Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

storage area. A few of them had toppled over and made a haphazard trail to the twelve foot wide curtain that separated the storage room from the rest of the store. I placed my hand on the partition. Multi-tasking ruled in a small business. We could accept deliveries, open boxes, and man the store at the same time. Privacy, or a lack thereof, occurred with the simple finger motion of hook and tug.
    “Stay here,” Roget said.
    I made a wide arc with my arms, showing off the storage room with only boxes and shelves. “What if it takes you hours? There’s nowhere to sit. No restroom. No caffeine. Can I at least wait in the employee break room? It isn’t like this is a secured area.”
    Detective Roget yanked opened the maroon curtains lined with gold. The metal rings rubbed against the bar and set off a squeal. “All right. Come with me.”
    Roget nodded at each officer in turn and pointed to a certain area of the store. Jasper headed to the cutting tools. Officer Kline headed for the crop area. “Don’t damage any of the merchandise. Miss Hunter, you can wait in the area where the register is.”
    “You mean the customer service area.”
    Roget glared down at me. “I don’t care what you call it. Just wait over there.”
    My dislike for him grew moment by moment. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Kline rummaging in the trash can. My breath hitched. Had I emptied it out last night? Was evidence of Marilyn’s pictorial rampage still in the garbage?
    “Detective Roget, do you want all of them?” Jasper asked from the end of the aisle near the cutting tools.
    All of what? I peered down the row flanked by white racks holding different colors of cardstock.
    “Just those ones.” Roget pointed at the scissor section. He glanced in my direction, raised his eyes in a heaven-help-me plea, then jabbed his finger toward the register. “Now.”
    “I’m going.” I trudged in that general direction.
    Roget picked up a box and passed it to Officer Jasper. “Take this to the squad car.”
    Walking backwards, I watched Jasper head toward the backdoor. He weaved through the paper racks. I cringed as he brushed against several stacks of cardstock. Damaged paper meant having to pull it off the shelf. Customers wouldn’t buy a sheet with even a tiny bent corner. 
    Roget moved toward the back of the store. Holding my breath, I diverted my direction and took a few steps toward the cutting tools. My stomach did a free fall. The sharp-tip scissors were gone. Each and every one. Even the new purple handled ones I coveted. Friday night we had an abundant supply. I tapped my finger on the cold, empty, metal hooks.
    Like picking out the photos and embellishment for a layout, my mind gathered all the facts and arranged them into a cohesive unit. The police obtained a search warrant to find evidence. Detective Roget took the scissors. Michael had been stabbed with a tool used to help scrappers preserve family memories—or cut people from them.
    “What were you told?” 
    I jumped up and turned around. Two actions a person shouldn’t combine. I wobbled and then lost my balance, sending my body toward the racks of paper. A hand snagged my arm and steadied me.
    Detective Roget centered his hard gaze on my face and tightened his grip. “If you insist on interfering, I’ll put you in the police car.”
    I pried his hand from my arm, and placed my hands on my hips while raising my chin without making the gesture a challenge. “I’m not interfering. I’m taking inventory.”
    “Really.” He matched my stance, but his hand placements reminded me he had handcuffs and a firearm. His next official business could be giving me a tour of the jail. “Because I’m leaning toward interfering in a police investigation.”  
    I wanted to dare him to prove it. Instead, I kept quiet. I knew my actions weren’t as sweet and innocent as I claimed, but I wasn’t interfering. I wanted to protect Marilyn. She wouldn’t kill Michael.
    Talk about