Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (20 page)

“Dad did. He told us you were in the Army.”

Henry nodded. “We watched some movies that showed what people in the Army do.”

Wonderful. Hank figured the best way to get his boys to behave was letting them think I could destroy them. “I learned how, but I never shot anything. Except for a target.”

“People in the military can also blow up bridges,” Henry said.

Harold showed me two thumbs-up. “Patton was cool.”

At least the movies they watched weren’t the popular gore fests. And they boys were behaving. For now. I shuddered, envisioning the day the Hooligans decided re-enacting the
Bridge on the River Kwai
was an awesome summer project.

Howard leaned forward, his nose almost touching one of the layouts.

I rested my hand on his shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

“I want to find Mom. I heard Dad tell Buddy she looked hot that day.”

“Really?” Henry’s eyes widened. “Man, I wonder if steam is coming from her ears.”

“Maybe lasers from her eyeballs.” Harold quickly walked to the other side. “I’ll look over here. You guys look over there.”

I suppressed my smile as I left the boys looking for a picture of their mom turning into a fireball. With the mad shopping rush earlier, some of the sticker sheets were left unrolled and a few puddled on the ground. I rolled them up.

“Miss Faith?”

I smiled at Henry. “Do you need something?”

“We were wondering if you had a magnifying glass. Some of the people in the pictures are so small we can’t tell if it’s mom. There’s one lady with white on top of her head. I say steam. Harold says it’s old lady hair.”

“I’ll go in the office and get it, but you stay here.”

“Okay. Do you want me to fix the stickers for you?”

He looked so earnest, I racked my mind for a task he could complete without damaging anything. Someone had opened a package of paperclips and flowers, probably figured no reason to buy the whole package when they wanted only a couple, and dumped the remainder on the floor. 

“Henry, can you get a basket and pick up all the paperclips and flowers from the ground for me?”

“Okay.”

As I walked away, I heard Henry happily muttering that now I’d like him best. It took me a few minutes to find the magnifying glass. I handed it to Henry.

After saying thanks, he thrust the basket at me and scampered toward his brothers. How disappointed Henry will be when he finds out that it was a white-haired woman and not his mom with steam coming out of her head.

I spent the next thirty minutes putting pattern paper back into the correct slot and listening out for the Hooligans.

“That is too Dad,” Harold said.

“No, it’s not,” Howard said.

“Don’t yell, Miss Faith is going to get mad,” Henry whined.

The three voices lowered to a loud whisper.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“We promised.”

“Shouldn’t you go see what that’s about?” Linda asked.

Yes, I should.

I stood behind the boys, towering over the trio. Some of the few people I could achieve that effect with. “Okay, guys, what’s going on?”

Harold pointed at a photograph on one of the layouts. “Is that Dad? Howard says no, but I bet it is.”

“Dad is never mad,” Howard said.

I held out my hand. “Let me look with the magnifier.”

Harold passed it to me and I placed the glass almost on top of the photo. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was Hank, not in a security uniform, arguing with someone near the hallway leading to the vending machines. Near where Michael Kane’s body was found.

“I can’t tell. Let’s see if we can find your mom. Maybe she’s turning into a fireball like a superhero.”

Harold’s eyes lit up.

“You don’t think Mr. Kane will be in any of them?” Howard’s voice trembled and he squished himself against my leg.

I ruffled his hair. “No. Mr. Kane wasn’t in this area when he was…hurt.”

“Okay.” Howard sounded convinced but remained glued to my side.

The bell jangled.

Hank raised his arms in triumphant. “We’re back.”

The boys rushed over to him. “We were good. Really good.”

Henry beamed at his dad. “I helped clean up.”

“What?” Hank lifted up his middle child.

“Stuff people took out of the little plastic boxes. Not us.” Henry smiled at me. “Isn’t that right, Miss Faith?”

“Best behavior I’ve ever seen them display,” I said. “Mind if I talk to you, Hank?”

Sierra glared at the boys. “What did they do that you don’t want me knowing about?”

“Just wanted to get the names of the movies the boys were talking about.”

Hank grimaced and flushed red. “Yeah, that. Sure, I can explain. Plus, I’d like to thank her for helping out.”

“Hank?” Sierra planted her hands on her hips.

“I promise it won’t be the way I’ll thank you for all your support this last year.” Hank winked at her then followed me.

Sierra blushed crimson red.

I tugged open the maroon curtains and Hank slipped through the opening.

“I shouldn’t use your military experience as a threat against the boys.”

I waved that way. “It worked. I’m just curious why you weren’t wearing a uniform at the art show? Were you undercover security?”

Hank took a step toward me. “Just knock it off, Faith.”

The menacing, quiet tone startled me. I inched back. “I was just wondering. The boys thought they saw you in one of the pictures.”

“No. I wasn’t in uniform. As if that is any of your business. And stop bringing up the car to Sierra. She’s thinking something’s going on.”

But something was going on if Hank wanted that kept a secret. “I didn’t know it was a private matter between us.”

“I had an errand to run I didn’t want Sierra to know about,” Hank said. He clenched and unclenched his hands, drawing in deep breaths.

“If it was a surprise for her, you could’ve said so.”

“Since when do you have to know everything?”

“Sierra always shares what the boys do. It’s what friends do.”

“But you don’t need to be sharing what I do.” Hank pointed a finger in my direction then poked himself in the chest. “And we’re not friends.”

I stepped forward and jabbed a finger at him. “Remember that next time you want a babysitter or to borrow my car for whatever clandestine—”

Hank pressed a hand against my shoulder and pressed me away from him. “Shut up or—”

A gasp filled the small space.

Linda held the curtains open, only her head peeked through the opening. “Sierra took the boys outside. They were getting a little rambunctious. I need Faith. A woman’s on the phone asking what brands of albums we have. I don’t know them all.”

Never once did she take her gaze off of me.

“Hank!” Sierra’s voice rang out.

“Thanks for the help.” Hank opened the curtains and bowed. He snagged Sierra around the waist and gave his wife a very thorough goodbye kiss. The boys made retching sounds as Hank led them away.

Linda placed an arm around me and scooted me off into a private corner of the storage room. “Are you okay? Do you want to call someone?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Forget about what you thought you saw.”

“I know what I saw. That man shouldn’t get away with that.” Fire lit Linda’s blue eyes.

“It was nothing.”

“It was something.” Anger gripped Linda’s features. “Don’t you ever let some man push you around.”

I smiled at Linda. “I appreciate you sticking up for me and the advice. But don’t worry. I won’t let some man bully me.”

“If you say so. But if he comes in here again, there might be another pair of scissors missing.”

TWENTY-FOUR

To our utter delight, and probably that of our banker, a horde of women rushed through the door to attend the first official Scrap This singles mixer. It looked as if our best event was one we hadn’t even thought of planning.

Linda offered to stay, but she looked worn out. She had spent the rest of the afternoon readying for a battle with Hank. Twice I stopped her from sharing our secret with Sierra, so I encouraged Linda to leave at her normal time. The truth was I wanted to approach Sierra alone. She’d take it better from me, and without an audience. I’d rather not bring it up, but I wanted to make sure my friend was safe.

Linda waved and weaved her body through the croppers to outside.

“Bye,” I called out.

“This is quite a turn out,” Cheryl said.

“I’ll go see if we have any snacks left.” Sierra headed for the break room to rustle up food for the croppers.

Hope headed for the door. “I’ll go get goodies from Dianne. It’ll be a great way for her to advertise. Plus, she’d love for her daughter to attend.”

I didn’t know how happy Clarissa would be getting that call from her mother. At thirty-two, Clarissa made it clear to everyone—besides my grandmother and her mother—she planned on remaining single.

Cheryl gave out the tip sheets on basic techniques and recommended supplies for starting their first album. The women took hold of the sheets and glanced around the room. I could see the question pounding in their heads and hearts: Where were the men?

I hurried to the break room. Sierra was opening and closing cabinets, a frowned slashed across her face. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“Hope went to get some goodies from Dianne.”

“Great. Because we’re kind of low on food.” Sierra knelt down and opened up the bottom cabinet. “We do have two bags of miniature chocolate bars and a bag of pretzels.”

“That’ll work for now.” I took the bags Sierra held over her head.

“Even better, we have three two liters of diet soda and one of regular. Plus, a case of bottled water.” Sierra lifted up the large box and placed it on the counter. “I’ll put some in the refrigerator. If we don’t have any cups, maybe Dianne will give us a stack.”

“I’m sure she would.” My heart fluttered. How did you ask a friend a question about their husband’s temper?

Sierra’s eyes narrowed and then she moaned. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing.”

Sierra rolled her eyes. “You’re still investigating Marilyn’s case. And now you want to drag me into it.”

“This isn’t about Marilyn.” I let out a deep breath, hoping my fear went out of me along with the air. “Is everything okay between you and Hank? He seemed a little…angry.”

Sierra crossed her arms. “This is about the car thing. I told Hank to let it go. It was his fault and not yours. So what did he say?”

“He wasn’t too happy that I was making a deal about it. If I’d known there was a surprise involved, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

A softness entered into her eyes. “A surprise. I wished he would’ve told you that instead of some silly story.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been better.”

“He said you were so wrapped up about playing detective, he was afraid you’d make something out of it.”

He should be afraid since he was lying about more than car troubles. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sierra’s eyes widened. “Hank wouldn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I kept quiet.

Sierra rubbed my arm. “Listen, honey, men get angry, even yell, that doesn’t mean they hit their wives. It doesn’t always work that way.”

My face scrunched up. “What?”

Sierra leaned against the counter. “Marilyn and I talk about you.”

I crossed my arms. “Gee, thanks.”

“You never talk about your time in Germany. Friends you made. Any fun stories about your job.”

“There weren’t any. It was boring.”

“I highly doubt living in Germany and working in JAG was so boring nothing stuck in your mind.” Sierra held up her hand and stopped my next pronouncement. “It’s your decision what you want to talk about. It just makes us wonder what happened, and with your concern about Hank and how involved you are in Marilyn’s case, I’m thinking a man did you wrong. Badly.”

I cradled two of the bottles of soda in my arms. “I’ll take half and you can take the other half.”

“I got it. Subject off-limits.” Sierra followed me back into the store.

The front door flung open, the bell jostling a merry tune, as Gussie toddled into the store, her left leg in a walking cast. Wayne and Wyatt followed behind their mother, both of them with their arms outstretched, acting as a catcher in case she tipped backwards or tumbled forwards.

Four women eyed the men with interest. Six other women craned their necks, probably waiting for Steve and Ted to come through the door.

Gussie must have noticed the marriage-eyes because a grin splashed across her face. She took one of the sheets from Cheryl and lowered herself into a chair. “I’d like to get two of everything on these lists for my boys.” Gussie fanned herself with the paper. “Where’s that niece of mine?” 

Cheryl snatched up a basket and headed down the aisle, a bounce in her step.

“Bobbie-Annie will be here soon,” I said. Or at least I hoped. But with Gussie present, her boys would be on their best behavior. I remembered once in the fourth grade, Gussie marched into class and plopped herself on the floor right next to Wyatt’s desk. I’d never seen him so well-behaved.