Altered to Death Read online

  Praise for the Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Series

  “A snappy, clever mystery that hooked me on page one and didn’t let go until the perfectly crafted and very satisfying end. Faith Hunter is a delightful amateur sleuth and the quirky characters that inhabit the town of Eden are the perfect complement to her overly inquisitive ways. A terrific read!”

  – Jenn McKinlay,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Copy Cap Murder

  “Christina’s characters shine, her knowledge of scrapbooking is spot on, and she weaves a mystery that simply cries out to be read in one delicious sitting!”

  – Pam Hanson,

  Author of Faith, Fireworks, and Fir

  “A fast-paced crafting cozy that will keep you turning pages as you try to figure out which one of the attendees is an identity thief and which one is a murderer.”

  — Lois Winston,

  Author of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series

  “A little town, a little romance, a little intrigue and a little murder. Join heroine Faith and find out exactly who is doing the embellishing—the kind that doesn’t involve scrapbooking.”

  – Leann Sweeney,

  Author of the Bestselling Cats in Trouble Mysteries

  “Battling scrapbook divas, secrets, jealousy, murder, and lots of glitter make Designed to Death a charming and heartfelt mystery.”

  –Ellen Byerrum,

  Author of the Crime of Fashion Mysteries

  “Freeburn’s second installment in her scrapbooking mystery series is full of small-town intrigue, twists and turns, and plenty of heart.”

  – Mollie Cox Bryan,

  Agatha Award Finalist, Scrapbook of Secrets

  “A great read that had me reading non-stop from the moment I turned the first page…kept me in suspense with plenty of twists and turns and every time I thought I had it figured out, the author changed the direction in which the story was headed...and I liked the cast of characters in this charming whodunit!”

  – Dru’s Book Musings

  “Witty, entertaining and fun with a side of murder…When murder hits Eden, WV, Faith Hunter will stop at nothing to clear the name of her employee who has been accused of murder. Will she find the killer before it is too late? Read this sensational read to find out!”

  – Shelley’s Book Case

  “Has mystery and intrigue aplenty, with poor Faith being stuck in the middle of it all…When we finally come to the end of the book (too soon), it knits together seamlessly and comes as quite a surprise, which is always a good thing. A true pleasure to read.”

  – Open Book Society

  “A cozy mystery that exceeds expectations…Freeburn has crafted a mystery that does not feel clichéd…it’s her sense of humor that shows up in the book, helping the story flow, making the characters real and keeping the reader interested.”

  — Scrapbooking is Heart Work

  The Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Series

  by Christina Freeburn

  CROPPED TO DEATH (#1)

  DESIGNED TO DEATH (#2)

  EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (#3)

  FRAMED TO DEATH (#4)

  MASKED TO DEATH (#5)

  ALTERED TO DEATH (#6)

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  Copyright

  ALTERED TO DEATH

  A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | November 2017

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2017 by Christina Freeburn

  Author photograph by Kristi Downey

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-279-5

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-280-1

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-281-8

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-282-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Alma and Gail

  A book cannot be written without the support of family, friends, editors, beta readers, and those readers who become friends and your biggest cheerleaders as you write a book.

  Alma and Gail, thank you so much for being those vocal cheerleaders and making me believe I can take on the world and bring happiness to it with my words.

  Seeing your messages always bring warmth to my heart, and for some reason always come on the days when I’m in a doubting mood. Thank you so much for being there and believing in me.

  I love you both.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A big thank you to all the online genealogists who share their knowledge and resources so others can learn how to delve into the past. It was reading about their enthusiasm for family history and some of the treasures that they found which made me want to “what if” and explore the history of the fictional town of Eden.

  Erin and Rachel…I don’t know if I can ever fully explain how much I adore you both, and what blessings you are to me and my stories. The times I’m not certain I can do what needs to be done, your confidence in my ability always helps me get through it.

  A huge thank you to all my scrapbooking friends and readers who have shared their experiences in struggling with choosing to keep some history private rather than writing those memories down in scrapbook albums.

  One

  The sun was peeking over the mountains, turning the sky a light pink as I pulled into one of the employee parking spaces behind Scrap This. The safety light was shining on the dark green dumpster. After finding a body by it a few years ago, my grandmothers thought it was best to have it and the backdoor lit up like it was the star of a show.

  I yawned and snatched up my insulated mug to take a sip of coffee. Six thirty was too early to be at work, at least for me. A morning person I was not. I enjoyed the shows the Food Network and HGTV ran after nine o’clock too much to be an up at dawn person. And the creative side of my brain usually didn’t spark to life until around that time also. A blessing and a curse as it helped put me in a happy frame of mind before bed, but it also made my normal bedtime around midnight.

  One of the best things about managing Scrap This, besides playing with and ordering scrapbooking goodies, was the store didn’t open until nine, perfect for my sleeping patterns. I usually didn’t arrive until eight, but the closer it came to March 15, the earlier I arrived as the countdown to hand over the scrapbooks I was making of the history of Eden for the historical society was almost upon me. I had six weeks left.

  Scrapbooking the history of our town wasn’t quite the easy project I envisioned. I figured I’d place an ad in the paper asking for stories and pictures from the town’s residents and check out a couple of books from the library to create some layouts of the key moments in our history. Instead, boxes upon boxes of memorabilia and pictures were dropped off. I had finally gotten t
hrough the sorting process and was now at the making layouts stage of the project.

  I was hoping that today I’d be allowed to poke around the attic of the Everton mansion, prior home of our town’s founding family, for any photographs, diaries, and other artifacts the first family of Eden might have left behind when they made a mass exodus ninety-five years ago. Plus, I wanted to get some pictures of the ballroom to start planning how to decorate it for my wedding.

  The Evertons were big entertainers back in the day, or at least that was what the house said with its huge kitchen, large library with high ceilings and smooth wooden floors, different material from the floor in the other areas of the house. In the corners, there were small colored inlaid designs. It looked like a dance floor. The dining room and kitchen area had tiles while the rest of the bedrooms had knotted hardwood floors. The historical society kept the library pretty much the same except for adding in better lighting and new windows. They wanted to rent out the room for weddings and other events. My grandmothers thought it would be an awesome place for a weekend crop retreat. The uniqueness of the setting would have out of town scrapbookers coming to Eden to scrapbook in a historic place, bringing the shoppers to our store and other businesses in Eden.

  Smiling, I looked down at my left hand and twisted the band of my engagement ring back and forth. Some days I still couldn’t believe that I was engaged to Ted Roget. My once upon a time nemesis turned best friend, and one day I realized he was the love of my life. Three years ago, I told everyone I never intended to marry. Heck, I had intended to be a onesome for the rest of my life, but I had come to realize one bad choice didn’t mean I had to live such an extreme life.

  Ted was happy I had the mystery of the disappearance of the Everton family to work on instead of finding a way into helping with one of the crimes he was investigating. He hoped this project, along with work I was doing for his brother, Bob, would occupy my time and attention. At first Ted wasn’t thrilled over the fact his brother hired me as a researcher for his private investigating business, but since it made me happy and allowed me to use the skills I developed in amateur sleuthing in a productive way, it changed Ted’s attitude about my part-time job.

  I scooted out of my car, careful not to spill my coffee, and went to the back door. I tightened the hold on my coffee, seeking warmth from my beverage, and unlocked the door. Winter had been nonexistent in January but found its way back to us in February. The forecast was calling for snow this weekend. I hoped it didn’t delay the renovations on the Everton mansion. Thankfully, the Buford brothers had been able to catch up on the project after the late start on the renovations because of an argument within the historical society on who should be hired. Ruthann Pancake, the maven of the society, put her foot down and insisted the Buford brothers, being lifetime residents of Eden—regardless of their family’s social standing in the community—be awarded the contract.

  I walked into the employee lounge, which was doubling as the official scrapbooking spot for the town’s scrapbooks. Since I couldn’t just scrapbook all day, I required a spot where I could create and not have to clean up every night. It was also nice that I could leave boxes on the counter to sort items that needed returning to their owners.

  I pulled out the archival storage box where I was keeping the information I had uncovered about the Everton family. This was the most important part of the scrapbooking project, the beginning of our town story, and I basically had nothing. Rudolph, Edith and their three daughters left Virginia at the start of the Civil War and stopped in this area because of a snowstorm. I had researched the weather and confirmed the snowstorm and the existence of the family. They weren’t made up. But after that, everything got sketchy.

  Rudolph had brought in a builder who had constructed his family’s prior home in Virginia to help him build the Everton mansion in Eden. A few years after the youngest daughters had fled Eden, Rudolph, his wife, and oldest daughter also slunk away in the night never to be heard from again.

  The biggest mystery in Eden’s history was why had the entire Everton clan left town? Was it because of the rumors that the younger girls, Mabel and Laura, had been willingly spirited away by bank robbers? Or had something else made the family leave? No one had been in the home for over fifty years, and there was a chance the Evertons left some important pieces of their history behind. When one is fleeing town in the middle of the night, you didn’t bring a lot of stuff with you. I needed to get into the mansion.

  I pulled out my cell phone and composed a text to Gussie Buford. If anyone could get Wayne and Wyatt to allow me into the house, it was their mother. They had to have completed enough of the renovation to where it was now safe to go inside. Like me, their deadline was six weeks away. If the scrapbook project didn’t sway her, I would add a bit about checking out the venue for my reception, which was two weeks after the grand opening of the Everton mansion to the public. Gussie was a romantic. I knew that would do it.

  “Delivery,” Sierra said. “I found this by the back door. Looks like more items for sorting. How is the town’s scrapbook coming along?”

  I finished my text to Gussie and hit send. The boys had a tough time saying no to their mom. I felt a little bad using our friendship, but my deadline was approaching and I didn’t want to fail. It was nice being needed by my community, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

  Sierra placed a cardboard box on the counter near the microwave, the point farthest from the sink.

  “Did my grandmother ask you to come in this morning?” Tendrils of panic grew in my chest. Hope and Cheryl were scheduled to come in and work on the books this morning. Why had they called in Sierra?

  As my grandmothers aged, I worried every time one of them switched the schedule to have Sierra or Marilyn come in for them. Lately, it had been happening more and more, with Sierra being the one they called. Were they keeping health issues from me?

  Sierra offered a wane smile. “I asked them if there were any hours available. Hope offered me hers.”

  “I thought Hank would be busy between working for the Bufords at the Everton place and doing side carpentry work.”

  Slowly, Sierra turned to look at me. The expression on her face said it all. Once again, Hank was unemployed. I didn’t think the side business would last long since Hank didn’t have the temperament to deal with customer complaints, whether big or small. But, I had believed that working on the Buford crew would keep Hank’s temper in check. At over six feet tall and being hefty because of muscles, Wayne and Wyatt weren’t the type most people tried to take advantage of or ignored. I figured fear alone would ensure Hank made it to work on time every day.

  “You know Hank wanted that job himself,” Sierra said, bitterness creeping into her voice. “He was going to restart his family’s construction business.”

  That shocked me. Hank had wanted to start his own business? The man didn’t have a good way with people or money. When his grandfather died, the business was closed as Hank’s dad, Edward, had handled the books and the administrative side of the remodeling business and knew nothing about the construction side. Word had been none of the sons were interested. Had Hank asked and his father said no? That must’ve hurt. Maybe since his father passed away, Hank thought now was the time to start as he wouldn’t be disregarding his father’s wishes.

  “Where’s Hank getting the money to start a business?” The minute the question flew out of my mouth, I regretted it.

  Sierra narrowed her eyes. “Hank said he had a plan. I’m not too worried about it.”

  “Weren’t you guys behind—” I shut up. Sierra didn’t need my commentary about her financial situation.

  Her eyes became beadier. “I don’t need to know everything that’s going on at all times.” The tone of Sierra’s voice added an unspoken “unlike you” to the end of the sentence.

  I was coming off a little holier-than-thou. I worried about her. Since I
knew them, Sierra and Hank’s finances were always topsy-turvy because of Hank’s inability to keep his thoughts and opinions to himself. Heat surfaced to my cheeks. Kind of like me. I was lucky that my grandmothers employed me and put up with my comings and goings at times. There were times I was a bit flaky at getting, and staying, at work, though I did have good reasons for my lateness. Then there was the fact that I never cursed or screamed to voice my displeasure at customers. I kept the snarkiness in my head.

  The only people Hank seemed to keep his cool with were his wife and children. Sierra had never mentioned Hank having an outburst at home or shown any fear toward her husband. If he was the same laid back guy to others as he was to his family, he’d have his pick of job opportunities.

  “Maybe Hank can be a stay at home dad.” I said, making my voice light and breezy.

  “I want to be home with my children.” Sierra opened the flaps of the box. “I peeked inside here, and there’s some photographs and old books in here.”

  If Sierra wanted to change the subject that was fine with me. I wandered over. “Did you see anything saying who dropped it off?”

  “No. I’m sure you’ll find something that would give you a clue. Since we’re talking about the town scrapbook, Georgia is finally letting us sort through Edward’s belongings. Maybe you should stop over at her house and look through Edward’s genealogy stuff.”

  “Her sons might want to do that themselves.”

  Sierra heaved out a sigh. “Georgia spends all day looking at those items and ends up calling Hank in tears. She needs to let go of it. It’s stressing Hank out, and he can’t get a decent night’s sleep. It affected his job.”