“It’s a lie!” the manager retorted. “Why they come here begging us to take their stuff! We get better prices than anyone in this section of the state, and we pass the profit right back to the farmers.”
“How do you account for the depredation that’s been going on around here lately? Who would you say is behind it?”
“What d’you mean, depredation?” Hank Holloway demanded.
“The destruction of the Preston barn just as their melons were ready for market. Then last night a truck of cantaloupes was stolen from the Davis place.”
“That so?” the manager asked. “Hadn’t heard about it. Clem Davis always was a worthless, no-good. It wouldn’t surprise me that he covered his harvest with plenty of insurance, and then arranged the snatch so he could collect.”
“That hardly seems reasonable,” Jerry said dryly.
“You asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you. The Davis melons were so inferior we wouldn’t handle them at the cooperative.”
“Why, I thought their cantaloupes were particularly fine ones!” Penny protested.
“I don’t know what you two are trying to get at!” Hank Holloway said with sudden anger. “The Cooperative does business in a fair and square way. Our books are open for inspection at any time. Now you’ll have to excuse me, for I’ve got work to do.”
With a curt nod, he turned away.