Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) (11 page)

“I wasn’t toying with you, Faith. I wanted you to tell me.”

“I didn’t need you to test me. You knew what I was struggling with, and you sat by and watched.” I felt tears well in my eyes but refused to cry. “I always believed you were helpful, the one person I could trust to have my back. Now I don’t know what to believe about you anymore. What else do you know, or think you know, that you’re silent about because you’re waiting for me to mention it first? I won’t go through that again.”

“Tonight wasn’t about a new start, was it?”

“No. I never said it was.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to have said something.”

“I’ve been trying. You wouldn’t listen.”

Steve slid out of the booth. “I was hoping you’d give me another chance.”

I knew what he wanted from me. I couldn’t give it to him. Part of me wished I could, but I was done wishing my life away. I wanted to live it in the here and now. “We can be friends, Steve. I can give that.”

“That’s not enough for me.”

He walked out the door, leaving me with an aching heart and the bill. That wasn’t the way I’d hoped it would go, but one couldn’t control another person’s reaction. I didn’t want Steve entirely out of my life. He’d either change his mind, or I’d get used to this new reality.

Clanging came from the kitchen. Jim was still busy getting the order ready. I waited at the front. More banging was followed by a crash and some choice words. I spotted the order pad by the phone and decided to help Jim out. I found our order, took a menu, and wrote down the correct prices. After a few taps on the calculator on my phone, I had everything added up, including the tax.

I pulled twenty-five dollars from my wallet, starting to place it on the counter. A set of headlights flashed in the parking lot. I didn’t want to leave the cash out where someone could snag it. Leaning over the counter, I checked out the register, noticing it was a vintage one without all the bells, whistles, and security devices like the one we used at Scrap This.

“Jim, I tallied our bill. I’m going to put the money in the register.”

After pulling up the latch and lifting the opening in the counter, I stood in front of the register. I hit the correct buttons and the drawer popped open, snagging the corner of a business card. I untangled the card Jim had placed in the slot for twenties. Vulcan Catering.
Identical to the one I found in the alleyway at the stadium. Was Jim branching his culinary repertoire to barbeque? I yanked my fingers away before the register was slammed shut.

“What are you doing?” Jim’s face was red, sweat beaded on his brow.

“Putting money in the register.”

“I’m closing. You need to leave.” Jim grabbed my arm, dragging me away from the register.

“I’m sorry.” I struggled to get out of his grasp. “I was trying to help.”

“I have an order to deliver. You need to leave. Now.”

“I’m going.”

I pulled away from his grasp.

Jim yanked the door open and watched me every step of the way to my car.

A small light flickered in the cab of the truck still in the lot. The only additional detail I made out in the dark was the roll bar attached to the bed. I started my car and left the parking lot, a shiver working through me. I swore the person in the truck stepped out to watch me leave.

ELEVEN

The sun bounced off the white cross on the steeple, creating a welcoming halo around the church. I whipped into the crowded parking lot as the bell pealed. The usual stragglers were wandering through the open doors of the sanctuary. Time was running out for me. I hated getting the Sunday lecture from my grandmothers and it wasn’t looking good for me to beat the final dong of the bell.

I scuttled into the church and snagged a bulletin from the greeter’s hand. I hadn’t seen so many people in church since Easter Sunday.

“You’d better hurry,” Mr. Murphy grumped. “Your grandmothers are getting in a tizzy, especially Cheryl.”

“How’s your pawn shop?”

Mr. Murphy ran a handkerchief over his balding head. “Okay, considering what could’ve happened. Young punks started themselves a bonfire behind Lake’s store. It jumped from hers and went to mine. Thankfully, my sprinklers worked. I think that’s the only thing keeping the fire inspector off my back. Poor Lake isn’t having such an easy time. The man the insurance company sent sure is hot to prove she did it on purpose.”

“Why would they think that?”

“I guess it looks all kinds of wrong because Lake got the policy approved a few days before it happened. I figure the company ain’t liking the fact it has to dish out a huge chunk of change to a new customer. And it don’t help none that Lake gave the kids permission to have the bonfire back there. I told her it wasn’t a bright idea but she thought it would make the parents come running to her store. Homecoming is around the corner and she wanted the business.” He turned me by the shoulders. “You better get inside. Cheryl is giving me the evil eye.”

“One more question. Did anyone contact you about buying a camera?”

“Nope. Upgrading yours?”

“Trying to get it back.”

Mr. Murphy shook his head in sympathy and patted my arm. “Tell you what, darling, if someone brings one by, I’ll let you know and notify the police.”

“I thought you were closed?”

“The Buford boys are letting me use their plumbing office until my place is fixed up. I can’t make money if I’m not open. If someone brings in a camera, I promise to call. I usually do a good job of making sure my merchandise is free and clear, but things can get past these old eyes.”

“Thanks.” I headed for our pew. No one actually owned any of the pews in the church, but every member of the congregation always sat in the same spot.

I craned my neck, trying for a view of the fifth row from the front, otherwise known as Dawn and Chad’s spot. No Dawn. Was she skipping church this morning? I walked a few more feet, getting a good look at the pew, and heaviness filled my heart. Handbags took up the spaces where Dawn and Chad usually sat, the owners of the accessories looking pleased.

Sobs came from behind me. Dawn sat in the back row alone, hands pressing into her face as she squished up against the end of the pew. Empty except for her. As I backtracked, congregation members sent each other knowing looks, thrilled smiles on their faces, and a few even added a slight nod when my gaze clashed into theirs.

They thought I was going to confront the widow and were pleased. Would everyone’s opinion toward Dawn change if she
was
the one who killed her husband? Everything Steve told me last night rushed into my brain. Were Dawn’s tears real heartbreak, or a show for the congregation, the police, and the insurance adjuster?

The choir members left the pews and walked onto the stage at the front of the church. If I didn’t want to be considered late and receive a lecture, I needed to sit down before the first note left Gussie.

Hope sat up taller. Cheryl glanced at her watch then turned her head. I met her gaze and nodded toward Dawn, sliding into the pew and dropping myself next to Dawn. The thin red cushion shifted as Dawn created a little more personal space between us. Ted was sitting behind my grandmothers and frowned at me.

Gussie tapped her throat and rubbed at it, signaling she needed water. Gussie got a little diva-ish on church days. She had a beautiful singing voice, and a look that terrified the congregation into submission, so what she wanted Pastor Evans rushed to get her.

Today, I knew her actions bought me more time. I owed her one. Unlike other members in the congregation, I knew she wanted to give me time to comfort Dawn. I rummaged around in my purse and found a clean tissue, then placed it on Dawn’s lap.

With a shaking hand, she picked it up and wiped her face. Her red-rimmed eyes and the devastation in her blue gaze told me everything. This was real, cut-into-your-soul grief. Her husband was murdered, and her community turned on her.

I clasped her hand. It was ice cold.

“Go sit with your grandmothers.” Dawn wiped her eyes. “I don’t want you to help me anymore. If you do, the town will hate you.”

“I don’t care if they do.” I pulled a hymnal from the holder and stood. “No one should pay for someone else’s sins.”

“My husband isn’t guilty.” The sadness left Dawn’s expression, replaced by a steely resolve.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I did know what Chad committed was on him and not anyone else. Even if Chad sold the illegal substance, it didn’t mean his wife should be shunned by the town.

What if she knew?

Gussie gave a nod to the choir director and the hymn began.

I locked the thought up for the meantime. Three songs later, Gussie pivoted sharply to the right and the rest of the choir followed suit, trailing her off the stage.

Pastor Evans climbed the stairs. He opened a bulletin, placing it on the podium. “Please be seated for announcements.”

Murmurs floated around the sanctuary, papers rustled, and pews squeaked as the congregation settled back onto the cushions. Dawn clutched a bulletin in her hand. Something about it made her unhappy. Listed in the bulletin were the names of the women working in the nursery this week and the volunteers for next Sunday, the date for the next cleaning party, the code phrase for the menfolk who trimmed the bushes and mowed the lawn. At the bottom of the page was a list of prayer requests.

Pastor Evans droned on, reading the bulletin verbatim. I pretended to listen as I tried decoding the pamphlet to find out what irked Dawn.

Beside me, Dawn pulled bulletin after bulletin from her large bag.

Pastor Evans finished reading and gazed around the sanctuary. “Is there anything I left out?”

Dawn stood, pressing an armful of bulletins to her chest. “Yes.”

Pastor Evans searched the sanctuary for someone else other than Dawn. He let out a nervous laugh. “This is the first time I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“I said yes,” Dawn said more forcefully.

The entire congregation swiveled in their seats to face Dawn.

“We’re running behind. If there’s time at the end of the service you can mention your news,” Pastor Evans said.

Standing, I did what I did best and stuck my nose into the business at hand. “There was enough time a few minutes ago. Why isn’t Dawn allowed to speak?”

Hope and Cheryl smiled.

“It looks like she has a lot to say,” Pastor Evans defended his position.

“Then let the woman speak,” Gussie said.

“Go ahead, Mrs. Carr,” Pastor Evans said. Was it my imagination or had there been a sneer in his voice?

“Why wasn’t Chad’s death announced in the bulletin? That’s what usually happens when a congregation member loses a loved one.” Dawn raised her arms and dropped the pile she held. Bulletins rained down to her feet.

Pastor Evans loosened his tie. “It appears there was an oversight. My apologies.”

He didn’t sound very sorry to me.

Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “Can we also narrow down the date for my husband’s funeral? Since Saturday wouldn’t work because of a prior engagement that couldn’t be changed.”

“We can discuss this later, Mrs. Carr,” Pastor Evans said. “I don’t have the church calendar with me.”

“How about you or your wife get it?” Dawn pointed at the back door. “The church office is right next door, so it won’t take long at all.”

“We’re in the middle of a service.” Pastor Evans opened his Bible.

“I want to make sure I get my request in before something else more important comes up,” Dawn said.

“Please don’t make me ask the ushers to remove you,” Pastor Evans said.

“Doesn’t your husband’s body have to be released first?” Karen asked. “I was told it’s still at the morgue because there are questions concerning his death.”

A sigh of relief floated around the congregation.

Ted sprang to his feet. “Enough, Miss England.”

“What? Doesn’t this town like the truth?” Karen crossed her arms and sent a smug look in Ted’s direction.

“There’s a time and place for certain details, and in the middle of a church service isn’t it. Some of those details aren’t meant for the general public.” Ted narrowed his gaze onto Jasper, who sat beside Karen. Smiling, Jasper shrugged.

It appeared Jasper was spending his forced leave talking with Karen. I hoped his sharing didn’t result in his leave becoming permanent.

“Here we go again, the police hiding information.” Karen inspected her nails.

“Or someone twisting the truth to shift blame,” I muttered.

Karen spun around. “What did you say?”

“I think you know.”

Karen crossed her arms. “Do I?”

“Yes. It was along the lines of people using their position to play games and turn an opinion into truth.” I gripped the back of the pew. “Let the police do their job.”

“You’re one to talk,” Karen said.

Snickers filled the room.

“Fine, I admit it. I don’t always listen, but at least I’m looking for the truth, not actively creating a different one.”

“Face the facts, you’re helping a murderer.” Karen pointed at Dawn.

“Time to leave.” Ted stepped out from the pew and headed for Karen.

Loud brittle laughter stopped Ted in his tracks. I gaped at Dawn and slid a couple of inches away. The woman sounded like she was about to lose it.

“If I killed my husband, don’t you think I’d say so?” Dawn grabbed the handle of her purse and hoisted it to her shoulder. “’Cause if I did, I’d receive some sympathy from this town instead of a cold shoulder.”

I stared at the remnants of the items for Lake’s scrapbook. Mrs. Barlow had cleared most of the items from my table, but a few lingered here and there. I gathered up some errant sticker gems, a thin roll of pink ribbon, and some photos of crystal vases. I stacked the pictures, then tapped them on the table to even the pile. Two business cards slipped out. One was from Lake’s shop, and the other was for Vulcan Catering.

My mind flickered to the business card with the burnt edges and grill graphic in Jim’s cash register. Vulcan Catering. He hadn’t been happy at me seeing it. Why? It wasn’t like it was against the law for him to have two food businesses in town. More questions rolled through my head. Why did Lake have one? Was she helping Jim? Was he drumming up business? Why hadn’t I seen the cards around town or Jim drop one off? We held a lot of events at Scrap This. My thought trail brought me back to why Jim was upset that I saw the card.

The front door opened, wafting the smell of chicken and dumplings to me.

“It’s your grandmas,” they called from the foyer.

I swept the pictures off of the table into a tote bag. “I’ll go set the table.” And make sure I had enough clean dishes.

I gathered up bowls and napkins and took them to the table.

Hope took silverware out of the dishwasher. “We believe Dawn is innocent. We want to help you.”

Help me? I didn’t want my grandmothers involved in solving a murder. There was no way I wanted to introduce my grandmothers to a murderer. “No.”

“We’re not asking your permission, young lady.” Cheryl scooped spoonfuls of chicken and dumplings into the bowl. “Hope and I are adults and can make our own decisions.”

“Just like you do.”

Hope had a smug smile on her face.

They both looked rather pleased with their copycatting. I didn’t like it one bit. “It’s too dangerous.”

“If you can handle it by yourself,” Cheryl said, “then we can handle it as a team.”

Hope nodded.

Stirring my lunch to cool it off, I pouted. This wasn’t going my way at all. There had to be some way to convince them that sleuthing at their ages wasn’t a good idea. But if I said that, I’d guarantee their involvement, and possibly my destruction.

“Don’t be a poor sport, dear. That’s not how we raised you.”

“I’m not being a bad sport, I’m worried. Most of what I’m hearing is gossip. I have to dig around and ask questions to sort the fact from fiction. I know how you both feel about gossip.”

“We don’t like it,” Hope jabbed her spoon in my direction, “and you shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t like it. It’s just how information comes to me. People aren’t forthcoming with Ted or Steve either. Not that Ted shares with me.”

“Steve does?” Hope asked.

“A little. I don’t think he’s too keen about prosecuting whoever killed Chad Carr.”

“No one in town cares a whit,” Cheryl said.

“All they want to do is judge Dawn.” Hope wiped up a spot of sauce from the table.

“If she had killed him,” I said, “they’d throw her a parade.”

“But she didn’t.”

“Steve hinted the police are looking in her direction,” I said.

Cheryl paused with a spoonful of chicken halfway to her mouth. “Why?”

Quickly, I told them about the insurance policy taken out on Chad and the store. “Then there’s the rumor that Chad and Dawn were separated.”

They put their utensils down, giving me their undivided attention.

“Steve’s the one who mentioned it. Maybe the reason only Chad died in the fire was because he was living there alone.”

Hope and Cheryl exchanged a knowing, and somewhat guilty, look.

“There’s someone you need to talk to.” Grandma Cheryl pulled her cell phone from her sweater pocket and handed it to Hope.

“I don’t think Dawn wants everyone to know her business,” Cheryl said. “But keeping this secret isn’t going to help her.”

“Hello, Nancy,” Hope said into the phone. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my granddaughter’s place. I have an apple pie cooking and chicken and dumplings on the table. I’d like you to tell Faith what you know. Dawn’s life in this town depends on it.”

Cheryl went next door for the pie while I set another spot at the table and Hope paced around in the living room.

“I won’t repeat what she says,” I said.

Hope stopped and faced me. “I don’t think you would do that at all. It’s just that Nancy will also have to tell the police. Someone is likely to get in trouble. What will happen to Dawn?”

Happen to her? Had Dawn been committing another crime while her husband died in the fire? That was a good alibi, but it was one a person wouldn’t want to get around if they were trying to stay out of jail.

Though the community was more likely to forgive and forget if Dawn had murdered her husband.

“What does Nancy know about Dawn?”

“Nothing nefarious. Nancy works at the nursing home where Dawn’s mother has been living for the last four months.”

That was around the time the synthetic drug started being sold. It would be easy for the guy to start selling an illegal substance without his wife knowing about. She had a lot on her plate.

A car pulled into my grandmothers’ driveway, and a woman in her mid-fifties slid out. Her hair was slicked back from her face and twisted into a messy bun, and she wore a fall-themed nurse’s smock. Cheryl exited her house holding the pie and directed Nancy to my house. I had chatted with the nurse a few times when my grandmothers hosted Bunco at their house, but didn’t know much about her besides her occupation and love of card games. My grandmothers always invited me to play with them. I never stayed long as I wasn’t interested in the game, just the snacks they served. I opened the door for Cheryl, Nancy, and the pie.

Once we sat down at the table, Cheryl wasted no time filling Nancy in.

Nancy picked at her food. “I wanted to say something once Chad died and the rumors started, but Dawn wants us to keep quiet. I heard what happened at church. Such a shame.”

Hope tsked in agreement.

“Simply horrific and very unchristian behavior,” Cheryl said.

“Even worse because the pastor took part in it,” I said. “He’s supposed to be the best example.”

“Even if the pastor behaves unkindly doesn’t mean all should follow suit.” Hope placed a bottle of water at Nancy’s place. “We all know right from wrong, and just because someone else started walking down the path of wrong, it is never a good reason to skip along behind them.”

Nancy pushed her plate away.

“I’m not very hungry.”

Hope went to the cabinet and took out a plastic container.

“What do you know about Dawn and her husband?” I asked.

“The Carrs lost their home a few weeks ago through a foreclosure.”

“But they lived on the second floor of the store. That’s what Dawn told me.”

“They moved there after the foreclosure, but the second floor isn’t livable,” Nancy said. “They wanted people to think they chose to live at the store to save money and let the bank have the house.”

Dawn lied to me. “Were Chad and Dawn sleeping in the store?” The fact that the one night she wasn’t there Made With Love went up in flames wasn’t something the police and insurance adjuster would overlook.

“Chad stayed at the store, while Dawn slept on the floor in her mother’s room at the nursing home. Chad liked everyone believing he was a business guru and didn’t want to lose their respect, so he did everything possible to keep it quiet. Dawn was preoccupied with her mother, so she went along with his opinion on taking out loans and branching off into new items.”

“Like potpourri?” I asked.

Selling drugs to teens was probably more profitable than handcrafted items. Unfortunately, Nancy’s testimony was adding more evidence to the “why Dawn killed her husband” column.

“Yes,” Nancy said.

“Dawn didn’t want him at the nursing home?” I asked, hating the fact the nurse’s words proved the couple was on the outs.

“No,
we
didn’t. It wasn’t easy for us to let Dawn stay in the room; two people was pushing it. The first night Dawn stayed over by accident, her mother didn’t have any night terrors. So the next night, I pretended I didn’t see her hiding behind the curtains, and again her mother had a calm and restful night. Since Dawn’s mom having a restful night meant the nurses had a calm night, we decided to let Dawn stay. If the director found out we allowed an extended overnight visitor, our jobs would be in jeopardy. That’s why Dawn didn’t want us to say anything even if it gave her an alibi.”