Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (19 page)

“I’m here with you and Grandma Cheryl all the time. We crop together. I go out to lunch with Marilyn and Sierra. Okay, not Marilyn right now, but I’m not a hermit.”

“You don’t go out. Cheryl and I would love to see you find a nice man. Go on some dates. Have some fun. Even spend time with girlfriends.”

“I do.”

“At work. Not on your own. It makes us worry.” Hope stood, the chair scraped across the floor. She poured coffee into two mugs. “Ever since you got home from the Army, you act like you don’t really want anyone in your life. You just ‘tolerate’ everyone.”

I knew she was right, but I couldn’t explain it. “I love you and Grandma Cheryl.”

“We know that.” Hope placed a mug of coffee in front of me. She turned a chair so that it faced me and then sat down. “But others want to—”

“Like Steve.”

The delicious, rich scent of the caffeine filled me with comfort. I remember waking to this smell every morning. My grandfather Joseph downstairs singing as Grandma Cheryl banged pots looking for the egg frying pan.

“It’s just not Steve,” Hope said. “Though, I can tell he’d like to know you better.”

I knew that about Steve, along with everyone else in Eden. “I don’t want a relationship right now.”

Or maybe ever.

“I have a confession,” Hope said.

I paused mid-sip and stared over the rim of the cup.

A sad look flittered onto her face. She thrust her shoulders back and sat up straight. “I wish I told you earlier. Maybe things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand and you wouldn’t be spending so much time with that detective.”

I wanted to correct Hope again, but kept quiet before she changed her mind.

Hope took hold of my hand. “The night before the Art Benefit Show, Steve called the store and asked if someone could bring a pair of skinny scissors. He needed to hang a banner and the string originally used wasn’t strong enough. They found a stronger twine, but a remnant of string still hung down. The larger scissors they had couldn’t cut close to the grommet. Marilyn offered to bring them to Steve. She wanted to avoid seeing Michael at the show that morning, so she planned on arriving an hour earlier than the rest of us.”

Wait a minute. Marilyn and I ran into each other in the parking lot. She was angry because Michael stood Mark up. She knew Michael would be there, so that meant her son told her he cancelled with his dad. Marilyn lied about that. And if she got there later than planned, she had the scissors with her, because I didn’t see her hand them to Steve.

“I told Detective Roget about the scissors,” Hope said. “That’s why he thought they came from our store and took the other ones. I think he wanted to see if they could compare them in some way.”

My heart twisted. “Grandma, you had to tell the police what you knew.”

“I know. Just like you.” Hope heaved out a sigh. “When Cheryl wanted to encourage you to help Marilyn, I told her.”

I sat down beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hope gazed down at the table. “I knew it would break your heart that Marilyn didn’t trust you with the whole truth. In a way, it might seem like Marilyn was using you. I couldn’t let you get hurt over a misunderstanding.”

My leg started twitching and I fisted my hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just need a few minutes alone.” I was taken for a fool. Used. Did God stamp puppet across my forehead where only others could read? I’d have thought I learned my lesson the first time and not be so easily duped again.

Grandma Hope squeezed my hand. “If you need us, just holler.”

Was it possible Marilyn did kill her husband?

TWENTY-TWO

I kept my mind occupied by hanging up and rearranging the layouts coming into the store. I wanted to stop thinking about Marilyn before I marched to the police station and had it out with her. Maybe I should call Karen and let her know the newest scoop.

I didn’t know why Marilyn kept those facts from me. Maybe she was afraid she’d look guilty when she wasn’t. I knew all about that. Focus. I had to make these displays eye-catching before the crop tonight.

I stood back and frowned. Too many shabby chic styled layouts were hung side by side. I took one from the display board near the door and moved it down to the fourth wooden panel. The layout, a mixture of pinks, greens, and brown pattern paper in a flower motif, looked perfect hanging next to an entry using a linear style with black and white and a subtle placement of teal blue as an accent color. The entries complemented each other and brought out the others composition.

The scrapbooker of the linear layout had enlarged the photo to an 8x10 and placed it on the left of the 12x12 sheet of white cardstock. The black cardstock was used as a mat around three sides of the photograph. In the picture, Sierra and I stood in different corners of the booth helping potential customers. I stood near the man examining the layout with the fish wire.

This was right before the announcement of the murder. I leaned forward and studied the photo, hoping something in the captured image pointed to Marilyn’s innocence. Wait. Was that Hank in the background? In civilian clothing? I thought he was working security at the event. That was why Sierra brought the boys.

“I can hang a few,” Linda said, bumping into me.

I leaned forward and nearly toppled into the display boards. I placed a hand over my thumping heart and willed it to slow down. I handed her a layout. “Sure. I’m trying to balance the designs, make sure any aren’t overlooked because they blend into one another.”

“That’s why you’re studying them so hard.” Linda smiled and found a lovely spot for the cream and pastel lime layout.

“I just like seeing what was happening that day. See who was around. Maybe ask them if they have a layout they’d like to enter.” I took another from the pile and turned it toward Linda. “Aren’t the pages fantastic? It’ll be hard to pick a winner.”

“Details in the photographs are what will be the deciding factor for me.” Linda pinned up another layout, making sure the pin went through the page protector and not the actual page.

Grandma Hope’s concerns flashed through my mind. Maybe if I showed I was interested in making friends, she wouldn’t be so concerned about forcing some on me. “Linda, would you like to join me for lunch?”

Linda gaped at me.

Sierra who was manning the register also looked at me with shock. Now I felt like a heel. In the three months Linda worked with us, none of us had offered a hand of friendship.

“Sure,” Linda stammered. “When did you want to go?”

“I think we can have this last batch of entries on the display in about fifteen minutes.” I smiled at her.

Linda looked over at Sierra.

“That works for me,” Sierra said, grinning. “Hank plans on taking me out for a late lunch. He got the job!”

Maybe I could ask Hank a couple of quick questions about him doing security at the Art Benefit Show. Like what happened to items left behind. Linda left her layout in my and Sierra’s possession, so it was only right to inquire about it.

“That’s great!”

Linda and I finished in ten minutes and headed over to Home Brewed.

“Changing the crop class into a singles mixer was a fantastic idea,” Linda said, opening the door.

I shrugged off the praise. “It wasn’t actually my idea, just going with the flow.”

“It sure grabbed the town’s interest.” Linda sighed. “One day I might attend one. It gets lonely at times, but I’m not ready. My son thinks I should start going out more.”

Besides scrapbooking, Linda and I also had people dictating our social life in common. “Everyone is different. Some people prefer staying home. Some people need a longer time with their memories before getting into a relationship after they lost someone.”

“Did you lose someone, Faith?” Linda rummaged around in her bag. “Besides your parents?”

I ignored the question. “The special looks really good today. The mozzarella, tomato and fresh basil sandwich on sourdough bread is calling my name. What about you?”

“That does sound good.”

We reached the front of the line and ordered. Linda refused my offer to pay. Dianne quickly prepared our lunch and handed it to us without a long wait.

We picked a table in the back and sat down, staring at each other for awhile. The only sound was Linda opening up a bag of chips.

I decided to be the brave one and open up the dialogue, since this was my idea. “Wow. I can’t believe how many entries we’ve received.”

Linda nodded.

“It’s going to be fun to see who wins since none of us know who actually made the entries.”

“If it’s not Darlene, I don’t know if I want to be at work when the announcement is made.”

“Maybe we can have Ted stop by that day, since the man has handcuffs.”

“He’ll already be at Scrap This. He seems to like the store…or someone in it.”

Not a topic I wanted discussed. “Are you enjoying working at the store?”

She quickly drew back and tears flooded her eyes. “This is the ‘I’m sorry but we have to let you go’ lunch isn’t it?”

I guess we hadn’t done a good job of keeping our financial situation a secret. Or employees caught on that if customers didn’t walk into the store and buy, it equaled no income. I shook my head and held up my hands. “No. I just wanted to know if you liked working with us.”

“I like it.” She started eating her sandwich.

That response pretty much shut that topic. Scrapbooking. Art. We had that in common. “At the Art Benefit Show, did you see anything interesting?”

Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed, looking like an owl who got hold of some caffeine. She patted her chest a few times, then coughed. “Sorry. Something got stuck.”

I pushed a glass of water closer to her. “I didn’t get a chance to look at any of the displays. Did you see any designers or art techniques we might be able to incorporate into scrapbooking?”

Linda shifted uncomfortably. “The truth is, I’m not really an art person, so I didn’t pay attention. I only took up scrapbooking because of the job.”

“Your layout of your husband and son is really nice,” I said.

“You have my layout. Why haven’t you given it back?” She clenched her right hand around the fork. If she wanted to stab me with it, she had the right grip.

I casually eased back. “I saw it the day of the show. Sierra asked me if I could fix it. I haven’t seen it since. But I promise to look. I’m hoping it got placed in one of the product boxes. You really have a lot of talent. Have you thought about making a memorial album? There’s a company that’s running a contest with a large cash prize.”

“I’d rather not.” Red splotches decorated her cheeks. “I didn’t mind having it up at the store’s booth, but I don’t want strangers seeing it. It’s too personal.”

“I know it’s hard to share private moments. Sometimes scrapbooking can help a person work through their pain.” I felt like such a hypocrite as I spoke. I just wanted Linda having some confidence in herself. This was the first time I seen some life in her.

“And sometimes people want their choices respected.” Linda grabbed her plate and plastic fork and headed to the trashcan.

Ouch.

TWENTY-THREE

Linda and I returned from lunch in record time and Sierra had the good sense not to ask any questions. The three of us worked in silence preparing for the crop. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened. The sound of children—boys—drowned out the jingle of the bell.

“Mom!” Three similar voices cried out in glee.

Sierra crossed her arms and gave her husband a stern look.

Hank smiled sheepishly. “School had a half day, sweetheart.”

The boys gagged at the term of endearment and pressed their bodies into the front of the counter.

Ten years and three children later, Sierra and Hank still got starry-eyed around each other. Their boys complained how about them being all huggy, even around other people. I thought it was sweet, but the boys thought it only one step from the worst act ever committed: parents kissing.

I saw two pair of eyes and just the top of Howard’s head. He needed to grow a few inches before he could spy.

“School-wide or selective?” I asked Hank.

He grinned. “Hello to you, Faith. How’s the private eye biz?”

I shot him my best evil look. It didn’t faze him. Must come from having children. “Very funny.”

“From what I hear, it isn’t very safe,” Hank said.

“But she knows how to shoot.” Harold looked at me with obvious admiration.

Hank nodded. I didn’t want to know why, or where, that turned into a topic of conversation at the Brodart family dinner. Hank sent me a beseeching look and pointed at the boys. He needed a babysitter.

I waved my hands in protest. “Out of the question. I’m working.”

“They’ll behave. It’ll only be for an hour. Come on, Faith. How much trouble can they get into in an hour?” Hank asked.

Twenty different scenarios popped into my head of what they could do with paper, stickers, adhesive, and metal items. Not to mention the cutting tools. The last time I babysat, within ten minutes they flooded their kitchen, set off the fire alarm and kidnapped Mrs. Evans’ poodle.

“The boys promise to be good. They won’t touch anything without your permission.” Hank nudged his oldest, Harold.

Harold still looked at me with awe-filled eyes. “Miss Faith, we’ll do everything you say.”

Henry nodded solemnly, puppy dog eyes fixed on me. He tilted his head and sighed. “We’ll do anything you ask.”

Howard’s hair flopped up and down as he nodded. “Anything.”

Hank grinned at me. “See, what did I tell you?”

I looked over at Sierra who watched her crew with morbid fascination. She knew they were up to something. 

“Hank, this is not a good idea,” I said.

“I concur.” Sierra crossed her arms.

“Boys, do you want to disappoint Miss Faith?” Hank asked.

“Never!” All three responded.

The who-me shock in their voices filled me with dread. Definitely up to something. The Hooligans were never this calm and agreeable, unless they already had mischief plotted.

Linda walked to the front, a bright smile spreading across her face. “I can handle the register. There aren’t too many customers right now, so I don’t think the children will disturb anyone.”

Payback time.

“See, Faith, it’ll be okay.” Hank got down on one knee and clasped his hands together. “Please, one hour is all I ask.”

“Hank, I think Faith is right. It isn’t a good idea to leave the boys here.” Sierra eyed her children suspiciously even though they stood at attention in front of the counter.

“They’ll behave. I promise. We promise.” Hank’s pleading gaze on his wife switched to smoldering. Sierra blushed.

The boys bobbed their heads in solemn nods. All three pairs of eyes filled with wonder locked onto mine.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze. “No touching anything unless I say it’s okay.”

The Hooligans nodded.

“No running, jumping, or screaming.”

“We’ll just look at the pictures on the board,” Harold said. “Just like this.” He placed his hands behind his back and flattened them in an I’ve-been-arrested fashion.

I shooed Sierra and Hank. “All right. One hour.”

Then Hank owed me. I had a couple of small questions needing answers.

“Thanks.” Hank grabbed his wife’s hand and took off out the door, tugging her behind him. The man was probably afraid I’d change my mind.

I looked at the boys who remained rooted to a spot on the carpet in front of the counter. “You can look at the layouts on the board, but don’t touch any of them.”

They crossed their hearts and then carefully walked over to the boards, their hands behind their backs.

I stood beside Howard, determined to discover their plan. He smiled shyly at me and averted his gaze. Howard always talked. Matter-of-fact, it was the main reason he got in trouble at school. Whenever I phoned Sierra, it took fifteen minutes to get Howard to stop chatting about his day so I could hear about his mother’s.

A comment Harold made popped back into my head.  “Harold, who told you I know how to shoot?”