Chapter 15
At some point while she was getting ready for the fair, Sheriff Edge had left the house. Good. She and Wes had to get moving if they were going to arrive a few minutes early to get organized for the CSA booth.
Wes was waiting for her downstairs.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He hesitated. “For now. But I’m starting to get worried.”
Brynn’s stomach wavered. “Why?” She picked up her purse and keys from the hallway table and he followed her out the door.
“Why do they keep asking me the same questions over and over again?”
They walked toward the car and Brynn spotted the boxes with flyers about their farm. Wes thought of everything. She opened the door and slid in. Wes got into the passenger side.
“They keep asking you the same questions because they’re investigating a murder. The timeline is important.”
“But my story is still the same,” he said, latching his seat belt.
“It’s a technique.” She turned the ignition. “They’re hoping either to trip you up or that you’ll remember a helpful detail while you’re retelling the story.”
“Okay.”
“Did you know the victim?” Brynn asked.
“We’d been to a few of the same parties. We spoke, but I didn’t know him well. It’s odd because I thought he was seeing Chelsea. But I guess I was wrong. Evan was seeing her.”
“Sounds like it might be hard to keep up with her boyfriends,” Brynn said.
Wes laughed. “True.”
As they drove along, they both quieted. Brynn was concerned that the police kept questioning him. She understood—and it was probably just procedure. But in such a small community, it seemed like overkill. Like they were truly suspecting him of killing that young man. Wes was one of the kindest people she knew. A good guy. She wished the police would leave him alone and find the real killer.
Maybe she could help in some way. Perhaps the police were overlooking a fact somewhere. If she could find anything at all and inform the police about it, they’d find the culprit and everything would be back to normal.
But maybe she was jumping the gun. Maybe that was the last of it. She mulled over what had happened with Nancy’s death and how she tried to help the investigation. It turned out that she did help, but it didn’t feel like it. She was certain she botched things up. Maybe she should leave the sleuthing to the police.
She drove along the narrow country roads, by cornfields and wildflower fields. Soon enough, they were at the fairground, pulling into the parking lot.
Brynn and Wes made their way to the building where they’d be manning the CSA booth. Brynn was pleased to see that everything had been prepared. Informative, colorful brochures were stacked on the table, along with applications for people to receive produce. There was a small shelving unit containing products from the CSA—honey, blackberry and strawberry jam, apple butter, things that had a shelf life. But Brynn had brought along cheese samples to place on the table, as well, along with the brochures Wes had created. They were just about set and the fair would open in twenty minutes.
“So tomorrow people will bring their cheese in,” Brynn said more to herself than Wes. “And we taste and judge the cheese. The next day, we place the ribbons on the cheese and announce the winners.”
Wes nodded. “Will it be hard to pick a winner?”
“You never know. Sometimes there’s a clear winner right from the start.” She straightened the stack of Buttermilk Creek Farm brochures. “Other times it’s really difficult. I judged a contest once where all the cheese was so bad it was hard to choose anything!”
Wes laughed. “Bad cheese? Imagine that!”
Their booth was sandwiched between the 4-H and the Future Homemakers of America. People from each group scurried around trying to set up. Across from them, there were a few local banks with booths. The crowd of people seemed happy to be busy. The countdown had begun—five minutes until the fair officially opened.
“Hey, how are you?” Wes looked up at Roy, who’d approached the booth. Brynn hardly recognized him. She’s only seen him once before up close, but now he had a beard. What was it with all the young men growing beards?
“I’m good. Helping Brynn with the booth tonight. What are you doing here? Heard you got a gaming job?”
“Yeah, it fell through. Long story.” Roy glanced at Brynn and smiled. She smiled back. “So I’m back working the fields. I don’t mind. But I’d rather be gaming.”
“How did you get in?” Wes asked. Brynn tried to busy herself with placing the cheese just so. She didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she was right there within listening distance.
“I walked in.”
“But it’s not open yet.”
“I have my ways.” He winked.
Winked. He actually winked. Brynn wanted him to move along.
Wes laughed nervously. “You’re such a hacker.”
Roy grinned.
“Would you like some cheese?” Brynn asked. She didn’t like the direction of this conversation. Hacking?
“No, thank you,” he said. “I hate cheese.”
“Oh, I’ve never heard of anybody hating cheese,” Wes said. “That’s weird, dude.”
“I got sick on it once. Did me in.”
“Oh well, if you ever want to try again . . .” Brynn said. Didn’t like cheese? She knew of people like him and had even met a few. But they were far and few between. “Looks like it’s time for the fair to open.”
“I better get going,” he said. “Catch you later, Wes.”
The air brimmed with an excitement suddenly. A bell rang announcing the official start of the fair. Brynn’s childhood memories lightened her heart—the thought of attending the fair with clunky rides, smelly animals, and so much good food—and filled her with joy. She hoped it would last.