Designed to Death Page 16

  “Nope.”

  “How about it’s not your business?”

  I shook my head. “It’s my house.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Ted sighed again.

  Come on, was I really that exasperating? “Did they jump the back fence and go through the kitchen door?”

  “Yeah.” Ted slid a look at me. “What made you think that?”

  I wasn’t sure if he thought I withheld information from him, like receiving threats, or was once again delving into amateur sleuthing. “Mrs. Barlow would’ve called if someone forced their way in through the front door.”

  “Good observation. I’ll have to see if she took down any more license plates this afternoon. Is that a new hobby of hers?”

  I shrugged. I knew she kept notes on suspicious activities. If she was starting to jot down everything, I might need to use the back door if Steve and I had some late night dates at my or his house. There were some things my grandmothers, or the neighbors, didn’t need to know about my relationship.

  Ted took hold of my hand, halting me from stepping inside my house. “Are you sure you’re up for this? Some areas are a mess.”

  “I saw the living room and kitchen. I can do it.”

  “The upstairs is a lot like the living room, except for the bathroom. Whoever broke in avoided that room.”

  I guess that was nice of him—or her—if my theory was right. I wouldn’t put it past Darlene to create a huge mess to convince me I needed to help her because I was in danger.

  Slowly, I walked around the living room. I righted the chair and the lamp. With my direction, Ted and Jasper put the couch and coffee table back into the proper place. The television was still in its place, along with the DVR, Blu-ray player, and movie collection. Whoever broke in hadn’t come with the intention of taking anything, at least not anything worth selling.

  “Nothing seems to be missing here.”

  “What about in your dining room?” Jasper asked.

  “It’ll take a while for you to look,” Ted said. “They did a real number over there.”

  Heat crept along my cheeks. “It kind of looked that way when I left for work this morning.”

  “Wow. Your grandmothers let you get away with that?” Jasper’s eyes widened.

  I narrowed my gaze. “This is my house.”

  Jasper took a step back. “Just saying. I know if my grandma saw my place a wreck she’d be swatting me with a broom until I picked it up.”

  “It’s my crafting area. What looks like chaos is actually creativity.”

  “I’ll tell my grandma that the next time she pops over for a surprise inspection.”

  At least my grandmothers weren’t that bad. They liked to interfere in my life but it was to get me a man. Though, Jasper’s grandma might be on the same plan. What girl wanted to date a guy who lived in a pigsty?

  I knew Karen wouldn’t and that’s the woman Jasper had his eye on.

  Quickly, I sorted through the paper, stickers, die cuts, and glitter tubes on my table. Everything accounted for. It’s possible something was taken as I had so many embellishments I couldn’t remember what I owned. A few times, I’ve found duplicates of dimensional stickers and I only intended on buying one.

  Where were the pictures? I had a stack of photos on the edge of the table. Who would break into a house and steal photographs of other people? Someone who thought those images might disprove their case.

  I clenched my fists. “I’m going to—”

  The rage in my voice caught Ted and Jasper’s attention.

  I slapped my mouth shut. The last time someone I knew uttered the word kill, she landed in jail accused of murdering her husband.

  “Going to what?” Ted asked.

  Of course, he couldn’t let it go. “Going to sue her.” It worked. A little bit. Better than saying I planned on ending her life. “Thinking she could swipe my pictures.”

  “Your pictures?” Ted asked.

  “I had a pile of photos that I was going to scrap and they are gone.”

  “Who’d take your pictures?” Jasper knelt down by the trashcan in my craft room. His features contorted into many unattractive shapes while he fought back showing his opinion of my pink daisy-stickered trash receptacle.

  “I’m interested to know also.” Ted flipped open a notebook, poising a pen above the page.

  “Really? That’s not the impression I got earlier,” I said.

  “Faith, give me the name instead of an argument.” Weariness came through in Ted’s voice.

  Guilt wiggled through me and I relented. The man had to have been working non-stop since Belinda’s accidental death was changed to murder.

  “Darlene.”

  “Darlene Johnson, the woman who got into a fight with Belinda.” Ted said. “The woman you tried to help.”

  “Her. But I didn’t try to help her. I got conned into helping her.” I sorted through the items on the table. Stickers. Ribbon. Pattern paper. Cardstock.

  “She’d want to take the pictures because...”

  “To annoy me.”

  Ted and Jasper exchanged a glance I didn’t like. I wasn’t an irrational, hysterical woman. Wanting to annoy someone was a valid reason for taking someone’s pictures.

  It sure wasn’t because Darlene ran out of photos to scrap or had a fondness for me and my grandmothers and wanted our images plastered in her home.

  Unless she had turned stalkerish. I dismissed it. Darlene didn’t have enough interest in another person to go through the trouble of stalking them. Whatever she did benefited her in some way. She was more likely to set up mirrors all over her house to catch her own eye than vie for someone else’s attention.

  Hazel on the other hand...

  “Are these the pictures you’re missing?” Jasper held up some photos.

  I snatched them for his hand and flipped through them. Yep. My missing photos. Darn it. Now, I had to admit it to Ted.

  He waited with a slight smile on his face. The guy was maddening. He knew it.

  I dropped them onto the table.

  “Well...” Ted grinned at me.

  I sighed. “Yes. Those are the missing pictures.”

  “Not very nice to blame Darlene.”

  “I’m not saying she didn’t do this...” I waved my arms around the mess. “Okay, maybe not technically this mess in my crafting area, but in the living room and other parts of my house, I’m certain it was her.”

  Ted tried valiantly not to roll his eyes. “Do you base that on the design style of the mess?”

  Jasper snickered. If Ted hadn’t been standing there, I’d have given Jasper a little kick in the derriere. Just for that, I’d let it slip Jasper wasn’t keeping his apartment in a way that appealed to women. His grandmother would be over before the full sentence left my grandmother’s lips. If there was one thing grandmothers did in this town, it was helping their counterparts get some great-grandchildren onto the family tree.

  “No, I base it on the fact nothing of crafting importance was ruined. If there is one thing Darlene treats with great care, it’s scrapbooking supplies and photographs.”

  So there, smart-aleck.

  Ted’s eye widened. I almost saw the wheels in his mind clicking. I actually made a point worth considering.

  “The kitchen and bathroom were left alone. The electronics weren’t stolen. Things are in disarray.”

  “Why overturn the couch?” Ted asked. “How was making a mess of your home going to help her find anything?”

  “It’ll delay me...”

  Ted’s eyes narrowed again.

  Oh no. His face twisted into the you’re-playing-PI look again.

  “Go on.”

  I wasn’t walking any further into the verbal trap I created. I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

  “Let’s go up and see if the damage there matches your theory.”

  Sounded like the best idea ever. I started up the stairs, reminding myself to keep my temper and watch w
hat I said. I took a few deep breaths outside the door to my office. I glanced across the hallway to my closed bedroom door. I hoped Darlene at least had the decency to stay out of there. I had never had a man in there before, and did not want Ted and Jasper to be the first ones in there.

  I didn’t want the first man to be in there because he was investigating a crime instead of me.

  “Let me know what’s missing.” Ted placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me inside the office.

  Shock ripped through me. This wasn’t what I had expected.

  The devastation upstairs was different. Vicious. Books torn in half littered the floor, some mine, and the others were ones I checked out from the library. Mud was ground into the carpet so hard it smudged the print and distorted the size of the shoe. Pictures pulled from the walls were thrown onto the floor. The glass shattered and spider webs ran across all the faces showing the happy moments of my life with my grandmothers.

  I blinked furiously to stop the threatening tears.

  All of the desk drawers were pulled out, the contents scattered all over the floors. Pens. Markers. Beaded bookmarkers I collected and had hung on a peg board beside my desk now torn and on the carpet. A Raggedy Ann doll Grandma Hope had given me for my fourth birthday lay crumbled in a corner.

  I picked her up, cradling her against my body. A stuffed bear Steve won for me at a carnival was nearly decapitated, the stuffing strewn about. Tears blurred my vision. I swiped them away.

  “Let’s do this later.” Ted wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pivoted me toward the door.

  “No. I want to do it now. Maybe something here will tell us who did this.” I turned slowly in a circle and stopped when I returned to my starting point. “Whoever did this wants to hurt me.”

  “I think they were angry because they didn’t find what they were looking for.” Ted knelt down and picked up the bear. “My ex-wife runs a doll and stuffed critter hospital for our daughter and her friends. I’ll take your friend to her and she’ll fix it good as new.”

  Ted’s understanding and concern touched my heart. As much as he annoyed me, and did he ever, he was a good, honorable man who took people’s feelings into consideration.

  I drew in a deep breath and released it. “Thank you. Let’s see what we can uncover.”

  For twenty minutes we sorted through items. Ted had Jasper bring up a garbage bag and a box. Anything I wanted to have fixed or replaced went into the box, and the items beyond saving and had no sentimental value went into the garbage. It was easier going through everything having Ted’s help.

  “Do you think this ties into Belinda’s murder?” Jasper asked, tying up the filled garbage bag. “Someone might think you have something to do with the murder...”

  “And why would anyone think that?” I planted my hands on my hips and glared at Jasper. “I’m not a suspect. I had no reason to kill Belinda.”

  Jasper held up his hands and backed up a few inches. “I’m not saying you did. But someone sure doesn’t think highly of you.”

  I drew in a deep breath, preparing to unleash some wrathful words but Ted cut me off.

  “Jasper, be useful.” Ted pointed to the door. “Take those downstairs.”

  “You want them at the curb or in the trunk of the squad car?” Jasper slung the bag onto his shoulder.

  Ted paused and seemed to contemplate the question. “Take it back to the station and get some help sorting through and cataloging it.”

  Jasper groaned. “Come on, Detective. You can’t be serious.”

  Ted leveled a very serious look on him. “This breakin could be tied into a murder case. It’s easy to overlook something viewing it as part of the whole. Individually, something might stand out as being out of place.”

  I pressed my mouth closed so as not to heave out my opinion. Ted wouldn’t appreciate me pointing out he sounded like he was doing a segment for children’s television show on matching like items.

  Jasper’s lips twitched. He knew what I was thinking.

  Ted’s gaze flickered over to me then back to Jasper. I got serious. This wasn’t a funny matter at all. Finding some amusement in this disaster helped keep my emotions under control. I didn’t want to be blubbering with Ted and Jasper in the room. I’d rather wait until they left before I indulged in a mini-breakdown.

  “You think there’s a clue in there?” I pointed at the bag Jasper left with.

  “It’s possible. I’ll have you come by tomorrow to look over everything. Maybe something was left, rather than taken, and will give us a clue on who did this.”

  I hoped so. I wanted this person found. It wouldn’t bother me as much if they had stolen something. They tore through my house like they were looking for something.

  My gaze became glued to the computer. The keyboard hung from its cord, dangling from the desk. The basket I kept extra memory cards and my flash drive in rested on its side. Empty. Sketches, doodles and my notes from Saturday night littered the desk.

  “No!” I ran over to my desk. I pushed the papers away. They fluttered to the floor. I wanted my pictures safe. I yanked open my top desk drawer. Also empty.

  I booted up my computer and searched my files. My folder marked pictures held two files: a form for our crops, and the other a customer survey. Everything else wiped out. I checked my documents folder. All the journaling I’d done and saved to print also erased.

  Tears filled my eyes. Gone. All of the files on my computer had been wiped out and the memory cards taken. I know I didn’t have much of a life to document according to some people, but it was still my life. Since I left home, I hadn’t had many good memories to preserve, but the few I had I cherished.

  The words I spoke to Leslie Amtower yesterday haunted me. Why did I tell her I had the real conversation? The safety net I had for my grandmothers was gone. Wait a minute! The thread. I’d find the thread and print it out.

  Okay. Keep calm. I clicked on my browser and went to the message board. This shouldn’t be hard. I remembered Darlene’s user name so all I had to do was look it up and I’d get a list of what she posted on Saturday.

  “What’s going on?” Ted stood behind me, his hands on the back of the chair.

  “I’m getting your proof of who broke into my home. I know who did it.”

  “You already told me. Darlene.”

  I shook my head. “She wouldn’t have done this.”

  I knew Darlene was capable, and willing, to create havoc but not this level of destruction. Scrapbooking was her life. Her purpose. She loved the hobby as if it was an actual being. That was why she was so upset with Belinda. Belinda hadn’t just pulled one over on readers of a magazine, she betrayed scrapbooking. Something Darlene held dear.

  This was done by someone who hated me. Not just a person who found me annoying, aggravating, and not quite that likeable. This was done by someone who thought I was out to destroy them so they wanted me to know they could, and did, destroy a part of me first.

  The person fitting the bill was Leslie Amtower.

  “I’m fairly certain it’s Leslie Amtower. She is out to prove my grandmothers and I...mainly I...had something to do with the scam Belinda ran on Making Legacies.”

  “What scam?” Ted asked, his rugged voice a little confused.

  “The layout. You heard about it. Belinda submitted layouts designed by Darlene as her own and became a Life Artist Diva because of them. This news has the potential of ruining the magazine.”

  “It’s that big of a deal?”

  “Yeah. It’s a huge deal in the scrapbooking industry. Scraplifting is for your own personal fun, not for profiting off of.”

  “Scraplifting?”

  “Copying someone’s layout. Scrapbookers will use a design they see on the internet or in magazines as a blueprint for a page in their scrapbooks. Sometimes croppers will get blocked and not have an idea for a page so they copy one they like. Not using the same exact paper or embellishment but the placement of photos and the techni
ques used on the page.”

  “And that’s okay?”

  “For personal use, absolutely. To submit to contests or design teams, no way.”

  “Ms. Johnson stated Ms. Watson stole her pages not scraplifted.”

  “Yeah. Belinda seemed to have taken scraplifting to a whole new level and submitted to the Making Legacies contest the actual pages Darlene had made.”

  “Which Ms. Watson confirmed.”

  I nodded. “And for some reason the editor-in-chief of Making Legacies believes I was involved.”

  “Why would she think that? For the record, the question is not an accusation.” Ted rushed through the last sentence.

  “I don’t know the why, just that she does. She’s been going around town linking my name with this fiasco.”

  “Hmmm...” Ted’s non-word comment and the unsurprised look on his face told me he already knew about this. “That’s quite an interesting change in direction.”

  “I don’t expect you to run out and arrest the woman.”

  “I appreciate you not making any demands.” Ted’s lips twisted into a half-sneer.

  Sarcasm did not look good on the man. I turned my attention back to the computer. The thread proved someone was out to get me and the fact Leslie Amtower used a doctored account of what transpired instead of the whole thing.

  Where was it? Maybe Darlene changed the thread title. I clicked through all the threads Darlene responded to on Saturday and Sunday. None of them was the infamous “livid” thread. My stomach felt like I was traveling at top speed on the down section of a mountain road.

  I pounded on the keyboard, adding words I remembered from the thread into the search engine. Nothing. The witch got the thread pulled! I knew it was Leslie Amtower. There was no way to prove it to Ted. He wouldn’t understand the clout an editor-in-chief of a popular scrapbooking magazine would have over the owners of the website.

  Maybe Darlene kept...no. Asking Darlene for help was asking for a migraine. I’d owe her a favor and if there was one person in this life I never wanted to owe it was Darlene.

  I just had to find different evidence. I threw myself back in the chair. The wheels rolled a few centimeters on the carpet. “It’s gone.”