Cropped to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  I decided to be the brave one and open up the dialogue, since this was my idea. “Wow. I can’t believe how many entries we’ve received.”

  Linda nodded.

  “It’s going to be fun to see who wins since none of us know who actually made the entries.”

  “If it’s not Darlene, I don’t know if I want to be at work when the announcement is made.”

  “Maybe we can have Ted stop by that day, since the man has handcuffs.”

  “He’ll already be at Scrap This. He seems to like the store…or someone in it.”

  Not a topic I wanted discussed. “Are you enjoying working at the store?”

  She quickly drew back and tears flooded her eyes. “This is the ‘I’m sorry but we have to let you go’ lunch isn’t it?”

  I guess we hadn’t done a good job of keeping our financial situation a secret. Or employees caught on that if customers didn’t walk into the store and buy, it equaled no income. I shook my head and held up my hands. “No. I just wanted to know if you liked working with us.”

  “I like it.” She started eating her sandwich.

  That response pretty much shut that topic. Scrapbooking. Art. We had that in common. “At the Art Benefit Show, did you see anything interesting?”

  Her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed, looking like an owl who got hold of some caffeine. She patted her chest a few times, then coughed. “Sorry. Something got stuck.”

  I pushed a glass of water closer to her. “I didn’t get a chance to look at any of the displays. Did you see any designers or art techniques we might be able to incorporate into scrapbooking?”

  Linda shifted uncomfortably. “The truth is, I’m not really an art person, so I didn’t pay attention. I only took up scrapbooking because of the job.”

  “Your layout of your husband and son is really nice,” I said.

  “You have my layout. Why haven’t you given it back?” She clenched her right hand around the fork. If she wanted to stab me with it, she had the right grip.

  I casually eased back. “I saw it the day of the show. Sierra asked me if I could fix it. I haven’t seen it since. But I promise to look. I’m hoping it got placed in one of the product boxes. You really have a lot of talent. Have you thought about making a memorial album? There’s a company that’s running a contest with a large cash prize.”

  “I’d rather not.” Red splotches decorated her cheeks. “I didn’t mind having it up at the store’s booth, but I don’t want strangers seeing it. It’s too personal.”

  “I know it’s hard to share private moments. Sometimes scrapbooking can help a person work through their pain.” I felt like such a hypocrite as I spoke. I just wanted Linda having some confidence in herself. This was the first time I seen some life in her.

  “And sometimes people want their choices respected.” Linda grabbed her plate and plastic fork and headed to the trashcan.

  Ouch.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Linda and I returned from lunch in record time and Sierra had the good sense not to ask any questions. The three of us worked in silence preparing for the crop. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened. The sound of children—boys—drowned out the jingle of the bell.

  “Mom!” Three similar voices cried out in glee.

  Sierra crossed her arms and gave her husband a stern look.

  Hank smiled sheepishly. “School had a half day, sweetheart.”

  The boys gagged at the term of endearment and pressed their bodies into the front of the counter.

  Ten years and three children later, Sierra and Hank still got starry-eyed around each other. Their boys complained how about them being all huggy, even around other people. I thought it was sweet, but the boys thought it only one step from the worst act ever committed: parents kissing.

  I saw two pair of eyes and just the top of Howard’s head. He needed to grow a few inches before he could spy.

  “School-wide or selective?” I asked Hank.

  He grinned. “Hello to you, Faith. How’s the private eye biz?”

  I shot him my best evil look. It didn’t faze him. Must come from having children. “Very funny.”

  “From what I hear, it isn’t very safe,” Hank said.

  “But she knows how to shoot.” Harold looked at me with obvious admiration.

  Hank nodded. I didn’t want to know why, or where, that turned into a topic of conversation at the Brodart family dinner. Hank sent me a beseeching look and pointed at the boys. He needed a babysitter.

  I waved my hands in protest. “Out of the question. I’m working.”

  “They’ll behave. It’ll only be for an hour. Come on, Faith. How much trouble can they get into in an hour?” Hank asked.

  Twenty different scenarios popped into my head of what they could do with paper, stickers, adhesive, and metal items. Not to mention the cutting tools. The last time I babysat, within ten minutes they flooded their kitchen, set off the fire alarm and kidnapped Mrs. Evans’ poodle.

  “The boys promise to be good. They won’t touch anything without your permission.” Hank nudged his oldest, Harold.

  Harold still looked at me with awe-filled eyes. “Miss Faith, we’ll do everything you say.”

  Henry nodded solemnly, puppy dog eyes fixed on me. He tilted his head and sighed. “We’ll do anything you ask.”

  Howard’s hair flopped up and down as he nodded. “Anything.”

  Hank grinned at me. “See, what did I tell you?”

  I looked over at Sierra who watched her crew with morbid fascination. She knew they were up to something.

  “Hank, this is not a good idea,” I said.

  “I concur.” Sierra crossed her arms.

  “Boys, do you want to disappoint Miss Faith?” Hank asked.

  “Never!” All three responded.

  The who-me shock in their voices filled me with dread. Definitely up to something. The Hooligans were never this calm and agreeable, unless they already had mischief plotted.

  Linda walked to the front, a bright smile spreading across her face. “I can handle the register. There aren’t too many customers right now, so I don’t think the children will disturb anyone.”

  Payback time.

  “See, Faith, it’ll be okay.” Hank got down on one knee and clasped his hands together. “Please, one hour is all I ask.”

  “Hank, I think Faith is right. It isn’t a good idea to leave the boys here.” Sierra eyed her children suspiciously even though they stood at attention in front of the counter.

  “They’ll behave. I promise. We promise.” Hank’s pleading gaze on his wife switched to smoldering. Sierra blushed.

  The boys bobbed their heads in solemn nods. All three pairs of eyes filled with wonder locked onto mine.

  I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze. “No touching anything unless I say it’s okay.”

  The Hooligans nodded.

  “No running, jumping, or screaming.”

  “We’ll just look at the pictures on the board,” Harold said. “Just like this.” He placed his hands behind his back and flattened them in an I’ve-been-arrested fashion.

  I shooed Sierra and Hank. “All right. One hour.”

  Then Hank owed me. I had a couple of small questions needing answers.

  “Thanks.” Hank grabbed his wife’s hand and took off out the door, tugging her behind him. The man was probably afraid I’d change my mind.

  I looked at the boys who remained rooted to a spot on the carpet in front of the counter. “You can look at the layouts on the board, but don’t touch any of them.”

  They crossed their hearts and then carefully walked over to the boards, their hands behind their backs.

  I stood beside Howard, determined to discover their plan. He smiled shyly at me and averted his gaze. Howard always talked. Matter-of-fact, it was the main reason he got in trouble at school. Whenever I phoned Sierra, it took fifteen minutes to get Howard to stop chatting about his day so I could hear about his mother’s.


  A comment Harold made popped back into my head. “Harold, who told you I know how to shoot?”

  “Dad did. He told us you were in the Army.”

  Henry nodded. “We watched some movies that showed what people in the Army do.”

  Wonderful. Hank figured the best way to get his boys to behave was letting them think I could destroy them. “I learned how, but I never shot anything. Except for a target.”

  “People in the military can also blow up bridges,” Henry said.

  Harold showed me two thumbs-up. “Patton was cool.”

  At least the movies they watched weren’t the popular gore fests. And they boys were behaving. For now. I shuddered, envisioning the day the Hooligans decided re-enacting the Bridge on the River Kwai was an awesome summer project.

  Howard leaned forward, his nose almost touching one of the layouts.

  I rested my hand on his shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

  “I want to find Mom. I heard Dad tell Buddy she looked hot that day.”

  “Really?” Henry’s eyes widened. “Man, I wonder if steam is coming from her ears.”

  “Maybe lasers from her eyeballs.” Harold quickly walked to the other side. “I’ll look over here. You guys look over there.”

  I suppressed my smile as I left the boys looking for a picture of their mom turning into a fireball. With the mad shopping rush earlier, some of the sticker sheets were left unrolled and a few puddled on the ground. I rolled them up.

  “Miss Faith?”

  I smiled at Henry. “Do you need something?”

  “We were wondering if you had a magnifying glass. Some of the people in the pictures are so small we can’t tell if it’s mom. There’s one lady with white on top of her head. I say steam. Harold says it’s old lady hair.”

  “I’ll go in the office and get it, but you stay here.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to fix the stickers for you?”

  He looked so earnest, I racked my mind for a task he could complete without damaging anything. Someone had opened a package of paperclips and flowers, probably figured no reason to buy the whole package when they wanted only a couple, and dumped the remainder on the floor.

  “Henry, can you get a basket and pick up all the paperclips and flowers from the ground for me?”

  “Okay.”

  As I walked away, I heard Henry happily muttering that now I’d like him best. It took me a few minutes to find the magnifying glass. I handed it to Henry.

  After saying thanks, he thrust the basket at me and scampered toward his brothers. How disappointed Henry will be when he finds out that it was a white-haired woman and not his mom with steam coming out of her head.

  I spent the next thirty minutes putting pattern paper back into the correct slot and listening out for the Hooligans.

  “That is too Dad,” Harold said.

  “No, it’s not,” Howard said.

  “Don’t yell, Miss Faith is going to get mad,” Henry whined.

  The three voices lowered to a loud whisper.

  “Is too.”

  “Is not.”

  “We promised.”

  “Shouldn’t you go see what that’s about?” Linda asked.

  Yes, I should.

  I stood behind the boys, towering over the trio. Some of the few people I could achieve that effect with. “Okay, guys, what’s going on?”

  Harold pointed at a photograph on one of the layouts. “Is that Dad? Howard says no, but I bet it is.”

  “Dad is never mad,” Howard said.

  I held out my hand. “Let me look with the magnifier.”

  Harold passed it to me and I placed the glass almost on top of the photo. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was Hank, not in a security uniform, arguing with someone near the hallway leading to the vending machines. Near where Michael Kane’s body was found.

  “I can’t tell. Let’s see if we can find your mom. Maybe she’s turning into a fireball like a superhero.”

  Harold’s eyes lit up.

  “You don’t think Mr. Kane will be in any of them?” Howard’s voice trembled and he squished himself against my leg.

  I ruffled his hair. “No. Mr. Kane wasn’t in this area when he was…hurt.”

  “Okay.” Howard sounded convinced but remained glued to my side.

  The bell jangled.

  Hank raised his arms in triumphant. “We’re back.”

  The boys rushed over to him. “We were good. Really good.”

  Henry beamed at his dad. “I helped clean up.”

  “What?” Hank lifted up his middle child.

  “Stuff people took out of the little plastic boxes. Not us.” Henry smiled at me. “Isn’t that right, Miss Faith?”

  “Best behavior I’ve ever seen them display,” I said. “Mind if I talk to you, Hank?”

  Sierra glared at the boys. “What did they do that you don’t want me knowing about?”

  “Just wanted to get the names of the movies the boys were talking about.”

  Hank grimaced and flushed red. “Yeah, that. Sure, I can explain. Plus, I’d like to thank her for helping out.”

  “Hank?” Sierra planted her hands on her hips.

  “I promise it won’t be the way I’ll thank you for all your support this last year.” Hank winked at her then followed me.

  Sierra blushed crimson red.

  I tugged open the maroon curtains and Hank slipped through the opening.

  “I shouldn’t use your military experience as a threat against the boys.”

  I waved that way. “It worked. I’m just curious why you weren’t wearing a uniform at the art show? Were you undercover security?”

  Hank took a step toward me. “Just knock it off, Faith.”

  The menacing, quiet tone startled me. I inched back. “I was just wondering. The boys thought they saw you in one of the pictures.”

  “No. I wasn’t in uniform. As if that is any of your business. And stop bringing up the car to Sierra. She’s thinking something’s going on.”

  But something was going on if Hank wanted that kept a secret. “I didn’t know it was a private matter between us.”

  “I had an errand to run I didn’t want Sierra to know about,” Hank said. He clenched and unclenched his hands, drawing in deep breaths.

  “If it was a surprise for her, you could’ve said so.”

  “Since when do you have to know everything?”

  “Sierra always shares what the boys do. It’s what friends do.”

  “But you don’t need to be sharing what I do.” Hank pointed a finger in my direction then poked himself in the chest. “And we’re not friends.”

  I stepped forward and jabbed a finger at him. “Remember that next time you want a babysitter or to borrow my car for whatever clandestine—”

  Hank pressed a hand against my shoulder and pressed me away from him. “Shut up or—”

  A gasp filled the small space.

  Linda held the curtains open, only her head peeked through the opening. “Sierra took the boys outside. They were getting a little rambunctious. I need Faith. A woman’s on the phone asking what brands of albums we have. I don’t know them all.”

  Never once did she take her gaze off of me.

  “Hank!” Sierra’s voice rang out.

  “Thanks for the help.” Hank opened the curtains and bowed. He snagged Sierra around the waist and gave his wife a very thorough goodbye kiss. The boys made retching sounds as Hank led them away.

  Linda placed an arm around me and scooted me off into a private corner of the storage room. “Are you okay? Do you want to call someone?”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. Forget about what you thought you saw.”

  “I know what I saw. That man shouldn’t get away with that.” Fire lit Linda’s blue eyes.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was something.” Anger gripped Linda’s features. “Don’t you ever let some man push you around.”

  I smiled at
Linda. “I appreciate you sticking up for me and the advice. But don’t worry. I won’t let some man bully me.”

  “If you say so. But if he comes in here again, there might be another pair of scissors missing.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  To our utter delight, and probably that of our banker, a horde of women rushed through the door to attend the first official Scrap This singles mixer. It looked as if our best event was one we hadn’t even thought of planning.

  Linda offered to stay, but she looked worn out. She had spent the rest of the afternoon readying for a battle with Hank. Twice I stopped her from sharing our secret with Sierra, so I encouraged Linda to leave at her normal time. The truth was I wanted to approach Sierra alone. She’d take it better from me, and without an audience. I’d rather not bring it up, but I wanted to make sure my friend was safe.

  Linda waved and weaved her body through the croppers to outside.

  “Bye,” I called out.

  “This is quite a turn out,” Cheryl said.

  “I’ll go see if we have any snacks left.” Sierra headed for the break room to rustle up food for the croppers.

  Hope headed for the door. “I’ll go get goodies from Dianne. It’ll be a great way for her to advertise. Plus, she’d love for her daughter to attend.”

  I didn’t know how happy Clarissa would be getting that call from her mother. At thirty-two, Clarissa made it clear to everyone—besides my grandmother and her mother—she planned on remaining single.

  Cheryl gave out the tip sheets on basic techniques and recommended supplies for starting their first album. The women took hold of the sheets and glanced around the room. I could see the question pounding in their heads and hearts: Where were the men?

  I hurried to the break room. Sierra was opening and closing cabinets, a frowned slashed across her face. “Nothing,” she muttered.

  “Hope went to get some goodies from Dianne.”

  “Great. Because we’re kind of low on food.” Sierra knelt down and opened up the bottom cabinet. “We do have two bags of miniature chocolate bars and a bag of pretzels.”

  “That’ll work for now.” I took the bags Sierra held over her head.