“Let him take pictures. Belinda’s style is, shall we say, so 1999.”
“Jealous much,” I muttered under my breath. It had to wound Darlene that Belinda won a major design contest on her first try, while Darlene still struggled to even have one layout published after a decade of submitting.
Not to mention the two cousins had been competing against each other since they left the womb. Darlene’s mother, Eliza, considered it a victory her daughter was born on Halloween, fitting when one thought about it, while her sister Hazel popped out her child on November first.
There was no doubt in anyone’s mind why the fathers-to-be bolted soon after the pregnancies were announced. Neither man was heard from again, a fact that didn’t seem to bother or even interest either the wives or the daughters. The men had sent the child support and alimony checks on time so they were happy.
“Sorry, but the class is booked.” I smiled at Darlene. “If you’d like, you can sign up for the Halloween Eve crop. Belinda will be attending it.”
“She’s teaching.” Darlene flipped her expertly cut brown hair off her shoulders, forcing the word “teaching” past her lips as if it was distasteful. With two fingers, she picked up a copy of the magazine a class attendee had placed on the edge of the table and laid it on her palm. She dusted her fingers together and then made a production of wiping the appendages onto her pressed dress pants.
I pocketed my fists and reminded myself I was raised to be polite, kind, and not start fights. No matter how irritating and deserving the person happened to be. I prayed I kept my temper.
“Of course artists should support each other, even if it is just a small contest sponsored by Making Legacies. Belinda should get some accolades. This publication is all about being trendy and being an artist inside the box.” Darlene shuddered and flipped through the magazine. Light bounced off her red glossy nails.
“This is the most sought after title in the scrapbook world.” I looked at Belinda and hoped Darlene’s words weren’t heard by the instructor or the students. The ones in the back of the class arched their necks back to catch the venom Darlene spewed.
By the pinched look on Hazel’s face and the shaking of Belinda’s hands, the “hope ship” had sailed away without my wish on it.
“When you’re trying to create out-of-the-box artistic work that isn’t just like all the other famous scrapbook page designers, then there’s—” Darlene stopped talking, pulled in a breath and released it as a hiss.
THREE
I watched in rapt fascination as Darlene’s complexion changed from alabaster white to cherry red. The magazine fell to the floor. I looked down. Belinda’s smiling face stared up at me. It was a great photograph of Belinda and I felt a smidge of jealousy that I didn’t photograph as well.
Releasing a screech that shook the building and rattled the windows, Darlene ran straight for Belinda, arms outstretched and hands moving like a claw machine going for a prize. Open and close. Open and close.
Straight for Belinda’s throat. I ran forward.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Karen come to life.
“Faith, stop her!” Hope’s cry galvanized me into action.
Darlene made an amazing leap. Tin sheets and the front row students scattered as her body grazed over the tabletop heading for her cousin. Red painted claw-like nails aimed for Belinda’s throat.
I weaved through the class attendees who were scuttling backwards, away from the wrestling match about to go down. I shouldn’t have turned down Officer Conroy Jasper’s offer of volunteer security guard. At the time, my main concern was Conroy trying to pick up a hot girl or two at the event, not a reenactment of a battle scene from a Twilight movie.
Belinda stood frozen.
Hazel answered Darlene’s battle cry with one of her own. The shrieks shook the rafters. Hazel tossed the instruction sheets and went for the hot glue gun.
Women paused and focused on the brawl. Apparently, they just realized the great gossip potential of a good catfight. Who wanted safety when the best scandal to hit the town in months was being displayed right in front of their very eyes? A few moved forward, clutching their cell phones and holding them out at arm’s length.
Wrapping my arms around Darlene’s waist, I tugged. She reached back with one hand and clawed at my face.
“It’s mine! She stole it!” Darlene lashed out with her legs. One hand tightened on Belinda’s handmade t-shirt. “It’s mine!”
“Let go of my daughter!” Hazel squeezed the trigger of the glue gun. Hot liquid glue dribbled from the nozzle and splattered on Darlene’s hand.
Darlene snarled and hissed in pain but kept hold of Belinda. I tightened my grip on the raging scrapbooker and pulled.
A cloud of blue, yellow and green dust attacked our eyes. Hazel wielded the glue gun in one hand and a plastic jar of glitter in the other.
Was she trying to brand us?
Darlene twisted and turned her hips, killer heels jabbed into my legs. I hung on for Belinda’s dear life.
Rip. I cringed. Underneath us, paper crinkled. Profits destroyed. I wanted to plead for help but was afraid my grandmother Cheryl would jump into the mix. I just needed to restrain Darlene for a little longer. Grandma Hope was probably on the phone right now arranging for either Steve or Ted, the detective who I tried to get along with for the sake of staying on his good side, to come as my back up.
As the specks of color continued to rain down on us, Darlene twisted her head and started blowing in Hazel’s direction while continuing to kick at me.
“My eyes!” Hazel screeched.
The color bombardment stopped. The container clattered to the floor. Though, unfortunately for me, Darlene persisted in attacking me with her heels.
Where in the world was Steve—or Ted—when I really needed their help? There were times I didn’t want to be totally self-reliant and capable. Where were these knights now?
Darlene’s grip relaxed. I yanked her from the table and we both splattered to the linoleum floor with Darlene on top of me. Darlene grabbed a pot of glitter as we fell, whipped off the top and heaved it at Hazel and Belinda. Both covered their heads and screeched as the color figments coated them.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough of you.” Belinda screeched and kicked off her kitten heels. Things were about to get real ugly now.
“Faith, do something!” Sierra shouted.
What in the world did she think I was doing? I didn’t wrestle as a pastime. Belinda wasn’t the only one who’d had enough of this nonsense. I tightened my grip and rolled over. I pinned Darlene, face-down to the floor.
“My necklace.” Belinda pummeled my back with a container of glitter. Specks of gold, rose, and Christmas green fluttered over and around me. “She took my necklace.”
How in the world did I become the punching bag? Thankful Belinda hadn’t grabbed the hammer and nails, I ignored the blows and kept hold of Darlene. An elbow jabbed into my stomach. I sucked in a breath, pressing more of my weight onto the life artist gone berserk.
Darlene grunted and squirmed.
Snap. Snap.
Flashes went off. Just what we needed, layouts of a brawl in Scrap This. It’s what one always looked for when looking for a place to shop and crop. I hoped this didn’t show up on the community blog or in the church’s newsletter as I saw Frieda joined in documenting the moment. Pastor Evans was having a hard time explaining to his motherin-law that God didn’t need, nor want, any help in having “sinful behavior” brought to His attention. One day I wanted to add a picture of her taking a picture of others to the newsletter, but copy-catting bad behavior to point out bad behavior never worked out the way one intended.
Karen’s photographer moved in closer, aiming the lens of the camera I thought I might be falling in love with at me. I wasn’t so enamored with it anymore.
“Some help instead of taking pictures.” How could the photographer stand there and take photos at a time like this? I guess not all men were hel
pful in a brewing crisis.
I heard Hope ushering some of the onlookers outside as Cheryl herded some to the back. Customers expressed their disappointment at being denied the opportunity to witness the hostility.
“The cops are on their way.” Sierra pulled and pushed Belinda away from Darlene and me.
“Good.” Darlene muttered from under me. “That thief needs to go to jail.”
“Thief! How dare you…you…twit!” Hazel charged forward, high heels clacking on the linoleum floor.
I braced myself for impact. After a frustrated scream, the sound of heels stopped. I turned my head to peek at Hazel. She paced a few feet away, trying to get past my grandmothers who turned themselves into a human barrier.
The front door yanked open and the bell jerked back and forth, adding a hectic musical track that went well with the current situation of the class morphed into a public brawl. About time. I glanced over to let the police know what happened. It wasn’t the police.
Standing before me was Gussie Buford and her two brawny sons, Wayne and Wyatt. Gussie stood with feet planted and a take-charge expression engraved on her face. Wayne and Wyatt looked perplexed and hesitant, their usual expression when facing any circumstance.
“Boys, you get in there and settle those women down.” Gussie pointed to Hazel, Darlene, and then me.
“I’m not doing anything wrong.” I sat up, still keeping Darlene pressed to the cold floor. “I’m maintaining law and order. Or trying to anyway.”
Wyatt snorted.
I launched a glare at him.
Gussie swatted the back of her son’s head. “If Faith says she’s not part of any wrongdoing, then she’s not. Gentlemen do not…ever …call a lady a liar.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Wyatt looked at the ground then peeked at me. The grin on his face said he knew I wasn’t an innocent damsel.
Normally, I did have some part in creating my own problems but this time, well this instance, was all Darlene.
“Momma, you said it ain’t right for us to go around manhandling women.” Wayne shifted from foot-to-foot. “And considering one of them is elderly.”
I winced. Wayne wasn’t the brighter of the two brothers. Hope and Cheryl reddened and stepped back, giving Hazel a clear shot of Wayne.
Normally, Wyatt and Wayne stuck together like glitter to glue. For better or worse, they were victors together or went down for the count together. Except in this occasion.
Wyatt—the smarter brother—rushed toward the back of the store, putting plenty of distance between himself, the insulted woman, and his brother.
I didn’t blame Wyatt one bit.
Darlene wiggled underneath me, pushing and bucking, trying to throw me off.
“Stay still.”
“I can’t breathe right.” She hissed out.
I didn’t want to smother her. “Okay, I’ll let you sit up, but if you try to stand or crawl, I’ll let Sierra’s boys come over and play cowboys and bank robbers.” A game Harold, Henry, and Howard—the Hooligans—would relish. Darlene would make a mighty fine bronco to tame.
Sierra flipped open her cell phone. “One button is all I have to push. Hank wouldn’t mind bringing the boys down.”
“I won’t move,” Darlene said, propping herself off the floor with her elbows, “if you ensure that Belinda doesn’t leave.”
Seemed like a fair and stupid request. Darlene assaulted Belinda. Why would she want to leave before the police arrived?
“Fine.” I stood up and dusted off my hands, wishing I got rid of this situation as easily as the small particles of glitter on my palms.
Belinda shuffled toward the door in her bare feet, pressing a shaking hand to her throat. A neck no longer decorated with the Diva necklace. “I don’t want to stay here. I just want my necklace back.”
“It’s mine.” Darlene clutched the jewelry in her fist, pressing her hand into her dove gray shirted-cleavage. A sliver of the beaded silver chain trailed from between her index and middle fingers.
“Let me have the necklace.” I held out my hand.
Darlene shook her head and glared at Belinda. “It’s mine. I earned it. Not her.”
Had Darlene lost her mind?
Belinda swiped at tears and took a few steps backwards. My grandmothers blocked the front door to make sure no one escaped.
The bell rang and all heads swiveled toward the door. Detective Ted Roget walked inside followed by Officer Conroy Jasper. Ted scanned all the women in the store and then focused his intense green eyes on me.
My knees shook. There was no reason for my nervousness of police to rear up with Ted, especially since I wasn’t causing the commotion this time. He knew my darkest secret and wouldn’t use it against me. If he were inclined to let my skeleton out of the closet, he’d have done it months ago when I interfered in a murder case by starting my own investigation to prove he was the murderer.
Ted yanked the cord of the glue gun from the wall. “Someone care to explain what is going on?”
Was I mistaken, or had his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than anyone else, a hint of appreciation in those cool green eyes?
I glanced down and saw my shirt had ridden a few inches up and exposed some of my stomach. I tugged it down and narrowed my eyes on Ted. A gentleman kept his wandering gaze to himself or made it not so obvious.
Disappointment flashed across his face.
I wanted to continue the stare-off, but Ted’s attention left me and was now fixed on Darlene and Belinda. His eyes widened for a second when he took in Belinda’s attire.
Darlene jumped to her feet and jabbed a finger, not one of the ones holding the diva necklace hostage, toward Belinda. “She stole from me. I demand retribution.”
Belinda whimpered and huddled against her mother. The women almost blended together with their similar style and almost matching outfits.
Matter-of-fact, Hazel and Belinda looked way too much alike. I hadn’t really paid attention before but now side by side I saw Hazel had added some extensions to make her hair style, which last week was at her chin, to shoulder length. And her previously dark brown hair with gray shot through it was now dark brown and curly with red highlights. Just like her daughter.
Since Belinda didn’t seem fazed by her mother morphing herself into her twin, it wasn’t my concern. No matter how odd—or creepy—I found it.
Hazel wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby. Mom won’t let that witch hurt you.”
Ted sighed and pulled a notebook from his pocket. “Officer Jasper, start interviewing some of the other women.”
“She tried to kill me.” Belinda sniffed as fat tears rolled down her rouged cheeks. “I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Liar!” Darlene made a sudden movement forward.
Ted made an equally sudden movement toward where he kept pepper spray and his gun.
I snagged Darlene and halted her progress. I really didn’t want to see anyone get shot — even Darlene. “It’s better to stay put.”
She threw a glare at me. I aimed my gaze at Ted’s side. Darlene switched her attention from me to the object I looked at. Darlene nodded and dropped her hand to her side.
Ted pointed at Wayne and Wyatt. “Collect up anything that could be used as a weapon. Have Mrs. Hunter and Mrs. Greyfield lock the items up somewhere.” He pointed at my grandmothers.
“Yes, Sir.” Wayne and Wyatt said in unison. Gussie beamed.
Great. There went our scissors again, along with our trimmers, glue, and glitter as Darlene and Belinda showed how they could be used as a method of attack.
“I just wanted to give him the proof.” Darlene pointed to the stack of Making Legacies magazines.
“The special issue?” I looked at my grandmothers. Both shrugged and eyed Darlene with wariness. Had Darlene’s competitive scrapbooking spirit finally cracked her?
I smiled, hoping it portrayed warmth and understanding, not the fact I thought she was a few foam
stamps short of a complete alphabet set.
“Look at her…” Darlene nearly strangled on the pronoun, “…layouts.”
I picked a copy on the table and flipped through it, stopping at Belinda Watson’s section. I turned the magazine face out, flashing the pictures to Ted like we are at a story time hour in the library.
He squinted and looked at the photos. “What am I missing? I’m not an expert.”
I sort of was and still didn’t know what Darlene meant.
“Give me that.” Darlene snatched the magazine from my hand and rested a manicured nail on top of the layout. “This design. It’s mine. Belinda submitted my work under her name.”
Women inched forward. Eager ears and even more eager mouths waited. I swore a few rubbed their hands together in glee.
“You’re a liar.” Hazel started toward Darlene. She stopped and screeched, swatting at Wayne who knelt at her feet, one hand on her ankle and the other on her high heel. “Stop fondling me!”
Wayne pressed his lips together and tugged Hazel’s leg up, tilting the woman to the side. I reached out to steady her before she fell to the ground in an inelegant and unladylike heap.
Gussie blanched and covered her face with her hands.
Karen scribbled furiously into her notebook. The photographer disappeared somewhere, probably back to the news station to start going through pictures of the brawl.
“I have proof.” Darlene crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.
“Wayne, what are you doing?” Ted’s expression was a mix between revulsion and confusion.
“He’s assaulting me!” Hazel hit Wayne again.
Wayne was unfazed. “Now, ma’am. I’m just following orders. Detective said to get anything that was a weapon. Now, I’ve been kicked by shoes like these. They sure do hurt.”
Wyatt nodded in defense of his older brother. “Me too. Like heck.”
Ted rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about the shoes.”
Wayne shrugged. “Okay, Detective, it’s your investigation but don’t say we didn’t try to help.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Ted centered a look on me and kept it there.
Designed to Death Page 3
