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

Darlene’s waist, I tugged. She reached back with one hand and clawed at my face.
    “It’s mine! She stole it!” Darlene lashed out with her legs. One hand tightened on Belinda’s handmade t-shirt. “It’s mine!”
    “Let go of my daughter!” Hazel squeezed the trigger of the glue gun. Hot liquid glue dribbled from the nozzle and splattered on Darlene’s hand.
    Darlene snarled and hissed in pain but kept hold of Belinda. I tightened my grip on the raging scrapbooker and pulled.
    A cloud of blue, yellow and green dust attacked our eyes. Hazel wielded the glue gun in one hand and a plastic jar of glitter in the other.
    Was she trying to brand us?
    Darlene twisted and turned her hips, killer heels jabbed into my legs. I hung on for Belinda’s dear life.
    Rip. I cringed. Underneath us, paper crinkled. Profits destroyed. I wanted to plead for help but was afraid my grandmother Cheryl would jump into the mix. I just needed to restrain Darlene for a little longer. Grandma Hope was probably on the phone right now arranging for either Steve or Ted, the detective who I tried to get along with for the sake of staying on his good side, to come as my back up.
    As the specks of color continued to rain down on us, Darlene twisted her head and started blowing in Hazel’s direction while continuing to kick at me.
    “My eyes!” Hazel screeched.
    The color bombardment stopped. The container clattered to the floor. Though, unfortunately for me, Darlene persisted in attacking me with her heels.
    Where in the world was Steve—or Ted—when I really needed their help? There were times I didn’t want to be totally self-reliant and capable. Where were these knights now?
    Darlene’s grip relaxed. I yanked her from the table and we both splattered to the linoleum floor with Darlene on top of me. Darlene grabbed a pot of glitter as we fell, whipped off the top and heaved it at Hazel and Belinda. Both covered their heads and screeched as the color figments coated them.
    “That’s it! I’ve had enough of you.” Belinda screeched and kicked off her kitten heels. Things were about to get real ugly now.
    “Faith, do something!” Sierra shouted.
    What in the world did she think I was doing? I didn’t wrestle as a pastime. Belinda wasn’t the only one who’d had enough of this nonsense. I tightened my grip and rolled over. I pinned Darlene, face-down to the floor.
    “My necklace.” Belinda pummeled my back with a container of glitter. Specks of gold, rose, and Christmas green fluttered over and around me. “She took my necklace.”
    How in the world did I become the punching bag? Thankful Belinda hadn’t grabbed the hammer and nails, I ignored the blows and kept hold of Darlene. An elbow jabbed into my stomach. I sucked in a breath, pressing more of my weight onto the life artist gone berserk.
    Darlene grunted and squirmed.
    Snap. Snap .
    Flashes went off. Just what we needed, layouts of a brawl in Scrap This. It’s what one always looked for when looking for a place to shop and crop. I hoped this didn’t show up on the community blog or in the church’s newsletter as I saw Frieda joined in documenting the moment. Pastor Evans was having a hard time explaining to his mother-in-law that God didn’t need, nor want, any help in having “sinful behavior” brought to His attention. One day I wanted to add a picture of her taking a picture of others to the newsletter, but copy-catting bad behavior to point out bad behavior never worked out the way one intended.
    Karen’s photographer moved in closer, aiming the lens of the camera I thought I might be falling in love with at me. I wasn’t so enamored with it anymore. 
    “Some help instead of taking pictures.” How could the photographer stand there and take photos at a time like this? I guess not all men were helpful in a brewing crisis.
    I heard Hope ushering some of the onlookers outside as Cheryl herded some to the back. Customers expressed their disappointment at being