Read Online Foul Play at the Fair by Shelley Freydont - Free Book Online Page A

could be filled out online, but at Ted’s suggestion she’d decided to supplement that process by one she could collect at the end of the day. Strangely enough, not everyone was willing to go online to answer.
    She left the office and cut through the alley between Bay-Berry Candles and the Bookworm, the new and used bookstore, to the municipal parking lot where the farmers’ market was already doing a healthy business.
    The sun was just breaking and clear skies had been promised by the weather bureau. Rows of tables, tents, trucks with their tailgates down, and cars with their trunks open displayed produce. Some sellers had elaborate custom-painted signs and special display boxes constructed to show off their wares. Others had simple folding tables loaded with local produce: apples in more varieties than Liv had ever seen, pumpkins of all sizes, squash, funny-shaped gourds, crisp broccoli, frilly kale, cabbage, cauliflower, shiny purple eggplants, fresh and dried herbs, jars and jars of honey and homemade preserves.
    Liv found Andy Miller’s stand strategically placed at the end of the second aisle, near the street and the sidewalk that people used to return to their parked cars or wait for the shuttle that would carry them to lots farther from town. A basket of corn, homegrown onions with the soil still clinging to them, gourds, and the last crop of green beans sat at one end.
    The other half of the table held a pyramid of Waterbury cider bottles and jars of apple butter and grape jellies that Amanda had made. There were no doughnuts, and Liv knew everyone would be disappointed, but at least the day wouldn’t be a total loss.
    Andy handed a paper bag to a woman with a double stroller, and the woman rolled babies and produce away, revealing Roseanne Waterbury standing behind the table next to him.
    Her rusty curls had been subdued into a long braid behind her back. She was wearing tight, low-slung jeans and a tight ribbed tank top with the obligatory flannel shirt tied around her neck.
    Even with the sun up, the day was still chilly. The girl must be freezing for fashion. It made Liv feel a little better to see that she wasn’t at home traumatized by the death of an uncle she’d never seen.
    Roseanne smiled shyly as Liv walked up but evidently thought Liv would want an explanation. “Mom and Dad made me and Donnie come. I don’t think they wanted us around with the police there.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked quickly around.
    “What police?” Janine Tudor, self-appointed society matron of Celebration Bay and former event coordinator, walked up to the stand and glowered at the little group clustered around the produce.
    Of course Janine, of all people, would be in hearing distance. Liv plastered on a smile and turned around.
    Janine was a tall, thin woman—Liv had never seen her eat anything but lettuce and rice cakes—with a frosted face-framing haircut that was always impeccably styled. (It was public knowledge that she went to a hairdresser in Albany every six weeks, no one in the county being expert enough for Janine’s tastes.)
    Today she was wearing a rust-colored pencil skirt and a goldenrod jacket. Both were obviously well made, but they reminded Liv of a seventies kitchen. Janine carried a brown leather handbag that matched her three-inch heels.
    “What’s happened now?” she asked accusingly, directing the question at Liv.
    “Sorry,” Roseanne said to Liv, making it worse.
    “What police?” Janine repeated. “At your house, Rose? Was there a robbery?” She looked from one person to the next, her eyes stopping and staying on Liv.
    Fred shrugged. “I’m kind of curious myself.”
    Andy suddenly became very busy rearranging the cauliflower display.
    “No robbery,” Liv said. “Just a little emergency; everything should be back to normal soon.”
    “So why were the police there? Is that where Bill Gunnison is? Just what is going on here? And who is protecting the town?”