Cropped to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  “I don’t believe this!” the blond guy raged. “The cop is trying to pick up that chick.”

  “I just called the Chief.” A woman announced, snapping closed a cell phone.

  “At least she didn’t call my mom.” Roget loosened his grasp. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. Except I don’t know if I like being called a chick.”

  Roget shook his head. “You would decide to get worked up over that. Let me get these people settled down before the Chief arrives.”

  “I’ll just stay here.” I pointed over at my car.

  “You do that.”

  I sat in my car and waited for Detective Roget. In less than ten minutes, he strode toward my car with a leather-covered notebook and flipped it open.

  “The question of the afternoon is why did you stop in the middle of the road?”

  “My cell rang and I answered it…”

  “Distracted by a chat,” Roget interrupted.

  I drew in a deep breath to stop the snark from exiting and to draw in some patience. “Someone called me and said the exact same thing as the threatening call I got last night.”

  “I wished we could’ve done this somewhere else.” I paced around Scrap This break room. I moved so I didn’t explode. Or cry—an even worse reaction. After I mentioned the threat, Roget felt we should move the discussion indoors. If the phone call wasn’t a prank, standing outside with a crowd forming made it dangerous for me.

  Sierra attempted to settle me into a chair. “This is better than going to the police station.”

  “I’d rather face rumors and wagging tongues than cause my grandmothers so much anxiety.” I rubbed my temples.

  “They would’ve found out about this,” Sierra said. “And hearing you were taken to the police station wouldn’t have them less worried.”

  “Sure it would. They’d be mad instead. Ready to tear into me for whatever harebrained scheme I got myself into.”

  “Something they should do.”

  “Thanks for your support,” I snapped.

  “Is that what you want?” Sierra glared at me. “Me telling you it’s okay to be asking questions about a murder? Think about it. What if you find something that points to the murderer? What will you do with that information? Go to the police or keep digging until your positive?”

  “I’ll figure it out when I come to it.”

  Where was Roget? He dropped me off at Scrap This, refusing to let me drive myself, then disappeared after stashing me in the break room. I stomped toward the door. “He could at least hurry so we can get this over with.”

  Leaning out the door, I saw my grandmothers hovering near the beginning of the small hallway. Hope worried her hands together and Cheryl whispered into her ear.

  I closed my eyes, blocking everything out. When they discovered the entire reason for Roget stopping by the store, not just verifying some information about a fender bender, they’d become frantic. Why did I ever let Marilyn talk me into playing detective for her? I wasn’t qualified or even good at it. Every piece of information I found brought more questions rather than answers.

  The bell above the door jingled. I prayed it was Roget. I didn’t know if my nerves could handle a longer wait.

  “What’s going on?” Cheryl asked, her voice growing closer. “Why are you handling a car accident?”

  I pulled myself together and met the entourage at the door. Roget carried a white paper sack and a cardboard container with two coffees. My stomach rumbled.

  Roget held back a grin and placed the bag on the table in. “I was on my lunch break near the scene. No sense trying to track down Officer Jasper when I was already there. I figured if we came here, I could finish up this little report and eat my lunch. If we go to the station, I’d never get a chance to eat.” He smiled at Cheryl. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Hope opened a cabinet above the microwave. “Of course we don’t. Let me get you a plate, it’s better for the digestive system to use one.”

  Grandma Cheryl eyed the detective suspiciously.

  “Is that so?” Roget turned sideways to look at Hope.

  She pulled out a china plate with a gold trim around the edge and put it front of him. “Absolutely. A person usually eats slower from a plate than from a napkin or a wrapper. That alone is a big help.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Roget pulled out three wrapped packages from the bag and put them on the table. He caught my gaze. “I brought extra in case you were hungry. Annabelle makes greats sandwiches.”

  Knowing my grandmothers were watching my manners, I forced out a thank you and picked up one of the sandwiches. Plus, I didn’t want word getting back to Bobbi-Annie’s mom that I turned my nose up at her food. Hope carried over another plate over and put it down.

  “I ran next door and got coffee,” Roget said.

  “Thanks.” This time the word was filled with heartfelt gratitude. The smell of the caffeine improved my mood and cleared my head.

  Roget smiled at my grandmothers, unwrapped one of the sandwiches, and placed it on the plate. “I’ll be done soon and I promise to clean up.”

  My grandmothers stood near the door. Roget remained silent and continued smiling at them. Cheryl crossed her arms and locked gazes with him.

  I wondered who’d budge first.

  Sierra headed for the door. “Is it all right if I go over to the school?”

  “She might need a ride Grandma.”

  Sierra looked at me.

  “Or did Hank get the car fixed?”

  Sierra winked at me. “It’s working fine, but it might be better if you follow me, Cheryl. In case it breaks down again.”

  “I’ll be out front if you need me, Faith.” Hope shut the door behind her.

  Roget and I were left alone in the room. I spun the plate, doing my best to ignore the sandwich and the detective.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Roget said.

  I jerked my gaze up. I wanted to laugh his claim away but I couldn’t force the sound out of my throat. My hands shook and I clamped them together.

  “Faith, I apologize if I’ve done anything to frighten you.” Roget reached across the table then stopped. “I’ve been told I can come across rather abrasive.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not scared of you. It’s just this whole situation has me a little edgy.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?” He took a bite of his sandwich, his full attention on me.

  The unwavering green gaze had nervousness racing through me. “Last night, someone left a message on my machine, ‘you can’t just stop.’ The same thing the person said when I answered my cell in the car.”

  Roget frowned. “Did you report this last night?”

  “No. I thought it was some kid pulling a prank. Or a wrong number.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So, someone left a vaguely threatening message intended for someone else on your phone?”

  “It made sense last night.” Lifting up the top bread, I examined what was inside. Turkey, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise. Using a napkin, I wiped off some of the mayo. “I didn’t think I did anything to make someone that mad. Plus, the message sounded weird.”

  “Weird?”

  “Like someone disguising their voice. And if someone was leaving a threatening call, you’d think they’d block the number.”

  Roget’s eyes widened and he put the sandwich down. “The number is on your caller ID?”

  I nodded. “That’s why I wrote it off last night but…” The air in the room grew colder and goose bumps prickled my flesh.

  The humor left Roget’s expression. “But the call to your cell phone scared you.”

  Tears pooled and seeped from the corners of my eyes.

  Roget offered me a napkin. “Is there anything that happened right before you got either call?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have your cell phone? Maybe they didn’t block the number again.”

  “I think it’s still in my car.�
�� I crossed my arms. “And I’d rather you not look at my personal items.”

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll get your phone and bring it over later. You can then recite the number to me.”

  “And I can trust you because?” I narrow-eyed him.

  “I’ve trusted your word.”

  “Okay.” It was the only response my befuddled mind conjured up.

  Roget gathered up his lunch. “I’ll just finish this back at the station. I think it’ll be better if you could relax a little bit.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stood in the doorway, head cocked to the side, as he studied me for a long moment. He glanced down the hallway then back at me. “Do you use always use the back door when you open and close?”

  Why did he want to know that? “Yes. That’s the employee entrance.”

  He looked out to the front of the store. “That parking lot is hidden from the main road. Are there lights out there?”

  “A few.”

  “What are the store hours?”

  “Ten until seven. Unless we’re having a class, then we’re open until nine or later.”

  He frowned. “Do you have any scheduled this week?”

  “Tonight and tomorrow until ten.”

  His frown deepened and he rubbed the badge clipped at his side. “Don’t like that one bit.”

  “Usually we have two employees on duty for the classes.” A varied number depending on the number of students signed up.

  “It might be best if you park out front for a few days. Just until we figure out what’s going on with these calls.”

  “Probably nothing,” I said.

  Detective Roget nodded. “True. But I’m concerned since you have been nosing around in a police investigation.”

  I tried acting nonchalant. “Why would that mean anything? You believe Marilyn did it. That’s why you arrested her.”

  “That’s the way it looked.” Roget turned and walked down the hallway.

  I watched him go, as my emotions became a mixture of elation and fear. The “but” Roget never said lingered in the air. If he was wrong and Marilyn was innocent, then whoever did do it wasn’t happy about my meddling and would let me know.

  SEVENTEEN

  People stopped in front of the windows of Scrap This and looked at the contest entries displayed. Suspicion wiggled in my gut. Were they interested in the layouts or in spying on me? Three women lingered in front of the crop area, watching as I put together step-by-step samples of different scrapbook techniques. I dusted the chalk off my hands and placed aside the lesson on shading to add dimension. I met the eyes of a spectator and stared back, narrowing my gaze as she continued looking at me. The woman smiled timidly and scurried away.

  Great. That helped our finances.

  I went to the customer service area. I walked behind the counter and pulled out the class attendance sheet for tonight. Two people signed up for the contest crop. Only two. I tapped my nails on the counter. There was a crop scheduled for tomorrow, so I could cancel tonight. But that decision ran the risk of losing two new customers and they did sign up and pay for a two-night class.

  These customers were interested in delving into the competitive side of scrapbooking. The side of the hobby that helped increased our store’s bottom line. I sighed. With our current financial situation—and only two students registered—having two employees teaching tonight was out of the question.

  The phone rang and I snagged the receiver. “Scrap This. How can I help you?”

  “How are you feeling?” Sierra’s frustrated voice filtered through the line. I heard the rowdiness of the Hooligans in the background.

  “Good.” As long as I didn’t look at the accounts receivables or our class list.

  “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you. Things have been stressful lately. The car incident with Hank and now I’m dealing with my three aspiring juvenile delinquents.” There was a slight pause. “Yes, I’m talking about the three of you.”

  “The school issue was big one?”

  “It depended on who was speaking. The principal thinks it’s harmless fun gone slightly overboard, the teacher and vice-principal find it invasive and problematic. They’ve enforced community service at the school tonight and Hank just got an interview also for tonight, so…” Sierra’s regret came through loud and clear.

  “You need to take tonight off.”

  She made a noise of agreement. “If either set of grandparents takes the boys to the school, they’d end up doing most of the work rather than the boys. The boys really need to learn this lesson. Lord knows I don’t want them pulling a ‘prank’ one day that ticks off an employer and gets them fired. I keep telling them, someone always sees. But I’m just their mother, I don’t know anything.”

  “You go monitor your community service team and I’ll handle the store alone.”

  “Maybe Linda is available.”

  “It’s only three hours until regular closing time and it’s not like business is hopping.”

  “It could get busy, and you had a rough afternoon. You really should have someone with you just in case you feel sick.”

  “I’ll be fine. It was a minor car accident.” Why did everyone want to blow it out of proportion? Okay, I had been a little rattled by the phone call. And a little disoriented after having my forehead collide with the steering wheel, but those were normal reactions and ended a while ago.

  Sierra let out a defeated sigh. “Okay. You know your grandmothers better than I do. I’m sure they won’t mind leaving you there alone after your accident.”

  She used the biggest threat of all: calling my grandmothers. They would insist on canceling the class, which we couldn’t afford, or one of them working with me. Something I couldn’t afford. I didn’t want my potential stalker hurting them instead of me. I needed them safely at home.

  If I called Linda to come in, I could get her to leave after the normal working hours. She wouldn’t insist on staying and hanging around for the crop class. “Fine. I’ll call Linda.”

  Sierra signed off with a triumphant snicker. I dialed Linda’s home, and receiving no answer, tried her cell. She answered on the first ring. After hearing about our scheduling crisis, she said she’d come right in.

  With the store empty, I ran back to the office to let Hope know of the scheduling shift. Pushing open the door to the office, I stopped in my tracks. The ledger and scattered papers took up the entire space of the desktop. Numbers filled the computer monitor.

  Hope knelt on the floor beside the desk, hands clasped, eyes closed while her lips moved in a silent prayer. I hovered in the doorway, torn between interrupting her private time with God and letting her know Sierra needed the day off. Her time with God should come first. I eased the door shut.

  “Faith, is everything okay?” Hope placed her hand on the back of the chair and stood. She pushed a crumbled sheet of paper under the desk with her foot.

  “Yep. I just wanted to tell you Sierra can’t make it back today. I called Linda and she’s going to fill in.”

  Hope frowned. “Is everything okay with Sierra?”

  “The boys have required clean up at the school and Hank has an interview so can’t take them.”

  “That might be for the best. Hank would more likely find some more rowdiness for the boys to participate in.” She offered a strain smile. Stress deepened the lines around her eyes and mouth. “I’m going to finish balancing the accounts, then call it a day.”

  “Are you okay, Grandma?” I asked, even though I knew she’d say yes.

  “I’m fine. Just tired.” Again the tense smile. “I stayed up late last night. Working on layouts.”

  Doubt reared its ugly head at my grandmother’s words. I offered my own fake smile. “That’s great. I’d love to see your new pages.”

  Hope hustled me out the office. “Maybe tomorrow. They’re not quite the way I want them. I think one layout in particular still needs a little more pop.” She closed the door behind me
, ending the conversation.

  I wanted to push the issue, but my grandmother avoiding me worked to my benefit. Since Hope and Cheryl shared a car, they’d both leave at closing. Not the way I’d plan getting them home, but it worked.

  The doorbell jingled. I jogged into the shopping area of the store.

  Linda rushed to the counter, smiling at me. “I’m here, Faith. You can finish getting ready for the crop. I can handle the register and help anyone on the floor.”

  Sierra’s plan of calling Linda offered a benefit I never contemplated. Needing Linda’s help blossomed a confidence in the older woman I’d never seen. Her normal disposition had a gloomy air, not surprising since her beloved husband passed away. Loneliness after experiencing years of devoted love had to be a hard emotion to shake. A person knew exactly what they were missing in life.

  “Thanks for coming so quickly.” I leaned across the counter and picked up the class supply list. “It shouldn’t take me long to pull together some items for tonight. I also want to do one more sample board. I figured I’d do one showing how just choosing a different shape for a brad adds a new look to a layout.”

  “Take your time. And if anyone brings in an entry?”

  “You can just leave it on the counter. I’ll put it on the display board after I’m done with the crop prep.”

  A frown started to develop on Linda’s face, but she stopped it. “Sure. I’ll put them on the shelf underneath the counter.”

  “By the way, did ever find your layout?” I asked.

  Linda pressed her lips together and tears surged into her eyes. I took that as a no and dropped the topic.

  The door bounced opened and the bell went crazy. Dianne stomped into the store and jammed her hands against her hips. “Young lady, were you planning on keeping my machine hostage?”

  I groaned. In the excitement of the fender-bender, I forgot to give Dianne her replacement cappuccino maker.

  “You did get it from the supplier in Morgantown?” She frowned. “Or did you forget? Please, Faith, tell me you didn’t leave it there.”

  I shook my head and the motion made me dizzy. I reached out and took hold of the edge of the counter. The feeling passed quickly but not fast enough Dianne and Linda didn’t notice.