Designed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (23 page)

TWENTY-THREE

Thursday morning, Scrap This buzzed with energy. It annoyed me. The
beep
and
boops
of the cash register grated on my nerves as Marilyn rang up a large purchase of cardstock. The hushed conversation of customers pricked at my skin. Sierra hummed along to the music that piped in from the stereo in the employee lounge. I gritted my teeth to keep from asking her to stop singing.

I dropped the cardboard box I held onto the floor. It landed with a resounding thud. I knelt in front of the paper racks, yanked open the box, and ripped off the plastic protecting the pattern paper. The first sheet crinkled over my manhandling.

Two nights in a row I averaged four hours of sleep. I had no idea how I’d put up with Darlene tonight. I shoved a stack of pattern paper into the correct slot.

“Customers will demand a discount if the corners are bent.” Marilyn joined me on the floor. “I wish you’d let us help you.”

“One woman is capable of doing this job.” I grabbed the next design.

Marilyn gently took it from my hands. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Faith. Stop trying to pretend the break-in didn’t scare you.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Okay. Whatever.” Shaking her head sadly, Marilyn stood.

I caught hold of her wrist. “It bothers me. I know why they took what they did. I just can’t figure out what they were afraid I’d figure out.”

“We could help.” Marilyn pointed at herself then Sierra.

“I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.”

“I’m asking, you’re not dragging me. Besides, you helped me.” Marilyn smiled.

I grinned up at her. “I do recall there was a little dragging going on then.”

She held her right index finger and thumb a few centimeters away from each other. “Tiny bit.”

I glanced around the store. “Once it’s cleared out some.”

“And your grandmothers head out for lunch.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll take care of restocking.” Marilyn shooed up toward the counter. “Why don’t you go look at the new lines coming out? There’s some real beautiful stuff on page twenty-five. I think you’ll really love it.”

Sounded good. Nothing lifted my spirits like shopping and scrapbooking. For the next hour, Sierra and I oohed and aahed, yes-and-no’ed items. There was one paper that had a very sexy-looking Santa Claus on it. I lifted the catalog, twisting and turning it.

“I don’t know,” I said. We’d have some customers rushing in to buy, and others coming in to pray for our troubled souls.

“A few sheets would be good,” Sierra said. “I’d like to request the firefighter and pilot.”

I wanted the cowboy paper and the matching washi tape.

I heard my grandmothers walking from the back office toward the shopping area. Good. Soon, I’d see what Sierra and Marilyn thought about the thread I saved from total annihilation.

“It’s nice,” I said. “More than nice, but I don’t know of a layout it’d work with.”

Hope and Cheryl hovered behind us.

“I’d put it in a frame and hang it on my bedroom wall,” Cheryl said. “I’d love looking at it every morning and night.”

“No embellishments needed for that paper,” Hope said. “That’s what I call a yummy sheet of paper.”

Heat licked my cheeks. I slapped the catalog onto the counter face down. “Grandmas!”

Giggling, they linked arms and skipped out of the store. I wondered what it would be like to have a best-friend-forever like Hope and Cheryl found in each other.

Sierra turned the book back over and jotted down the item number. “I double-dog dare you to put a framed copy in each of their bedrooms.”

“So, what’s going on?” Marilyn rushed over to the counter.

The only two customers, a mother and daughter combination, were in the back of the store browsing through our choices of Halloween themed products.

“I think I know the key to who broke into my house and is trying to implicate me in Belinda’s death...”

Marilyn and Sierra drew in sharp breaths.

The customers spun toward us.

I grabbed the catalog and held it up. “Thinking about adding this Santa to our Christmas collection. Yes or no?”

The women headed over. Their eyes grew wide.

The gray-haired older woman fanned her cheeks. “Darling, get me a ream. I know who’s going on the front of my Christmas cards for the red-hat society.”

“Mother! What will father say?”

“To send one to his aunt and give her a merry, merry Christmas.”

The thirty-something-year-old woman blushed and rushed back to the safety of the spooky and creepy Halloween items. “I’m never taking you shopping again.”

“And I thought I raised me a liberal girl.” The mom tapped the picture of the nearly naked pilot. “I’d like him also.”

It had nothing to do with being prudish. There were just some things a gal didn’t want to know her mother, or grandmothers, gushed over. Hot men were one of them. It felt a little weird to be thinking wicked thoughts about the man you’re grandmothers were ogling.

Once the women became immersed back in the Halloween area, I explained my theory to Sierra and Marilyn.

“You’re talking about the thread I called you about.” Sierra reached for the flash drive I held.

Sniped about. I kept the correction in my head and nodded. Sierra opened the document. Marilyn stood behind her and read over her shoulder.

“This looks like what I read. I can check. I used Hank’s email to send me a copy of it.”

The three of us put our heads together and compared. After twenty minutes of checking and double-checking we came to the same conclusion. Duplicate.

“This Little Lamb persona has it in for you,” Marilyn said. “I don’t like it. I’m worried. You should stay with me and the kids.”

I shook my head. “I think it’s just keyboard bravery.”

Marilyn opened her mouth.

“And if it’s not, there’s no way I’m putting your teens in danger by staying at your house.”

“You can stay with me.” Sierra grinned, but I saw the lick of fear in her eyes. “My boys are more a danger than anyone else. The poor sap will confess to all and anything to get out of their clutches.”

“I’ll be fine. If I’m that worried about my safety, I’m sure Steve will camp out in my living room.”

“I’d have him protecting me in the bedroom.” Marilyn waggled her eyebrows at me.

I did the best thing, ignored the comment and returned the conversation to its intended content. “Whoever Little Lamb is, they’re local.”

“I don’t have a clue about who it could be.” Sierra tapped her lip with her nail.

“Me neither.” Marilyn patted my hand. “Sorry. Some big help I am.”

“This was good. I now know this was the original conversation, and I’m not crazy that Little Lamb has something against me.”

“The two people at the top of that list are Darlene and Karen,” Marilyn said.

I would’ve added Leslie except I hadn’t known until after the fact about the internet trash-fest. I scrolled and pointed at the posting times.

“Darlene posted under her own name. Unless she posted from a laptop and a desktop, there’s no way she could’ve logged in and out so fast.”

“That leaves Karen.”

“Why would she be prowling around a scrapbooking board?” I asked.

“Cause she doesn’t like you, and likes Steve.”

The customers approached the register. Marilyn went to ring up the women.

Sierra squinted at the screen. “I know the answer is here but I can’t see it. Ugh.” She pushed away from the computer.

“Not everyone is talented at finding a hidden meaning.”

Oliver. I grinned.

The bell jingled as our customers left.

“What?” Sierra looked worried.

“I think I need to show this to our resident email analyzer.” I dug my cell phone from my purse. There were some calls I’d rather not make on the company line.

“What?”

“Oliver White. He has this uncanny ability of taking everything in a very literal manner.” I explained about the email I sent and what he told Annette.

“Perfect.” Marilyn clapped. “I hope he can figure this out.”

“Shh...” I silenced them when Oliver picked up. “Hi Oliver, this is Faith—”

“Mr. White,” he responded.

“Okay, hello Mr. White...”

Sierra and Marilyn rolled their eyes.

“I was wondering if you could interpret something for me. You’re the best word guy around.”

“And what would this document be? Family historical record? Old documents someone else found?” There was a hint of interest in his voice.

“Not exactly. It’s a conversation I got off a message board. Stuff said about the store.”

“If this stuff is slanderous or libel in nature, I would make an appointment with an attorney who specializes in those types of cases.”

“I’m not sure it is. It’s kind of vague. You’re the only person I know who can read words as they are actually written.” I hoped it came across the way I intended.

“Many people do say that. It’s an inherited skill.”

Sierra jabbed me, indicating she wanted me to hurry and get a commitment.

I’m trying
. I mouthed. “Could you come over and take a look at it?”

Clicks sounded in the background. “I can come by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Sierra and Marilyn shook their heads.

“Yes. I have a board meeting tonight, followed by a date which I will not change for you.”

A date? Oliver dated? Who knew, and who was I to interfere with a blooming romance. “Tomorrow it is. I appreciate it.”

“I can schedule you in for lunch.”

“That works. I’ll pick up two of Home Brewed’s specials and have them at the store.”

“It’s a date, Faith. I have it marked on my calendar.” Oliver ended the call with a chipper “See you tomorrow.”

I hoped Oliver didn’t consider it a real date. I’d never hear the end of it from my grandmothers. Well, I’d find out tonight. If Oliver thought he and I were having a romantic luncheon, he’d tell his aunt, who’d tell my grandmothers. Maybe Oliver wouldn’t want to be considered a guy who got around.

Who was I kidding? Oliver would love to be the “hottest” bachelor in town.

I passed the rest of the afternoon and early evening glancing at the clock and playing HWOI—How Would Oliver Interpret.

JealousMuch sounded like a random internet person who liked being in the middle of the drama. The bits and pieces they threw came from what Darlene posted that night, and possibly what Darlene posted in the past. Some of those women had long memories and spreadsheets so detailed it’d make the CIA jealous.

Little Lamb was different. Vicious. The poster said everything in a calculated way. Not accusing, yet laying the groundwork for others to think the absolute worst about a person. Like with me. Everyone in Eden knew the truth about Michael’s murder. As did every scrapbooker interested in our store, it made no sense to accuse me of that crime.

My eyes kept returning to the phrase “Maybe that too.” Was Little Lamb insinuating I was involved in Belinda submitting those fraudulent layouts or something more sinister? Like her murder. I sucked in a breath.

Marilyn spun toward me.

I shoved a finger into my mouth and held up a piece of paper.

She made a production of shuddering. Anyone who worked with paper knew how much a cut hurt.

I clicked out of the document, wishing I could just as easily get rid of the thought swirling in my head.

What if they were laying the groundwork for accusing me of Belinda’s murder? A murder they knew took place before anyone else did. There were only two people in Eden who hated me enough to ruin my life. Karen and Darlene. And one of them had all the evidence of me having been accused before.

TWENTY-FOUR

What had I gotten myself into? I plucked at a thread hanging from the black shirt Darlene insisted I wore. The one the exact shade of black as the leggings she also instructed I wear.

Darlene frowned. “Stop that. My mother spent a lot time working on our outfits.”

Groaning, I hit the back of my head multiple times on the headrest. “Your mother knows.”

“Of course she does.” Darlene continued looking straight ahead, hands in the two and ten position, and the speedometer precisely at thirty-five miles per hour.

At this speed, I could throw myself out the passenger side door and only suffer some minor cuts and bruises. 

Thirty minutes ago, when I opened the door to Darlene’s knocking, my instinct screamed “don’t do it.” I ignored it. Darlene handed me the outfit and said I needed to change into the proper sleuthing apparel, my brain said “Danger! Do not proceed.” I ignored it also. My heart clenched when I grabbed the handle of the car and tugged it opened. I was getting used to ignoring these signs.

I was one of those too-stupid-to-live women in books my grandmothers and I complained about.

Darlene switched on the blinker and the
click-cluck
sounded through the car. If I was going to make a break for it, the time was when she slowed down for the turn. I gripped the handle.

Then let go of it. Apparently, I had enough sense not to jump out of a moving vehicle. I sighed.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Darlene finally looked at me. “You look great. Thinner. Black does wonders for your figure.”

I wished I was the ninja the outfit portrayed me as. I’d take her out with one chop to the side of her neck.

Darlene parallel parked between a Jeep and a small sedan across the street from Belinda’s house.

A loud, rowdy group of people clustered around the house Darlene parked in front of. Music blared and thumped the car.

How would this help us in not being spotted? Usually, when people decided to sneak into a house, they parked far enough away that their vehicle wouldn’t be spotted and recognized.

“I think we should find something on the next block.” Somewhere with less people milling about.

Darlene turned off the engine. “Let’s go.”

“We don’t want to be caught. Remember? How is this inconspicuous? People here know your car.”

“Precisely. It’s not unusual for me to visit Belinda. Besides, how can we blend in with the surroundings if we’re carrying evidence down the block?”

I hated the fact Darlene made a good point. Slinking down the street in the middle of the night with a bag of stuff wouldn’t work in our favor. Halloween was still a week away.

“You’d better have a good plan if we get caught,” I said. “And it better not be ditching me again.”

“I don’t plan on getting caught.” Darlene flipped down the visor and peered intently into the small mirror.

My stomach tightened and I stared straight ahead, fighting the urge to look behind me and see what troubled Darlene. Knowing my luck, it was Ted, or worse, my grandmothers.

They’d warned me to stay out of this mess and couldn’t fathom why I’d help Darlene. They understood allowing a friend to talk me into investigating a murder to clear their name, quite different when it was the person who got on my last nerve. I knew even pulling out it was the “Christian thing” to help a neighbor in need wouldn’t sway them away from anger.

Frowning, Darlene ran a finger over and under her mouth. She snapped the visor up. “All ready. Let’s go.”

“Really, a lipstick check?”

“One must always look their best.” Darlene sent a critical appraisal my way. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

“We’re breaking and entering, not meeting the man of our dreams.” I thrust open the passenger side door.

Stay in the car.
The voice of reason screeched at me. This was going to go bad. I felt it in my bones and stomach. A headache sprouted and a tiny voice in my head kept repeating frenemy over and over.

I wasn’t quite sure if the voice meant Darlene or myself.

“One never knows when the man of their dreams will show himself.” Darlene adjusted the drape of her matching black tunic.

I shuddered and slunk out of the car, heading toward Belinda’s house. I did not want the man of my dreams—not that I really had one—showing up when I was participating in a misdemeanor at the best, or a felony at the worst.

I glanced around and tiptoed over to the side of the house, figuring we’d go through the back door. I patted my pocket. I sure hoped a gift card worked. I didn’t bring a credit card just in case I accidently dropped it.

Darlene clopped straight up to the front door in her designer high-heeled boots, instead of quietly making her way to the back of the house like I planned. Did she not watch any crime shows?

“Psst...” I hissed. I jerked my thumb down the small strip of land between Belinda’s house and her neighbors. “The back.”

Darlene stuck her hand into her the pocket of her figure defining black coat and pulled out a set of keys. The strap of her purse slipped and she yanked it back up. “I don’t have a key for the back door. I have one for the front.”

I stomped over to Darlene. My sneakers squished across the damp grass. “Thanks for telling me.”

Darlene shrugged and smiled. “It seemed mean to ruin your fun. Sneaking around suits you.”

I opened my mouth then shut it. I wanted to ask what she meant, but really didn’t want to know the inner workings of Darlene’s mind.

A tingling sensation danced over my head and nerves, feeling like little spiders were running all over me. I rubbed my hands over my arms.

Maybe I wasn’t doing such a good thing proving Darlene innocent. There was something extremely calculating and manipulative about the woman.

I debated quitting right then and there, but unfortunately my curiosity got the better of me. And I was already there.

Darlene opened the door and motioned for me to enter.

I stepped inside. Darlene hit a switch and the area was bathed in soft lavender light. My eyebrows shot up. Turning, I stared at Darlene.

“Belinda liked color.”

No kidding.

The living room looked like a box of sixty-four crayons exploded. Oranges, pinks, reds, blues, and greens of all different hues filled the room. The red couch had a white, pink, and purple cushion. Green accent pillows stood like soldiers. The table lamps were a combination of sea blues and greens. The area rug was a mix of orange and dark brown shades, quite tasteful considering the other items in the room.

“Our cover is we came to get a fondue set,” Darlene said.

“We did some breaking and entering to take your cousin’s fondue set.”

Darlene looked at me like I was stupid. Which at this moment, I agreed with. Something was really off with my reasoning skills to have agreed to this plan. What in the world did we expect to find—the murder weapon with fingerprints all over it, or a note from the killer confessing their crime?

I needed to spend more time on scrapbooking than sleuthing. Poor Grandma Cheryl would be getting an earful from Hope for buying me the Agatha Christie collection for my birthday.

“I have a key so we entered lawfully.” Darlene dropped the aforementioned item back into her coat pocket. “No breaking. Just entering.”

I’m sure Ted would have a different opinion of our entry. Darlene was right though. She had a key. She used it. If Ted didn’t want anyone coming in, he should’ve stationed a guard at the house.

Taking in a deep breath, I kept repeating all the good reasons we weren’t committing a crime in my head. The dining room and kitchen were also vivid splashes of color. My poor eyes hurt along with my brain. How in the world did Belinda create in this area? I couldn’t imagine being able to concentrate or tell one color from the next with the sensory overload surrounding me.

“I’m going to check Belinda’s office and craft room. You can see if anything seems amiss in her bedroom.”

“How would I know what’s amiss? How about I check the computer files and you search her bedroom. You know her better.” I crossed my arms. “Or we could stick together and I’ll tell you my observations.”

I wanted to make sure she wasn’t putting things into the room. That large purse made me suspicious. So far, everything she needed she carried in her pockets. I wanted to know what the purse held.

“Because it will take too long. Use your cell phone and take pictures, we can stop for a bite on the way back to Scrap This and talk about them then.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t think so. We’re partners so we stick together.”

Darlene’s expression matched mine. “You don’t trust me.”

“Nope.”

Darlene drew back. A smile brightened her face all of a sudden. “I like that. Brutal honesty. Well we’re at an impasse here. We need to cover as much ground as possible, and you’re afraid I’m up to no good.”

“I know you’re up to no good. I’m just not sure if your no good is going to come back and smack me or someone else.”

“For goodness sake, why would I get you in trouble?”

“You don’t like me.”

“I need you. If a person is going to turn on their partner, they at least wait until they have no use for them.”

Gee, that comforted me.

“So how about we get at it before the police arrive.” Darlene headed up the stairs.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I figured we’d be half way done by now. Sooner or later the McGregors across the street will start a fight.”

“How do you know?” I dashed up the stairs and into the room Darlene pointed at.

“Because it’s Thursday night poker. A fight always breaks out during Thursday night poker.”

“Then maybe we should’ve picked another day.”

“Friday, I conduct an online chat with other life artists.”

Well, one couldn’t miss that.

“Wednesday is Bunco. I do believe your grandmothers and my mother have started attending.”

“Your mother knows what we’re up to.”

“But your grandmothers don’t. Thursday is my mother’s cooking class with Chef Lorenzo. She never misses a class of his. If she wasn’t busy, my mother would’ve invited herself and them to come over and help.”

Then I’m glad we picked today. “Okay. I’ll look in here.”

“Remember anything amiss let me know.” Darlene headed down the hall.

Like I’d know. I eased into the room, feeling a little uncomfortable being in a dead woman’s bedroom. I knew Belinda, but hadn’t been friends with her. It was strange entering into her private retreat space.

I stepped into the room and blinked. I felt disoriented with the mix of colors and patterns. Pink and green plaid comforter. White and red polka dotted curtains. I settled my gaze on the cherry wood hardwood floor. Finally, some peace and calm for my eyes. I drew in a deep breath.

A stale odor filled my nose and trickled into my senses and memory. Wait. Old donuts and a sweet flower fragrance. Like in my house.

Fear trailed up and down my spine. There was no way Belinda was involved in what happened at my house. Whoever had been at my place had also been here looking for something.

I dropped onto my hands and knees and lifted up the bed skirt. Dust bunnies and a pair of old moccasins greeted me. I crawled over to the bedside table. An iPod docking station doubling as a digital clock took up most of the surface, a small lamp took up the rest.

Draped over the knob of the bedside lamp was a gold necklace, four hearts formed a four-leaf clover. I opened up the lone drawer. Inside were two paperback mystery novels, a collection of beaded bookmarks, and a full bottle of a sleeping aid. A chain snaked out from under one of the books.

Carefully, I withdrew it. In my hand was Belinda’s beloved diva necklace. If Belinda had the necklace, why had she gone to the store to search for it? Unless this wasn’t the necklace she wanted back. The heart necklace. Did Belinda give up this necklace in order to save one more precious to her?

Had the other necklace been a milestone gift from her mother, or maybe her absentee father? I’d need to take a closer look at it. I placed the diva necklace back into the drawer and closed it. Darlene didn’t need to know about the find. If anyone deserved the memento, it was Hazel.

The party across the street had grown rowdier. I tugged open the closet door. Belinda hung her clothes by theme and color. Scrapbooking themed shirts and pants. Next came her cute animal collection. She followed it up with cruise wear and almost shoved into the corner was her holiday attire.

My hand brushed against a silk fabric. Interesting. Everything else was made from cotton or polyester. I pushed the holiday wear into the cruise clothing and shoved the whole passel of them into the animal section.

Hidden in the dark recess of her closet were simple and trendy dresses, blouses and pants. A few still had price tags hanging off of them. I burrowed further into the closet and blushed. Belinda liked her nightwear racy.

I do believe Belinda had herself a man.