Read Online Crops and Robbers by Paige Shelton - Free Book Online Page B

news—everyone, including Bo Stafford. I watched him closely, and his surprise was just as genuine as everyone else’s. Perhaps he was a good actor, but based on his reaction, I didn’t get any sense that he’d done the deed.
    Some of the vendors shot me a sideways glance, but mostly I thought everyone just needed to process the information.
    My good friend, cranky old Abner Justen, stood from where he was seated and came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t been formally accused of murder as he had once been, but our solidarity in things criminal was comforting. I appreciated the gesture.
    I wished Ian was there, but he and Hobbit were on installs and at his new place, doing the sorts of things one did on a large plot of rugged land that was going to be turned into a working farm.
    Ian’s goal was to build a lavender farm. He was going to harvest and sell the essential oils from the herb. His plans fit with his artist’s temperament. He could also continue his yard artwork business, but his schedule was becoming increasingly full and he spent less and less of his time at Bailey’s.
    Ian’s offer to take Hobbit with him had been greeted with happy eyes, smiles, and a little panting, from both my dog and me. They’d keep each other good company, and I wouldn’t worry about either of them.
    Allison wrapped up the meeting by letting everyone know about the security cameras and the mister system. This ended things on an upbeat note, and vendors made their way back to their stalls, readying for a hopefully busy afternoon rush despite the heat.
    “You lead quite the exciting life,” Linda said as she swam against the departing crowd and sat next to me.
    “Thanks for leaving the pie last night. We ate it and loved it,” I said.
    Linda smiled. “I bet you didn’t taste much of anything, but thanks for the compliment. It’s been a crazy morning. You’re right next door to me and I didn’t even ask how you’re doing. Sorry.”
    “No problem. It really has been unusually crazy. To be honest, until Betsy Francis showed up I was thinking more about Bo’s display tables than the murder. Am I in denial or just coldhearted?”
    “You’re coping. Perfectly normal. And this Betsy Francis person? Was she the same person as the mousy-looking girl with the big glasses yesterday?”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s with the instant makeover? That in itself seems suspicious to me.” Linda lifted some short blonde curls off the back of her neck. There was no bonnet in sight today.
    “I hadn’t thought about it. Suspicious how?”
    “In two ways—why did she look like she looked yesterday, and why did she look like she looked today? One of her ‘personas’ was fake. Which one, and why?”
    “Maybe she got up late yesterday and had to hurry to get ready.”
    Linda shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. The woman we saw today would call in sick before she went to work looking like she looked yesterday. I sound awful—I don’t mean to. There was nothing wrong with the way she looked when we first met her. It was just so different than today. Something’s up with that. I think that’s the first thing you should check into.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I know you’re going to look into Joan’s murder. And for the first time, I get it. This happened on your property, and your family is in the middle of it. Just let me know if you need any help. I’m here for you.” Linda stood and squeezed the same shoulder Abner had had his hand on earlier.
    It was great to have wonderful friends.
    “Thanks, Linda,” I said as she turned and walked out of the tent.
    It was just me, Allison, and a new vendor, Erin Hodges, left in the big tent area. Erin made and sold brownies in so many flavors I thought it might take me a year to taste them all. She was young and wore John Lennon glasses, her hair was short-short, and she always had questions for Allison. I had stopped by her stall and told her she could ask anyone