and he knew it. This wasn’t the crime of the century.
I shifted my weight. The arthritis was starting to burn in my legs. “Yes we are done, I hope for good.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, you believe me and will leave me alone?”
“Okay in meaning that I got your message.” His features slackened. “I’m not the enemy.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, you are,” I replied before I turned and melted into the street crowd. I had to walk seven blocks before I found a pay phone. My legs were on fire from all the walking. I dialed a number that my daughter had had me memorize. I reached an old-fashioned answering service. I said only one word before I hung up – “Rosebud.”
9
I needed to push this investigation away from me. Though I was sure I would never be convicted, a murder trial would ruin me financially, costing me everything I had managed to squirrel away. I needed to determine who wanted Pidgeon dead. Still fuming over Goetz’s little trick that morning, I decided to visit Otto Brown. He was Pidgeon’s booth neighbor at the Farmers’ Market. Maybe he would know something.
The foot traffic at the Market was slowing, so I decided to take a break as it was getting close to the end of the selling day. Some farmers were currently packing up and dismantling their tents. Hiding my cash box in the van, I put a fifty in my pocket and strolled down the median to Otto Brown’s booth. While waiting for his customers to finish their transactions, I picked out some Cherokee Purple tomatoes. After patiently waiting my turn, I offered my selections to Otto to weigh.
“How’s the day been?”
“Fair to middlin’,” Otto said, putting the tomatoes carefully in a bag. He scratched his unshaven cheek as he eyed the scale. I didn’t know how he could see the scales from the large eyebrows fingering across his forehead and others caught in his long eyelashes. He would have had pretty eyes except for the hair jungle above his eyeballs.
“It’s been slow my way too,” I replied trying to establish eye contact with him.
He didn’t look up from his tasks.
“I suppose you know that your next door buddy was found dead on my property.”
“Talk is he died from heart failure.”
“That’s right.” I could tell Otto wanted me to leave. He kept turning his back to me. I leaned forward. “Otto, did Richard ever tell you that he was gonna mess with my hives? Anything like that?”
“Can’t rightly say.”
Losing my patience, I blurted out, “Oh, for gaawwd sakes, Otto, he trashed your tomatoes every chance he got. Said you bought them from a terminal in Lincoln County. You are not going to lose any brownie points by telling me the truth. Now – did he ever say anything about me?” I slid the fifty towards him.
Otto bristled at the accusation that his tomatoes were not grown by him and stopped arranging them on the table. “Well, now, he didn’t like you, Josiah. Nope, not a’tall. Said you had no business bein’ here as you was rich. That you was takin’ business from real beekeepers.”
I laughed bitterly. “Go on.”
“Never said nuthin’ exactly ’bout what he might do but that you best be aware.”
“Be aware of what?”
“Well, of him, I ’spect.” Otto pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket and shoved a big wad in his mouth. He had a paper cup that he used as a spittoon. Yuck.
“When did he say that?”
“Couple weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was gunning for me?”
“’Tis none of my business. Besides I’d be tellin’ ya somethin’ you probably knew,” said
I shifted my weight. The arthritis was starting to burn in my legs. “Yes we are done, I hope for good.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, you believe me and will leave me alone?”
“Okay in meaning that I got your message.” His features slackened. “I’m not the enemy.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, you are,” I replied before I turned and melted into the street crowd. I had to walk seven blocks before I found a pay phone. My legs were on fire from all the walking. I dialed a number that my daughter had had me memorize. I reached an old-fashioned answering service. I said only one word before I hung up – “Rosebud.”
9
I needed to push this investigation away from me. Though I was sure I would never be convicted, a murder trial would ruin me financially, costing me everything I had managed to squirrel away. I needed to determine who wanted Pidgeon dead. Still fuming over Goetz’s little trick that morning, I decided to visit Otto Brown. He was Pidgeon’s booth neighbor at the Farmers’ Market. Maybe he would know something.
The foot traffic at the Market was slowing, so I decided to take a break as it was getting close to the end of the selling day. Some farmers were currently packing up and dismantling their tents. Hiding my cash box in the van, I put a fifty in my pocket and strolled down the median to Otto Brown’s booth. While waiting for his customers to finish their transactions, I picked out some Cherokee Purple tomatoes. After patiently waiting my turn, I offered my selections to Otto to weigh.
“How’s the day been?”
“Fair to middlin’,” Otto said, putting the tomatoes carefully in a bag. He scratched his unshaven cheek as he eyed the scale. I didn’t know how he could see the scales from the large eyebrows fingering across his forehead and others caught in his long eyelashes. He would have had pretty eyes except for the hair jungle above his eyeballs.
“It’s been slow my way too,” I replied trying to establish eye contact with him.
He didn’t look up from his tasks.
“I suppose you know that your next door buddy was found dead on my property.”
“Talk is he died from heart failure.”
“That’s right.” I could tell Otto wanted me to leave. He kept turning his back to me. I leaned forward. “Otto, did Richard ever tell you that he was gonna mess with my hives? Anything like that?”
“Can’t rightly say.”
Losing my patience, I blurted out, “Oh, for gaawwd sakes, Otto, he trashed your tomatoes every chance he got. Said you bought them from a terminal in Lincoln County. You are not going to lose any brownie points by telling me the truth. Now – did he ever say anything about me?” I slid the fifty towards him.
Otto bristled at the accusation that his tomatoes were not grown by him and stopped arranging them on the table. “Well, now, he didn’t like you, Josiah. Nope, not a’tall. Said you had no business bein’ here as you was rich. That you was takin’ business from real beekeepers.”
I laughed bitterly. “Go on.”
“Never said nuthin’ exactly ’bout what he might do but that you best be aware.”
“Be aware of what?”
“Well, of him, I ’spect.” Otto pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket and shoved a big wad in his mouth. He had a paper cup that he used as a spittoon. Yuck.
“When did he say that?”
“Couple weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was gunning for me?”
“’Tis none of my business. Besides I’d be tellin’ ya somethin’ you probably knew,” said
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