the object. The area was searched thoroughly.”

“All right.” I sat back in the chair, and tried not to look deflated. “So wrong place, wrong time for Peyton, right?”

“That’s a possibility . . . ,” Sam said. He looked at Harry, who pinched his lips into an even tighter line.

“What?” I said.

“Manner overheard an argument between Peyton and
Ship the day before in the Bailey’s parking lot. Peyton was upset and had some harsh works for Mr. Ship.”

“I witnessed what might be considered an argument between Peyton and
Mr. Manner
, but I didn’t see the one with Mr. Ship,” I said. “And was it harsh enough to sound like she was threatening murder?”

“Possibly. But you need to know that Peyton denies saying anything threatening to anyone. She told us that she was just trying to explain to Mr. Ship that she didn’t think that the food trucks needed temporary licenses, that when she set up her business in Arizona, she educated herself on the business laws. In fact, she went on to tell me that she even thought of moving her truck to Nevada because sales tax laws are different and beneficial to business owners there.”

I nodded. Would it be like Peyton to educate herself on pertinent laws? I had no idea. I knew the young, free-spirited, searching-for-herself Peyton, not the slightly older business-owner Peyton.

“I heard that Betsy and Mr. Ship also argued. I don’t want to try to make Betsy look guilty even with an alibi, but it makes me wonder if Mr. Ship was just the argumentative type. Or is there any chance Mr. Manner is mistaking the women in the arguments? Even though they look nothing at all alike.”

“It’s a possibility, Becca. We’re looking more deeply at some of the things your questions bring up.”

“Dang, I wish I knew what Betsy and Mr. Ship argued about.”

“Us, too.”

“Seems so . . . out of proportion, I guess. Why would Betsy leave Bailey’s and in such a dramatic way? What
about Jeff, the potato cart vendor? You were looking for him, right? I think that’s what Allison told me.”

“We were looking for him, but that was only because Mr. Manner told us we might want to talk to him. We weren’t given any more information than that. We don’t know why Manner sent us that direction. We have not spoken with him yet, though we tried to stop by his house, too.”

“Has he left town?”

“We’re not jumping to any conclusions regarding Jeff. There is no evidence at all that he had anything to do with the murder.”

“Again, I don’t want to point a finger at someone when it comes to murder, but you should probably know what Jeff and I discussed the day before Mr. Ship was killed.”

“I’m listening.”

“Me, too,” Harry said.

I told them the details of the conversation between Jeff and me. Sam tried not to roll his eyes regarding Jeff’s insistence that he didn’t need a business license, and he muttered something about how easy it would have been for Mr. Ship just to come talk to the police and they would have been happy to talk to Jeff about his incorrect interpretation of the local licensing laws. Sam took a couple notes and then excused himself inside to make a call. Harry and Hobbit went for a quick walk around my crops and I was left alone with my thoughts. My musings didn’t clear up any of the questions by the time we were all gathered on the porch again.

We spent the rest of the evening talking mostly about things that had nothing to do with criminal behavior or police duty. We talked about farming and canning and families. The
friendship I’d seen growing between Sam and Harry flourished as we talked and laughed. Again, I was glad Harry was in town and that Sam had the chance to know him, even if I was sorry for the reason.

Fleetingly, and throughout the evening, the memory of Basha looking at Peyton’s truck flashed through my mind, but I didn’t bring it up. I thought I might tell Sam about it after Harry left, but by the time the evening was over and I’d prepared my inventory for the next day, Sam, Hobbit, and I were too tired to do anything except fall fast asleep.