Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (18 page)

An assorted melody of voices outside the store ended our discussion. Cheryl and Hope gaped. A line formed in front of Scrap This entrance. Women shifted large satchels from one shoulder to the other. Others shifted anxiously from foot-to-foot, weaving their head back and forth around the crowd.

“We should unlock the door,” Cheryl said.

“Are you sure?” Hope asked. “It looks like someone said George Clooney was here giving out his phone number.”

Cheryl rolled up her sleeves. “Hope, you take the register, keep the phone beside you, and Faith and I will handle crowd control. Get ready to open those doors.”

I moved into action.

“Did you read the paper?” Sierra shouted, running through the store toward the register.

“No. But I was yelled at about it.” I stepped out of the way of the stampeding crowd. Some women thrust layouts at me while others bee-lined for the counter, asking about the crop. When—and why—had the contest crop become such a hot item?

Sierra shoved a newspaper into my hands and started managing the crop schedule. As I read the article about the vandalism, everything became clear. The paper made it sound like the store sponsored a singles night. The reporter, not Karen England, stated that homicide Detective Ted Roget and Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Steve Davis and a young lady were attending the store’s evening get-to-together when the malicious act occurred.

Bobbi-Annie made it to the front of the line. Leaning against the counter, she caught her breath. “Why didn’t you tell me about these get-togethers?”

“We’ve been advertising the crop since Saturday,” I said.

“A crop. Nowhere did it say it was a singles mixer.”

If that is what the women of Eden wanted, that’s what Scrap This would give them. Now I needed more men attending the class. While Sierra rang up purchases, I tugged the class book toward me. “The crop fee is forty-five dollars, Bobbie-Annie.”

“Is there room for four?” She drummed her fingers on the counter. Her cell phone sang
I’m Every Woman
. She flipped it open. “Yeah, Jasper, I’m here. Taking care of it.”

Jasper wanted to attend also? Awesome! Another available, attractive, employed male—what every single, marriage-minded woman wanted in a man. I’d need another teacher for tonight. “We have room for four more croppers. Tonight, we’re focusing on creating layouts for the contest.”

Bobbie-Annie shooed away my words. “Sure. Pictures.”

“From the Art Benefit Show.”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” She hit a button on the phone. “Aunt Gussie, I got the spaces. Yep, I’ll be here and keep an eye on them.”

I suppressed a shudder at the implication of those words. “Them” had to be Bobbie-Annie’s cousins, Wyatt and Wayne. Please let them not bring pictures of their hunting successes or their mug shots, I thought.

“I’m so excited.” A red-haired woman headed to the contest display board, now showcased by a brand new, sparkling windowpane. “I know my entry is the winner. The die-cutter is coming home with momma.”

The woman behind her laughed and shouldered past her. “That’s what you think. That machine is so mine. You should see the yummy page I made. My photos are fantastic.”

The good-natured ribbing between the friends continued. Before I could even wish the other contestants would be so fun-spirited about the competition, an argument broke out in the front of the store. Hope and Cheryl emerged from the paper aisles where they had been helping customers. Cheryl charged toward the melee.

Hope pointed at the boards. “Faith, arrange the entries. I’ll handle the cash register.”

A line that rivaled the auditions for
American Idol
weaved itself through the paper aisle and ended at the register. Some entrants decided to add more embellishments to their layouts before they entered them into the contest.

“They’re all gone!” A shriek came from where we kept the Prima flowers.

I switched directions and headed toward the wail. A woman shook with anger as she glared at the empty shelf. Yesterday, the shelf contained at least thirty bottles of the flowers.

Near the cash register, another woman pressed a basket against her chest, the top hidden so no one could look inside. I had a feeling the inventory of fabric flora was hidden within. Before a riot erupted, I distracted the lady without the flowers away from the woman with all the flowers.

“Now how did that happen?” I gave a wide-eyed look and tapped my chin. I took hold of the shaking woman’s elbow. Leaning forward, I whispered, “I have a secret stash of Prima flowers in the break room. I like to have supplies on hand in case I get an inspiration during my lunch break.”

“What color and style do you have?”

“I have a mix.” I led her from the front of the store to the back. “You’re welcome to pick what you’d like to use.”

The offer of free scrapbooking embellishments cheered her and she left with half my flowers. What an employee must do to keep the peace. Luckily, I knew where I could get more. Grandma Cheryl had a weakness for the flowers even though she didn’t use them on her pages. She owned every type of Prima flower available. Shelves lined with the colorful bottles of flowers encircled her scrapbooking room like decorative molding.

A vise-like grip wrapped around my arm. “Just what did you think you were doing?”

My head reeled from a sudden spinning movement and I found myself looking into the fury-filled face of Ted. I yanked from his grip. His clasp tightened. I kept my voice low but firm. “Let me go.”

“Not until you answer some questions.” He shook my arm, adding emphasis to his demand.

Last night, Ted acted like a friend, a protector. Today, he wanted to throttle me. What happened in those few hours to turn him into this raving lunatic?

Did he know about Adam and now suspected me of killing Michael?

I swallowed hard and pushed the fear aside. “You’re hurting me. You better let go. Now.”

Ted released my arm and stepped back, nearly colliding with a rack of paper. If it weren’t for the anger on his face, I’d almost believe he was shocked at his own behavior.

I walked away, keeping my pace slow, showing him he hadn’t won. I wasn’t scared. I took in deliberate breaths and ran through some self-defense moves in my head. If he tried that again, he’d answer for it.

“Don’t you dare drag my brother into this.”

I froze. I knew he’d be annoyed if—when—he found out, but not furious. “People aren’t allowed to speak to your brother?”

“Don’t play Miss Innocent with me. It won’t work,” Ted said. “I suspected your questions to Bobbi-Annie weren’t for innocent reasons, but I decided to give you a chance, think the best of your prying.”

I pivoted and faced him. His eyes snapped with anger and betrayal. I bit my lip. Why did he think I betrayed him? He arrested my friend for murder. He charged into my grandmothers’ store and ruined our business. I didn’t owe him anything.

“Bobbi told me you always lent a helping hand, stuck up for people,” Ted said. “One of the most loyal people she ever knew. So I believed your motive in sticking your nose into the investigation was all about helping.”

“That is what I’m doing. Nothing more.” I stared into Ted’s eyes, hoping he’d see the truth in my eyes. “I know she’s innocent.”

“Then why pry into my background and track down my brother? Decided maybe threatening to parade my brother’s lifestyle around would get you your way? If you want to hurt me,” Ted slapped a fist against his chest, “go right ahead. Here’s something for you, I was an alcoholic. That’s why my wife left, also why the only detective job I could get was in Eden. Other police departments were leery of me and my past. But have at it. Use it to your heart’s content, but leave Bob alone.”

I recalled the vacation picture on Bob’s desk. Ted thought I planned on “outing” his brother as vengeance or blackmail. It broke my heart that someone in the past hurt the brothers in that way. I blinked back tears and placed my hand on his arm. “Ted—”

“I came here yesterday to make sure you’d be safe. I knew I could use a friend and figured so could you.” He shoved a piece of paper at me.

I jammed my hands into the front pocket of my jeans. “I’m sorry.”

Ted crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it at my feet. “You’re sorry because you got found out.”

“I admit I tried to hire Bob as a private detective, and maybe learn a bit about you. And because it would be fun if your brother took the case. If someone else was annoying you then—”

“You could continue investigating the case because I’d be busy with the private eye.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”

I bit my bottom lip.

He studied me. “You’re serious. That was actually your plan? You were going to hire a private detective, preferably my relative, so I’d be distracted by them and not notice your antics?”

I smiled and shrugged. “It was absolutely brilliant when I came up with it.”

“Darling,” he drawled, for the first time showing a hint of his accent, “you’re the only woman I’d ever believe that from.”

“So, how did you find out?” I rocked back and forth on the heels of my pink sneakers.

“I shouldn’t tell you, but I will.” He crossed his arms. “Maybe it’ll convince you detective work isn’t a talent of yours. You left notes on the front seat of your car. Miss England peered inside and jotted them down. She came to me last night and asked about my brother’s connection to the case and if it wasn’t a conflict of interest.”

“Oh.” Rule number one of amateur sleuthing, hide any and all notes. “Well, in my defense, I had been distracted by a car accident and didn’t think of hiding the notes. But I’ll remember that.”

Ted groaned and smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m not giving you pointers, Faith. I’m giving you a warning. For crying out loud, hire Bob. Heck, hire him and my mother, but stop investigating this case yourself.”

“What do you care? Maybe it’s my new hobby.”

His eyebrows rose. “Annoying me?”

“Marilyn is the murderer, so what harm can come of it? If you have the murderer locked up, then I can’t really find any trouble.”

“So, Mark Kane throwing a rock through your window isn’t trouble? Having Karen England peering into your windows—”

“Window. And it was only once,” I corrected.

“That you know of.”

That shut me up.

“Asking people personal questions can set them off. There are things people want kept private. It will make them nervous, even angry, if they think someone will find out.”

The knowing look in his eyes punched me in the gut. Too many times his eyes said he knew something about me, but not the actual what. And if anyone could relate to what Ted spoke about, it was me. The second biggest secret in Eden was one I held. The biggest was the one Michael’s murderer clutched.

“Hire an investigator, a professional one, if you truly believe Marilyn is innocent.” Ted jotted down two phone numbers on the back of a business card. “Bob said he’d give you recommendations since he couldn’t take the case.”

“Conflict of interest.” I took the offered card.

Ted made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a growl and walked away.

Hope rushed over to me. “What was that about?”

“Pointers.”

Hope’s eyes grew wide.

“I’m kidding, Grandma. Sorry.” I showed her the card. “He thinks me involving myself is an act of stupidity.”

“I guess the man does have some sense,” Hope said.

“So he gave me a name of a PI. He’d rather I mind my own business and is steering me in a safer direction.”

Hope’s eyes narrowed. “He seems fond of you.”

“He’s not a bad guy, Grandma.”

“You know, people are thinking there’s something going on between the two of you.”

That was a good reason to start minding my own business. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was dating a police officer, or had a thing for him. “Trust me, there’s nothing between us. Except for annoying each other.”

“I don’t want to see you or Steve getting hurt.”

“Steve?”

“He cares about you.”

I knew that, and if I was truthful, I cared about him. But caring about each other was enough for me, and my grandmothers needed to realize that. I looked around the store. Cheryl and Sierra had everything under control, not surprising. Anyone who herded the Hooligans would have no problem keeping a group of scrappers under control.

“Can we talk, Grandma? Like now?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

We linked arms and headed into the employee lounge. Alone in the small room with the door closed, I couldn’t figure out the right words to say. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I dropped into a chair and then rested my head on the table.

“Honey, what is it?”

“Steve,” I said and sat up.

Grandma tsked. “Does he think you and the detective are developing a relationship, so he’s giving you space? I’ll talk with him.”

I put my hand over hers, really noticing for the first time the thinness of her skin. “Grandma, I want you to stop sending Steve over when you think I need help. If I need him, I’ll call him. I know his numbers, work and home. I also know where he lives and works.”

“You keep to yourself too much.”