Paper, Scissors, Death (25 page)

Kiki’s method for putting together
an album quickly

Most people work one page at a time. If you want to get an album done quickly, there’s a better way.

1. Start with a palette of papers and matching ribbon or fiber.

2. Choose a lettering system, such as rubber stamps, rub-on lettering, vellum preprinted phrases, sticker letters, computer type, or die-cut letters.

3. Create backgrounds for all your pages at once. Decide on a central design theme to carry through the album. For example, will you always run a strip of patterned paper vertically along the outside of the pages? Or will you divide the pages into quadrants and use different paper in each? Or will you put a broad strip of patterned paper across the mid-point of every page? Aim for consistency. You do not want to come up with a new look for every page.

4. Adhere your photos with a temporary adhesive. (This allows you to “play” with placement.)

5. Look at the negative space, the empty space around the photos. This space will determine the sizes and shapes of your embellishments. Note the average negative space size.

6. Create embellishments to fill those empty spaces, remembering to leave room for journaling. For example, if you have a twenty-four-page album, and thirteen spaces that are 4” × 6”, you can safely make thirteen 3” × 5” tags or journaling boxes. Mass produce your embellishments, remembering to duplicate several designs. In fact, you might wish to select a certain embellishment style and carry it through the entire album. For example, you might create a 3” × 5” tag with a silk flower and simply vary the journaling.

7. Be sure to leave space for journaling. These are SOFJ, Sites of Future Journaling.

8. Assemble the album.

“That’s why I get a deposit,” muttered Dodie.

“I can’t believe it. And we thought we were being nice by printing those photos.”

Dodie said, “I should know better. It never rose and it never flew.”

Oh, boy. Dodie had dipped into her vast store of translated Yiddish sayings.

She continued her rant, “Like it’s our fault her guy had a thing for her pal, Linda!”

The door flew open and Mert ran in. She was decked out in a lime green halter top with sequin trim, short shorts, and a pair of lime green wedgies. Somewhere in South America, a conga line dancer was missing an outfit. “How you doing, sweet pea?” She gave me a hug. “I brought you a gift.”

First the Krispy Kremes and now this. It was my day to be treated like a birthday girl by my friends. The tissue-wrapped packet was soft and pliable in my hands. I untied the ribbon and unrolled a pink T-shirt with an embroidered emblem that read “Tough Tamales University” on top and “School of Hard Knocks” underneath.

“I wanted a real school logo. The lady at the shop borrowed the design from Harvard but used girlie colors.”

“Wow,” I said. What else could I say? It was pretty nifty. Official looking, too.

“Actually, all things considered, I was doing pretty well until a few minutes ago.” I explained what happened with Merrilee and tried not to dwell on how much income had walked out the door.

“Don’t that beat all. I know Linda’s housekeeper. We’re charter members of Toilet Bowl Cleaners United. We meet every third Wednesday at White Castle. It’s a good place to try out new products.” Mert scrolled down her cell phone directory and punched the send button as she headed for a quiet corner.

“Fortunately Mrs. Witherow already paid for the bridal shower albums. Maybe the others will still want theirs,” Dodie said looking over the pile of leather-bound books sadly. “I’m not telling them the wedding is cancelled. That’s Merrilee’s problem, not ours. The deposit from Merrilee will cover the supplies we set aside for the other projects she wanted.”

The profit I’d counted on was gone. Not only was I missing rent for the next three months, I still needed money for a new rental deposit.

Good thing I’d planned on stopping by Bill Ballard’s office. August sure was far away. But if the buy-sell meant I was due some money, maybe I could borrow enough to live on until then. Still, I couldn’t do anything until I read the papers.

I had no doubt that eventually I’d make enough money scrapbooking to provide for me and my daughter. But meantime, I couldn’t make ends meet. Tisha seemed confident there was a lot of money in the business. Even if the fiscal year-end accounting showed only a small sum, that was more than I had now. I needed money desperately.

I had no idea how much Bonnie was going to charge for a visit to Family Court. Even if she kept having babies, and I kept making albums, I’d still owe for the supplies. And there was the money I needed as a deposit on a new place. My balance sheet was definitely skewed toward the minus side. Like the leaning tower of Pisa, I was dangerously off-center. How long could I survive without tumbling?

I picked up the Witherow bridal shower photos and sorted them into archival sleeves. Maybe the rest of the shower guests would want more customized work. Maybe all was not lost. Okay, so I could cross off Merrilee’s wedding album and the album for Jeff’s mother. But maybe Merrilee would still want help with Roxanne’s memorial album.

I hoped so. Otherwise, I’d just lost a lot of business. A lot of money. Present and future. The more albums I did, the more business I generated. Every custom album included a tasteful sticker with my contact information on the back cover.

My spirits sank further as I tidied up the detritus of the ill-fated Witherow bridal shower album. Lately nothing had gone right for me.

“Well, well, well.” Mert returned to my work area. “Stuff rolls downhill, and you, poor baby, stepped in a pile of it. Seems our little Linda is in a passel of trouble. Or as my daddy used to say, smart birds don’t mess in their own nests. And if they do, they best better wipe their tail feathers quick-like.

“See, Linda was married once before to a poor boy. And she didn’t much cotton to it. And Mr. Kovaleski was her hubby’s boss man. Then she and Randy Kovaleski started swapping slobbers. And her first husband upped and D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D her and was going to name old Hot Pants Kovaleski co-respondent. Only, see, Kovaleski was married, too, and his wife woulda taken him to Bird-land, where the sun don’t shine, and there’s doo-doo droppings on your window all day. But Mr. Kovaleski paid off Linda’s first hubby to just go quiet into the sunset. Wouldn’t you know it, old Linda got herself knocked up? Then Mr. Kovaleski found hisself paying a bundle to the first Mrs. Kovaleski to render their union asunder. By the time he got ready to marry Linda so’s she could have his heir and a spare, he was already feeling a pain in his pants—and I mean his wallet. That’s when he informed Linda she had to sign a pre-nup. And she did. Knowing her extracurricular activities, he made it heavy on the ‘you better not mess around’ lingo. In fact, I’d guess that if a picture’s worth a thousand words, that one you showed Merrilee Witherow’s worth a couple hundred thou or maybe even a million.”

Mert’s effusive use of metaphors had me a bit confused. “Come again?”

Detweiler had shown up in the middle of her dissertation. Mert went through her paces again, and Detweiler, thank goodness, understood everything she said.

“That, ladies, could be our motive for murder.”

“How you figure?” Mert asked. Dodie joined us and was listening carefully.

“Those photos were on Ms. Baker’s camera, right? She takes her camera to the shower to show Mrs. Kovaleski. Maybe she blackmails her. Maybe she’s also collecting money from Mr. Jeff Spitzer. Maybe that’s how Ms. Baker’s been affording her fancy lifestyle the past six months—blackmailing people.”

I dug in my purse for the paper Olivia gave me. On it were two names, Roxanne Baker and Linda Kovaleski. “Roxanne and Linda had lunch with George the day he died. I bet Linda paid to cover that up. She was protecting Roxanne. She couldn’t take the chance her friend would be investigated for George’s murder. If the police examined Roxanne’s affairs too closely, they might uncover her little sideline: blackmail.”

Detweiler said, “You downloaded the pictures from Ms. Baker’s camera without her permission. Suddenly, Mrs. Kovaleski’s got a problem. You’ve got the picture of her and Mr. Spitzer, the one she’s been paying to keep under wraps.”

“But Linda doesn’t realize those photos are in four places: Roxanne’s camera, the website, Kiki’s computer, and the duplicate CDs. That’s because Linda isn’t a scrapbooker. She didn’t understand the pains Kiki took to protect the images,” said Dodie. “But Roxanne was a scrapbooker. She understood exactly what Kiki was doing. Knowing Linda was confused, Roxanne had to act quickly. She calls Linda and says bring me lots of money or I’ll expose your affair with Jeff.”

“That would explain the windfall,” I said. “See, Roxanne told Merrilee she was coming into a bunch of cash. She said an ‘investment’ was paying off.”

“The investment was blackmail money,” said Dodie.

I was on a roll. I said, “Linda has to move fast. She tells Roxanne to meet her at the mall. That same night, Linda hires someone to steal my computer. Linda figures if she has my computer and the photos from Roxanne, she’s covered.”

“But the photos were on the website!” Dodie protested.

“Right,” I said, “But Linda didn’t understand how Snapfish worked! Remember? She came in here the day
after
my computer was stolen. She’d been up all night. Looked terrible. Once I walked her through the website, she raced out of here.”

“Roxanne Baker was shot at close range. The killer was sitting next to her in her car. The murderer must have been a person she knew and thought she could trust. Linda Kovaleski would fit the bill perfectly,” Detweiler said.

“Hold it!” Dodie put up a hand. “Why’d she want Kiki thrown in jail?”

“I can answer that,” I said. “At first, Linda thought the pictures on the website were too small to see. After all, the identifying marks—her mole and Jeff’s double-crown—are pretty subtle. But then I explained how I could fix them up. Make them clearer. And enlarge them.”

“Her goal was to keep Kiki away from her work,” Detweiler said. “Obviously, Kiki couldn’t work on photos if she was in jail. So, Mrs. Kovaleski lied about seeing Kiki’s gold Lexus leaving the scene of Roxanne Baker’s murder.”

Dodie asked, “Would Linda Kovaleski know you drove a Lexus?”

“Absolutely. I always saw her at carpool when I picked up Anya.”

“After you got out of jail so quickly, she must have been really desperate. So she hired a teenager to break into your house again and steal the CDs,” said Detweiler.

“Wow,” said Mert. “That Linda Kovaleski’s been one busy gal.”

“Basically, I’ve been the victim of a one-woman crime spree,” I said. “I’m glad we’ve got that figured out.”

“Which reminds me.” Detweiler pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “I wrote a letter supporting your bid to get Anya back. I never know about my schedule, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to help.” He handed it to me.

“I need to get right on this new information. The pieces fit, but all we have is speculation. I have to get Mrs. Kovaleski to admit she perjured herself. Your mother-in-law is using your incarceration to get custody of Anya. We have to prove you were set up.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.

I dreaded his leaving. For the first time, I really, really understood why people loved mysteries. While we were brainstorming who killed who, concentrating on life and death, I didn’t have to think about missing my daughter.

“This new information is going to keep me busy,” Detweiler said. At the doorway, he paused and gave the three of us a mock salute. “Ladies, Sherlock Holmes’ Irregulars couldn’t have done better work. The game’s afoot.”

“I just love a man who knows good literature,” said Mert.