Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Christina Freeburn

fault that had lost her other jobs. Scrap This was her sixth job in the last year.
    Linda stashed her purse underneath the counter and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
    “If you man the register, I’ll finish putting up the display boards.” I pointed at the mess in the middle of the floor.
    “Sure,” she said and sat on a stool.
    I skirted around the counter and returned to the mess in the middle of the floor. An easier chaos to deal with than the one I created by helping Marilyn. I lifted up one of the display boards and started to pull the wooden legs apart but my tugs were in vain. I let out a puff of breath and eased the display back to the floor. Maybe if I stepped on one of the legs and used both of my hands, I could open it.
    As I leaned over to grab hold of the wooden post, a voice snapped behind me. “What are the rules?”
    I peered over my shoulder and spotted Darlene, our most competitive and spendthrift customer. Holding in a groan, I straightened and faced her. Cheryl was better at dealing with tantrums, but she had stepped out for a late lunch.
    “Rules?” I asked.
    Darlene, life artist extraordinaire, whipped out a small recorder from her gigantic Vera Bradley purse and pressed the record button. “For the layout contest the store, Scrap This, is running for the seasoned scrapbookers. I assume the artists competing for the cutting machine cannot have help on their entry. So, if an artist wasn’t able to attend the Art Benefit Show, may they use pictures taken by another person who attended the event?”
    “How should I know?” I returned to setting up the displays.
    “You are an employee here. You are the granddaughter of the owners.” She poked me in the shoulder. “You’re not allowed to enter are you?”
    Releasing a sigh, I gave her more patience than I naturally possessed. “I’m not entering the contest. I was busy running the store’s booth and had no time to take photos.”
    Suspicion deepened the frown on her mouth and the lines around her brown eyes. “But could you if you wanted to? What if a friend took photos and then gave them to you to scrapbook?”
    “Darlene, write your concerns down and I’ll ask the owners about them.”
    “I’d like an answer now.” She plopped down on the floor and folded her legs into a pretzel shape. “I refuse to leave until the rules are confirmed and written down.”
    “Fine. I’ll go see if Cheryl’s back.” Right now, I wished Steve was still here. I doubted Darlene would react in such a manner with a hot guy in the store.
    Whispers drifted from behind the curtained partition of the storage room. I parted the fabric.
    Hope and Cheryl stood huddled together. Hope gestured at the back door, then toward the front of the store. Cheryl’s gaze flicked in that direction and widened when she saw me. She elbowed Hope.
    The quiet argument stopped and they looked at me as if I was the center of their world.
    They were hiding something.
    Cheryl grinned at me. “Faith, how’s Steve?”
    I narrowed my gaze. Grandma Cheryl never grinned like a staged candid moment of children dressed in matching outfits as they skipped through the surf. “You don’t care how Steve is.”
    “Of course I do,” Cheryl said.
    I muttered in my head and addressed my grandmothers. “I know you two weren’t back here clucking about Steve.”
    Nothing happened. No lecture, no grandmotherly narrowed gaze. No reminder of how I wasn’t raised to talk to my elders like that. The ignoring of my snark concerned me more than their actions. 
    Hope pointed a shaking finger toward the door. “There’s a police car in our employee parking lot.”
    What did Roget want now? Were the police tying the store into the murder? It was bad enough the police arrested one of my grandmothers’ employees for murder. Pinpointing their beloved store as a supply house for weapons would hurt them even more. If Roget wanted a showdown, I’d give him one. “I’ll go find out what