“It doesn’t make any sense.” Marilyn fiddled with the cardstock in the racks, arranging and rearranging the colors.
I agreed. Felicity’s admission took everyone by surprise, especially Ted and Chief Moore, who hadn’t known what to do with the determined woman.
“I don’t know what she was thinking,” Marilyn continued. “I did my damnedest to get out when I was thrown in jail, and she told Detective Roget to lock her up.”
“Maybe she’s guilty. I mean, she had tried to burn Made With Love earlier that day,” I said.
“Then why wait to say something until yesterday?”
I divvied the change into the correct slots in the register. “Maybe her conscience got the better of her. If I was hiding something and other people were getting hurt because of it, I’d confess too.”
“Burning a man to death doesn’t seem like something Felicity would do. She’s such a soft-spoken, tender-hearted woman.”
The curtain separating the store from the storage room fluttered. I watched the curtain, nervousness racing through me. The air conditioning wasn’t on, so there was no reason for it to move. Fingertips wrapped around the curtain. My grandmothers said they’d come in at noon, and Sierra wasn’t scheduled to work today. Who had entered through the back, and how? Did I forget to shut the back door?
I grabbed a pair of sharp-tipped scissors from the wall and ripped open the package. “I think we have an intruder.”
“Who’s there?” Marilyn called out, picking up the phone receiver at the front counter.
Great idea, give them a warning. The curtain opened, and my grandmothers stepped into the store. I placed the scissors down as my heart rate returned to normal.
“We didn’t expect you so early.” Marilyn hung up the phone.
“After Felicity’s arrest, we figured the store would be busy today,” Hope said.
“Gossip is what they came for, not scrapbook shopping,” Marilyn said.
Mrs. Barlow stood in front of the glass window with a decorated container embraced in her arms.
Now what was going on?
“She’s here to ask you to put out a collection jar,” Cheryl said.
“What?” I exchanged a confused glance with Marilyn.
“Didn’t you read the paper?” Hope typed the password into the register.
I shook my head. For once, I deliberately avoided it. The pictures on the front page said all I wanted to know.
“Karen England wrote there’s a fund being started for Felicity Sullivan’s legal expenses. There’s been some site set up to take donations,” Hope said.
Cheryl crossed the room, flipped over the sign, and unlocked the door.
“Welcome to Scrap This. Please let us help you fulfill your crafting needs.”
Women spread out across the room.
“Here you go.” Mrs. Barlow banged the container onto the counter. “The church is collecting money to set up a scholarship fund for Brandon. Poor boy. Paralyzed in a car accident, and now his mother is going to the pokey.”
“Technically, she’ll be arraigned for a trial first. Prison comes later,” I said.
Mrs. Barlow didn’t look amused by my correction.
“I’ll put in the first donation.” Marilyn took ten dollars from her wallet and dropped it into the slot.
A nice-looking man with short cropped blond hair hovered around the front sale table. In one hand, he carried a leather case the size and thickness of a children’s chapter book, in the other he held a pack of stickers. He tapped the package on the edge of the table, then put it down. A few minutes later, he picked it up again and placed it back onto the pile. Either he needed a lot of help with picking up something for the scrapbooker in his life, or he was here for an entirely different reason.
“Hi, I’m Faith. Can I help you?”
“Faith Hunter?” He opened the leather case covering his tablet.
“Yes.”
“Then you can.” He pulled out a business card and held it out to me.
Charlie Powell, Investigator, Full Life Insurance Agency.
“Dawn Carr requested I speak with you. She said you could clarify, and also confirm, much of what she has told me.” He unclipped a stylus from the side of the cover and tapped away on the large screen. “According to Mrs. Carr, you were not only present when the fire started at Made With Love, but also when the arsonist confessed to killing Chad Carr.”
All other private conversations in Scrap This ceased.
“That’s not quite the way I’d word it,” I said.
“Then how would you?” He stopped tapping and sighed. “I don’t have all day.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to have this conversation in private?”
The women in the store became louder, but they weren’t fooling me. They were making an attempt at background noise so the investigator and I would think it was safe to chat again.
“Yes, I think you’re right. How about we take a field trip?”
“Fine with me, as long as we take separate cars.” I’d nosed around enough in investigations to know it wasn’t smart to get into a car with a stranger. A printed business card was not proper identification.
Seeing the charred remains of Made With Love in broad daylight made me want to cry. The grass was dead around the building, leaving a burnt circle that formed a boundary more menacing and heartbreaking than the yellow crime scene tape the police strung across the remaining trees. Half of the building remained partially upright, held up by two scorched and leaning support beams. I didn’t know if it was memories of the night or the slight wind that tinged the air with the smell of smoke.
Staring at the ground, Charlie walked around the area, taking notes and pictures on his tablet. There was a scorch mark on the ground he took particular interest in. It looked like it went around the entire area where Made With Love had been.
“Do the police know we’re here?” I walked up the hill to the burnt remains of Made With Love, doing my best not to step on anything Ted might claim was evidence.
Charlie flipped the case closed on his tablet. “They know I’m in town talking to possible witnesses. I want to know where you were standing Friday so I can get the best picture of that night in my head. There are some details I do not quite understand.”
“I don’t know how much I can help. When I arrived, the police and fire department were here and had most of the area blocked off.”
“I’m talking about earlier that day. When,” he opened the case and tapped on his tablet, “Mrs. Sullivan threatened to, and then did, set the building on fire. Mrs. Carr told me you had a front-and-center view of the whole incident, and I could trust you to be forthcoming with information.”
“That was an accident.”
“An accident?”
I kept it short, making sure I only told him what I saw without adding any elaborations or unneeded details. I was sure all the investigator wanted was the facts of what went down, not the commentary.
Without looking down, Charlie tapped the stylus on the virtual keyboard on the tablet. I hoped the man was getting everything down correctly. One small mistake in his note-taking could mean Dawn went to jail for fraud rather than receiving an insurance check. “The night before, there was also a fire at a flower shop and a pawnshop. Has there been any talk about those being the work of an arsonist?”
I frowned. Why would he ask that? “No. Most people are blaming it on the football team not putting their bonfires out properly.”
“Has the community done anything to curb this activity?” Charlie asked.
“Not that I’m aware of.” If it was the bonfire, would the kids be responsible for Chad Carr’s death? Was that why Felicity confessed? Had Brandon been there?
“I’ll do a little checking on that
.”
“Karen England, the reporter who handles the big stories in town, might have more information.”
He jotted down the name.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. I can’t promise I can answer it.”
“Why do you need to know where Felicity was standing Friday afternoon? Felicity confessed. Doesn’t that prove Dawn had nothing to do with the fire and her husband’s death?”
“No. There’s a very peculiar trail of money, and,” he glanced at the mark on the ground again, “some things that aren’t quite adding up. There are two points of origin which makes this scene a little confusing, and neither of them was where the fire you witnessed occurred. And then there’s the circle around the building.”
“Point of origin?”
“Two places where the fire burned hottest. Those spots are where the fire was born.”
“And neither was near the front door?” I indicated where the scarf rack had been.
“No. One was in the back of the building, and the other outside.” He walked closer to the woods and indicated a patch of ground. “Felicity Sullivan insists the earlier fire wasn’t put out all the way. She says she saw some tiny embers glowing under a wooden quilt rack, and tugged the quilt on display down to hide it.”
What quilt? I conjured up the room. It wasn’t in my memory.
A few feet away large rocks, blackened by soot and scorch marks, were in a semi-circle. Some teens had been at Made With Love that night, though they were leaving when I arrived. Had they started a bonfire and abandoned it without ensuring it was put out?
“You know an awful lot about fires,” I said.
A sad smile crossed his face.
“My first job was being a firefighter, and I also helped with arson investigations.”
“Too much stress?”
“Injured on the job.” He gently patted the side of his head. “Part of a building caved and I was trapped inside. I took a hard blow to the head when a beam collapsed, and my lungs were damaged. I can’t go into a fire anymore, and I’m not physically fit for the police force.”
“I’m sorry. It had to be devastating, giving up your dream job because of an injury.”
“Sometimes you have to find a way to tweak a dream to fit into your life.”
“I had something happen that also diverted my original life plans, so I know how it can hurt.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up, Miss Hunter?”
I laughed. “I think I still have some growing up to do. My dream was to become a lawyer to help the downtrodden and put criminals behind bars. We didn’t have the money for me to go to college, so I joined the Army and figured I’d go to school once I got out. Life made me change those plans.”
He nodded. “It’ll do that sometimes. Though you are doing it, in a way. You did help bring some murderers to justice, or at least that’s what Mrs. Carr told me.”
True. It wasn’t the way I had originally planned, but I was fulfilling my dreams. The last words I heard Chad speak played in my head. An idea took shape. It was kind of out there, yet still possible.
“What if Carr set the fire himself? If he was going to burn the building down, that would’ve been the perfect night. I overhead him talking to someone. He said it had to be done that night. Maybe he meant burning down the store.” Could the insurance money, not selling the synthetic marijuana, be the way Chad planned on having financial security for his family?
“You might be onto something, Miss Hunter. The hang-up for me is how would the man receive the insurance money? He’d be dead. Thank you for your time. I’m going to head over to the fire station and have a chat with the chief about these bonfires. We insure a lot of businesses in this area, and our company will go under if we keep getting three claims a week.”
While he went to talk to the fire chief, I’d stop by the nursing home and find out if anyone else overheard Chad saying something to Lucy.
FIFTEEN
The assisted living facility where Dawn’s mother lived was located three miles from the hospital on the south side of Eden. One of the recent improvements in Eden was creating a direct road from the facility to the hospital and allocating a budget for a paramedic to be on staff, allowing the health care workers the option to transport residents themselves. I took a spot at the far of the end of the lot, leaving the closest ones for family members.
I had texted Nancy before I headed over. She met me by the front door with a visitor’s badge and an illustrated map of the grounds.
“Everything going okay at work?” I asked, accepting the items.
Nancy adjusted the stethoscope draped around her neck. “The powers that be are discussing what the consequences will be for us breaking the rules.”
“I hoped they’d let it go since allowing Dawn to stay helped her mom.”
“Management is concerned that when the word gets out, other family members will be upset they weren’t granted the same benefit. They have to do something to prove nurses broke a rule rather than treated other patients unfavorably. They’re keeping me on duty until I give them the names. They know they won’t have any leverage if they fire me now.” Nancy held the door open for me.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I knew the consequences and felt it was worth it,” Nancy said. “Because of the schedule, they know I wasn’t the only one. No one will step up and say they agreed to let Dawn stay, and I won’t tattle on any of my coworkers. Don’t be surprised if the nurses won’t speak with you. My job might still be jeopardy, and no one wants to risk theirs.”
“Is Dawn here this morning? She’d know who her mom’s friends were.” Maybe one of the friends or their relatives overheard Chad, not quite realizing what he was talking about.
“Yes. They spend most of their time in the gardens or library.”
When I walked into the building, I tried getting the attention of a few nurses. The ones I passed refused to meet my gaze, either busying themselves by pretending to read notes on a clipboard or entering a room.
I ventured outside, stepping into one of the most beautiful gardens I’d ever seen. The two-acre garden was enclosed on all sides by hedge bushes, and beyond them was a ten foot-tall wire fence. The centerpiece of the garden was a three-tiered fountain with a statue of an angel at the top, gurgling water cascading down the side. A decorative rock border encircled the fountain, keeping residents and guests from getting close enough to fall in.
The map showed that the garden was divided into four sections: rose, butterfly, fairy, and vegetable. The fairy garden intrigued me, so I opted to check it first for Dawn and her mother. The little homes were made from wood, moss, and rocks. Tiny roses were blooming in a small garden behind the cottage-style fairy house. I knelt down to inspect the inside; there was a dining table, chair and a recliner, all made out of twigs. A small crystal fireplace had a tiny mosaic painting hanging over it.
From the rose section, I heard off-key singing accompanied by a guttural hum. I followed the voices to a section filled with a smattering of red, white, and pink roses. Dawn smoothed hair from her mother’s brow. The frail woman sat half-slumped over in the wheelchair, lips drooping on the sides, hands curled in her lap on top of a rainbow-colored afghan. The woman’s eyes were bright blue, her silver hair styled in elegant waves around her face.
“It’ll be all right, Mama,” Dawn said. “Everything will work out.”
Dawn’s mother lifted her curled arm toward her chest.
“Let me fix that for you.” Dawn rearranged the bright blue scarf draped around her mother’s shoulders. “I know you love having some color around your face. You’re such a fashionista.”
Her mother made a low keening sound and rested her head on Dawn’s stomach. Dawn wrapped her arms around her mother and rocked her back and
forth.
“Love is all we need,” Dawn sang.
The tenderness Dawn showed her mother tugged at my heart. I retreated a few yards from the rose garden and called out for Dawn, not wanting her to know I’d intruded on their private moment.
“Hi, Dawn.” I turned the corner and headed for Dawn and her mother. “This garden is a small piece of heaven. The facilities here are lovely and peaceful.”
“I doubt you’re here to check the place out for your grandmothers.” Dawn gripped the handles of the wheelchair. “What do you want?”
Now that I was here, I felt bad about questioning Dawn in front of her ailing mother. There was no reason to upset the poor woman. “I need to ask you a question. In private.”
Lucy uttered a sad moan.
“No,” Dawn said. “We can do it here. My mom knows everything already. She thought I was making bad choices.”
Tears filled the older woman’s eyes.
Dawn pulled a handkerchief from a quilted pouch hung from the handles of the wheelchair and wiped her mother’s eyes. “Nancy told me what she told you. We were desperate for money, but I still can’t believe my husband would sell drugs to teenagers. I know he bought potpourri, but that was it. We had it out in the open. I swear I don’t know how that stuff got under our store.”
“Is it possible Chad was talking about setting the store on fire? Not selling drugs?” I asked.
Lucy rocked back and forth in the chair.
“How could you think such a thing?”
“Were you selling the building? Was oil discovered? There had to be a reason Chad knew your money troubles were over.”
Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) Page 14
