I understood supporting the “local” college team but not by defacing a house. It was easy for travelers to find and did bring in some tourists. Fans loved staying in the house filled to the rafters with WVU memorabilia.
I had to park on the street as the driveway was full. Four cars crowded the tiny space. I hated walking into the temporary territory of the enemy. When one wanted to interrogate a suspect, and wasn’t a police officer, they had to accept the meeting place the might-be guilty insisted on.
Leslie sat on the bright yellow porch swing. She stood when my foot hit the first step. She clutched the ends of a cream shawl and shrugged it back onto her shoulders. Tendrils of her blonde hair escaped from its high ponytail. “The game room is free to use.”
“Why don’t we go up to your room?”
“So you can leave something incriminating behind and have one of your boyfriends come look for it? Just because I’m not a resident, don’t think I haven’t heard about your affairs with the homicide detective and the assistant prosecutor.”
So, my dating two men, which I wasn’t doing, had been upgraded by someone to actual affairs. I hoped this piece of gossip slipped right pass my grandmothers’ ears and the members of our church. Maybe I should offer to put together the next newsletter to make sure I’m not in the “pray for” section.
The door closed behind Leslie with a resounding bang. I guess I knew how she felt about this meeting. I opened the door and headed for the game room.
Two pair of eyes peeked from around the corner. Jill and Ed hid behind the wall separating the foyer from the main part of the house. Their eyes widened. Whispers exchanged fast and furious between them. I clasped my hands together and sent them a beseeching look. Please, please don’t tell my grandmothers.
They zipped their lips. It would cost me, but whatever price I’d gladly pay. I strolled into the game room. My breath hitched in my throat. Sweat coated my hands. What was she doing here?
Karen smiled and gestured at a seat across from her and Leslie. The plan had switched. I was becoming the subject of interrogation. Not for long.
I took my place, then made a production of arranging notes and a pen in front of me. “Interesting friends you’ve made, Leslie.”
“Same could be said for you,” Karen said. “You and Darlene sure are chummy.”
I shrugged. “You know the saying. Keep your friends close and enemies closer. What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t need an excuse, Faith.” Karen smiled, a sly I-got-you smile that crept along my skin and burrowed into my nerves. “My job in this town is reporting news. The woman who found the body of Belinda Watson and is now demanding a meeting with the editor of Making Legacies, is news.”
It looked like I should’ve worried about more than the church news. Most people folded it into a fan or a tool to swat misbehaving children. The town newspaper was read from cover to cover. It took every ounce of will power not to squirm on the wooden dining chair.
Leslie tipped her chin up and raised her brows, “I got you” the look said. Well, I wasn’t the only one caught.
“Considering she’s trying to slander Scrap This, my grandmothers, and me, I have every reason to want the air cleared between us.”
“I don’t have anything against your grandmothers.”
Interesting. She omitted my name.
Karen jotted down the comment.
“What do you have against me?” I asked.
“Slandering my name all over message boards. Conspiring with Belinda and running this ruse on my magazine. You’re out to destroy Making Legacies.”
“I didn’t post anything about the incident at Scrap This. Why would I? It would hurt our store as much as your magazine.”
Karen tapped the end of her pen against her plum colored lips. “Faith has a point, Leslie. Why would she want people thinking she not only scammed you but her customers? If she knew Belinda was a fraud and had her teaching, it would destroy a portion of their business.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s thinking about starting her own scrapbook magazine.” Leslie shot a triumphant look.
Karen’s pen paused above her paper.
“And why would you think that?” Had she been in the library when I asked Oliver? Or had he told her? It would’ve been more proof she broke into my house but none of the books I checked out were about magazine publishing.
“So, you’re not going to deny it.” Leslie settled back in her chair. “Hazel knew you put Belinda up to it.”
“I have no intentions of starting a magazine.” I crossed my arms. “It just seems strange you’d jump to that conclusion. Doesn’t it seem like an odd thought to pop into someone’s head?”
Karen shrugged.
Thanks for the help.
Leslie squirmed. “It doesn’t matter where or whom I heard it from.”
“Of course it does.” I slapped my palms on the table. “You’re accusing me of being involved in Belinda’s death.”
“The police are going to agree with Faith.” Karen finally went to bat for me. “Why would you think she set out to destroy your magazine because she wants to run one herself? And how would she do it without capital?”
“Some people’s decisions make no sense,” Leslie said, her cheeks turning bright pink.
I think the woman realized she listened to the wrong person. I went in for the slam dunk, or home run, whatever it was called. “Like thinking scrapbookers wouldn’t figure out a woman couldn’t take a picture of herself getting a mammogram or riding an alligator?”
“Are you kidding me?” Karen’s pen slipped from her fingers.
Leslie sputtered and turned at least four hues of red, the last one the most unbecoming with her blue eyes and blonde hair.
“Nope.” I slid a print out of the rules of the Diva contest and the thread I discovered toward Karen.
Leslie snatched them up and tore them into confetti.
“I can print them out again,” I said.
“How dare you!”
“You started this. You accused me of deceiving you when you’ve been deceiving everyone in the scrapbook world. Just wait until they find out.”
Karen scribbled away on her paper.
“Stop writing!” Leslie grabbed at Karen’s paper.
“Touch it, lady, and you’re going down.” The anger and determination in Karen’s voice put a quick and sudden stop to Leslie’s grabby hands.
“You just wait, Faith Hunter. You won’t get away with this.”
“You’re threatening me.” I rose. Bracing my hands on the table, I leaned toward Leslie. I dropped a flash drive into Karen’s open purse. “Are you and your smelly goon going to break into my house again? For your information, I made a couple of copies of the information and have been leaving them with people.”
“What are you rambling about?” Leslie sputtered.
“You thought erasing my hard drive and stealing all my memory cards would make the truth disappear. What’s on a message board, never just stays on a message board. It ain’t Vegas.”
“She’s accusing me of a crime.” Leslie nudged Karen. “You heard her. That’s slander.”
“Not when it’s the truth. You and the smelly goon trashed my house and stole my memories.” I pointed a shaking finger at Leslie. “You won’t get away with it.”
“Faith, take it easy,” Karen spoke softly, resting a hand on my arm. “I brought a friend with me. A picture is worth a thousand words.”
I spotted Leonard the photographer holding his camera toward his face. Karen shook her head and made a cut motion in the air. Leonard lowered the camera.
“I won’t stand here any longer and be accused of crimes. You’ll hear from my lawyer.” Leslie spun on her heels and rushed out of the game room.
My harsh breathing was the only sound in the room.
“I’m sure you know a good lawyer or two.” Karen smiled and gathered up her stuff. “Don’t worry about her.”
“I’m not,”
I lied.
“If what you said pans out, her lawyer will advise her to keep her mouth shut.”
“It will.”
“Photos were stolen from your house.” Karen’s tone was ambiguous. I wasn’t sure if she asked a question or made a statement.
“Annoying but nothing irreplaceable,” I lied again. “My grandmothers have duplicates of most of the pictures I took.”
I decided to return a kindness and not mention Steve.
“Kind of creepy to take someone’s family portraits and stuff.”
“They wanted to make sure I didn’t have a copy of a message board thread. They missed one.”
“You should tell Detective Roget what happened here.”
I snorted out a laugh. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
“He’ll find out.” Karen pointed at the ceiling. Above us were the bedrooms. “Better coming from you.”
“You’re right.” Darn it all. What was this week coming to? Agreeing with Karen, and working with Darlene. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” Karen hitched the strap of her purse onto her shoulder.
“Why did you stop Leonard from taking a photo?”
“Because I like her even less than I like you.”
TWENTY-TWO
Tugging my coat tighter around my body, I exited the warmth of my car into the cold night. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since this morning. I’d rather have been inside my nice warm house scrapbooking with Sierra. She asked about having a cropping session tonight. I wanted to work on mending the fence between us. Instead, I told her I had plans. Vague plans. Plans so vague she now thought I was mad at her.
I hated hurting her. This whole clandestine meeting stuff was getting real old. Darlene better spill out her plan or I’d be in jail for assault and battery. I’d even make the phone call to Ted.
Even wearing a t-shirt, hoodie, and a winter coat the wind snuck inside. Its cold fingers chilled my spine and head. I should’ve listened to my grandmothers and wore a hat, or even better, stayed home. They thought I was going on a date with Steve. At least with them, my non-answers pointed me in the direction of a man instead of looking for trouble.
Or at least so far. If they saw Steve come home, I’d be in for it.
A large vehicle hummed in the parking lot of the church. Its lights were off so all I saw was a dark outline of the vehicle, but the visor light allowed me to see the beady eyes peering over the steering wheel. Hazel.
I contemplated waving but decided toying with the grieving mother wasn’t a wise move. She wasn’t hurting anyone sitting there so I’d let her be. Plus, calling the cops put a little knot in the plans of having a secret summit with Darlene. Kind of hard to have a clandestine meeting when the cops are sent to the location. And knowing my luck, Ted would be the one showing up.
I’d rather take my chances with Hazel.
I opened the door leading into the sanctuary. Darkness met me. Feeling my way along the wall, I scooted down the aisle. If Pastor Evans started the movie from the balcony instead of his office using his remote access, one could actually see, instead of Marco Polo-ing it without the benefit of a caller toward a seat.
Pastor Evans might not have expected anyone to come. The reason he didn’t sit in the balcony any longer was to avoid hurt feelings and spending another Sunday giving a sermon about supporting ministries.
I banged my knee into a pew and sucked back the curse wanting loose.
“You could just use your cell phone,” Darlene’s voice weaved through the darkness.
“Oh shut up.” I yanked out my phone and walked to the front.
“Aren’t we in a pleasant mood?”
“I vetoed a crop date, made up an excuse to my grandmothers, and had to walk through the cold. Now, I have to sit through whatever lame movie Pastor Evans picked.”
“We don’t have to stay and watch the movie.”
“Good. Let’s get this over before someone comes in.”
“No one ever comes.”
“We did.”
“I don’t need your help,” Darlene’s voice rose. “If you want to be snippy, go home.”
“In your dreams.” I whispered harshly. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d have nothing to go on.”
“Fine. You find out who killed Belinda, since you’re the one with all the knowledge. No reason to involve me.”
“I don’t want you involved. You wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“What is your problem?” Darlene shifted. The light from the movie flickered over her face. “What did Steve say to you after I left?”
Did I now doubt Darlene’s innocence because of what I learned from Steve? Or was I feeling guilty about using people to get to the truth? I lied to my friend. I lied to my grandmothers. I’ve been lying—withholding information—from Steve and Ted. In the back of my mind, I wondered if Darlene was lying to me.
Time to ferret out the truth. “Belinda was scared about someone. Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Belinda had gone to the courthouse to get a restraining order.”
Darlene shook her head rapidly. “I would’ve known. Belinda would’ve told me.”
“You didn’t know.” I kept my words neutral, not a statement nor a question.
“It’s a misunderstanding. Belinda wanted to be a mystery writer. She wasn’t the best with design principles, but her journaling skills were fantastic. It’s why we were working on my mom’s cruise album together and I let her have those pages. She’d be able to tell the stories like we were currently living the experience rather than just reading it.”
Darlene’s words grew softer. Grief laced her words. My heart ached for the woman. She lost her cousin and the police seemed no closer to finding the murderer. Their best suspect was her.
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“One thing I know about my family is we don’t keep things quiet.”
“Belinda did about submitting your layouts,” I said.
Darlene opened her pocket book and pulled out a set of keys. “Tomorrow we’re going to Belinda’s house. We’ll find out who’s right about the restraining order. Either she was scared about someone and kept it a secret or she progressed on her novel.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” So far, we hadn’t really done anything to interfere in the police investigation, but searching a house didn’t just have us crossing the line, it had us picking up the line and waving it in Ted’s face.
“It’s our only chance at finding out the why so we can find out who killed Belinda.”
“If we get caught?”
“We won’t.”
Cold swept into the sanctuary. I turned, assuming Darlene had a matching deer in headlights look plastered on her face.
Ted strolled down the aisle, a small Maglite lighting his way.
Darlene sidled up to me. “If it wasn’t me Belinda wanted a restraining order against, it was her mother. And Hazel is laying the groundwork for it being either me, you, or both of us who killed Belinda.”
I gaped at Darlene. “Hazel,” I hissed. Maybe I should be a little more concerned about Hazel popping up every time I turned around. Of course, if she suspected Darlene, she might be hanging around to protect me.
No. It was more likely she thought I was a murderer.
“Who else is in her life?” Darlene faced forward. “Me, her mother, and her aunt Eliza. My mother has a solid alibi. She’s on the same bowling team as the head prosecutor and the Evans’.”
“Meet me at the store.” I yanked my coat on and stood. It was getting a little too crowded in here.
“My house. Too many people care about what you’re doing.”
“You ladies didn’t come to watch the movie.” Ted settled into the pew behind us.
“Of course, I’m just cold. It’s freezing in here.” I sat back down. Did Hazel rat us out? I could ask Ted, but that also fell into the arena of not a g
ood idea.
I folded my arms against my chest. Pastor Evans flashed onto the screen. His voice boomed as he recited the Christmas Story. A banshee scream had the three audience members doing a little hop into the air. The Hooligans, one by one, launched themselves from the balcony.
The faux angel wings did little to stop the plummet. Sierra’s angry scream drowned out the pastor. Hank, Wyatt, and Wayne rushed forward to catch the falling angels.
Last year’s Christmas play gone haywire. We warned the pastor not to cast the Hooligans in a role that told them they could fly. I texted Sierra. Bring your men! Christmas play showing tonight. They’d love this movie.
Darlene elbowed me. “No texting in church.”
Bring snacks. Yeah, like texting in church was the real worry of the night. Why Ted showed up while we were here was a bigger concern. Followed by how we’d get out of this. I doubted Ted would believe Darlene and I just happened to show up tonight and decided to sit next to each other. Especially since there was a plethora of pews to choose.
The Christmas play was now at the moment of the shouting match between Pastor Evans and Sierra. The pastor had accidentally referred to Harold, Henry, and Howard out loud by their town nickname. The boys heard none of it as they had now turned their roles of “falling” angels to avenging angels and stabbing at the parishioners with their cardboard swords.
Another thing Pastor Evans was advised against doing. Play swords and rowdy boys were always a bad mix.
“Start it over! Start it over!”
I, and the two other people in the sanctuary, heard the Hooligans before the door was yanked open. Sneakered feet thundered down the aisle and I braced myself for having a child, or three, jump on me. The Hooligans believed in full out body contact greetings.
“I’d move over if I was you,” I whispered to Darlene.
For once in her life, she complied without argument. She probably guessed where the Hooligans planned their attack.
Designed to Death Page 20
