Christina Freeburn - Faith Hunter 03 - Embellished to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  I gaped at her.

  “Garrison told us,” Gussie said. “It’s totally understandable. The weekend hasn’t quite gone as any of us had envisioned.”

  “I’m going to make time to fill out some journaling blocks for you.”

  Darlene rotated her spinning carousel, examining the stickers clipped to the wire tree stand placed in the large central cubby hole in the stand. “You must have taken the long route to your room.”

  “I stopped for lunch.”

  “Long lunch?” Darlene asked.

  Garrison cleared his throat, shaking his head. He glanced down at his phone, which he kept on the left side of him, then returned to a layout of Ted and Bob fishing.

  “And a nap.” I roamed my gaze between the three of them. What were they trying to get from me without asking me?

  Darlene started to speak. Gussie wadded up a piece of cardstock and threw it at Darlene.

  “What’s going on?” I aimed a glare at each of them.

  All three shrugged in unison.

  “Since your boss is here…” Detective Bell’s voice carried over to me, “we can check.”

  “Looks like I’m needed some place.” I stood and picked up Steve’s lunch. Sooner or later, I hoped sooner, I’d figure out what those three wanted besides knowing where I was at. Neither of them seemed to believe what I told them, and there had to be a reason for it.

  As Steve and Detective Bell were both in a mood, I approached Scrap This cautiously.

  “I brought you lunch.” I pasted a bright smile on my face and held the bag out toward Steve.

  “Thanks.” Steve didn’t even attempt a smile. He took the bag and placed it beside our customer binder.

  “Let’s go, Mr. Davis.” Detective Bell stepped away from the table.

  “His lunch. He hasn’t eaten yet.” Every instinct screamed not to let Steve go. Bell questioned him last night, the only thing left was taking him into custody.

  “He can bring it with him,” Bell said.

  “It’s getting cold. He should eat it now.” I pushed the issue.

  Steve took the bag. “It won’t get any warmer with you trying to convince Detective Bell to postpone this.”

  “Correct. There’s been a long enough of a delay.” Bell glanced at the clock on the wall then used a stylus to tap on his phone. “At least your excuse is holding up so far, Mr. Davis.”

  “I could go with you.” I didn’t care where they were going, all I knew was I didn’t want Steve going alone with Bell.

  Steve shook his head and headed for the door.

  “Hold up, Mr. Davis.” Bell opened up the manila folder in his hand. “There is one thing I need to speak with Miss Hunter about.”

  Steve paused.

  “Do you know this woman, Miss Hunter?” He flicked the edge of a five-by-seven photograph.

  A stunning woman smiled out at me. She held a champagne flute in the air. Her gray hair curled softly around her face and tumbled in controlled waves past her shoulders. A grin lit up her face. Not the woman on the membership card. There was no way anyone would mistake her for the other Marsha.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you normally do business with people you don’t know?”

  “All the time. It’s the nature of owning a store that sells product. We don’t know most of the people who come in here.”

  “What about the retreat?”

  “We communicated through emails and the final contracts were snail mailed to me.” The questions I answered made me believe more and more that the woman I knew as co-owner of the retreat was the identity thief.

  Bell closed the folder. “For people whose hobby involves pictures, it seems strange not one of you met Marsha Smith before yesterday. You’d think everyone here are strangers to each other.”

  “Croppers usually stay in their group when they come to these retreats. We venture out a little bit from our established friendship pockets, but for the most part crops are the only times women get to spend a lot of time with their friends.”

  “This woman was coming here to this event, and no one seems to know who she is, nor is there any record of her.” Bell tapped the folder to his chin. “Seems really odd.”

  “She might have decided to come at the last minute and wasn’t preregistered.” I pressed my hand to my gut, hoping it stalled its bucking and twisting. I didn’t believe what I was saying and hoped Bell did. Before I told Bell what I learned, I needed to know more about him. If more-than-likely-pretend Marsha was telling the truth about her abusive ex-husband the cop, I wanted to make sure this detective would protect her and not look the other way as the wolf attacked.

  “By the way, Miss Hunter, the winery in Cheat Lake is really nice. A little hard to find so I’d bring a GPS with you.” Detective Bell gave me a nod then followed after Steve.

  Ted was right. I needed to work on my detecting skills. Bell saw me trying to use reading the brochure as an eavesdropping cover. I took out my phone and sent a text to Gussie and Darlene. Spill it. I’d have sent one to Garrison, but I didn’t have his number.

  Darlene rushed over, stepping over Gussie’s foot. Was Gussie trying to trip her? Gussie met my gaze and drew her foot back in. She pushed away from the table and got to her feet.

  “Where is Bell taking Steve?” I asked Darlene as she scrambled into the store.

  “To his room,” Darlene whispered. “From what I’ve put together, Bell thinks Steve might have killed Morgan.”

  “Utter ridiculousness,” Gussie huffed as she joined us in the store. “Steve had no reason to kill that man.”

  Steve had a good motive—Morgan stalking me. Most men wouldn’t stand by as another guy pushed, pawed, and threatened their girlfriend. “Morgan was harassing me.”

  “That is a good motive.” Darlene made herself comfortable on the chair near the cash box.

  “But Steve doesn’t have a gun.” Gussie punctuated her sentence with a sharp nod of her head.

  Garrison walked over, holding his cell phone in the air. “I told Bob what’s going on. I’m hoping he’ll head back now.”

  “Where is he? Ted said the police released him.”

  “Hospital.” Garrison pressed his lips together as if to stop an eruption of volatile words.

  My heart thundered. Garrison’s dire prediction roamed in my head and heart. “Is he okay? Did something happen last night?”

  “He’s fine. He went to talk to the mother of the victim.”

  “I’m going to check on Steve.” I opened the cash box and snatched my room key. Bell had used the word check. He was looking for the murder weapon and wanted to see if Steve had it hidden in our room. Last night, he was probably asking Steve general questions about what happened, and for any information that would implicate Bob. Today, Bell was looking for evidence to arrest Steve.

  Garrison grabbed my hand as I turned. “Ted wants you to stay here.”

  “Ted knows what’s going on?”

  Garrison held up his cell phone. “I’ve been updating him with texts.”

  “He went to make some urgent calls,” Gussie interjected. “He’ll be back.”

  “Did any of you see Ted talk with Bell recently?”

  The trio went back to working on their pages.

  They could scrap and keep the rest of the details to themselves; I was going to help Steve. He needed me. “Ted should be used to me not obeying him.”

  “Going up there won’t help Steve,” Garrison said.

  Gussie plucked a roll of Angry Bird duct tape from under the table displaying the glitter glue. “You’ll stay voluntarily, or I’ll tape you to the chair.”

  Darlene scrambled from the chair and pre
ssed my arms against my side. “Just tell me when, Gussie.”

  “How can I help customers if I’m taped to the chair?”

  Gussie tore off a long piece of tape. “And how will you be helping customers if you’re playing Miss Marple?”

  Good point. “Fine. You win. I’ll stay.” But I would do so under a silent protest.

  I spotted Steve walking into the crop room as I finished ringing up a customer. He’d been gone for over an hour. When Detective Bell conducted a search, he must inspect every piece of luggage and every pocket in every shirt and pair of pants, and more than likely, every nook and cranny in the truck and trailer. I waved and blew a kiss.

  Frowning, Steve headed for me.

  “I thought you forgot about me,” I said.

  He glowered… actually glowered at me. Not like Steve at all. He braced his hands on the table. “Where exactly did you go when you went to get the money box?”

  My brow wrinkled. “I told you. I used the stairs, tripped, and rested in Marsha’s room.”

  “Right. You went and asked a woman you didn’t trust if you could borrow her room.” Steve’s gaze bore into mine.

  This must be what it felt like when someone went all bad-cop on a person. I hated it. I edged back a few inches. “Marsha was there when I tripped.”

  “And you didn’t suspect she tripped you. I’m kind of surprised by that.” Steve straightened.

  What in the world of scrapbooking was going on? Why was he so angry with me? And more importantly, why wouldn’t he come out and say it instead of trying to verbally trip me up? It didn’t matter. I was done with the conversation. “I need to work. We can argue later.”

  “Why didn’t you go back to our room to rest?” There was a hint of pain in Steve’s voice.

  “Because I didn’t have my key and didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Yet, you had no problem knocking on the door to get the money box.”

  Darn it! I needed to learn to keep my stories straight, or stop my own private embellishing. Why did I want to turn everything into a secret worth keeping? Just tell him the truth. “Steve—”

  “Are you ever going to be honest with me?” Steve jumped to his feet and stalked out of the room.

  Gussie and Darlene pretended to be wrapped up in their scrapbook layout, while Garrison was a little more upfront about his concern and confusion and stared at Steve’s retreating form.

  “I would if you stayed here,” I grumbled. “I’m going after him.”

  Gussie nodded and came into the store. “I’ll take care of customers for you.”

  “Thanks, I owe you some free crops at the store.” I rose and went in the direction Steve headed. I spotted him through the large glass windows lining the back of the building. He had gone onto the cement deck that stretched across half of the main floor which now looked like a second floor of a building with the way the land sloped down. The back of the building ended at the edge of the hill and gave the resort the appearance that it was built into the side of the mountain.

  A breeze ruffled my hair as I walked outside. I tucked it behind my ears. The mountain range was the only thing to break up the vast blue that stretched across the sky. We had lost all the clouds from earlier, though I spotted a few in the distance.

  A few women were seated on some of the benches, finishing up snacks and soaking up some sun. Cropping with your back toward the window was a little disorienting. After a while it was good to step outside, get some fresh air, sunlight and reorient your body to the concept of time.

  Most croppers avoided the clock as it was a reminder their carefree moments of cropping ebbed away. For a lot of the attendees, these retreats were their only times to work on their friendships and hobby.

  With shoulders slumped forward and head tucked down, Steve sat a concrete bench placed at the end of the deck.

  My heart was torn between being angry with him and feeling bad. I wasn’t innocent from keeping secrets, but I felt like Steve was reacting to some kind of betrayal rather than me holding something back from him.

  “Mind if I sit?” I nodded at the small empty space.

  Steve played statue.

  I settled onto the edge of the bench where he sat and looked out at the horizon. The noise of the traffic on the interstate rumbled through the air. Some vehicles hummed by, others revved and roared. Fast and slow. Slow and fast. Just like the pace of life but not with easy exits. Right now, Steve and I were in a traffic jam and I had no idea why there was a holdup.

  Yes you do. The lack of truth. No time like the present was now. No more hiding.

  “Someone, who I found out was Marsha, placed a hand on my shoulder as I was running up the stairs. It startled me and I tripped forward. I hit my head. Marsha felt bad and insisted on helping me. I was feeling really dizzy. We talked about the woman who got hit by the car. Marsha was scared that her ex-husband, a cop, tracked her here and accidently killed that woman instead of her. She asked me not to tell the cops because she’s terrified word will get to him that she’s alive and he’ll try again.” I shifted sideways and drew one leg onto the bench. I rested my chin on my drawn-up knee. “When we were talking, I got really tired. Marsha told me I should rest. I woke up when you called. Marsha had left and I guess hadn’t thought about waking me up. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep for that long.”

  Steve frowned. “You could’ve had a concussion. She shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “Marsha is kind of flighty. I’ve come to see this weekend that reliability isn’t one of her strong suits. Or probably even the truth.”

  “That’s all that happened?”

  I tightened the hold on my leg and looked around the area. Most of the women had returned to the cropping room. I heard a few hushed voices around the corner. No one was near us. I inched closer to Steve. “I told her I thought someone’s been drugging her.”

  Steve finally faced me. “What?”

  “I saw Marsha passed out. Or at least I thought she was passed out. She drinks grape soda and I was thinking someone probably doctored it. That what makes me think she could be right about her ex-husband.”

  “Her soda?”

  “With a nighttime cold relief.”

  “And you think this because…” Steve rolled his hand, encouraging more elaboration.

  My reason would bring back the brooding Steve. “She says she wasn’t drunk either time.”

  “What other time?”

  “Thursday night at the bar.”

  Steve rubbed his hand over his shaved head. “You do realize her having a hangover would explain why she left her car on the side of the road. She wouldn’t call the police or a tow truck for help. She might have worried she still smelled like alcohol.”

  “I thought of that, but if she was drunk why lie about it? It’s her best alibi. She didn’t shoot Morgan because she was passed out in her room.” Then again, if Marsha made a habit of changing the truth, she might no longer know what was reality and what was fiction. The truth, in this case, would’ve set her free. If she was passed-out-get-sick drunk, she couldn’t have shot Morgan.

  Steve rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think Detective Bell would accept a drinking binge as an alibi. Unless someone was in the room with her and could verify it.”

  “Then why hasn’t he arrested her? I’m sorry I didn’t fully explain. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Steve stood and walked over to the railing. He leaned against it. “You didn’t go back to our room first?”

  I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “No. You called, so I knew you brought the money box. There was no reason to go to our room. I can’t believe I forgot it this morning.”

  His body grew rigid. “Anything else happen today you should explain to me?”

  I dropped my h
ands to my side, hurt and confused. I blinked rapidly to fend off the coming tears. “No.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  I hugged my arms across my chest and walked back a few feet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to say.”

  “The truth.”

  “About what?” My hurt was churning into anger.

  “What were you and Ted doing in the stairwell?”

  “Who told you that?” Sweat trickled down my back. I hadn’t wanted Steve to find out about Adam this way—overhearing it from someone else.

  “Does it really matter?” Pain arced through his voice.

  When Ted and I were in the stairwell, the door opened and closed twice. Someone pretended to leave so they could spy on us. My list of suspects was Bell or Violet. The easiest way to conquer a pair was to divide it.

  “Yes,” I said. “Because it means someone was following me.”

  What had the person seen? I shut the thought down before something showed in my expression.

  “I have my sources.”

  “If your source is Detective Bell, he wants us fighting. He needs to find the murderer and right now we have the best motive.” I shoved my fingers through my hair and divided into three sections. I needed something to do with hands and started braiding my hair. It wouldn’t stay without an elastic band but at least I had some way to release some of the energy coursing through me.

  “No. You should stop trying to change the topic.” Steve’s eyes narrowed on me. “This isn’t about who told me, but who you were getting cozy with in the hallway.”

  Sputters and gasps escaped from me but nothing else. A little bit of guilt and remorse pushed through my indignation. Ted and I hadn’t crossed a line, but the potential was there and so very real. I knew it. I felt it. I needed to make it more clear to Ted that I chose Steve.

  Steve’s eyes narrowed on me.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted a blur rushing toward us. A small rail at waist height separated us from a long fall.

  “Move!” I screamed and shoved him, hoping to knock him to the side and off his feet. Steve grabbed my hand, taking me with him.