5 Merry Market Murder by Paige Shelton Read Free Book Online Page B

couple other officers were called in. They questioned a number of the other vendors, though I got the impression the police didn’t learn anything new. Many vendors hadn’t paid much attention to the Christmas tree trucks, and no one seemed to have additional information about what had happened to Reggie. His body was removed, but his truck remained; a crime scene unit was called in from Columbia to search it thoroughly for evidence. I was sure I’d have to either give them a new set of fingerprints or let them know that the Monson police had a set on file. Once again, I was in the position of needing to be eliminated from suspicion. I wondered if there was a limit to the amount of times I was allowed to be eliminated, or if I’d automatically be placed under suspicion at some point.
    The official police and crime scene unit vehicles were curious sights, but the customers weren’t to be deterred. Plenty of people thought it was just another good day to shop at Bailey’s, and they ignored whatever was going on in the parking lot and put their energy into filling their shopping bags.
    After a trip to an Arizona market last summer, I’d become interested in jalapeño peppers. My farm wasn’t set up to grow them, and we had a couple small pepper vendors at the market, but I’d found a small farm not far from my own that grew a large variety of peppers—jalapeños, habaneros, and milder green and red varieties. I hadn’t been able to convince Levon Sanchez to open a stall at Bailey’s, but he had lately become one of my most important suppliers. I’d created a jalapeño-mint jelly that sold well during the fall and looked to become my big December seller, if the past couple of weeks were any indication. The green color of the jelly along with the word
mint
coincided with what many December shoppers were looking for.
    “Oh my! Those are so pretty!” a woman in the most magnificently floppy straw hat I’d ever seen said as she picked up a jar.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “I want ten. I’m going to put pretty red bows on these little devils and give them to people I like. I haven’t yet decided what to give people I don’t like. Any suggestions?”
    I smiled and then realized that she wasn’t joking. Her long, thin face was serious underneath the drooping brim of the hat.
    “Gosh, I don’t know,” I said.
    “Well, if you have any ideas, I’ll be shopping all day; you track me down and let me know, okeydokey?”
    “I will,” I said. We completed the transaction, and I placed the ten jars of jelly into her Bailey’s shopping bag.
    The shopping bags had been Allison’s idea. They were made of slick canvas, sewn with handles sturdy enough to carry heavy loads. They were about a foot and a half tall by a foot and a half wide when flat, but could unfold to add a good seven inches of depth. They were emblazoned with “Bailey’s Farmers’ Market” across the top and had a picture of fruits and vegetables illustrating the bottom half. They’d become one of the more popular items at the market, but Allison refused to mark up the price to anything above break-even. She’d become concerned about the number of plastic and even paper bags leaving the market and wanted a better, more environmentally friendly solution. She had no idea that the bags would become so popular, that people would come to Bailey’s just to buy a bag, and that they’d also be used as holiday gifts, but she was pleased by the developments.
    “Thank you, darlin’. Now, I need some mushrooms and I can’t remember which direction to go for mushrooms. Oh! I could give poisonous mushrooms to the people I don’t like.” Fortunately, this time she laughed. “The look on your face! I’m kidding. Besides, I know your mushroom people don’t sell poisonous mushrooms.”
    I smiled genuinely this time. “You got me, but no, I don’t think we have any poisonous mushrooms. We have two different stands, each of them selling their own