Was that the answer? Had Gussie seen Ollie as someone capable of being more and thought she could fix him? But, Ollie wasn’t looking to change, or so far that was the opinion on him. Ollie liked who he was even though no one else did. An evil thought snuck into my head and sent shame skittering through me. How could I even contemplate for a moment Gussie, Wayne, and Wyatt might be better off if Ollie was dead?
My gaze drifted to the clock on my car’s dash. If I didn’t head to Scrap This soon, I’d be late. Women were arriving this morning to help work on the layouts for the town’s scrapbook. I needed to set up and get started as I’d have to leave halfway through the cropping session to meet with Steve’s dad.
I snagged my cell phone and texted Bob the key points of my conversation with Walter. I asked if there was a way to learn how Matthew was paying for his legal bill or if Steve was offering his services pro-bono. The Brodarts had always struggled financially in some way and couldn’t help each other out. Where were the Brodarts getting the funds to wage war with Eden? The town wasn’t rolling in money either, but they did have attorneys on the payroll already.
I drove to Scrap This and parked in the employee lot, making sure to secure my car. A high-pitched scream was coming from the storage room. With shaking hands, I jabbed the key into the lock and shoved the door open.
War whoops sounded as ten-year-old Harold, the oldest of the Hooligans otherwise known as Sierra’s sons, raced past me. A box was knocked over, packages of paper, fortunately still in the plastic wrap, were spilled on the floor. The youngest, Howard, was peeking out from behind boxes and using his fingers as guns to shoot his brother. “I got you. I got you. You’re supposed to fall down.”
“I’m the invincible solider,” Harold said. He jumped onto one of the packets of paper. A muddy footprint was left on the packaging.
Henry, the middle child, sat on the floor looking forlorn. I was wondering if he was already “dead.” I wasn’t liking the game at all, and not just because it was being played in the storage room of Scrap This. Dying wasn’t a game. It was very real. Very ugly.
“This is not a playground.” I picked up the damage product and glared at the boys. “You guys are ruining our stuff. Shouldn’t the three of you be in school?”
“Nope.” Harold aimed at me with his finger and pulled his trigger. “Bang. Got you. You’re dead. A collateral casualty of the war.”
Hank and Sierra really had to pay attention to what their boys were watching on TV. “There’s no war here.”
“I told them this wasn’t a good game for the store.” Henry righted the tipped over box and started placing the packages of pattern paper inside. “It’s too loud and not nice. Right, Faith? Hurting people isn’t fun.”
“Henry loves Faith. Henry loves Faith,” Harold sung.
Howard started laughing.
Henry’s face turned bright red. “I do not. We made a mess and should clean it up.”
“Henry is right,” I said. “Let’s go find something quieter for you guys to do until your dad comes and picks you up.”
“Dad isn’t coming here,” Harold said. “We’re going to be here all day.”
Harold sounded as pleased with that as I was. What was Sierra thinking in bringing her boys to work? If she was having babysitter problems, my grandmothers would’ve given her the day off. With Hank out of work, she needed the money. There had to be a better solution than bringing three rambunctious boys to a scrapbooking store.
“Come with me.” I shooed the boys out of the storage room. “You can stay in the employee lounge.”
“And do what?” Harold grumbled. “Stare at each other. Read a stupid book.”
“Didn’t you bring anything to do?” I asked. Sierra had to have planned something for her sons to do while she worked. “A tablet with games? Coloring books?”
We walked by the office. My grandmothers were conferring with each other. Were they discussing the Hooligans? I couldn’t make out the words, but their tones said they weren’t happy.
“We’re not babies,” Howard said. “We’re too old for coloring.”
“You’re never too old for coloring.” I had the boys go into the employee lounge. “I’m going to talk to your mom then I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t want to sit here.” Harold stood. “I saw a computer in the other room.”
I pointed at him and used a ferocious tone. “You will not touch that computer. It’s off-limits to you.”
“Says who?” He sneered at me.
“Me. You boys will stay here.”
Harold jostled past me. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
The boys had always been unruly and mischievous but never this disrespectful. What had gotten into Harold? I snagged his arm, stopping him from going into the office. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.” Harold tugged away from me and raised his hand, readying to strike me.
“Harold, go into the lounge.” Sierra’s sharp command stopped any more sass from her son.
Harold glared at me and trudged back into the room.
“You aren’t going to say anything to him?” My voice held a tinge of shock. More so that Sierra hadn’t scolded her son rather than he acted like he was going to hit me. Was that why he, and his brothers, were suspended?
“I don’t need you correcting my children.” Sierra refused to meet my gaze. “I told them they could play in the storage room.”
“They were running around back there. Screaming. Except for Henry who was sitting on the floor. I think he was already ‘killed’ in the war game. Do you think that is a good thing for them to play?”
“They’re boys, Faith. That’s what they do.”
“Try to maim each other?”
“It’s none of your business what they do for fun.”
I crossed my arms. “It is when you bring them into my store.”
“Your grandmothers’ store,” she corrected me.
“The boys can’t stay here all day.”
Sierra spun on her heel and headed back to the main area without a response.
Henry peeked out from the lounge. “I’m sorry, Miss Faith.”
I smiled at him. He seemed to be the only Brodart who remembered his manners. “I appreciate you picking up what was knocked over.”
“I told Harold not to open the box. He told me to shut up.”
“That wasn’t very nice of him.”
“No one in my family does nice anymore.” He dipped his head, tears sliding down his cheeks.
Fifteen
Henry’s sadness tugged at my heart. Poor guy. His brothers’ current game was making fun of him for being nice to me, so I let him borrow my cell phone to play games. “I have to leave in about an hour, so I’ll need it back.”
He gave me a wan smile and sat in the hallway, back against the wall to get some peace from his siblings.
“Don’t download anything,” I said.
“I won’t Miss Faith.”
My grandmothers were still talking in the private office. Cheryl sounded a little despondent. Not like herself at all. As the door was partway closed, I knocked on it before entering. “I told Sierra the boys couldn’t stay here all day. She didn’t take it very well.”
Hope hugged me good morning.
“I wouldn’t expect her to.” Cheryl stared at a piece of paper on the desk. “No one could watch the boys for her. Hank is off doing something this morning. Georgia was too upset about some incident that happened earlier.”
“What about their uncle? Matthew’s in town. I saw him...” I trailed off. Oops. My grandmothers were about to discover I was a likely reason for Georgia’s upset. Was that why Sierra was snippy with me? She asked me to help her mother-in-law, not cause distress for her family.
“Where?” Slowly, Cheryl turned the office chair to sta
re at me.
I cringed as I spoke. “At Georgia’s house. She had called me to stop over.”
“Ah, so bringing the boys was a way to get even with you,” Hope said. “I knew Sierra had better sense than truly believing her boys would behave here all day.”
“I wouldn’t have a problem with it except they’re not the type of children to be content with crafting or reading all day,” I said. As to bring home my point, arguing came from the employee lounge. The words stupid, snitch, and crybaby floated through the walls.
“The poor behavior of Sierra’s children is the least of our worries,” Cheryl said.
“Unless they chase out our customers,” I said.
“We might not have any if Steve Davis’s client has their way.” Cheryl held up the piece of paper she’d been reading.
I took it from her. It was a letter from the developer of the shopping plaza where my grandmothers rented the store space for Scrap This. The developer was advising the renters to scout for other locations as there was a pending lawsuit questioning the ownership of the land. The developer did believe the possible new owners were interested in continuing the business relationship with the tenants, but nothing was certain at this time. There was no indication of the possible new owners.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to Sierra.” I leaned against the desk, wishing I hadn’t let my temper get the best of me. We needed to be in Sierra’s good graces.
“Why? The boys shouldn’t be here,” Hope said. “It’s not good for business or them.”
“Because the Brodarts are the ones who are claiming ownership.”
“What?” My grandmothers said in unison, eyes wide.
I explained everything that I knew so far.
“Sierra didn’t say anything.” Cheryl frowned.
“No, she didn’t.” Hope frowned. “I would think she’d have let us know.”
Or she’d have commented on it to me when I basically criticized her parenting. A slithering feeling wound around in my stomach. Was Hank planning on getting his share of the Everton estate and leaving his wife and children?
“Our town history seems to become more complicated by the day,” I said. “Who’d ever have thought there was a mystery heir of the Evertons living in Eden and a body buried on the grounds. The question being are those two things connected.”
“A question for Ted, not you,” Cheryl said.
Hope wrung her hands together. “I don’t like what you’ve stumbled into, Faith.”
“I’ll be careful, Grandma.” I hated the worry I caused my grandmothers. They understood why I needed to help people even though it put me at risk, yet would rather I steer clear of most of the issues I involved myself in. This time, I didn’t go looking for trouble. It showed itself to me. “Ted knows everything that’s going on, and Wyatt is never far behind me. He’s as involved in this as I am.”
“That concerns me,” Hope said. “Wyatt’s a dear one, but the boy has a knack for conjuring up trouble. It’s like he attracts it.”
“Bob is on the case also. Officially,” I said.
“That’s something of a relief for us,” Cheryl said. Ted would never admit it, but I think he was a slight bit jealous that Cheryl and Hope seemed to prefer his brother Bob over him. Of course, they both liked Garrison, Bob’s husband, the best.
“What do you think of a change of venue for your reception?” Hope twisted her fingers together. “Considering what is going on, I know it’s silly to focus on your wedding right now, but I can’t help it.”
The icky feeling in my stomach rose again. My mind had no problem focusing on murder while it struggled to concentrate on my wedding. I hadn’t even considered the fact that the lawsuit might tie up the Everton mansion for longer than three months. Where would Ted and I have our reception? “Maybe it’ll work out. Ruthann hasn’t said anything about canceling our reservation for that day.”
“Even if it is available,” Hope said, “I think you should consider changing it. It’s so unsavory. Someone was murdered there.”
There was that.
“Think of Ted,” Cheryl said. “Do you really think your future husband wants to celebrate the day at a place that was a crime scene he worked?”
My grandmothers were making good points. “I don’t think our back yard is big enough.” I hoped my grandmothers didn’t bring up the church’s reception area again. It wasn’t that it was small and outdated that had me discount it, but the fact almost every event was held there. I wanted my—our reception—somewhere different.
A crash came from the lounge and the bell above the front door jingled.
“Why don’t you handle the customers, and I’ll send Sierra to check on her boys.” Cheryl tucked my arm into hers.
Hope wiggled her fingers over the keyboard. “I’ll look for alternative venues. We don’t have to stay in Eden for the party.”
Sixteen
Around me, scrappers were working on layouts for the town’s album. Each cropper was completing one layout of their family and another about a particular spot in Eden. A dry erase board was in the corner, held up by an easel Cheryl dug out from the office, listing some of the places in Eden still needing pages.
Sierra had the boys contained, and quiet, in the employee lounge. I hoped she made other arrangements for them because I didn’t believe the silence would last long. Cheryl was at the front counter, using our electric cutter to cut out some titles for her pages.
I wandered behind the croppers, looking at their pages. The mix of styles and complexities would be perfect for the history book. Some layouts featured detailed die cuts embellished with chalk and inked edges while others were linear styles with borders in different shapes created from templates. Each design was unique and perfect. I loved how the pages showcased not only our town but our hobby. Scrapbooking in its full glory and beauty was being displayed.
“Don’t forget to sign your work,” I said.
A scrapbooker stood up and waved me over. “Can you help me decide what will go best with my pictures? I bought these earlier today, but I’m not sure they’re working.” She held up a package of money stickers. “I’m working on some pages about Eden’s original bank built when the town was created and then the newer bank branches that came along after it closed. I’m thinking these stickers are too themey.”
I stood behind her and looked at her pictures and her paper choice. There was a picture of the original bank built in 1870, and the second page of the layout spread had a picture of the credit union and three other banks in Eden. The photos were on pattern paper in a light taupe with thin beige and pale pink stripes on it. The lighter hues added some color yet kept the focus on the pictures. The bright green color on the stickers clashed with the muted tones. “I think you’re right. You’re highlighting the changes in the town rather than the fact these buildings are banks.”
She smiled at me. “That’s it. I’ll focus on the past and present aspect of my pages and not the fact these are banks. How about if I create a border alternating circle and rectangle punch outs?”
“Perfect. It gives the same idea as money, bills and coins, without actually using money stickers.”
“Here’s your phone.” Sierra shoved it at me. “If I tell my boys no electronics, it means none. You have no right to contradict me to my children.”
What was with her? Sierra was usually a more upbeat and even keeled person. The last few days she was either snarling or near tears. “I didn’t know you banned the usage of electronics, I figured you just forgot to bring anything to entertain them.”
My phone pinged. I glanced at it. A weather alert. Snow was predicted to start this afternoon and last until Sunday. The anticipated accumulation was twelve inches. I heard that before. We had one good snow this winter, and a “threat” of it five times with no accumulation. Hopefully, if the prediction was true,
it would hold off until I returned home. I was a terrible winter driver. Now that I knew the identity of Steve’s client, I could bail out on the meeting but I wanted to know why Steve left the prosecutor’s office. And Steve wasn’t providing me with the information. I hoped Malcolm Davis would. “Snow is coming. I’m going to leave early for a meeting.”
“Of course you are.” The corner of Sierra’s mouth twisted into a half sneer, half tremble, and she walked away from me.
Money worries, I thought. Sierra usually got a little cranky when money was tight at her household and with Hank out of work again, finances were probably more strained than ever. I stopped at the office, rapping on the frame. “The weatherman is predicting snow, so I’m going to head out now.”
“Drive carefully,” Hope said.
As I stepped into the employee lounge to get my coat, I almost collided with Henry. “My mom said dad will be here soon to get us. I’m trying to find my coat.”
“Maybe you left it in the storage room.” I took my coat from the rack and checked the pocket for my keys and a credit card. All set. “No messing around back there.”
“I won’t,” Henry promised, opening and shutting cabinet doors for the coats as his brothers, wearing their coats, watched and laughed.
A game of hide and make brother seek was going on. I’d let Sierra deal with her mischief makers. I didn’t want to be late or get stuck in snow. I waved goodbye to the boys. Quickly, I scanned the storage room just in case Henry’s coat was in there. Not in view. Poor kid. I hope his brothers grew bored with tormenting him.
I punched in the security code, unarming the door, then stepped outside.
Strong hands grabbed at me, wrenching me to the side and pushing me against the wall. The breath whooshed from me. The door slammed shut. Hank pressed a hand to my left shoulder, pinning me to the bricks. My body was frozen, the attack catching me off guard not just from the action but the who. I had a run in with Hank before. This was different. There was rage in his eyes, and a coldness I’d never seen before. It scared me—for myself and Sierra.
Altered to Death Page 15
