Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) (8 page)

EIGHT

The light seeping through a slit in the curtain told me I was on the verge of being late for work. I bolted upright, looked at the clock, and sank back into the pillow. Good. Plenty of time. My need for coffee overrode the lingering tiredness, so I pushed myself out of the comfort of my bed. And now that I was awake, the demons from last night returned full force. I’d lied to Ted. Or let him be lied to. Not that there was much difference between the two in this case.

I turned on the Keurig, waiting for the water to heat up. I should’ve told Ted that I arrived with Charlotte, not Hannah. I was sure the mother-daughter team would’ve backed each other. Would Ted have believed me over them? What reason did I have to lie? Getting even with them for not telling the truth about who brought in the Janie. Saving myself from going to jail.

Ted wouldn’t believe I’d do that…but other people in the community I wasn’t sure about. I rubbed my eyes.

The machine blinked the magic words “Ready to Brew” and I pressed the button. While the coffee brewed, I opened the front door and reached for the newspaper. In all the commotion last night, I forgot to ask Ted who died. Unfolding the paper, I scanned the front page, looking for the answer. I blinked once and then twice. The headline stayed the same. “Murderer or Savior?”

Under the caption was a set of pictures: the charred remains of Made With Love, an angry Chad Carr, and then a big question mark inside of a box.

Karen England started with the basic facts of the fire. The volunteer fire department received an anonymous call, later identified as from Charlotte Hanson, regarding the fire at Made With Love. When the squad arrived, the store was engulfed in flames. After the fire was contained, Chad Carr’s body was discovered in a back area of the store. An unidentified source revealed that the police were looking into the fire being a result of arson, and that an illegal substance marketed as Janie was found under rotting floorboards in the building.

“The death of Chad Carr brings safety to our community. The real question this morning isn’t who killed Carr, but if they are a villain or a saint.”

Wasn’t that nice of Karen? It was horrible to blame the man, considering he was dead. He couldn’t defend himself. I shut the door, dropping the paper into the recycle bin.

I checked my voicemail and email. No word about my stolen camera. I had called in a report last night and the night dispatcher, who also took the non-emergency calls, said an officer would follow up with me on Monday.

A rustling sound by the front door drew my interest. Standing on my tiptoes, I looked out the peephole, spotting a woman with gray hair rummaging around in the weeds by the front door. A ring twinkled on her wrinkled hand.

I opened the door. “I already brought in the paper, Grandma, and read the front page.”

Hope straightened. “Promise me you’ll stay out of this mess now that the real drug dealer has been identified.”

“How convenient for the town, the murdered guy is to blame.”

“Would you rather everyone still suspected you?” Hope’s voice held more sass than I ever heard her use.

I held the door open and waited for my grandmother to come inside. “I think we should talk.”

“Yes, that we should.” Hope scanned my living room. I fought back an eye roll. No matter my age, she still checked my “room.” I hadn’t been a slob as a teenager, but keeping things organized wasn’t one of my favorite ways to spend time, unlike Grandma Hope. She always felt Grandma Cheryl was too lenient on what cleaning my room meant. Cheryl and I were cut from the same piece of pattern paper on that matter; as long as no dirty clothes were on the floor, clean clothes were put away, and no food was left in the room, all was good. What were a few books and random notes on the floor? I wasn’t sure what Hope loved more about scrapbooking: the actual process of making pages, or sorting and putting all the goodies into proper categories.

“Charlotte wasn’t at the scene when the fire started. She and I arrived together.”

“I know. I saw her pull into your driveway last night.”

“I took the easy way out. I let her talk and didn’t correct the information.” I plopped onto the couch. “She’ll go to prison.”

“Maybe not. I spoke with Randall this morning. He said Charlotte was released because there was nothing to hold her on. Arriving at the scene and calling 911 isn’t a crime.”

“Who do the police think set the building on fire? A man died.”

“Don’t do it, Faith.” Grandma Hope’s voice held a steel quality, sounding more like Cheryl than herself.

“Do what? I’m just asking questions.”

“That’s exactly what you shouldn’t do.” Hope sat on the edge of the couch, worrying her hands together. “Questions have a way of putting you in danger.”

I wrapped my arm around her thin shoulder. My grandmothers had always been larger than life to me. They were my rock, my solace, and they kept me in line with iron fists and soft hearts. Now Hope looked small and anxious.

“It just doesn’t seem right to blame the man who died.”

“Drugs were found on the property,” Hope said.

“The whole building burnt down, but not the drugs? Doesn’t that seem a little odd?”

“No. I’m sure he would’ve put it in some weatherproof box in case of flooding or if the police brought a drug dog in.”

“Grandma, you believe this story without any proof. Just because Karen is reporting it doesn’t make it the truth. Undisclosed sources? Why doesn’t she just name the person?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get the officer into trouble.”

“A police officer told her?” Jasper popped into my head. He was in love with Karen. The only person in town who didn’t seem to realize that was Karen. Or maybe she did and used it to her advantage. “How do you know? Did Chief Moore tell you?”

“Who else would know? Let the police do their job, and you do yours.”

I stopped arguing. My grandmother would do anything to keep me safe, including accepting the easy answer.

I drove to work, thinking about the Carrs. Poor Dawn. How was she handling the accusation against her husband? And what would she do without her store? She had no income. My mind pictured the nearly empty store. There hadn’t been much merchandise to sell. The business wouldn’t have lasted much longer…unless the couple had a product that wasn’t on their shelves.

When I neared the shopping complex of our store, I was surprised to find the parking lot almost full. The only spaces available were the ones at the back of the lot near Home Brewed. What was going on? The only clue was a line snaking out of Polished. I had a feeling it wasn’t a sale that had a quarter of the population there. Keeping my head tucked low, I hurried toward Polished. I don’t know why I tried playing covert operative; my grandmothers knew what I looked like. I doubted hiding my face would stop them from recognizing me.

“If you’re here for an appointment, please come inside.” Hannah held a clipboard in her hand, motioning in the proper direction. “If you’re here to schedule one, please wait in line.”

Two women stepped out of line and went to the front. I stood at the end of the eighteen-person-deep line. I had questions; I didn’t need my nails done. Would the women get upset if I went up front? Most were playing games on their phones or reading. Everyone seemed calm.

Hannah waved at me, more together than last night.

“Great, you’re here for your appointment, Faith. Come on in.”

It appeared that Charlotte wanted to talk to me as much as I wanted to chat with her. I stepped inside.

The walls in Polished were painted a soft shade of turquoise, making the place look cheerful and inviting without being overly bright. In a corner near the front door was a coffee station with a Keurig and coffee, tea, and hot chocolate pods. The manicure stations at the back of the spa were a burnished nickel with yellow leather cushions, and the chairs in the waiting room were the same color as the ones in the stations, except with orange and yellow fabric covering them. The far wall had wooden shelf units attached displaying nail polishes in a multitude of hues and shimmers.

Hannah pointed at the polishes. “Why don’t you pick out a color and I’ll let my mom know you’re here for your pedicure. Felicity, can you man the desk while I get the station set up? Mom appreciates you coming in to help out today.”

“As I told her, I can always use the extra money.” Felicity placed a pile of towels on the counter and took over scheduling appointments.

Pedicure? Why not? I browsed the collection of nail polishes, my gaze drawn toward the ones containing glitter.

Hunched over, Lake Breckenridge shuffled into the store, looking left, then right. Lake was in her early forties and had never had a problem with her back. Did she get injured in the fire the other night, or was she up to something? I watched her inch toward the customers sitting in the waiting room.

Lake reached behind a woman, dropping some glossy flyers onto a table with magazines. Instead of landing on the table, the leaflets scattered over the floor and onto the woman’s lap. With her cheeks blazing, Lake ran out of the nail salon, nearly colliding with Hannah.

“She’s getting bolder.”

The woman crumbled up the flyers in her lap and dropped them into a nearby trash can.

I picked one up. It was a pitch for a direct sales company that sold nail wraps. The back of the flyer had a handmade label with Lake’s email and address on it.

“Her business has been struggling, and the fire Thursday night isn’t going to help her much.” Felicity limped over, slowly bent down, and collected the papers on the floor.

“It’s still not right for her to advertise her new business venture here.” The woman helped Felicity gather up the remaining flyers. “Why don’t you see if your husband can speed up Lake’s claim? Didn’t she switch her insurance over to his company?”

“Allan filed it already,” Felicity said. “There’s not much else he can do.”

Hannah touched my elbow. “My mom can take you now.”

A few of the customers in the waiting area grumbled.

“After I take you back, Mom asked me to run over to Home Brewed to get some coffee and pastries for those waiting. Our treat.” Hannah spoke in a loud voice.

The rumbles of discontent stopped.

The phone rang, causing Felicity to shuffle toward the counter. Leaning over, she picked up the receiver then made her way into the closed-off hostess area. “Thank you for calling Polished. How may I help you?” She tapped her finger onto the computer screen. “There’s nothing available today; the soonest I can get you in is Wednesday morning.”

“My mom is waiting for you.” Hannah pointed over her shoulder.

Charlotte was sitting in front of a chair at the far end of the store. At the base of the chair was a tub filled with water. The large leather seats looked inviting. A control was on the left armrest, offering choices of different speeds of back and shoulder massages.

“Have a seat.” Charlotte added a peppermint scent to the water.

The crisp, clean scent washed over me, bringing to mind Christmas and relaxation. I’d never had a professional pedicure before and was looking forward to it.

Charlotte pulled a tray closer to her. “I’ll take the polish.”

I handed it to her, removed my socks and shoes, and then hoisted myself into the raised chair. The line was growing, even as Felicity tapped away at the keyboard, occasionally pausing to stretch her fingers. The moment Felicity hung up the phone, it rang again. Business was booming for Charlotte. Was there a local event tonight I didn’t know about?

“Put your feet in the water.”

I complied, then took them immediately out of the almost blistering water.

“Sorry, I’m a little distracted today. I’ll add in some cold.” Charlotte turned on a tap and cold water rushed out.

“You have to tell the police everything. You don’t want to take the blame for Chad’s murder.”

Charlotte huffed out a breath, twisting the spigot off. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s all taken care of.”

I leaned forward, almost tipping myself out of the chair. “Being labeled as a murderer is taking care of the problem? You’re okay with that?”

Charlotte gave me a tiny nudge back and turned up the bubbles. “Faith, let it go.”

I scooted forward so I could whisper. “You lied. I lied. Chief Moore will find out.”

“It’s all cleared up.” Charlotte used the back of her hand to smooth some tendrils of blond hair from her forehead. “I already spoke to Chief Moore this morning. I explained about the fire at my ex’s, in case his new wife decided to call the chief or the prosecutor and tell them. I also didn’t want you getting into more trouble because of us. I told him I threatened you to keep quiet.”

“Your ex-husband’s girlfriend would change her story again?”

“She’s his wife now.” Anger flooded Charlotte’s face. “My ex is so wrapped around her finger, he’d let his daughter go to jail if it made his wife happy.”

“That’s awful.”

“Tell me about it.”

“People are going to speculate,” I said. “The truth needs to come out. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life thought of as Chad Carr’s murderer?”

Felicity limped to the back and returned carrying a pile of towels.

“You okay?” I asked Felicity.

“Of course I’m okay.” Felicity clutched the towels to her bosom. “Why would you ask?”

“You’re limping.”

She gave me a tight smile. “New shoes. They’re a little tight.”

“You can put the towels on the chair.” Charlotte pointed to the one beside me. She lifted up one foot and dried it off. “Look around you. Do you think there’s a debutante ball going on tonight? The reason my business is booming today is because people think I had something to do with that man’s death. They’re here to show they approve of me taking out the drug dealer.”

The salon was filled, in my opinion, past maximum occupancy. Women were crowded around the counter, some booking appointments and others picking polish and other nail care supplies from the store. Even a few men had come inside and browsed the items for sale.

“And you’re okay with people thinking you’re a killer?”

“No.” Charlotte twisted off the top of the polish. “But people can assume I’m a murderer if it means I can pay for my daughter to go to college.”

“You have an alibi. Hannah doesn’t.”

Charlotte looked up from my toes and glared at me. “How do you know? Were you following her around?”

“No. But the other teens at the bonfire might say something,” I said. “What will people say once it’s known Hannah was at Made With Love, not with me?”

Her hand jerked. The brush left my nail and colored the end of my big toe. “Those kids aren’t going to say anything. They don’t want anyone to know they were there.” Charlotte rubbed her forehead, leaving a thin line of pink over her eyebrow. She placed the wand down and swiped at the polish with the hem of her shirt.

I plucked a towel from the chair beside me and handed it to her. “That means Hannah doesn’t have an alibi.”

Charlotte scrubbed the polish from her forehead. “Tell people she was with you all night, then you won’t have to worry about Hannah anymore.”

Something in my chest tightened. I did not like where this conversation was going. “I can’t. It’s not true.”

“If you can’t do that for a friend, then just don’t say anything, and stop asking questions. You’re not a police officer.”

“A man is dead.”

“Don’t you get it? No one cares that Chad Carr died. It’s best to leave this all alone before someone innocent gets hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Felicity’s voice carried over to me. “We don’t have any openings until next Friday evening.”

“Saturday,” Charlotte called out. “I’m going to the game.”

“Chad Carr was murdered,” I corrected. “And there’s no proof he was guilty of anything.”

“Murdered. Self-defense. Dead.” Charlotte grabbed my other foot and yanked it from the bubbling water. “It doesn’t matter the term used, the outcome is the same.”

Her nonchalant answer stunned me into a momentary silence. Charlotte finished painting my toes.

“What if one of the kids she was with killed Carr and is afraid a friend will rat on them? The police have to know the truth.”

“Faith, drop it. No good will come from you poking around.”

“The truth would come out.”

“What makes you think anyone wants the truth?”