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“Well, that solves one issue,” said Wilson.
“Right, the other problem. Look, I don’t know what the others are experiencing, but our beef is always fresh. I’d make sure these people aren’t having issues with refrigeration, but it’s also what they could be putting on the products. I mean, if their seasoning is bad, or the produce, it could cause issues with the beef.”
“What would cause maggots to suddenly appear?” asked Wilson.
“Maggots? Maggots appear because of flies. It’s basically their babies. I don’t know. If you were doin’ an outside barbecue or something, I’d say that’s the problem. Indoors? Man, I’m not sure.”
“Thanks,” said Wilson.
“Thank you for your help. We’ll be in touch about helping with the business loan. All Dylan and I ask is that we get first choice,” smiled Sara.
“Miss Sara, you get first choice for the rest of your life!”
“Well, that was fun,” said Wilson, walking toward the car. “We stop to check on the beef and end up being part owners of a ranch. Very cool.”
“It will save us money in the long run,” smiled Dylan. “I guess the last stop is the farmer’s market.”
“Lead the way,” said Gator.
The farmer’s market was really Sara and Dylan’s favorite place to go. The other girls could have the boutiques and jewelry stores. Their excitement came with farm-fresh eggs, just-picked produce, and the smell of dirt. The rows and rows of fresh flowers were also a favorite, although they didn’t bring anything home that they could find in Mama Irene’s gardens.
“This feels like home,” smiled Dylan.
“I couldn’t agree more,” laughed Sara. They walked the aisles of booths, picking up a few things here and there, then heard a commotion behind them.
“What in the world?” frowned Dylan. A small crowd of people were pushing and shoving, yelling at a Vietnamese man behind his counter.
“What the fuck is going on?” growled Gator, walking toward the crowd. He moved a few people out of the way, gently shoving them aside. Behind the counter, an elderly Vietnamese man was in tears, staring at the baskets of potatoes, turnips, and other produce. Flies, maggots, and rot had overtaken the baskets. All of them.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Wilson.
“He’s trying to sell rotten produce!” yelled one man.
“No. No, I’m not,” said the vendor. “I swear that this was all fresh this morning when we brought it. I would never sell anything rotten.”
“What’s your name, sir?” asked Wilson.
“Baht. Like a bat that flies,” he said, nodding at the big man.
“Baht, what happened?”
“I don’t know. We picked this yesterday and had it ready this morning. I cover the baskets so we don’t lose things when we drive. When I got here, we removed the covers, and this is what I found.” Wilson looked around at the customers.
“Is anyone else experiencing this? In your restaurants? Have you seen it?”
“I have,” said one woman.
“Me, too,” said another.
“Something is going on here, and we’re trying to help,” he said to the crowd. “When did you start noticing these changes.”
“This is the first time for me,” said Baht. “My produce is always fresh and good.”
“He’s right,” said Dylan. “I love Baht’s food.”
“Well, that is true,” said one of the complainers. “I’m sorry, Baht. I’m just frustrated with not being able to find anything fresh.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeated. “This makes me sad. This is how my family makes a living.”
