Designed to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  “You should be ashamed. Believing I’m accusing you of murder.”

  “Not that,” Darlene said between clenched teeth. She glanced down at her lap then shot me a wide-eye look. “I think that I need to leave.”

  Steve looked from Darlene to me, a frown etching itself onto his face. If he wasn’t careful, the scowl would stick there. “This conversation isn’t over.”

  “We’re not dense. We get it. We’re not police. We shouldn’t be investigating crimes. Fine. I won’t. But, I will help Faith find her photographs someone swiped. I don’t think the police really care about those.”

  Concern grew on Steve’s face. “Someone took your photos.”

  About time I got some sign he still cared about me. I nodded while pouting. “Also deleted all the ones I had on my computer.”

  “Why?” Steve tugged a sheet of paper toward him and scanned over it.

  Was that the police report from last night? What had Ted written on it? If he wrote down what had been stolen from the box, I’d... Well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do yet but I’d think of something. Maybe start with calling his brother and then his mother.

  Darlene opened her purse and glanced inside. She groaned. “I’ll never get over this trauma.”

  “I have no intention of mentioning to anyone what I overheard you and Faith discussing.” The shift of Steve’s tone when he said “discussing” told me it wasn’t his first choice of word.

  Darlene shot an exasperated look at me. “He really does not get it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s a man, of course he doesn’t.”

  Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Now it’s my turn to ponder if I should be offended.”

  I let out a small laugh. “It’s not being offended you’re going to have to worry about. Darlene needs to leave. It’s an emergency.”

  “Someone sent you the news telepathically.” He looked over the top of the sheet of paper.

  “No. Women kind of know.”

  Steve’s quizzical expression reminded me of a puppy being told “no” when they tried chewing on a tempting leather shoe.

  “Trust me. You. Don’t. Want. To. Know.”

  Darlene clutched a cylinder shape in her hand.

  His face reddened then whitened. He finally got it. “You can go.”

  Darlene gingerly got to her feet. When she opened the door, she fired off a wink at me.

  Well played. I avoided fixing my admiring gaze on her as she skedaddled out of the room lest Steve pick up on the fact he’d been had.

  I stood.

  “I have something I still need to discuss with you.” Steve placed the paper on his desk.

  “Who says I want to hear it?”

  “Please, Faith.” Steve pointed at the chair.

  “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

  Steve placed an elbow on the desk then dropped his face into his hand. He rubbed at his temples. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think, or what the truth is. You made some lame excuse the other night then didn’t even acknowledge me yesterday. It’s rude and hurtful. You had to have known something happened with Ted showing up.”

  “Why would I think Ted showing up meant someone broke into your house?” Jealousy weaved around his words. “You guys seem to spend a lot of time together.”

  It made me a little glad but more annoyed. Not that it mattered. I could take Steve or leave him.

  Who was I kidding? Now that I decided I wanted Steve, I wanted him to want me. I wasn’t good at pretending to myself his aloofness didn’t bother me. Silence enveloped the room. Not the warm, companionable silence we usually shared, but the awkward kind when a couple ran out of stuff to say.

  “I didn’t want anyone accusing you of something terrible,” Steve finally said.

  “Like insinuating I was playing two men against each other.” I spun toward the door.

  “Someone in this office leaked confidential information that might be the basis for a crime.”

  I froze. “They think it was you. That you told me something?”

  “I’m not the suspect, and I’m also not in the clear. I didn’t want you dragged into it. This office is looking for a person to blame. Jobs will be lost. If not charges filed.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  Steve collapsed into his chair. “It is.”

  I sat in Steve’s lap and drew him into a hug.

  “If someone comes in...”

  I saw the reluctance in his eyes and in the half-hearted attempt he made in pushing me away. I tightened my hold. For once, I wanted to make him feel better. Show him I cared about him as much as he cared about me.

  Steve would do anything for me. Stand by me. He showed it when Ted and I went toe-to-toe when Marilyn was arrested. Steve didn’t like me getting involved. His feelings were all about my safety rather than ‘keeping me in my place’.

  He gave me the benefit of the doubt. Always. Even—and especially—when I didn’t deserve it or acted like I wanted it. I knew what I had to do. It was time. Tell Steve about Adam. Fear churned my stomach.

  “I’m sorry for giving you a rough time.” I repositioned myself so we looked into each other’s eyes. We needed the air cleared between us for us to move forward.

  Steve locked his hands around my waist. “How are you giving me a rough time?”

  “Arguing with you the other day and all the days before. I just don’t want you to tread carefully around me so I don’t blow up.”

  “I want to tread carefully, as you say, because I care about you and it pains me when I hurt your feelings. I don’t like it when my words, or actions, make you feel bad about yourself. I’ve never wanted to be that type of person.”

  “You never are.” I hugged him tight, pressing my cheek into his chest. The cologne tingled my nose and the rest of my body. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

  “You’re not making me feel that way.” Steve stressed the word “making.” “It’s something I want to always be aware of. I want you to feel safe with me. Trust that I believe in you and know you’re nothing less than amazing.”

  I heard the pain in Steve’s voice. I knew that pain. It came from experience. From fighting the demons others created inside of you because of their treatment. A tightness began in my chest and spread across my whole body. Someone had hurt Steve, made this honorable, decent man question himself and his worth.

  “I feel the same way about you,” I said.

  “You should probably get going before your grandmothers send out a search party.” Steve’s voice was a little rough around the edges.

  “Mrs. Alwright wouldn’t tell anyone on me.” I grinned at him. “She helped me see the light when I wanted to take a restraining order out on Darlene.”

  All traces of playfulness left his eyes. Steve went to stand with me still in his lap.

  “It’s time for you to go.”

  Oh no! Mrs. Alwright. She was the suspected leak. She walked in and out of everyone’s office, had access to all places. Knew where everyone went. No one thought anything of speaking in front of her because she was a fixture of the courthouse, like the Lady of Justice Statue guarding the entrance to the courtroom.

  “Will she be fired?”

  Remorse clouded his dark brown eyes. “Firing is the least of her worries.”

  “She’d never mean any harm. Mrs. Alwright likes being helpful. She hates seeing people going after each other, even through the court—”

  “It’s not her place. She’s not a counselor. Consequences to others overrule good intentions at times.”

  I drew in a sharp breath and gripped the edge of Steve’s desk. His eyes said it all. I wasn’t the only one who was talked out of filing a restraining order against someone. But unlike Darlene and I’s being a ruse, the other person had a valid concern.

  And was now dead.

  I stumbled to my car. Mrs. Alwright wanted to help. How could she have predicted such a horrific event
? I covered my eyes, blocking out the sun and the world. My thoughts spun out of control.

  Question after question. Fact after fact. Belinda had seemed so happy and carefree Saturday. Not like a woman who was afraid of someone. Then again, how did a woman fearing for their life act? No one knew how scared I started becoming of Adam. Everyone saw the hero. The good guy. The officer and the gentlemen. Not the Hyde lurking behind Jekyll.

  Belinda had been a little hesitant at the class but I chalked it up to her having borrowed the class idea from Darlene. Had she been afraid of someone in the class? Someone she expected to take the class? When the fight started, Belinda had pulled back and half-hidden behind her mother. Did Hazel know who her daughter feared?

  If Hazel’s behavior indicated anything, I was the person Belinda feared. I was darn certain I had never threatened Belinda or acted in a hostile manner toward her. Now, if Darlene had wound up dead, I could understand the finger pointing at me.

  My mind drifted toward Leslie Amtower. Had Belinda worried about the possibility of the editor-in-chief of Making Legacies finding out and feared the woman’s reaction? Or did she want to stop the woman from finding out, kind of expecting the blow-up with Darlene, and wanted to keep the woman away by using a restraining order.

  Or hoped a restraining order would keep Darlene away. I had to find out. I reached for the handle of my car and groaned. Tucked up under my windshield was a ticket. Could this day get worse? Scratch that. I didn’t want to know.

  I yanked the ticket from underneath and noticed the license plate number. Not mine. And the date was from two weeks ago. Pen scratches on the reverse side poked through the paper. I flipped it over.

  Seven. Church. Movie night. Be there.

  No one ever attended the movies Pastor Evans showed. The first time the young, hip and trendy pastoral couple had movie night at the church the whole town showed up...then left. We’d assumed it would be one of the usual church movie fares, Fire Proof, Facing the Giants, Flywheel, Courageous, instead it was movies Mrs. Evans made of her husband’s sermons.

  I’d be there all right. If Belinda had a stalker, her cousin would know. Unless the person Belinda feared was Darlene herself. Steve wouldn’t tell me. And Mrs. Alwright had enough trouble closing in around her.

  Before any meeting, I had to do some investigating. Before I involved myself further into the mess with Darlene, I needed to know if Darlene was innocent once and for all. There was no way I wanted to help a murderer.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the store. “Hi Grandma. I’m going to be even later. I have a couple more errands.”

  “Why don’t you just take the day off, honey,” Hope said. “You had such a rough night.”

  I took the excuse offered and ran with it. “You’re right. I’m going pick up some new reading material. Not much in the mood for mysteries right now. I should also explain to Oliver about the damaged books.”

  Hope clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I understand. If Oliver gives you a hard time, let me know. I’ll have a chat with his aunt. And sweetie, I have some samples for a new Christmas line I could drop off tonight.”

  While tempting, I declined the offer. “I have to sort through all my supplies and reorganize. The person made a mess.”

  “I just can’t believe it happened. To think I was home and didn’t hear or see anything.”

  For which I was very thankful. “It probably happened earlier in the day. The person jumped the fence. It’s just things.”

  “Sounds like vindictiveness to me. Deleting your photos. Don’t worry about those, sweetie. Between me, Cheryl and Steve, I’m sure we can replace those.”

  “You’re right. I should have thought about that.”

  Someone tapped on my window. I startled. A uniformed parking authority officer pointed at the meter then made a go-away gesture. “Have to go, Grandma.”

  “You better not be driving and talking to me on your cell, young lady.”

  “No. Never.” I ended the call. I eased away from the curb and headed for the library. This time, I’d use a public computer for researching. If the culprit got back into my house, they wouldn’t be able to figure out what I was up to this time.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Chipped paint from the large columns flanking the library doors decorated the sidewalk. I shuffled my feet on the mat outside the doors in case I picked up a few paint samples.

  A huge sign was taped to the front window of the library. “Turn cell phones off before stepping through this door.”

  One little phone call and the man went crazy about it. I complied with the request. Earning a library degree sure did make Oliver White one grumpy man. I tugged open the door and stepped inside.

  Oliver pointed at me. “Cell phone.”

  “I know how to read.”

  He crossed his gangly arms over his thin chest and scowled. “Hear it all the time.”

  “It’s off. If it rings, call my grandmothers.”

  “Don’t think I won’t young lady.” He wagged his finger at me.

  I stormed over to the counter. Oliver took a step back. I braced my hands on the gray surface.

  “You are five years older than me. Five.” I held out my hand and displayed the number I meant with my fingers. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

  “Well...umm...” He swallowed a few times. “I wasn’t. I talk to everyone like that.”

  “And there’s your problem. Try treating adults like adults and they might not work so hard at annoying you, like keeping cell phones on and calling each other.”

  Of course, adults setting up special obnoxious ring tones just for library use weren’t very adult like. I headed for one of the computers.

  “Sign in.” Oliver held up a clipboard.

  “There’s no one else using them.” The five computers donated by the Gates Foundation were on the starter screen.

  “Rules are rules. Everyone must follow them.”

  I stomped over and scribbled my name down and the time. “Happy?” I thrust the clipboard back at him.

  Oliver smiled. “Yes. Thank you so very much. I hope you enjoyed the books I choose for you.”

  The books. My shoulders slumped forward. “Yeah, about the books...”

  “Let me guess, you dropped them in a puddle.” Oliver shook his head. “Why do people refuse to take care of other people’s items?”

  “I didn’t drop them. Someone broke into my house and destroyed them.”

  Oliver tapped on the keyboard. “Of course. Some criminal forced their way into your house to destroy library books. Must say at least you have an original excuse.”

  The printer hummed. Oliver leaned over and snagged the page from the printer. “Here you go. The cost to replace those books is one hundred and sixty dollars.”

  Was he serious? He expected me to pay for those books? I had a good wage and since my grandmothers didn’t charge me rent, I held my own financially, but not enough to feel an almost two hundred dollar unexpected expense.

  “I was a victim of a crime.”

  “Bring me a copy of the police report and I’ll see what the board members say.” Oliver leaned against the counter, like every ounce of energy drained out of him. “The fact of the matter is those books need to be replaced. Someone will have to pay for them. Our funding has gone down.”

  “Maybe they don’t all have to be replaced.”

  I’m sure Ted would rather the library didn’t have a book encouraging citizens to become private detectives.

  Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

  I shouldn’t have said that. Now Oliver thought I was making up a story to keep the books. If I wasn’t careful, he’d call the police on me for stealing the library’s property.

  “It might be a couple of months.”

  “That’ll be fine. The books are due back in three weeks. Then there’s a month’s grace period before your account will be placed on hold until the bill is paid.”

  I walked over to the com
puters. I’d just have to curtail my scrapbook spending for a few months. I’d rather pay than have the police report passed around the members of the library board.

  I picked the computer furthest from the door and Oliver’s eyes. I glanced over my shoulder. Oliver inspected books he plucked out from the return book bin.

  I was either getting paranoid or a little narcissistic. Everyone in town wasn’t interested in what I was doing or even cared. I typed Leslie Amtower and Making Legacies into the search engine. The first item was the link to the magazine. No dirt I needed there. The next few listings were places selling the magazine.

  Using the mouse, I hit the arrow on the bottom and went to the second page of results. I scrolled down the list. Look at that, a complaint thread about another Life Artist Diva on a scrapbooking message board. Now I was getting somewhere. I clicked.

  Ms. Amtower didn’t do a very good job at picking her divas this year. There was a controversy surrounding another one of the choices for this year’s life artist panel. The rules had stated the photographs used in the projects had to have been taken by the life artist and it seems the new reigning queen had a little help. Unless she had the arm span of Elastigirl. Two of the queen’s layouts showed her getting a mammogram, and another straddling a live alligator.

  I doubted, along with a large numbers of members of this message board community, she took those pictures herself. I found a lot of smoke, so I went on the hunt for the fire.

  An hour later, I had enough flames to create a backfire and stop the plans Leslie Amtower had to destroy Scrap This. I pulled out my cell phone. There were two places in town where Leslie Amtower could be staying. It’s time I arranged a meeting with the woman and found out for certain what she was up to.

  Oliver cleared his throat. The man had a sixth sense when it came to phones. I dumped the history on the computer. Better safe than sorry. I had enough sorry in my life right now, and some of it was running loose around town.

  The old Victorian house converted into a bed-and-breakfast was located at the tip of Eden. A few more feet and you’d be in the next county and state. The house had been spruced up by the owners with an interesting color palette. Unfortunately we didn’t have a thriving historical society and so the vintage house now sported yellow and blue paint, Mountaineer colors.