Cropped to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  “They’re all gone!” A shriek came from where we kept the Prima flowers.

  I switched directions and headed toward the wail. A woman shook with anger as she glared at the empty shelf. Yesterday, the shelf contained at least thirty bottles of the flowers.

  Near the cash register, another woman pressed a basket against her chest, the top hidden so no one could look inside. I had a feeling the inventory of fabric flora was hidden within. Before a riot erupted, I distracted the lady without the flowers away from the woman with all the flowers.

  “Now how did that happen?” I gave a wide-eyed look and tapped my chin. I took hold of the shaking woman’s elbow. Leaning forward, I whispered, “I have a secret stash of Prima flowers in the break room. I like to have supplies on hand in case I get an inspiration during my lunch break.”

  “What color and style do you have?”

  “I have a mix.” I led her from the front of the store to the back. “You’re welcome to pick what you’d like to use.”

  The offer of free scrapbooking embellishments cheered her and she left with half my flowers. What an employee must do to keep the peace. Luckily, I knew where I could get more. Grandma Cheryl had a weakness for the flowers even though she didn’t use them on her pages. She owned every type of Prima flower available. Shelves lined with the colorful bottles of flowers encircled her scrapbooking room like decorative molding.

  A vise-like grip wrapped around my arm. “Just what did you think you were doing?”

  My head reeled from a sudden spinning movement and I found myself looking into the fury-filled face of Ted. I yanked from his grip. His clasp tightened. I kept my voice low but firm. “Let me go.”

  “Not until you answer some questions.” He shook my arm, adding emphasis to his demand.

  Last night, Ted acted like a friend, a protector. Today, he wanted to throttle me. What happened in those few hours to turn him into this raving lunatic?

  Did he know about Adam and now suspected me of killing Michael?

  I swallowed hard and pushed the fear aside. “You’re hurting me. You better let go. Now.”

  Ted released my arm and stepped back, nearly colliding with a rack of paper. If it weren’t for the anger on his face, I’d almost believe he was shocked at his own behavior.

  I walked away, keeping my pace slow, showing him he hadn’t won. I wasn’t scared. I took in deliberate breaths and ran through some self-defense moves in my head. If he tried that again, he’d answer for it.

  “Don’t you dare drag my brother into this.”

  I froze. I knew he’d be annoyed if—when—he found out, but not furious. “People aren’t allowed to speak to your brother?”

  “Don’t play Miss Innocent with me. It won’t work,” Ted said. “I suspected your questions to Bobbi-Annie weren’t for innocent reasons, but I decided to give you a chance, think the best of your prying.”

  I pivoted and faced him. His eyes snapped with anger and betrayal. I bit my lip. Why did he think I betrayed him? He arrested my friend for murder. He charged into my grandmothers’ store and ruined our business. I didn’t owe him anything.

  “Bobbi told me you always lent a helping hand, stuck up for people,” Ted said. “One of the most loyal people she ever knew. So I believed your motive in sticking your nose into the investigation was all about helping.”

  “That is what I’m doing. Nothing more.” I stared into Ted’s eyes, hoping he’d see the truth in my eyes. “I know she’s innocent.”

  “Then why pry into my background and track down my brother? Decided maybe threatening to parade my brother’s lifestyle around would get you your way? If you want to hurt me,” Ted slapped a fist against his chest, “go right ahead. Here’s something for you, I was an alcoholic. That’s why my wife left, also why the only detective job I could get was in Eden. Other police departments were leery of me and my past. But have at it. Use it to your heart’s content, but leave Bob alone.”

  I recalled the vacation picture on Bob’s desk. Ted thought I planned on “outing” his brother as vengeance or blackmail. It broke my heart that someone in the past hurt the brothers in that way. I blinked back tears and placed my hand on his arm. “Ted—”

  “I came here yesterday to make sure you’d be safe. I knew I could use a friend and figured so could you.” He shoved a piece of paper at me.

  I jammed my hands into the front pocket of my jeans. “I’m sorry.”

  Ted crumbled the paper into a ball and tossed it at my feet. “You’re sorry because you got found out.”

  “I admit I tried to hire Bob as a private detective, and maybe learn a bit about you. And because it would be fun if your brother took the case. If someone else was annoying you then—”

  “You could continue investigating the case because I’d be busy with the private eye.” He let out a bitter laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”

  I bit my bottom lip.

  He studied me. “You’re serious. That was actually your plan? You were going to hire a private detective, preferably my relative, so I’d be distracted by them and not notice your antics?”

  I smiled and shrugged. “It was absolutely brilliant when I came up with it.”

  “Darling,” he drawled, for the first time showing a hint of his accent, “you’re the only woman I’d ever believe that from.”

  “So, how did you find out?” I rocked back and forth on the heels of my pink sneakers.

  “I shouldn’t tell you, but I will.” He crossed his arms. “Maybe it’ll convince you detective work isn’t a talent of yours. You left notes on the front seat of your car. Miss England peered inside and jotted them down. She came to me last night and asked about my brother’s connection to the case and if it wasn’t a conflict of interest.”

  “Oh.” Rule number one of amateur sleuthing, hide any and all notes. “Well, in my defense, I had been distracted by a car accident and didn’t think of hiding the notes. But I’ll remember that.”

  Ted groaned and smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m not giving you pointers, Faith. I’m giving you a warning. For crying out loud, hire Bob. Heck, hire him and my mother, but stop investigating this case yourself.”

  “What do you care? Maybe it’s my new hobby.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Annoying me?”

  “Marilyn is the murderer, so what harm can come of it? If you have the murderer locked up, then I can’t really find any trouble.”

  “So, Mark Kane throwing a rock through your window isn’t trouble? Having Karen England peering into your windows—”

  “Window. And it was only once,” I corrected.

  “That you know of.”

  That shut me up.

  “Asking people personal questions can set them off. There are things people want kept private. It will make them nervous, even angry, if they think someone will find out.”

  The knowing look in his eyes punched me in the gut. Too many times his eyes said he knew something about me, but not the actual what. And if anyone could relate to what Ted spoke about, it was me. The second biggest secret in Eden was one I held. The biggest was the one Michael’s murderer clutched.

  “Hire an investigator, a professional one, if you truly believe Marilyn is innocent.” Ted jotted down two phone numbers on the back of a business card. “Bob said he’d give you recommendations since he couldn’t take the case.”

  “Conflict of interest.” I took the offered card.

  Ted made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a growl and walked away.

  Hope rushed over to me. “What was that about?”

  “Pointers.”

  Hope’s eyes grew wide.

  “I’m kidding, Grandma. Sorry.” I showed her the card. “He thinks me involving myself is an act of stupidity.”

  “I guess the man does have some sense,” Hope said.

  “So he gave me a name of a PI. He’d rather I mind my own business and is steering me in a safer direction.”

  Hope’
s eyes narrowed. “He seems fond of you.”

  “He’s not a bad guy, Grandma.”

  “You know, people are thinking there’s something going on between the two of you.”

  That was a good reason to start minding my own business. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was dating a police officer, or had a thing for him. “Trust me, there’s nothing between us. Except for annoying each other.”

  “I don’t want to see you or Steve getting hurt.”

  “Steve?”

  “He cares about you.”

  I knew that, and if I was truthful, I cared about him. But caring about each other was enough for me, and my grandmothers needed to realize that. I looked around the store. Cheryl and Sierra had everything under control, not surprising. Anyone who herded the Hooligans would have no problem keeping a group of scrappers under control.

  “Can we talk, Grandma? Like now?”

  “Of course, sweetie.”

  We linked arms and headed into the employee lounge. Alone in the small room with the door closed, I couldn’t figure out the right words to say. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I dropped into a chair and then rested my head on the table.

  “Honey, what is it?”

  “Steve,” I said and sat up.

  Grandma tsked. “Does he think you and the detective are developing a relationship, so he’s giving you space? I’ll talk with him.”

  I put my hand over hers, really noticing for the first time the thinness of her skin. “Grandma, I want you to stop sending Steve over when you think I need help. If I need him, I’ll call him. I know his numbers, work and home. I also know where he lives and works.”

  “You keep to yourself too much.”

  “I’m here with you and Grandma Cheryl all the time. We crop together. I go out to lunch with Marilyn and Sierra. Okay, not Marilyn right now, but I’m not a hermit.”

  “You don’t go out. Cheryl and I would love to see you find a nice man. Go on some dates. Have some fun. Even spend time with girlfriends.”

  “I do.”

  “At work. Not on your own. It makes us worry.” Hope stood, the chair scraped across the floor. She poured coffee into two mugs. “Ever since you got home from the Army, you act like you don’t really want anyone in your life. You just ‘tolerate’ everyone.”

  I knew she was right, but I couldn’t explain it. “I love you and Grandma Cheryl.”

  “We know that.” Hope placed a mug of coffee in front of me. She turned a chair so that it faced me and then sat down. “But others want to—”

  “Like Steve.”

  The delicious, rich scent of the caffeine filled me with comfort. I remember waking to this smell every morning. My grandfather Joseph downstairs singing as Grandma Cheryl banged pots looking for the egg frying pan.

  “It’s just not Steve,” Hope said. “Though, I can tell he’d like to know you better.”

  I knew that about Steve, along with everyone else in Eden. “I don’t want a relationship right now.”

  Or maybe ever.

  “I have a confession,” Hope said.

  I paused mid-sip and stared over the rim of the cup.

  A sad look flittered onto her face. She thrust her shoulders back and sat up straight. “I wish I told you earlier. Maybe things wouldn’t have gotten out of hand and you wouldn’t be spending so much time with that detective.”

  I wanted to correct Hope again, but kept quiet before she changed her mind.

  Hope took hold of my hand. “The night before the Art Benefit Show, Steve called the store and asked if someone could bring a pair of skinny scissors. He needed to hang a banner and the string originally used wasn’t strong enough. They found a stronger twine, but a remnant of string still hung down. The larger scissors they had couldn’t cut close to the grommet. Marilyn offered to bring them to Steve. She wanted to avoid seeing Michael at the show that morning, so she planned on arriving an hour earlier than the rest of us.”

  Wait a minute. Marilyn and I ran into each other in the parking lot. She was angry because Michael stood Mark up. She knew Michael would be there, so that meant her son told her he cancelled with his dad. Marilyn lied about that. And if she got there later than planned, she had the scissors with her, because I didn’t see her hand them to Steve.

  “I told Detective Roget about the scissors,” Hope said. “That’s why he thought they came from our store and took the other ones. I think he wanted to see if they could compare them in some way.”

  My heart twisted. “Grandma, you had to tell the police what you knew.”

  “I know. Just like you.” Hope heaved out a sigh. “When Cheryl wanted to encourage you to help Marilyn, I told her.”

  I sat down beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Hope gazed down at the table. “I knew it would break your heart that Marilyn didn’t trust you with the whole truth. In a way, it might seem like Marilyn was using you. I couldn’t let you get hurt over a misunderstanding.”

  My leg started twitching and I fisted my hands.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I just need a few minutes alone.” I was taken for a fool. Used. Did God stamp puppet across my forehead where only others could read? I’d have thought I learned my lesson the first time and not be so easily duped again.

  Grandma Hope squeezed my hand. “If you need us, just holler.”

  Was it possible Marilyn did kill her husband?

  TWENTY-TWO

  I kept my mind occupied by hanging up and rearranging the layouts coming into the store. I wanted to stop thinking about Marilyn before I marched to the police station and had it out with her. Maybe I should call Karen and let her know the newest scoop.

  I didn’t know why Marilyn kept those facts from me. Maybe she was afraid she’d look guilty when she wasn’t. I knew all about that. Focus. I had to make these displays eye-catching before the crop tonight.

  I stood back and frowned. Too many shabby chic styled layouts were hung side by side. I took one from the display board near the door and moved it down to the fourth wooden panel. The layout, a mixture of pinks, greens, and brown pattern paper in a flower motif, looked perfect hanging next to an entry using a linear style with black and white and a subtle placement of teal blue as an accent color. The entries complemented each other and brought out the others composition.

  The scrapbooker of the linear layout had enlarged the photo to an 8x10 and placed it on the left of the 12x12 sheet of white cardstock. The black cardstock was used as a mat around three sides of the photograph. In the picture, Sierra and I stood in different corners of the booth helping potential customers. I stood near the man examining the layout with the fish wire.

  This was right before the announcement of the murder. I leaned forward and studied the photo, hoping something in the captured image pointed to Marilyn’s innocence. Wait. Was that Hank in the background? In civilian clothing? I thought he was working security at the event. That was why Sierra brought the boys.

  “I can hang a few,” Linda said, bumping into me.

  I leaned forward and nearly toppled into the display boards. I placed a hand over my thumping heart and willed it to slow down. I handed her a layout. “Sure. I’m trying to balance the designs, make sure any aren’t overlooked because they blend into one another.”

  “That’s why you’re studying them so hard.” Linda smiled and found a lovely spot for the cream and pastel lime layout.

  “I just like seeing what was happening that day. See who was around. Maybe ask them if they have a layout they’d like to enter.” I took another from the pile and turned it toward Linda. “Aren’t the pages fantastic? It’ll be hard to pick a winner.”

  “Details in the photographs are what will be the deciding factor for me.” Linda pinned up another layout, making sure the pin went through the page protector and not the actual page.

  Grandma Hope’s concerns flashed through my mind. Maybe if I showed I was interested in making friends, she wouldn’t be
so concerned about forcing some on me. “Linda, would you like to join me for lunch?”

  Linda gaped at me.

  Sierra who was manning the register also looked at me with shock. Now I felt like a heel. In the three months Linda worked with us, none of us had offered a hand of friendship.

  “Sure,” Linda stammered. “When did you want to go?”

  “I think we can have this last batch of entries on the display in about fifteen minutes.” I smiled at her.

  Linda looked over at Sierra.

  “That works for me,” Sierra said, grinning. “Hank plans on taking me out for a late lunch. He got the job!”

  Maybe I could ask Hank a couple of quick questions about him doing security at the Art Benefit Show. Like what happened to items left behind. Linda left her layout in my and Sierra’s possession, so it was only right to inquire about it.

  “That’s great!”

  Linda and I finished in ten minutes and headed over to Home Brewed.

  “Changing the crop class into a singles mixer was a fantastic idea,” Linda said, opening the door.

  I shrugged off the praise. “It wasn’t actually my idea, just going with the flow.”

  “It sure grabbed the town’s interest.” Linda sighed. “One day I might attend one. It gets lonely at times, but I’m not ready. My son thinks I should start going out more.”

  Besides scrapbooking, Linda and I also had people dictating our social life in common. “Everyone is different. Some people prefer staying home. Some people need a longer time with their memories before getting into a relationship after they lost someone.”

  “Did you lose someone, Faith?” Linda rummaged around in her bag. “Besides your parents?”

  I ignored the question. “The special looks really good today. The mozzarella, tomato and fresh basil sandwich on sourdough bread is calling my name. What about you?”

  “That does sound good.”

  We reached the front of the line and ordered. Linda refused my offer to pay. Dianne quickly prepared our lunch and handed it to us without a long wait.

  We picked a table in the back and sat down, staring at each other for awhile. The only sound was Linda opening up a bag of chips.