Once Grandma practically skipped out the door, I turned to Steve and crossed my heart. “I promise I’ll never show up unannounced again with a raging Grandma.”
“This time?” Steve asked.
Huh? I blinked a few times. Instead of responding, I just stared at Steve.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “You said this time you’ll forgive it. I’m wondering what you meant.”
Oh scrap! Had I said ‘this time?’
Why in the world did Steve have to really listen to what I said and remember it? Most guys had selective hearing. Had Grandma picked up on it? If she did, what did she think I meant, that I had been accused of murder before or I’d forgive Hazel for accusing me this one time but wouldn’t the next?
Sweat broke out on my forehead. “I mean I hate people talking smack about me. I really do. Who likes it? Especially being accused of murdering a person. Really, me? Killing a person? How insulting.”
My rambling wasn’t achieving the affect I wanted. Steve looked more suspicious. Reel it in, girl. Get to your point and quick.
First, I had to find one. Hazel. Grieving mother. Shifting blame. Got it.
I drew in a breath. “I know it’s not nice but I’ll forgive Hazel this time. Once.” I held up my index finger to emphasize my point. “The next time she starts saying stuff, I’ll do something about it.”
The suspicion left, only to be replaced by concern. “What do you plan on doing?”
I shrugged, deciding to go with the absolute truth for this answer. “I have no idea. But I’ll think of something.”
Steve groaned. “Please don’t. Let the police do their job. The investigation will prove who the murderer is. Stay out of it.”
“You want me to keep quiet while I’m being accused of murder?”
“No one would ever believe that about you.”
Little did he know, some people had at one time, and Adam was much less trustworthy than Hazel.
“Right.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I have a name for you. Michael Kane.”
Steve rubbed his eyes. “No one thought you killed Michael. Detective Roget just thought you were aiding and abetting Marilyn.”
“So, there’s no reason for me to be upset about the police thinking I’m conspiring with someone. As long as they don’t believe I killed someone I should just let it go. No one else would mind the police thinking they’re involved in a felony.”
“Come on, Faith. You know the detective had good reason for thinking that.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him, no longer having to fake indignation. “So the reason you wouldn’t answer Grandma is because you believe Hazel. I have something to do with Belinda being there.”
Steve shot to his feet. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think you’re involved in Belinda’s murder.”
“You don’t. But how about others?”
“How in the world did we get into this argument?” Steve walked around the desk.
“Because you think Ted should blame me.”
“Why do you do this?” Steve sat on the edge of the desk.
Me? What was I doing? He was the one who said Ted had every right to think I conspired with Marilyn in committing a crime Marilyn didn’t even commit.
Ted had been wrong on so many levels. You’d think Steve would be angry on my behalf, not take Ted’s side in the matter, especially since Steve didn’t really like Ted.
“I’m not doing anything. You are. You said Ted had a good reason for thinking I was involved in the murder.”
“I didn’t turn this into a fight. You did.” Steve drummed his fingers on the desktop. “I said Detective Roget didn’t blame you for Kane’s murder. The man only thought you might have been helping Marilyn because—”
“Because I’m that type of person.”
“You’re doing it again. Why do you want to insist I think the worst of you?” Steve stood and went back to his office chair, probably preferring some sort of physical barrier between me and him. “Can you honestly say you didn’t do anything to make Roget think you might have been helping Marilyn out? Finding out who killed Kane was the man’s job.”
I didn’t want Steve to think the worst of me. Nor did I want him thinking I thought he thought the worst of me. Was I trying to recreate an emotional distance between Steve and me? I had decided to give this relationship a try. But, I had to admit I was doing my best to prove to myself I couldn’t trust Steve.
Steve’s shoulders slumped forward.
My heart ached for him. He had always been my friend and helped me and my grandmothers. If I wanted space, he gave me space. If I needed some attention and adoration, he happily offered it. Steve allowed me to establish the boundaries in our relationship and backed up, and moved forward, every time the whim struck me and I moved the line.
The guy didn’t deserve it. I didn’t think I deserved him, but for some reason he was willing to give his all for me even when I acted like I wanted none of him. I never hated Adam so much as I did now. I couldn’t allow him to continue controlling my life.
I walked behind his chair and placed my hands on Steve’s shoulders. I kneaded the tense muscles. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with you. I just seem to be at war with everyone lately. Hazel. Darlene. Leslie Amtower. Our customers. No one is happy with what happened on Saturday and they blame us. I guess I just wanted something to rage against.”
“I wish you’d pick someone else.”
“I have some options in mind.” Primarily Darlene.
“I was joking. Please don’t.” Steve caught my hands and tugged me around. “This will all work itself out. Don’t go looking for trouble.”
“So you think I’m looking for trouble.” I sat on his lap.
Steve groaned and dropped his head onto my shoulder.
I cringed. There I went again. “Sorry. Bad habit. I’ll work on breaking it.”
“I’m not a bad guy, Faith.” His words whispered along my neck.
A shiver heated my blood and I wished with all my being Steve had some bad boy in him and wanted to act on it. Right then and there. “I know. I had some bad experiences in the past and I guess I’m still working through them.”
“I figured that.”
Yeah, I guess I wasn’t so good at hiding it like I thought. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’m an understanding guy.” Steve smiled at me, his hands resting on my waist.
“I’m one lucky girl.” I planted a quick kiss on Steve’s lips.
“We’re both lucky.”
Since I knew we wouldn’t be that lucky right now, I needed to get out of there and back to work. Maybe we could work on our luck tonight. I slid off his lap. “See you tonight? I’ll make us dinner.”
“I hope so.” Steve’s gaze devoured me. “A lot of it will depend on how the case turns.”
“Want me to help you?” I couldn’t resist asking.
Steve, on the other hand, didn’t find any amusement in my sassiness. “No.”
“Still afraid I’m looking for trouble?” I kept my tone light, hoping Steve knew I wasn’t getting riled up again. I was curious about his seriousness.
“Not looking so much as finding it, picking it up, and carrying it home.” Steve grabbed hold of my hand. I felt him trembling. “Promise me you won’t find a way into this mess.”
I wanted to tell him off but the fear lurking in the depths of his brown eyes made me stop. I leaned into him, hugging him for all I was worth. Steve knew something. He had been holding back—for our own good.
It scared me.
THIRTEEN
I half-heartedly waved goodbye to Mrs. Alwright as I walked under the archway and proved I wasn’t exiting the courthouse armed and dangerous. I hoped Cheryl planned on Steve and me having a long lunch so she headed back to Scrap This. Catching me moping my way back to work wouldn’t go over very well. She’d probably think I was pouting about being told to mind my business about t
he murder, rather than worried about what Steve withheld from us.
Feet shuffled behind me. Really close behind me. I gazed over my right shoulder. Hazel scurried over to the wall and flattened her back against it. The black and gold leopard print outfit, with prowling cheetah embroidered across her chest, stood out from the white wall Hazel tried melding herself into.
Did she have an outfit to go with every theme of her life? Shaking my head, I continued on my meandering stroll back to the store. I heard Hazel plodding along behind me.
The scent of fried chicken wafted toward me, rumbling my stomach. I didn’t bring anything from home for lunch. The chicken smelled good. I felt a little like I was “cheating” on Dianne by going somewhere else for lunch but my stomach wanted chicken and nothing else would do.
I looked both ways and jogged across the street toward Beulah’s. Why Aaron decided to name his small diner where frying was the theme of his food Beulah’s no one knew as Aaron never offered an explanation beyond “I just like it.”
A horn honked. I cast another look over my shoulder.
Hazel squatted in the middle of the street, presumably so I didn’t spot her. Quickly, I turned my gaze forward so she’d get out of the middle of the road.
I pulled open the door to Beulah’s, debating for a minute if I should hold it open for Hazel. Why ruin her fun. The door clanged shut behind me.
Aaron wiped his hands on his red and white checkered apron. “What will it be?”
“The two-piece special.” I didn’t know why Aaron asked.
Every day there was one item on the menu, the special. Today, customers could order the two-piece or the four-piece fried chicken special which included green beans with bacon, French fries and a biscuit made using his mother’s county fair winning recipe. If you were particular about getting dark or white meat, you needed to go with the four-piece meal so you’d get two of each type. Aaron didn’t accept “special orders” on his specials.
“Just one?” Aaron tilted his head toward the window.
Hazel was almost plastered to the window in her quest to spy.
I needed to nip this in the bud, might as well bring a peace offering when I did it. “Give me two.”
“She’s latching on to you now that Belinda’s gone?” Aaron plopped a heaping serving of mashed potatoes into two foam to-go containers.
“I think she’s keeping tabs on me.”
“Like I said, she latched on to you.” Aaron placed the chicken into the container. “That girl of hers never got much of a break from her mama. I don’t think Belinda could ever take a step without her mama demanding to know about it.”
“They were close. Nothing wrong with a loving mother-daughter relationship.”
“If that’s what it was.” Aaron placed the meals into a plastic bag and held the handles out to me. “Good luck with it and all. If I was you, I’d be carrying a pair of scissors with me to cut the cord Hazel wants to wrap around you. She needs to attach her life to someone since she done lost Belinda.”
“She’s got Darlene.” I looped the handle onto my arm.
Aaron coughed out a laugh. “Darling, Eliza already has dibs on that girl.”
“Hazel isn’t following me around because I’m a possible replacement.” I pulled out her lunch.
“Then I’d be more worried. Her man didn’t just run because of the crazy between the two sisters. Hazel has enough crazy she can throw some your way and still have more than enough to aim at her sister.”
I decided to take Aaron’s advice and put an end to Hazel’s undercover operation. I stepped out the door.
Hazel spun around and started down the street.
“Don’t you want your lunch?” I called out.
Hazel froze in mid-motion.
I wondered how long she could balance herself on one foot. She wobbled after a few seconds. Since I didn’t want to be responsible for her falling over and breaking a hip or something, I went over and steadied her.
“Hazel, I can see you. I know you’re following me.”
Hazel tugged away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You started tailing me when I left the courthouse.”
“Did not.” Hazel crossed her arms over her massive chest. “I just wanted to get lunch.”
“Then why didn’t you go inside?”
Hazel bit her lip as her eyes scrunched up.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“You were in there. I will not step foot in a place where you’re at.”
“Because...”
“You know something about my daughter’s murder. Don’t think I’m not on to you, missy.” Hazel snatched the container from my hand and fled in the opposite direction of Scrap This.
I guess she wasn’t too mad as she had no trouble taking a free lunch bought by me.
A car rolled to a stop.
“Faith, is everything all right?” Grandma Hope leaned toward the passenger side window.
“Yeah.” I opened the door and climbed inside.
“Was that Hazel running away?”
I didn’t want to lie to my grandmother but also didn’t want to tell her the entire truth. One, I didn’t want her worrying. Two, I didn’t want Hope to take off after Hazel. Even the quiet ones got their dander up on occasion.
“She didn’t want to talk to me.”
Hope’s eyes became slits. “You’re not questioning her about Belinda’s murder.”
“Of course not. I saw her standing outside Beulah’s and bought her a special.”
Hope didn’t comment. She started driving toward the store. Her silence said everything. She knew I had been up to something and it involved Hazel...and more aggravating I wasn’t going to tell her.
When we got back to Scrap This, I scurried into the break room and devoured my lunch. I made sure to keep my mouth full so Hope and Cheryl refrained from asking me any questions. Every grandma knew a grandchild shouldn’t talk with food in their mouth.
Sierra bounded into the break room. She gaped at my eating technique of shoving so much food into my mouth I rivaled a chipmunk.
“You’re going to choke.” Sierra walked over to the sink and got a glass of tap water. She placed it in front of me.
My heart warmed at the gesture. Maybe she was thawing toward me.
Sierra sat down across from me. “I have the perfect idea for a class.”
I motioned with my hand to go on as I couldn’t speak.
“A three-dimensional Halloween card that can be attached to trick-or-treat bags.” She grinned.
I swallowed. “Halloween is in two weeks. It’s kind of late.”
“That’s plenty of time. You know some of our regulars would love adding a crafty touch to their treats. If we can get a sample up by tomorrow and have the class this weekend or beginning of next week, a lot of scrappers would take it.”
And by “we” Sierra meant “me” as she wasn’t a stamper and had no interest in adding stamping to her scrapbooking repertoire.
Sierra offered an olive branch, the least I could do was hand one back. One afternoon of pulling supplies and creating some samples wasn’t going to put us in a bind. What could it hurt?
“Okay. I’ll get right on it.”
“Great. I’ll tell Hope and Cheryl you love the idea and will be running with it.”
I tossed the remainder of my lunch. I had work to do and my hastily devoured food sat like a rock in my stomach. I went to the sink and scrubbed my hands good to make sure no chicken grease remained. There was no way I’d leave my fingerprints on the merchandise.
I grabbed a small basket to place the items I needed into. Maybe if I demonstrated a couple of techniques and gave them choices it would work. Classes where we taught a foundation technique, giving some ideas on how the basic idea could be switched up, always filled up fast.
After grabbing white cardstock, I chose an easy to color Halloween stamp. I picked one of a cartoon-like haunted house. The crafter ha
d the option of using an X-acto knife to cut open the doors and windows and placing a sticker or other stamped image in it.
Next, I pulled out the alcohol-based markers I wanted to use. I loved these markers; the blending capabilities added a realistic touch to the coloring. It reminded me of how I loved coloring as a child.
I set everything up at one of the crop tables and got to work. The first time I stamped the image it came out a little fuzzy so I tried again. And again. Ugh. This was one of the problems I had with larger stamps, getting the pressure even. I stood and took great care in pressing down then lifting the stamp.
Perfect. I wanted to cheer; instead I sat down as we had a customer in the store. I didn’t want them thinking it was unusual for me to stamp an image correctly. It wouldn’t help convince people to take the class.
The bell jingled and jangled. I colored and colored. I was in the groove and having fun. There was nothing like coloring and scrapbooking to relax me.
A shadow loomed over me. “You probably know by now, but Detective Roget believes I killed Belinda,” the person on top of my I-do-not-want-to-see list said.
Monday was getting worse. First the little argument with Leslie Amtower, then Hazel upsetting my grandmother and her poorly conducted stalking attempt, and now Darlene’s visit. The only way it could possibly be even more of a trial was if Belinda decided to haunt the place.
I made a sound, a cross between how-interesting and well-duh.
Darlene nudged my arm. “Are you listening?”
The marker jerked across the cardstock. I stared down at the stamped image I had been carefully coloring for the last hour.
Darlene tsked. “I’m not so sure that works. If you wanted it to look like lightning, I’d have tried a gray mixed with silver. It would work better with the background color you’re using.”
The woman sure did live in a world of her own.
I sighed and studied the card front. This was a Halloween image so maybe I could make the dark slash of orange work for me.
“I’m thinking tonight after the store closes we can work on our plan.”
Designed to Death Page 12
