Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) (10 page)

“Thanks for your diligence, Officer Mitchell, but I’m sure you have more pressing matters. I can check out the noise.” Steve maneuvered around me.

“Are you coming, Officer?” Mrs. Barlow held the door open.

“Yes.” Mitchell took the heavy bag off of Mrs. Barlow’s shoulder and slung it on his own. “How about you show me the pictures taken at the bonfire?”

Mrs. Barlow batted her eyelashes at him. “I’d be delighted.”

After the duo left, Steve gave me a good onceover. “I think a change of plans is in order. How about pizza?”

Piece A Pie. After the fiasco at Made With Love, I totally skipped visiting Whitney’s other hangout. And Chad’s murder shoved it even further down into my memory. “Sounds perfect. Tell you what, I’ll meet you at Piece A Pie. I’d like to get cleaned up a little.” And turn off my computer, in case Mitchell found a way to wrangle a search warrant from a judge.

Steve opened his mouth, I figured for an argument, and then closed it. “Fine. I’ll get us a table.”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t think we’d have any trouble as business had been slow at Piece A Pie for a while, but I wanted to drive myself, so no sense giving him a reason to wait around for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Steve; I just believed it would be easier for him—and me—to go home in separate cars once I told him friendship was all I wanted.

I changed out of my t-shirt into a light sweater and switched from sneakers to boots. At least I looked a little spiffier. I didn’t want to go overboard, but didn’t want to act like I didn’t care at all either.

When I arrived at the pizzeria, Steve’s car was the only other one in the lot. The nonexistent lines on the asphalt made it hard to differentiate one spot from another. A lone lamppost was on near the front of the restaurant, an outline of a dumpster barely visible in the faded light. Out of habit, I parked near the lamppost and hurried inside.

A buzz sounded when I opened the front door. Jim Ryland, the owner of the pizzeria, ran from the kitchen to the small hostess stand blocking the entrance into the dining area.

“Welcome to Piece A Pie.” He wiped his hands on a stained apron, then grabbed a dusty menu. “Let me seat you.”

“I’m joining Steve.” I pointed.

“Okay.” He held out the menu. “When you’re ready to order, hit the bell on the table.”

Using my fingertips, I accepted it. I must’ve looked surprised, because Jim launched into a long explanation of his wife’s illness, followed by other reasons for the bell.

“I can’t afford extra help right now,” he continued on. “I’m making the pies, waiting tables, running the cash register, and taking care of any maintenance issues.”

“I’ll ring the bell.” Maybe Steve and I should find somewhere else to eat. Even with the place empty, it might take a long time to get our order. Then again, we couldn’t find a much more private place to eat than here.

Steve was entertaining himself by spinning an empty cup on the table.

“I got here as quickly as I could.” I sat on the vacant side of the booth. The faux leather creaked as I tried to make myself comfortable.

The walls were devoid of art or any other decorations, and paint peeled off in chunks. The jukebox in the back corner of the pizzeria was cracked and unlit, the plug dangling half in, half out of the wall. A light flickered at the table right behind us.

When I was in high school, Piece A Pie was the favorite teen hangout. The decor on the walls changed seasonally, often including posters made by students at the high school, usually about upcoming sporting events and dances. Now the walls were blank and everything looked sad.

“I’d recommend plain cheese pizza and soft drinks,” Steve said.

“I agree. Keep it simple.” I rang the bell.

Jim ran from the back, pencil and order pad in his hand. “What can I get you?”

After Steve placed our order, I jumped right into the heart of the matter, or at least the one concerning Chad Carr’s murder. I figured it was better to broach the other topic once I got some needed answers. “What did your boss think about Karen’s article? It doesn’t seem like the police are very interested in finding the murderer. Everything has been relatively quiet in Eden, considering a second business burned down and one of the owners died.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve nodded a thanks as Jim placed our bottles of soda on the table.

“The whole murderer or savior angle to her story. I haven’t heard there are any other suspects.”

Steve twisted the tops off the bottles. “The police have another suspect in mind, but there’s some disagreement on how to handle the situation.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it hasn’t been decided if it was even a murder.” He took a swig of his soda.

“What else could it be?”

“Why not ask your new boyfriend? I’m assuming you two are an item now since you’ve been avoiding me.”

I didn’t like the sarcasm in Steve’s tone. I wrapped my hands around my bottle. The condensation made my hands clammy. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend. That’s it.” For now. “I told you I needed some space to sort things out. Not to mention I’ve been busy. I wanted to prove to my grandmothers I can handle the business on my own. They want to take a cruise and are worried about it.”

“You are turning into a woman of excuses.” Steve fidgeted, moving over to the right.

The smell of the pizza baking churned my stomach. I took a small sip of soda, hoping the carbonation would settle it. “Those aren’t excuses. I have been trying to be a better employee.”

“And how’s that coming along now?”

“It’s a little harder when I’m still being viewed as the town’s drug dealer.”

“That’s only by one officer.”

“One officer too many.”

“Better than the rest of the town thinking so.”

“That could change if I help Dawn prove Chad is innocent,” I said.

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Why would you do that?”

“Because Dawn believes her dead husband is being railroaded. She doesn’t want his memory tarnished and no one else will listen to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“It does. Ten years ago, I was at the same crossroads. I needed help and only one person listened to me. Thank God they did or I’d be sitting in prison.” Instead of your cousin.

“I agree that no one cares much that Chad Carr died in that fire, besides Dawn and the insurance company, but it doesn’t mean you should risk your life and reputation. Poking into this matter is only going to make Officer Mitchell suspect you more.” Steve turned sideways and rested his back against the brick wall instead of the booth. A little bit of light glinted off the springs poking out from the leather. No wonder he squirmed around.

“Your pizza.” Jim placed the steaming cheese pizza in front of us.

The phone rang. With hope in his eyes, Jim spun toward the sound.

I reached for a slice and stopped. “We don’t have any plates.”

“Sorry, I’ll go get some,” Jim said.

The phone rang again.

“I need to answer that, then I’ll come back with your plates.” Jim ran for the register area.

I picked up a slice, using a napkin as a makeshift plate until Jim brought a couple. I took a bite. The cheese tasted fresh, though it was a little skimpy on the sauce, and the crust had the right mix of crunchy and softness. Next time I felt like pizza, I’d stop here instead of getting one from the freezer section. It would be nice to help out a fellow business owner.

Jim’s excited voice carried over to us. An order, a huge one from the sound of it, was being placed.

Steve finished one slice, reaching for a second. “Think about it, Faith. Searching out the truth could easily be construed as you setting someone up.”

“Not if I have solid physical evidence and not just a verbal statement saying ‘I didn’t do it.’”

Steve took an inordinate amount of interest in the remaining slices. It wasn’t like he needed to count the pepperonis and snag the one with the most pieces. “Then I’d be careful taking other people’s words at face value. They may have an ulterior motive in wanting to be proven innocent.”

I paused with my hand an inch from my chosen slice, the one with the most browned cheese. “What?”

“For a couple with money troubles, Chad sure was insured for a hefty sum.”

“How much?”

“Four million.”

I sucked in a breath. “Where would they get the money for the policy?”

“Something or someone was financing the policy.”

Janie. I was sure those sales were kept off the books and paid for in cash, which meant Dawn knew her husband was selling the synthetic marijuana. How else would she know they had the funds available to pay for a large life insurance policy?

A throat cleared near us. I looked over. Jim offered a shaky smile and put two plates on the table. Steve and I had to be careful. The place was empty customer-wise, but not totally devoid of other people. I didn’t want Steve getting in trouble for giving me information.

“I just got a large order,” Jim said. “Do you need anything else? I’m going to be busy in the kitchen for a while.”

“We’re good,” Steve said.

Jim nodded and went to the back.

I picked some cheese off a slice of pizza. “Are you insinuating that Dawn is using me because she had something to do with her husband’s death and wants me to prove she’s innocent?”

“That’s an accurate assessment. Let’s just say it’s likely Chad didn’t know about the policy his wife—more correctly, estranged wife—took out on him.”

“Are you sure? Dawn’s devastated. She’s not faking her grief. And I saw them working on the policies together when Felicity and I were there. The insurance stuff was on the front counter.”

“She wasn’t living with her husband.”

“Who told you that?”

“Did you get a good look at the documents? Was it personal life insurance, business, fire?”

I glared at him. He was ignoring my question. “I didn’t get that close of a view. I just saw the title on top of the document. They were using Allan Sullivan’s insurance company for the policy.”

“I wonder why Mrs. Sullivan didn’t mention that when she was questioned.”

“Felicity was questioned?”

“Faith, stay out of it.”

Worry crossed Steve’s face.

“You tell me I’m probably being used by Dawn and she’s a suspect in her husband’s murder, then that Felicity was questioned, and then say stay out of it. Why? So Dawn can be blamed for Chad’s death? Does the town, and the law, believe that if Chad was a drug dealer, she must be one too?”

“You’re not being fair. Drugs were found on the premise, and there’s much more that you don’t know about.”

“So you’re only able to tell me the details you can use to control me. It won’t work.”

“That’s not it, Faith.” Steve reached for my hands.

I pulled back.

Old feelings stirred in me. Moments of my relationship with Adam merged into ones I had with Steve. All the times Adam convinced me what I saw wasn’t the truth whirled in my mind: the moments he recounted conversations I was certain we never had, the checks he insisted I had signed but I didn’t recall, the day Adam swore he had come home at a certain time when he hadn’t. It was the last lie that was almost my downfall. While I had vouched for Adam being home with me, he told the police he was at a bar with friends and those friends lied for him. Everything Adam had ever said to me, or asked of me, was to help himself.

“I worry about you. Nothing has changed for me.” Steve placed his hand on mine.

“It has for me.” I drew in a deep breath, gathering all the strength and resolve I’d need. “I won’t be controlled. Not by you, my grandmothers, or by myself, trying to pretend the past doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

“I’m not controlling you.” His voice rose. Quickly, he lowered his tone. “I love you, so I worry. I want to make sure you’re safe. That’s not controlling you.”

“Yet you were willing to hand me information to help yourself out. You’re like everyone else in town who want nothing to do with bringing to justice the person who killed Carr. You’re willing to take the answer right in front of you because it’s the easiest to believe. I’ve been that easy answer, Steve. I won’t stand by and let you or anyone else do that to Dawn.”

All the emotion left Steve’s brown eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was because I caught on to the manipulation, or if he hadn’t realized that was what he was doing.

“I’m not Adam,” he said.

“I know you’re not.”

“Do you?” Steve gripped the table, his fingers whitening from the pressure. “Everything between us changed when I told you Adam was my cousin. You’re doing to me what you feared everyone would to do you.”

“That’s not true. Everything changed because you lied—”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Lie. Withheld. Same thing.” I stood.

“You lied.” Steve relaxed his hold on the table.

“I was keeping something about myself private, because I was afraid people would judge my grandmothers and me. It was why I hadn’t wanted to date you. I was afraid dating the ex-wife of a murderer would ruin your career. The whole time you knew and kept that from me. I was scared and confused, twisting myself up in a knot, and you could’ve relieved all of that. You knew what I was holding back, and instead of telling me, you played a game with the truth.”