Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (10 page)

After placing my order, I dropped into a chair facing away from the windows. It was easier to ignore people by eliminating eye contact. I smoothed out the newspaper and read the article again.

If they believed Marilyn killed her husband, then thinking she’d do the same to the woman who was expecting her husband’s baby wasn’t a stretch. My speaking with Annette didn’t help the situation.

But who told the police I had been at both places? Detective Roget knew Marilyn and I were together at the police station. He also knew I questioned Annette about her whereabouts. But he’d want a reporter in his investigation even less than he wanted me. Would Jasper blab details of the case?

There was evidence out there proving Marilyn’s innocence. But where was it?

Someone had to have seen Marilyn during the time of the murder—away from Michael. Someone saw the real last person Michael talked with. All I had to do was find the person who saw Michael alive after the argument with Marilyn. Hopefully someone besides the actual murderer. I couldn’t count on that person being forthcoming.

“Worrying about Marilyn?” Dianne placed my order on the table and then sat in the vacant chair.

I tapped the newspaper. “Every day gets worse for her.”

Dianne smiled and patted my hand. “It’ll work out.”

Yeah, right. The homicide detective had this case wrapped up in his mind and the prosecution went right along with his assessment. Conducting an investigation myself meant Detective Roget prying into my life, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t find out. I needed to improve my sleuthing and keep it a secret. Or hire another target for his wrath.

“Whatever you’re planning, don’t get yourself into trouble.” Dianne stood and cast a worried glance at me.

“I’m not planning anything.”

“And that might be even worse. I’ll just put in a word in to God to find a way to put a stop between you and anything rash.” She walked over to the counter and picked up the next meal.

Lunch break for my first job ended, so I worked at my second job. Private investigating. I pulled out a notebook I usually jotted down layout ideas in and listed my speculations and questions. Who spotted Marilyn talking to Michael?

She should’ve known not to talk to him with her temper flaring. Then again, she probably didn’t think her husband would be found murdered the same day. Someone could’ve lied about seeing her yell at Michael. And that led me right back to Annette Holland.

But who gave Annette an alibi? Even if I proved     Annette claimed Marilyn saw Michael last, it wouldn’t help unless I broke Annette’s alibi. I pulled out my cell and dialed Karen at the newspaper. I was transferred to her direct line.

“Karen England.”

I hurried into my spiel as lunchtime ticked away.

“I won’t reveal my sources,” Karen snapped.

I wanted to question her use of “won’t” over “couldn’t” but knew that would get me nowhere. All during the school years, from preschool to high, Karen was one of the kids who never succumbed to peer pressure, rather she created it. “But you put the information in the paper.”

“Not my source’s name.”

“Please.”

“I read the police report,” Karen said. “Try doing that.”

That response was a little snarky, but helpful. “So, the police report names Annette’s alibi?”

A snort sounded in my ear and I winced.

“I’m not going to let some wannabe reporter use my hard work for their benefit.”

“I’m not asking for the details about your story. All I want to know is who supplied the alibi.”

“Same thing, Faith. This is my story.” A loud click signaled the end of our conversation.

Thank goodness my cell phone had web access. I had cringed when I splurged on the phone with internet capabilities. It wasn’t a necessity but with all the traveling we planned to do for trade shows, consumer shows, and weekend getaway crops, I thought the entertainment value would be useful. Plus, it allowed me to check out prices when shopping for new supplies. With our limited budget, there was no sense in paying more for chipboard from one company when the next one supplied a similar product for less.

I tapped the screen and brought up a search engine. If I went with the theory Annette didn’t kill Michael, and I knew Marilyn didn’t, I needed to eliminate love as the motive.

The other type of person who might want to kill Michael Kane, a defense lawyer, was a displeased client. I typed Michael Kane into the search box and hit enter. A lot of hits showed up on the tiny screen, and from a quick scan, most of them appeared useless. I started a new search, this time adding in his firm’s name.

A nice supply of manageable links popped up. The first one was of the firm’s website. And, the best form of advertisement for a company, their list of victories. I tapped the screen and hit the link on Michael Kane’s name.

A serious looking photo of Michael stared at me. The gaze unnerved me. I averted my attention from his photo to the list of achievements listed below his likeness. Insurance claims, employers being sued for discrimination, and a denial of a wrongful death multimillion-dollar claim against a logging company. Quite a victory.

I hit the link and saw a tiny photo of a triumphant Michael walking down the courthouse steps in Morgantown. I back clicked to my original search and read the other entries. I sucked in a breath. The name Roget appeared in the text along side Michael’s law firm. I clicked it and was taken to a screen explaining how I could subscribe.

Cheryl walked into Home Brewed and looked right at me. Her brows drew together.

I closed the browser and dropped the phone back into my purse, then gulped down the rest of my lunch. Cheryl’s brows hunched even lower over her eyes as she continued looking at me.

An innocent smile wouldn’t work as I grew up living with Grandma Cheryl and Grandpa Joseph. She was better at reading my mannerisms than Hope. When Cheryl turned and placed her order, I shoved the newspaper into my bag.

I gave grandmother a hug before I rushed out the door. I wondered if Detective Roget mentioned at the police station or the prosecutor’s office that he was tied to the firm Michael Kane worked for. Seemed like a conflict of interest. Roget could be getting revenge on his nemesis by charging the man’s wife with murder.

Of course first I had to find out if Roget and Michael were actually enemies and not just people on opposing legal teams passing by each other without so much as exchanging a nod.

As I entered the store, I saw Linda cornered by Darlene near the contest display. I rushed over. “What’s going on?”

“I was hanging up the entries.” Linda clutched an envelope against her chest. Darlene attempted to snatch it away.

I stepped between the two and avoided Darlene’s pink-tipped claws. “Is that an entry?”

“It’s mine.” Darlene snapped. “I told her I didn’t want it up.”

“But it has to be,” Linda said. “How can the customers judge it if it’s not hung up with the rest?”

The rest comprised of eight other entrants work, one of those belonging to the team of Robyn and Stephanie. I motioned for the envelope.

Linda thrust it at me, then retreated to the register.

“Linda has a point,” I said.

“No one is voting until Friday. Why does my entry have to be up there for the next three days? I’ve created a unique technique and don’t want anyone else using it.” Darlene clamped her hands around her waist and drummed her vicious nails against the pockets of her khakis. She did come up with innovative techniques, but unfortunately for her, she always discovered the newest trend one month too late. By the time her layout and instructions were submission-ready, another scrapbooker already had it published in a magazine.

“No one is going to copy your page. Everyone would know it’s a copy, and how could they recreate your design without your knowledge in perfecting the technique?”

The hardness in her expression softened a little, but the scowl firmed again. “I want people to be wowed by my page. They won’t be if they get used to seeing it on the display. They’ll pass right by it.”

“Then maybe I should just take everyone’s down.” I tried keeping the frustration out of my tone, but even I could hear the clipped end of the syllables. I moved toward Stephanie and Robyn’s entry. “Wouldn’t want to give you an unfair advantage.”

“Please, Faith.” Darlene rested a hand on my arms. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Can’t you wait until Friday morning? I just feel this is the one page that will help start my design career.”

My irritation at Darlene crumbled. Everyone had a dream and believed there was that one moment where it could come true. Darlene believed the envelope contained that time for her. What would it hurt to hold onto her layout? Besides my pride, since I’d be doing a favor for a woman who annoyed me. But that wasn’t a reason to deny her request. My grandmothers raised me better.

“Okay. I’ll hold onto it for you.”

A child-like smile curved her mouth. “Can you put it somewhere so no one finds it and puts it up?”

“I’ll keep it in my humongous purse. This way, every night it goes home with me and every morning it comes to Scrap This. You don’t have to worry I’ll forget it.”

“Thank you so very much.” A smile trembled on her lips.

Darlene spun on her heel and headed out the door. The humble tone shocked me. I never heard Darlene utter a sincere word. Then again, when had anyone, or I, given one to her?

I walked behind the counter and put the envelope in my purse. “Anything else happen while I was at lunch?”

Linda kept her gaze averted and shook her head. She reorganized the entry sheets for the contest.

My grandmothers always stood up for us when there was a dispute with a customer. In defusing the situation, my actions might have implied Linda did something wrong. “I don’t agree with Darlene’s behavior, but agreeing to hold onto her entry seemed the easiest way to get her to leave without a fuss.”

“If it’s that top secret, why did she bring it into today?” Linda spoke to the register though I knew the question was for me.

“Because timing is part of the competition between her and Robyn and Stephanie. If she waited too long after them, then it would look like she needed inspiration from their work.”

“It’s not like anyone else would know,” Linda said.

I shrugged. “True. But Darlene would, and in her world, she’s the only person who matters.”

Linda nodded as she alphabetized.

THIRTEEN

Sierra closed that night so I left work early. Pulling onto the main road, I pondered the next step in uncovering who really killed Michael Kane. At the light, I followed Karen’s suggestion and headed for the police station. Better to get information first hand rather than second.

Switching on my blinker, I turned onto the smaller access road. The historic buildings housing the courthouse, police station and other city buildings remained in the heart of Eden, a two-mile square. As the town blossomed into a city, it expanded by stretching out in all directions and became more of a lopsided rectangle.

I hoped Detective Roget was off-duty. None of the questions I had about him should be asked to him. I parked in an unreserved space in front of the station, then hurried inside the small foyer and waited my turn. Bobbi-Annie lifted her hand in greeting before feigning interest as Mr. Griffin insisted she take down his complaint.

Wisps of thin gray hair bounced up and down on Mr. Griffin’s balding head as he gestured wildly. “In the front yard, she’s doing some karate stuff. The front yard! Everyone and God can see her out there doing those kicks and punches.”

“Exercising is not against the law, Mr. Griffin.” Bobbi-Annie kept a sweetness to her voice. “Now, if she starts waving around weapons, let us know.”

“It’s indecent, I tell you. No woman, especially a young unmarried woman, should be prancing outside hardly wearing nothing. I know her Daddy and Momma taught her better than that.” He turned long enough to shot me a glare. “That’s what happens when these children leave to get more culture.”

“And what is hardly wearing nothing?” Bobbi-Annie asked.

Behind her, Jasper paused, and drew closer. “Something you need me to check out, Bobbi?”

She snorted. “You wish, Jasper. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding between Mr. Griffin and Miss England.”

“Her last name’s Pancake!” Mr. Griffin raised his fists and shook them in righteous indignation. “Ain’t nothing wrong with her family name. That’s what I’m talking about. These kids thinking there’s something wrong with us. Come back from those cities bringing—”

Officer Jasper walked into the foyer area and draped an arm around the older man. “Mr. Griffin, how about I check out this disturbance. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Mr. Griffin stepped away from Jasper. “I don’t need any ride. I can still drive. I ain’t feeble, young man.”

“I wasn’t saying that, Mr. Griffin.”

Bobbi-Annie and I smothered our laughter. Jasper settled a shut-up look at us.

“Anyways, she ain’t out there now.” Mr. Griffin marched toward the door. “Every morning at seven, like clockwork, she’s out there in them tight clothes acting like she’s going to kick something to pieces.”

The two men headed outside with Jasper scribbling down the times the disturbance to the peace took place.

“Are you going to call and warn Karen?” I asked.

“Nope.” She grinned. “I’ll let Karen handle Conroy. I have a feeling the only reason Mr. Griffin came in is because his wife found out he’s been watching Karen exercising.”

I shuddered. No wonder the poor man ran down and filed a police report. A real disturbance would erupt if Karen continued exercising “in barely nothing” in the front yard. Mrs. Griffin, who had a heavy right foot, was protective of her man. She believed all women waited in the wings to snatch her seventy-two-year-old husband away from her.

“So what brings you here, Faith?”

Leaning against the counter, I scooted the half-top of my body closer. I wanted a private conversation with Bobbi-Annie. “I wanted to ask about Detective Roget.”

“I could go get him for you.” She stood.

I grabbed her arm. “I don’t want to talk to him. I wanted to ask you some questions about him. “

She eyed me warily, then a grin flashed on her face. She unlocked the door into the dispatch area and waved me in. “This way you don’t have to worry about anyone hearing us. Though I’m surprised.”

I shut the door behind me and dropped into the chair she rolled toward me. “Surprised?”

“If I had the interest of Steve Davis, I’d be spending time with that man, not asking about Ted.”

I let Bobbi-Annie believe I had a romantic interest in Detective Roget. Easier than admitting I suspected the man was setting Marilyn up to take the fall for Michael’s death. “Where did he work before here?”

“Near Washington, DC. Arlington, I think. Or was it Alexandria? Annandale? Can’t remember. Just somewhere in that area.”

“I thought he worked in Morgantown and then moved here.”

She squinted at me. “Nope. He grew up in West Virginia, but then hightailed it of here. Attended school in Virginia, stayed in the Northern Virginia area until about six months ago.”

“Why did he move here?” I caught the suspicion developing in Bobbi-Annie’s eyes. “You know, I don’t want to be interested in a man on the rebound or with a vicious ex-girlfriend lurking around the corner.” 

“He wanted somewhere a little more quiet and slower paced. Closer to family. From what I know, he’s available with no known baggage to contend with.”

Family? His mom worked on a cruise ship. There were no ports anywhere near West Virginia. “I read in Karen’s article someone spotted Marilyn talking to Michael. Is that true?”

Bobbi-Annie pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “I don’t partake in police business gossip.”

At least she had some standard. “I’m only asking because Karen charged into the store today and started asking me about Marilyn…and stuff.”

The narrowing of her eyes let me know Bobbi-Annie had a good idea what the “and stuff” constituted. I swallowed hard. “She told me I should come here and read the police report, since I didn’t believe what she wrote was true.”

Bobbi-Annie gave me soft smile and squeezed my arm in a comforting gesture. “Why don’t you go home, Faith? I know you’re upset about answering Ted’s question but you had to tell him. Ted’s a good guy. He won’t think you’re disloyal or something like that. He’d find it admirable.”

Heat skittered across my cheeks and I hurried out of there. I prayed this conversation didn’t make its way out of the station. I didn’t want him—or anyone—thinking I wanted to pursue a relationship. Any man who could run an official background check on me was one I’d steer clear of.