Designed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) (16 page)

Leonard shuffled along the perimeter, checking out the patterns. He stopped in the pink section and squatted down, examining the bottom row of papers. The fuchsias, neon, and bubble gum shades of pink. Our least sought after colors, but ones that had a little bit of a following.

I placed the books into a slot then fiddled around with rearranging the placement of the rest. I really wanted to get an idea of the quest Karen sent Leonard on. So far nothing. Unless she wanted to know exactly what colors and textures of papers we had on hand.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I slowly turned. Sierra sent fireballs in my direction with her eyes. She then moved her angry eyes to Leonard and back to me.

So the person who’s been snippy with me for the last few months was concerned about my behavior over the last few minutes.

“Sorry about the delay. How can I help you?” I gave Leonard a bright grin.

“I noticed you checking out my camera on Saturday.” Leonard placed a hand underneath the lens and lifted the camera I wanted to have an affair with away from his chest. So beautiful. So powerful. So steady.

“I was wondering if Scrap This would be interested in having a photography class.”

I beamed. “Actually, we are. We’ve been talking about it and bouncing ideas for instructors.”

“I’d be willing. I can draw up a few ideas and drop them off.” Leonard touched a sheet of glossy purple cardstock. “One of the ideas I had was on how to photograph layouts. Contests seem important to some of the ladies and they’d have a better chance with crisp and clear pictures.”

“Some of our customers are getting into blogging and love to include photos of their layouts. I think it’s a great idea. I’ll pick out the paper our customers usually use so you can work with them and find the best lighting and setting. Unless you have cardstock and pattern paper lying around your house.”

“No. I don’t,” Leonard said. “I left my card with your employee. Give me a call with the dates you have in mind.”

After putting together a paper sampler for Leonard, I spent the rest of the afternoon crafting an email about the store being closed Saturday for Belinda’s funeral service. We thought it was the most respectful thing to do and everyone wanted to attend and support Hazel.

I read the email word-by-word, running through all the possibilities of definitions for each word and how it was placed. I didn’t want anyone reading too much, or too little, into this simple announcement.

Should I call it an announcement? Was it tacky to use the term announcement in the subject line? I mean we made announcements about sales, crops, and closings because of weather. A funeral should be more important than those.

I should call Oliver and run it by him. It was because of him I now over-examined and questioned every little thing.

I wondered if Oliver ever got journaling done in his scrapbook albums or if he analyzed words so carefully he never wrote any of the stories of his pictures. I’d have to check out some of his layouts the next time he came to a crop.

Usually though, I only spotted him peeking at Darlene’s layouts and trying to encourage Wayne and Wyatt to document something other than arrests and hunting trips.

The phone mercifully rang and allowed me time away from my obsessing. “Scrap Th—”

“Thanks a lot, Faith.” Ted broke into my greeting, a tinge of annoyance making his rough voice even harsher.

Ah, so Mrs. Barlow took my advice and made a phone call to the station.

Bobbi-Annie, who made the police station a well-tuned and run organization, had sent Ted straight over. Why send Jasper or one of the other officers when the town’s homicide detective was available? No sense wasting the man’s skills on traffic tickets, drunk and disorderly, and Hooligan wrangling detail when suspicious activity related to a murder was happening.

“You’re welcome. For whatever it is I’ve done to help,” I said as sweet as pecan pie topped with caramel sauce.

“You knew darn well I’d be stuck at your neighbor’s house for hours while she read me a detailed list of possible criminal behavior.”

I did, but I wasn’t stupid enough to admit it to Ted.

“When Mrs. Barlow called about the car driving back and forth in front of my house, I figured you should know about it. I didn’t think you wanted me running over to check it out. Or did you?”

“So, for once you heeded common sense.”

“Shouldn’t I have?” I placed the phone between my shoulder and chin and colored another image as a sample for the Halloween themed class.

Might as well multi-task. The image was a zombie-looking hand trying to grab hold of a person. I planned on decoupaging the colored image to the bottom of a bowl used for trick-or-treating candy.

“I’m glad you didn’t rush over there. I just don’t think you needed to hint to Mrs. Barlow I was the only one capable of handling it.”

“I thought you’d like to know. And since you kind of think I’m sticking my nose into the case, I thought it was better I stayed out of it and recommended she call you.”

“I don’t kind of think. I know you are.”

I let out an over dramatic shocked gasp. “I’m offended. What’s so wrong about going to my own store and putting away supplies so we were ready for Monday morning?”

“It was a crime scene.”

“I didn’t see any tape by the backdoor. And no one said I shouldn’t go inside.”

“You went looking for trouble—”

Ugh! There was that stupid accusing phrase again. Why did both men who said they were interested in me think I looked for trouble? “I was looking for evidence—”

“So you admit it.”

This conversation wasn’t as fun as I envisioned it. I let another huff of breath. “I wanted to know why Belinda came to the store that night. She died at Scrap This. I need to know why.”

“Someone killed her, Faith. That’s all you need to know.”

“No it’s not. I want to know why. Why our store of all places?”

“Answering all those questions is my job. Let me do it.”

“I’m trying. You’re the one who called me all annoyed because Mrs. Barlow wanted you to come by and see her.” I grinned. Got him.

The doorbell jingled and a customer strode into the store. She opened and closed her umbrella a few times, splaying water all over the display board I put in the crop area. I had wanted customers to see the two choices we had so far for classes. Now, I’d be redoing those samples.

I watched as the rain splatter caused some of the ink to trail down the card, giving it a nice eerie effect.  “Customer is here, I have to go.”

I hung up on Ted and stared at the card I painstakingly made. The splatter added a nice...dare I say Halloweeny...effect to the card.

“I’d like a refund...” The woman paused in mid-sentence and ventured closer to the board. “Is this a new class?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s step one for making weather-related images, like you’re looking out a window.”

“Kind of creepy.” The woman faced me, grinning. “Can I switch my fee from the disaster of a class on Saturday to this one?”

“Sure. And, I’ll even offer a discount on supplies.”

The woman beamed brighter.

It was the least I could do for the woman who inspired the class by ruining my project with her slight rudeness. Easily forgivable behavior since she gave me a great direction for a set of classes, how to use scrapbooking mistakes and accidents as a jumping point for enhancing pages and creating mood.

SIXTEEN

Home never looked quite so good. The porch lights bounced off the rain-slick roads. Heat blasting from the heater warmed my body. My heart was a different matter. It still felt cold from rejection. The rain tapered off toward the late afternoon and more customers had come into the store. Unfortunately, except for the customer with the umbrella, it had been to get refunds for the class. No one wanted to take my wonderful “how to turn mistakes into art” classes. I really thought I had come up with a brilliant idea.

At least we had Leonard willing to give a class. I needed to get dates and samples from him before I advertised it. I made a mental note of calling him in the morning.

I climbed out of my car and headed for the front door. The door was cracked open. Grandma decided I needed some home cooking tonight and with my mood knew I wasn’t up for company. Sometimes it was great living close to family.

I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. “Thanks, Grandma.”

I froze.

My living room was torn apart. I wanted to race out of there but I didn’t know if one of my grandmothers had come inside during the trashing of my home. Swallowing down the fear, I made my way further into my own home.

Stay calm. Stay alert.

I drew in steadying breaths and tiptoed toward the kitchen, listening out for any sound overhead. I took a step into the immaculate kitchen. Nothing was out of place, nor was there any dinner on the counter, so my grandmothers hadn’t been to my house.

Yet. I needed to get out of there before my grandmothers did come over. If the person was still here, they heard me call out and might be sneaking up on me.

With my heart pounding, I spun around, prepared to karate-chop whoever might be behind me. Fortunately, the intruder wasn’t there since my shaking limbs might not cooperate enough in showing how tough and capable I was at taking care of myself.

I ran out the door and headed straight for my grandmothers. I couldn’t take a chance the person who wrecked my home wouldn’t show up there next. I had no idea if this was a random burglary or related to Belinda’s murder.

I banged on the door just once before charging into their house.

Grandma Hope placed a hand on her heart. “Goodness Faith, you gave this gal a scare.”

“Where’s Cheryl?” I grabbed my grandmother’s purse from the hall closet near the front door. “We have to leave. Now.”

“Honey, what’s going on?” Hope hurried over to me.

“I’ll explain in your car. Let’s go. Cheryl!”

Cheryl came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. “What is all this ruckus about?”

“We have to go.” I started hustling Hope out the door, keeping my eyes focused on my house.

“I’m cooking—”

“Leave it.”

“I’m not burning my house down.” Cheryl crossed her arms. “I want an explanation right now.”

“Someone broke into my place.”

Hope gasped. Shock filled Cheryl’s face.

“I don’t know if they’re still there.” I heard the wobble in my voice.

Cheryl raced into the kitchen then back into the living room. “Good girl. You didn’t look. Let’s head to the police station.”

Hope ran outside, cell phone clutched in her hand. “I’ll call Randall at home and let him know.”

Randall?

Grandma was on first name terms with the chief of police and had his home phone number?

I didn’t have time to ponder this piece of news. I needed to get my grandmothers some place safe before I returned and discovered how much damage had been done to my house.

And more importantly, why.

“No,” Ted said as he headed out of the station to his squad car.

Jasper waited in another car, ready to peel off after Ted. The anger rolled right off Ted and enveloped me. Part of me said to stop pushing the man, the other said I’d know what was missing and could help direct his investigation.

I knew Ted was more furious at himself right now than with me. He had been in my neighborhood this afternoon, went over to my house and tested the doors and saw nothing unusual. He believed Mrs. Barlow’s love of crime drama and knowledge of my nosiness had her conjuring up illegal activity.

“I can help,” I said, placing my hand on the passenger side door handle.

“You’re more of a help staying here and keeping an eye on your grandmothers. If you come with me, they’ll convince the Chief they need to come also.”

If my grandmothers knew I’d won this argument with Ted, they’d insist Chief Moore take them to the house to talk me out of being there. Before I’d know it, Steve would end up joining us along with whomever else my grandmothers felt capable of talking some sense into me.

I pushed anyway.

“I can tell you what’s missing.”

Ted paused by his car. He placed his hands on the hood and leaned over, his shoulders heaved up and down.

I took a step back, giving him the opportunity to get his temper under control. While I usually didn’t mind egging him on, this was one time I would back away from our continual battle of which one of us was right.

“It’s not safe,” he said, between gritted teeth.

“I’ll stay in the locked car until you two clear the house.”

He looked at me, interest in his eyes. Not a surprise the man was interested in locking me up.

“I won’t move until you say it’s okay.” I crossed my heart.

“How can I trust you?”

“Because I’m not stupid.”

Ted let out a snort. “Debatable.”

“Come on, I came here to the police station rather than go exploring and seeing if the culprit was still there.”

“Culprit.” Ted smiled, slightly.

“Culprit, criminal, jerk, possible murderer...”

“Wait a minute...” Ted held up his hands. “What makes you think the murderer has anything to do with this?”

I shrugged. “Belinda was killed at the store. Hazel and Leslie Amtower have been hinting around town I might have something to do with the investigation. And then there’s the fact you’re going to check out my place.”

Ted’s eyes narrowed. The red lights from the top of Jasper’s cruiser flickered over Ted’s face, making his expression even more menacing.

“And I don’t know of any other reason someone would break into my house.”

“Thieves don’t need a reason, just an opportunity.”

“In the rain? Doesn’t seem like the best time for breaking and entering. You’re likely to ruin everything you just stole.”

Though, it was the best time not to get caught as people weren’t out and about.

Darlene! I wouldn’t put it past that woman to break into my home to either convince me to help her or see what I might have on her.

Ted noticed my expression and groaned. “Not that. Please don’t come up with a suspect.”

“Someone has to. I’m going. That’s final.” I ended my sentence by stomping my foot.

“Fine. But you must stay in the car until I say it’s okay to come out.”

“Agreed.”

“And if anyone asks why I brought you, I’m saying you hid in the back of the cruiser. No way am I getting on your grandmothers’ bad side. Those gals kind of scare me.”