Designed to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  I squirmed under his gaze. What did I do now? I was being helpful. Matter-of-fact, I put myself in the way of harm to stop Darlene from committing a crime. Ted continued staring at me.

  I had enough. “What?”

  “Why are you sparkling?”

  I glanced at my arms. Gold, green and red glitter clung to my skin and clothes. I shook my head and a rainfall of sparkling dust floated around me. “The top wasn’t on when Belinda clobbered me with the glitter.”

  “Why did Belinda go after you?” Ted scribbled something in his notebook.

  Was that suspicion in his eyes? I refused to allow my imagination and conspiracy notions to run away with me. Again. “She meant to nail Darlene with it but her aim sucks.”

  Ted turned to Belinda.

  The woman blanched. “Mom!”

  “Faith! That language.” Hope glared at me.

  Hazel, still wearing heels, ran over to her thirty-five year old daughter and took her in her arms. “How dare you bully my child? She’s the victim here. That horrible woman attacked her.”

  “I retrieved what she stole from me.” Darlene wore the coveted Diva necklace.

  Tears streamed down Belinda’s face. “That’s my necklace. It was sent to me. I’m a Life Artist Diva. Not you.”

  Ted held out his hand, palm up and then curled his fingers up and back down. “Give it up.”

  “No.” Darlene pressed her hand to her throat, protecting the symbol of divahood.

  “I have a jail cell I can house you in,” Ted said. “I might have to keep you there overnight. It will take a long time to interview every single woman in this room.”

  Apparently, Darlene believed the words were a promise and not a threat because she handed the necklace over. “The toggle is still intact so I didn’t rip it from her neck. She wasn’t hurt. I took it off. Nicely. Admirable of me, considering…”

  “Yes.” Ted’s voice was still in neutral. “I’m sure that’s your recollection of the incident.”

  Jasper walked over, exasperation clear on his face. “Detective, I’m not getting anywhere. Every woman has a different story on who started it, what happened, and even the time. Some say the fight started when the doors first opened this morning.”

  “That’s not true.” I crossed my arms and glared at Jasper. “Everything was orderly, maybe feisty on occasion, but no violence whatsoever until Darlene arrived.”

  Jasper frowned. “Faith, I’m only repeating what was told to me. I’m not saying you or your grandmothers stood by as women conducted a boxing match in the store.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shoved my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “I don’t like anyone lying about my grandmothers.”

  “Now you know how I feel.” Hazel rubbed her daughter’s back. “Darlene is lying about my daughter.”

  “No.” Darlene slapped her hands against her legs. “That’s how I feel looking at the magazine. Belinda lied when she sent in those layouts. Those are mine. She stole them.” Darlene pointed at Belinda. “I will prove to the scrapbooking world that you are a fraud.”

  A gasp came from behind me. I turned. Ms. Amtower stood with a hand pressed to her chest.

  Belinda wailed and dropped her head to her mom’s shoulder. “Why is she doing this? I didn’t steal them. She gave them to me, so I submitted them.”

  Gave them to her?

  “Gave them?” Ted scribbled something in his notebook.

  “I need to call my lawyer.” Ms. Amtower pulled an iPhone from her purse and scurried toward the door. “This is not good.”

  “Wait!” Belinda made a valiant but failed attempt to grab the editor-in-chief’s arm as the woman hightailed it out of there. “Darlene said she didn’t like the pages so I could have them as my own.”

  “For you to put the photographs of our mother-daughter cruise on, you idiot. Not for you to say you designed and send them in for a contest.” Darlene clutched the magazine to her chest. “We were working on my mom’s birthday present. I never would’ve given you permission to submit them to a contest.”

  “You gave them to me. That makes them mine. You said they weren’t contest worthy,” Belinda shot back. “I wanted to prove you wrong. And I did.”

  “You cheated! You could have at least scraplifted the design instead of actually using my pages. I even paid for all those supplies!” Darlene tossed the magazine. It smacked Ted in the chest. “You just wait until I post about this. The chat board will eat you alive.”

  “That’s enough, Miss Johnson.” Ted narrowed his gaze and this time directed it at Darlene.

  “You’re a fraud.” Darlene swung back around and jabbed a finger at Belinda.

  “Do you want me to call your mother?” Ted asked.

  “No!” We all shouted. We had to teach Ted how the mom-threat worked around here and who to use it on.

  Usually the threat of calling a parent, especially a mother or grandmother, had “children” of any age behaving, but not so with this crew. Wyatt and Wayne...yep. The Hooligans...yep. Darlene...nope—especially when it came to a fight between her and Belinda. Hazel and Eliza were not only bitter rivals like their daughters, but had spent their whole lives trying to outdo the other. Throwing Eliza into this hot bed of emotions would create a brawl any Real Housewife would envy.

  “Call her.” Darlene smirked.

  I stood beside Ted and whispered. “Hatfield and McCoy battles are tame compared to Eliza and Hazel fights.”

  “Why don’t we just take it outside?” Gussie said. “Fill up a pool with some mud and let the girls wrestle it out.”

  Wayne and Wyatt looked over the candidates and cringed. I felt the same way. Besides, we were a store dedicated to promoting and encouraging preserving family memories, not feuds.

  “There will be no more fighting.” Ted announced and fingered the handcuffs attached to his belt. “Is that understood?”

  Grabbing her daughter’s hand, Hazel stalked out the door with her crying daughter trailing behind her. “We’re not taking any more of this. Darlene is just jealous she can’t take wonderful pictures. She said those layouts were yours, there’s nothing she can do about it.”

  “Watch me.” Darlene crossed her arms over her chest.

  FOUR

  The cell phone squawked from the bedside table. I rolled over, tugging the extra-plump pillow over my ears. After the horrible morning and afternoon, I called it an early night. Now someone wanted to ruin my sleep.

  “Answer me. Answer me.” Its mechanical voice screeched.

  I had gotten rid of the landline to cut down my expenses, but now wished I had kept it. My mind was conditioned to respond to the classic ring of a phone but had the ability to shut out other ringtones, unless they were highly annoying. The problem with highly annoying was the mood I found myself shoved into. Like now. I wanted to flush the thing down the toilet or throw it through the window. Thankfully, the costs of the repairs stopped me from acting on impulse.

  The electronic parrot voice repeated the phrase. “Answer me. Answer me.”

  Resigning myself to fate, I pushed the pillow from my head and groped around until the offending device was in my hand. The need to silence the grating voice was more dire than going back to sleep...the reason I picked the ringtone.

  “What?” I said, blinking at the clock a few times before it came into focus, eleven at night.

  “I’m taking that means you haven’t seen the message boards.” Sierra’s aggravated tone cut through the haze of lingering sleep. “Good thing your grandmothers put you in charge of monitoring it.”

  Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. I wanted to slap the be-nice-voice in my head silly. The disharmony between Sierra and I was lasting much longer than I, my grandmothers, and Steve predicted. We were now going on over six months and the iciness Sierra directed at me was colder than the early winter we were experiencing. I kind of had it coming. I did think she was related to a murderer. But everyone made mistakes now and then. Hopefully with Christmas arou
nd the corner, Sierra would allow the spirit of the season to fill her heart with some forgiveness for me.

  Of course, I could help it along with volunteering to babysit the Hooligans, Harold, Henry and Howard, while she went Christmas shopping for her sons. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be forgiven that badly. And there was the little, tiny fact that I wasn’t the one in the wrong.

  Or not totally in the wrong.

  “Imagine that. You have nothing to say.”

  I had plenty to say but most of it was better left unsaid. Forgiveness was something I was to give, regardless, even when it was hard. Like now. I leaned my head against the wood headboard and silently forgave Sierra’s attitude. “I don’t search the web when I’m asleep. Sorry my sleep schedule doesn’t match yours.”

  “What an exciting single life you lead. In bed by eleven.”

  “It’s my life. I like it.” I ignored the twinge in my heart.

  Okay, not like but accept. I had made choices in the past requiring my quieter lifestyle if I wanted the past to remain deep in my background. I had at one time behaved as a young woman with “no cares in the world and no one to answer to” and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I ignored and mocked my upbringing and reaped some huge soul-battering consequences for pretending I was someone else.

  “I was browsing some of the scrapbook message board sites and found—”

  I took the abrupt end of the sentence as my cue to fill in the last part. “That most people on those boards talk about scrapbooking but don’t actively do it. Shopping carts must always be placed into the corral or else you are the worst type of human being. Shopping on Black Friday, or on Thanksgiving, is proof you hate people and are consumed with greed?”

  “Aren’t you amusing today?”

  “I was today, but tonight I’m irritable.” I didn’t handle being woken up well. A truth my grandmothers could attest to. While I had no trouble getting up on time when I was in the Army, I didn’t enjoy it, but being a rule-abiding girl with a guilt complex, I never complained. Out loud.

  Sierra sighed and was probably counting to ten like she did when dealing with a temper tantrum by one of her elementary school-aged boys. “Darlene started her campaign against Belinda and Scrap This. She’s trashing both on her blog, and also on the most frequented scrapbooking boards.”

  I groaned. We so did not need this right now. Well, not ever. But definitely not when Scrap This had just gotten past a scandal.

  “Is Belinda responding back?” I tossed off the covers and reluctantly left the warm bed. I padded down the hallway to my office.

  “Not that I can tell. It’s just gearing up.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “As you should have been,” Sierra said, getting in the must-have last word.

  Turning on the monitor, I plopped into the burgundy leather office chair then opened up the browser. I clicked on the first website and with one eye closed, scanned the topics on the front page of the number one scrapbooking website.

  I wanted—needed—to look at the train wreck before me, but still wished I could avoid the view.

  Darlene made sure the title of the post was dramatic and attention grabbing.

  Making Legacies Contest A Fraud. My Work Stolen By Them!

  I also loved the addition of quite a few angry icon faces. I clicked on the message and mentally braced myself for the bashing to commence.

  I am livid. Darlene started the thread.

  At least she didn’t use all caps.

  Today I went to support one of the new Making Legacies Life Artist Divas at her first signing and demonstration. I was so happy for her!

  Yeah right.

  I got there a little late and needed to wait for the class to end before I got my copy of the special issue. I decided to chat with the assistant manager who was watching the class.

  More like making snide comments about the magazine and the newest diva.

  I looked at the first layout of this so called Diva. It was mine! I looked at the next. Mine! All twelve of her layouts were designs the LAD cased from me. I went to talk to the thief, and you will not believe what happened next. The assistant manager ASSAULTED me…

  When she wanted to lie, she brought out the all caps. I also liked the little redesign of the story she told Ted. I copied and pasted the thread into a word document, and took a screenshot so it showed the time, to be on the safe side.

  The assistant manager didn’t want me to talk to the Diva. Maybe I should have waited for the class to be over, but Belinda Watson—that’s right—the come out of nowhere It-Girl (no surprise now about how she just popped onto the scene…she swiped another artist’s hard work) is a FRAUD.

  Responses siding with Darlene stacked up. A few posters even suggested banding together to start sending emails to the magazine, the store, and Belinda’s blog to let them know she was a fraud.

  Not that I don’t believe you, a poster responded. But how would Belinda have stolen your design? I’ve thought a few times that someone “copied and stole everything” from me but there was no way. It was just a coincidence. Sometimes ideas happen at the same time.

  Other posters agreed with the calm voice in the sea of anger. I heaved out a sigh of relief. It looks like the rant would be seen as what it was…jealousy, plain and simple.

  Darlene defended herself:

  We live in the same town and crop at the same store. We hang out together all the time. Think it’s still such a coincidence? I let her use them for an album she was working on. I had no idea she’d submit those ideas and create classes and ‘teach’ them.

  Someone with the screen name of Little Lamb posted:

  I’m starting to wonder if the whole truth came out last spring about the murder. Wasn’t the assistant manager wrapped up in that?

  Leaning forward, I gripped the arms of my office chair. My fingers itched to jump into the conversation but defending oneself never worked out well on message boards.

  You mean, Faith? You think she had something to do with my layouts being swiped?

  Little Lamb replied:

  Maybe in that, too. Was submitting something Belinda usually did? If not...

  Who in the heck was Little Lamb? And what in the world did they have against me?

  I know she doesn’t like me. And Belinda never cared about contests before so you might be on to something. I could see Faith wanting to ruin me. I’ll have to think on this for a while. Darlene added an angry face icon to the end of her post.

  Butterflies fought in my stomach. Darlene was just revving up. The gauntlet was thrown. Could I get Ted to have the site owners shut this thread down as he was investigating who started the fight this afternoon? I doubt he’d appreciate a call from me at midnight whining about mean things people said on the internet.

  Now, Steve, he wouldn’t mind. He’d even come to my defense. Or else, he’d tell me that I found enough trouble in real life and didn’t need to go jump into web based drama. Defending oneself on the web, or having others do so, always made a person look guiltier. And I already had enough instances in my life where other people’s actions nearly landed me in jail.

  The best way to handle it was to keep quiet and allow Belinda and Hazel to tell these women the truth. Or at least their version of the truth.

  A board regular popped into the conversation:

  Why wasn’t all this information about you two cropping together included in your first post? Sounds like someone has the bitters.

  Darlene fired back:

  Why would I be jealous of someone whose only talent is being able to scraplift and mail out someone else’s design?

  And the reply:

  Prove it!

  Another poster entered the conversation but only contributed a smiley icon holding a bag of popcorn and munching on kernels. While a buttery treat sounded good right now, I didn’t want to leave before the thread slowed down. No sense joining in the merriment when I wasn’t sure if the store—or me—were i
n the clear.

  Darlene typed:

  I took the password off my layout gallery. Check there.

  A first-time poster calling themselves JealousMuch entered into the cyber conversation.

  Who’s to say you didn’t scraplift Belinda?

  I guessed Belinda. I didn’t know why Belinda thought she’d get away with submitting a design of her cousin’s without getting called out on it. But to use a dozen layouts all by Darlene was over the top. And what pride and pleasure would Belinda get from using the work of others?

  Of course, the glee might have come from annoying her cousin.

  Because I didn’t. Darlene responded.

  Well, that cleared it up.

  Hmmm… JealousMuch started her next reply. I took a look at the time stamp for the upload. You just did that a couple days ago. Maybe you got a sneak peek of the magazine. Maybe one of the employees gave you a little looksee.

  Caught. The next person replied.

  A long time poster joined in the fray:

  I knew there was something odd going on. That’s why I didn’t join the pile-on. It always happens with these contests. Some self-proclaimed artist doesn’t get chosen and decides to destroy one of the winners.

  And Darlene bit back:

  I did not copy her. She CASED me. Belinda Watson is a no talent hack.

  Personal attacks were not going to go over well. Darlene had a large post count on this particular board, she knew how it worked.