Cut, Crop and Die

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  Anya stepped to the foot of my bed. She lifted her chin and spoke with patient authority. “No, it’s not, Chief Holmes. You haven’t met these women. Most of them have very busy lives taking care of kids, their husbands, and their homes. Thankless jobs, mostly. You don’t know how important a little recognition is. Or how much effort these ladies put into making beautiful pages. And that particular contest has launched a lot of careers. Hasn’t it, Mom? So, of course the contest was important.”

  That was my girl. A bona fide daughter of a scrapbooker. She knew her stuff, and I was proud of her. I nodded. “Ow.” That hurt.

  Mert put an arm around Anya and added, “That’s the long and short of it, Chief Holmes. Jest because something don’t seem important to you or your cop buddies don’t mean it don’t mean the world to someone else. Besides, it weren’t just that there contest setting old Nettie off. Mainly, it were all about being betrayed by a friend.”

  Chief Holmes shook his head. “If you say so. I’d have never guessed this … this motive. I’ve got to hand it to you, Kiki. You are really something.”

  Sheila’s house was a good place to recover. Linnea loved fussing over me, making me soups and purees, plumping my pillows—a service I’d always read about but never experienced. Gracie and I had our normal “guest” room, but I suspected Sheila now considered it ours because she purchased a dog bed and water bowl that matched the room’s décor. While I was healing, the whole world trooped through my bedroom doors.

  Dodie stopped by to tell me how much she appreciated me solving the mystery and redeeming the good name of the store. Ellen’s lawyer advised her to apologize to us and she did, publicly. Scrapbookers were showing up at Time in a Bottle in droves, praising me for saving lives and wanting “the straight scoop.” The newspaper was full of how Minnie, Johnny, Clancy, and I managed to evacuate Memories First without incident. Dodie also shared her own news—Horace accepted a job in Chicago and would be commuting. I asked about the lump in her breast, but she evaded my question with all the finesse of a bull in the streets of Pamplona. Frankly, I didn’t have the energy to press the issue. My body was covered with bruises, one of my ribs was cracked, and my throat muscles hurt whenever I talked.

  She grinned. “Well, sunshine. I’m planning on your new celebrity status counteracting all that bad P.R. that Ellen heaped on us.”

  Bama came by with a basket full of how-to books. She also brought me a calligraphy kit and coached me in making the letters. The secret is letting the pen turn in your hand. Who’d have guessed? Clancy came by several times. She brought me a book on tape she thought I’d like. It was about an amateur sleuth, and she handed it over with a warning, “Don’t get any bright ideas. That sure was a close call.”

  Ben Novak sent a dozen pink roses. He brought me a book on the history of St. Louis and joined me in a dinner Linnea made for us—and Sheila orchestrated. We ate off trays by candlelight although he joked that he’d checked all the water heaters first. He had steak, and I had soup and other slimy food designed to put minimal stress on my throat. I was embarrassed to think how bad I must have looked. Sheila refused me a hand mirror, and she covered the mirror in my bathroom, so I knew it couldn’t be good. I could feel how puffy my face was and I imagined a lurid purple and green necklace of bruises around my neck. Ben’s expression was not one of disgust, but of admiration. “I can’t believe you. This is the second time you’ve managed to outwit a killer. I mean, I understand about adrenaline, but that—that woman—outweighs you by sixty pounds at least. She had the advantage.”

  “No … I have Anya.”

  He shook his head. “You are amazing.”

  I tried to shrug but it hurt too much. Muscles I’d never met were issuing formal complaints. I said, “A child changes everything.” And I thought someday I might tell him exactly how my child changed my life’s journey.

  “Sheila told me about the rental house in Webster Groves. The owner is Leighton Haversham, an author and a friend of my father’s. Turns out, Leigh has a pug and another pet that occasionally need babysitting while their master is on book tours. If you are interested, the monthly rent can be reduced in return for being on call to watch Petunia and Monroe.” Ben named a negotiated rental fee.

  “Petunia?” I whispered. “Monroe?”

  Ben laughed. “Can you believe it? And Petunia is a he who’s scared spitless of his own shadow. That’s one reason Leigh doesn’t like to leave poor Petunia at the kennel. He comes back sick … as a dog. Monroe is a donkey. I guess it’s hard to find someone to come over and feed Monroe. Is it a deal?”

  As if on cue, Gracie ambled over to stare at my guest. Tentatively, he patted at her, and she leaned against him, before putting her head on the side of my bed. Ben smiled an uneasy smile. Lord knows, the man was trying hard. And Gracie is a good judge of character. She liked him even if he was unsure about her.

  I was thrilled about the author’s offer. It put the converted garage within my budget. All I needed now was deposit money, which I could repay Sheila over time. Ben entertained me with snippets about a program he heard on NPR and an article he read in the New York Times. I liked hearing how his mind worked, and how big his world was.

  As he was leaving, Ben kissed my forehead, and then leaned closer, his lips brushing mine. It wasn’t a kiss so much as a promise. “I’ll be back. I don’t want to tire you out, and we have all the time in the world.”

  Or not, given my ability to attract murderers.

  I should have been delirious with joy. But I wasn’t. I felt mildly depressed.

  Johnny stopped in with a bouquet of white daisies mixed with orange, red, pink, and yellow zinnias. He’d taken Clancy to Riverport once they’d gotten word I was all right. I didn’t mind at all. It was silly for him to waste the tickets—and given his limited resources, that was a lot of money. He talked a mile a minute about the evacuation, Ellen’s wild accusations, the crowd’s initial angry rumblings, and finally their appreciation.

  “I can’t ever forgive myself for not keeping an eye on you. I was so focused on helping everyone else. Mert liked to kill me. And I feel like a real dope that you got hurt. If I’d caught up with that hag before the police did, well …” And he stopped.

  I was left wondering exactly what he might have done. My best friend and her brother both displayed alarming propensities for retribution, a trait I needed to consider more carefully at a future date.

  On the other hand, Johnny’s killer instincts for tracking down moles pleased Sheila to no end. She kept a tally of dead furry bodies with permanent marker on the new scoreboard in her garage. Mr. Sanchez decided to stay on in Mexico indefinitely, clearing the way for Johnny to care for Sheila’s yard in addition to his regular job. “I need to repay Sis for her help with my legal fees from before. The money’s real helpful, and there’s a lot to be done here to get it prettified. A whole lot, if you catch my drift.”

  No doubt. Sheila had pretty much torn up every inch of her grass with her mole removal antics.

  “Listen to this. I found two adult toys planted out there in the lawn! I asked Mrs. Lowenstein about them, and she told me the craziest story.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s awful hard to credit.”

  He too kissed me when he left.

  I know I should have been thrilled. Not one, but two available men were vying for my attention. I was going to move into a nice house in a better neighborhood. TinaB was back to ringing up sales. Bama seemed to have forgiven me.

  But mainly I was sad.

  I stayed at Sheila’s house for a week. I appreciated the visitors, I really did, but I missed more keenly the visitor who didn’t come. The last time I’d suffered trauma like this, Detweiler had been there, sitting beside me for hours. I knew this was for the best, but still … the ache in my heart hurt more than my neck, shoulder, and ribs put together.

  And broken hearts can take forever to mend.

  EPILOGUE

  I WAS LEADING GRACIE into the store when a woman
hopped out of a Subaru and ran toward me. The hairs rose on the back of my neck and my stomach fluttered. Gracie froze, her ears pricked in alert. The killer I’d tracked down was still free, and who knew but that Nettie Klasser had relatives vowing to avenge her? Around my dog’s neck, a ruff of angry fur stood en garde. A low growl rumbled deep in her chest.

  But a second look told me I had nothing to fear.

  It was Brenda Detweiler. She was as rangy as I recalled, and she wore a baseball cap, a golf shirt and jeans, and a clunky pair of Reeboks. Her gait, her awkward walk, was more like that of an adolescent boy than a grown woman.

  “We need to talk,” she said, crossing her arms over her flat chest.

  I hesitated.

  The back door of the store swung open. Dodie appeared there, with a trash bag in hand. She saw us and stopped.

  I sighed and tried to step around Detweiler’s wife. “Not today.” “You don’t know the whole story,” she stepped closer, using her body to intimidate me. I noticed her hands were balled into tight fists. Her T-shirt bore a softball league logo, and her jeans were worn and faded. She spoke more loudly. “I said we need to talk.”

  “Please … not now.” I wasn’t up to a quarrel.

  Dodie took one look at my expression, Gracie’s wary demeanor, and yelled to me, “Kiki? You need help?”

  Brenda passed me, letting her shoulder bump me hard as she moved on. A referee would have called foul, personal contact. “There’s more to this than you know. I’m telling you—” she hissed, “he misses you.”

  I walked away.

  I missed him, too.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ON SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 2009, a man opened fire in a church in Maryland, Illinois. He had been fighting mental illness caused by the bite of a tick infected with Lyme disease. According to the news media, the shooter had taken a variety of medications for the problem, and had developed brain lesions.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The idea for the Scrapbook Stars is based loosely on many scrapbook contests, but the one closest to my heart is “The Best of British Scrapbooking Contest.” I founded it in 2004, and it is now administered by Rosie Waddicor and the terrific folks at ScrapBook inspirations Magazine. Visit them at [http://www.scrapbookinspirationsmagazine.co.uk] http://www.scrapbookinspirationsmagazine.co.uk .

  Kiki and I invite you to bring your family to St. Louis, the gateway to great times and memorable moments. We have so much to offer! Check it out at [http://www.explorestlouis.com] http://www.explorestlouis.com. The Missouri Botanical Garden is more magnificent than I described in this book. Learn more at [http://www.mobot.org] http://www.mobot.org. The Science Center is a terrific free attraction that will amaze you and your kids—and in the summer they do hold camps. Visit them at [http://www.slsc.org] http://www.slsc.org. Opera Theatre of St. Louis continues to create “magic on the Mississippi.” Their website is [http://www.operastl.org] http://www.operastl.org. And no trip to St. Louis would be complete without stopping at Ted Drewes Frozen Custard ( [http://www.teddrewes.com] www.teddrewes.com).

  The whole Archivers’ ScrapFest 2008 Team gets big hugs for their help and enthusiasm in launching Paper, Scissors, Death, the first book in the Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery Series. If you haven’t been to ScrapFest, you’re missing a massive party (go to [http://archiversonline.com] archiversonline.com). Tina Hui of Snapfish, Lara Starr of Mrs. Grossman’s Stickers, Katey Franceschini of ANW Crestwood, and Doug Dvorak of the St. Louis Convention and Visitors Commission have been incredibly generous with their support of this series. Mary Anne Walters and Fi Whittington at UK Scrappers ( [http://ukscrappers.co.uk] ukscrappers.co.uk) put together a super all-mystery virtual crop weekend to tell my UK friends about Kiki Lowenstein.

  Jenn Malzone helps me with contests and email lists. Her dad Gerry Malzone is my graphics go-to guy. Karen DiGasbarro kindly proofed galleys. Pat Sonnett is my queen. Hugs to my best pal, the incomparable Shirley Damsgaard, author of the Ophelia and Abby series, for being on speed-dial. “Casey Daniels” (author of the Pepper Martin series) contributed stories about her dog Oscar, who became Guy in this book.

  Scott Creech from Critter Control has been killing moles in our yard for years. He was very generous with his information, and he’s the guy who caught eight hundred moles in one year! And yes, there really is a donkey in St. Louis named Monroe.

  Kari Murphy was kind enough to loan me her beautiful harlequin Great Dane, Orion, as my stand in for Gracie. Robert George of Robert George Studio and his colleague Martin Schweig were very patient with Orion and me. Okay, Orion was a super-model and I was…a problem.

  Congratulations to Merry Morrison, Raquel V. Reyes, and Mardi Hamilton who won character naming contests. Stacy Czech won the Scrapbooker’s Dream Weekend in St. Louis and brought her pal Marla Lenzen.

  Special thanks to my sisters Jane Campbell and Margaret Campbell-Hutts for looking after me when I needed help last summer.

  As always, I am grateful for the support of my wonderful husband, David Slan, a guy whose logical mind is the perfect complement to my more “out there” thinking.

  Want more Kiki? I know you do! To see samples of her projects, visit my website: [http://www.joannaslan.com] www.joannaslan.com. Sign up there to receive the free quarterly online magazine I share with Kiki. In the magazine we offer contests, freebies, and lots of terrific craft ideas. You’ll find recipes such as Hoosier Daddy Kidney Bean Salad and Snickerdoodles on my website, as well as book club and trivia questions.

  I love hearing from you, so email me at joannaslan@aol.com. Please put “I read your book” in the subject line so I know you aren’t scamming me (I’m just as gullible as Kiki). And finally, if you want to keep up with all things Kiki and receive journaling prompts to help you keep a record of your life, follow me on twitter. Go to [http://www.twitter.com/joannaslan] www.twitter.com/joannaslan.

  Thank you for sharing Kiki and Company with your friends!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Joanna Campbell Slan is the author of Paper, Scissors, Death, the first book in the Kiki Lowenstein Scrap-N-Craft Mystery Series, and an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel. An internationally recognized celebrity in the world of scrapbooking, she’s the founder of “The Best of British Scrapbooking Contest” as well as the author of seven technique books on the subject. Joanna is a frequent contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul Series, and her work appears in a variety of other anthologies. With their son off to college, Joanna and her husband David share their home with two dogs: Victoria, a bichon, and Rafferty, a rescued bichon-poodle mix. Visit her website [http://www.joannaslan.com] www.joannaslan.com for more information on writing and scrapbooking, as well as book club and trivia questions about Kiki Lowenstein and her friends. Follow Joanna on Twitter at [http://www.twitter.com/joannaslan] www.twitter.com/joannaslan and at her blog [http://joannaslan.blogspot.com] http://joannaslan.blogspot.com.

  ——CONTEST——

  Scrapbooker’s Dream Weekend in St. Louis!

  1st Place Prize:

  A Two-night stay at Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park™ Resort ($328 value) next to Six Flags in Eureka, Missouri.

  Enjoy a relaxing stay in a cozy two bedroom resort cottage featuring a fully equipped kitchen, bath, sitting area, and covered dining porch with picnic table. Plus, there’s a grill and fire ring for evenings together around the campfire. Your stay also includes full use of the resort amenities which include a pool, mini-golf, train rides, video arcade, themed events, and more. (Valid through September 27, 2009)

  This prize includes attendance to our weekend crop ($75 value) with Joanna Campbell Slan on August 28th, 29th and 30th that will feature several vendors showing new product and techniques for over 100 croppers. Plus a basket from A Rhyne Design with custom gift items and scrapbook from St. Louis ($250 value).

  Visit [http://www.eurekajellystone.com] www.eurekajellystone.com or [http://www.arhynedesign.com] www.arhynedesign.com for more information or to register for
August’s scrapbooking event with Joanna.

  2nd Place Prize:

  A Rhyne Design gift box with St. Louis “stuff” for your scrapbook

  3rd Place Prize:

  Exciting 12” X 12” Scrapbook Paper Gift Package

  Enter the Drawing to Win !

  To be entered in the Cut, Crop & Die contest, please fill out and mail the form on the next page. Entries must be recieved before July 4, 2009. Winners will be selected in a random drawing on July 10, 2009. Please include your e-mail address, postal address and phone number so that we can notify you!

  Please Photocopy Form and Send to the Address Below:

  Rules:

  Winners will be selected at random. Enter as often as you like. All entries must be received before July 4, 2009.

  • Note: The weekend at Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park Resort may be used anytime prior to September 30, 2009. Attendance to the crop August 28 - 30, 2009 is still included in the package and usage of the cottage that weekend is not manditory.

  • Entering the contest grants us permission to list your name as our winner, to add you to the Joanna Campbell Slan mailing list and to receive information from our sponsors.

  You can duplicate this page, or print out another copy of the page by going to [http://www.joannaslan.com] www.joannaslan.com and clicking on contests. Or copy and mail your entry to: Cut, Crop & Die Contest 12033 Dorsett Avenue

  St. Louis, MO 63043

  YOGI BEAR’S JELLYSTONE PARK RESORT

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  Receive a 15% discount at YOGI BEAR’S JELLYSTONE PARK RESORT in Eureka, MO. Please visit [http://www.eurekajellystone.com] www.eurekajellystone.com and enter the coupon code JCSLAN when making your online reservation or call toll free at 800-861-3020.