Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) Read Free Page B

could see, security guards approached the exits and stood in front of them. Hands rested at waists near the butts of their guns. 
    The voice continued. “There’s been a murder!”
    Pandemonium erupted.
    THREE

       
    They asked vendors to return to their spaces and ushered attendees into the main hall. Linda perched on the edge of a wooden stool nervously sipping a bottle of soda, the small drips of condensation splattering her pants. Sierra wrung her hands together and paced around our tiny space. I stood still and worried, the emotion churning the coffee in my stomach. Where were my grandmothers? Where was Steve? Where were Hank and the boys?
    Grandma Cheryl was probably chasing Clyde around the building trying to make him victim number two. Who in the world announced a murder over a loudspeaker?  
    I tried keeping myself calm and rational. Not something easy to do when a person feared for the lives of those they loved. Except for Steve. I liked Steve. I didn’t love him.
    “They’re probably speaking with the police.” Sierra placed a comforting arm around my shoulder. We huddled together. “Hope and Cheryl are in charge.”
    “You’re right. And Hank went with them or is rounding up the boys. He wouldn’t want them walking around alone.”
    Those words brought little comfort to either of us. Were the police going to blame my grandmothers for what happened? Would they be sued? I spotted Cheryl, Hope and Steve walking toward the booth and relief flooded through me. They were safe. The tightness in my chest relaxed.
    But where was Hank? The boys? I held onto Sierra.
    A man in a suit stopped Steve to talk to him. They both looked in my direction, then walked toward me. That wasn’t good. Cheryl shot an angry glare at the suited man’s back.
    “The boys?” Sierra asked.
    Steve reassured her with a smile. “Hank took them outside. They were way too interested in the police.”
    I grinned at Sierra. “I told you Hank was with the boys.”
    Relief was visible on her face.
    “I hate to break up the cheering section, but I have a few questions for you, Miss Hunter.”  The attractive red-haired man in the dark blue suit flashed a badge.
    I squinted and studied the badge. This guy wasn’t a security guard. “Officer—” 
    “Detective Roget.” He stood with his legs apart, a stance worthy of any cowboy bent on saving the town from the evil gunslinger.
    I didn’t know if placing his hands so the jacket opened and revealed the gun was an involuntarily reflex or an act of intimidation. Crossing my arms, I locked gazes with him. From somewhere behind me, Steve groaned.
    “When was the last time you talked with Marilyn Kane?” Roget asked.
    Marilyn. Marilyn wasn’t with us at the booth. Marilyn was dead. Murdered. Detective Roget wavered in front of me, a whirling sound filled my ears. Strong arms wrapped around me and I leaned against a rock of warmth and comfort.
    “Marilyn’s okay, Faith,” Steve said.
    “Stay out of this, Davis.”
    “I would if…” Steve didn’t complete the sentence, only tightened his hold around me.
    I took in deep breaths and the room came back into focus. My grandmothers stood behind the detective. Cheryl’s hands bunched into fists. Hope gripped Cheryl’s shoulders to stop her from assaulting the detective. If he wasn’t asking about Marilyn because she was the victim then— 
    “How was he killed?” I asked.
    “Him? How do you know it’s a him?” A knowing smile tilted the corners of the detective’s lips.
    “Because you’re asking about Marilyn. If she’s not hurt then it has to be about her husband.” For some reason, I couldn’t say dead. Murdered. “Why else would you be asking about Marilyn?”
    Steve gestured for me to be quiet. Not something I was good at.
    “With an ongoing investigation, the police ask the questions,” Roget said.
    I stepped closer to the detective. “But you’re here to accuse Marilyn.”
    The detective bestowed a