Free Designed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Christina Freeburn Page B

to get out there and help Ted not ponder my love life, or my determination not to have one. I could be here for days, months even, before I came up with an answer that made sense.
    With Ted’s help, this chore would be done sooner and I’d get to church without my grandmothers knowing something was up. Until they read the newspaper, or Ted stopped by and asked them questions. I wondered if I could get him to hold off until tomorrow. The last time he questioned someone on the Lord’s day, Grandma Cheryl threatened to call Ted’s “real” boss...his mother...instead of Chief Moore. I bit back a smile and almost skipped outside.
    Ted narrowed his eyes. “Do I even want to know?”
    “Not likely.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    Ted tugged on a pair of gloves and held out another pair. He either expected me or always came with a backup.
    I took the gloves and put them on. “Where do you recommend we start?”
    “I’ll take care of the door and the wall. How about you scrub the parking spaces and wipe down the dumpster. Blood can splatter.”
    His no-nonsense tone left me cold. “Okay.”
    Ted cringed and stopped me from walking by with a gentle hand on my arm. I jerked away as his fingers sent a shockwave through me.
    “Faith, I’m sorry.” Ted caressed my arm once then removed his hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. Belinda was a friend of yours. This has to be upsetting.”
    “I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Reality just sucks sometimes.”
    We both knew then it was time to stop talking and work. For whatever reason, we brought out the worst in each other. A tension always seemed to hover over us and neither of us knew how to vanquish it without reacting to it for a bit first.
    After filling up the containers with water and soap, I carried the bucket over to the dumpster and left the heavy tub with Ted. I noticed the small metal door was opened. I frowned. I knew it was closed when I left last night. Feral cats wandered all over town and if we didn’t keep the dumpster shut tight, we’d have a few taking up residence. I’d hate for a cat to get stuck in there and the waste management guys not notice before it was too late.
    Did someone throw something away? Belinda? Why would she come to Scrap This to throw something away? Especially in the middle of the night. Cold pinpricks attacked my scalp.
    I shot a glance over at Ted who was putting a lot of elbow grease into the bricks near the employee entrance. Would he find it suspicious that I brought up the possibility again of Belinda’s accident not being an accident? But, what if there was something in there that told me why Belinda came here alone last night. Maybe she was dumpster diving and when she tried getting out she slipped and hit her head.
    Taking in a deep breath, I placed my scrubber into the pail. I tugged the handle. It squealed.
    “What are you doing?” Ted asked his most often asked question.
    “The door on the dumpster is open.” I yanked harder.
    “It’s broken. Noticed that last night.” Ted dunk the brush into the sudsy water then went to town scrubbing down the door.
    “You were here last night?”
    Ted nodded. “There was a death here. I needed to come...”
    He continued talking but I had stopped listening. Broken? I wandered back over and examined the door. It looked in working order to me. Though, the bolts holding the sliding panel looked newer than the rest of the dumpster. I guess our trash company worked even on Sundays when a complaint was made. That explained it being open.
    “I should tip those guys at Christmas. They’ve already fixed it.”
    Ted jerked upright, spun around and faced me. “What guys fixed it?”
    “The waste management company. New door, or at least bolts, already installed. Thanks for calling them.”
    Ted tossed the brush into the tub. “I didn’t call anyone.”
    My insides tightened and my stomach went on a roller-coaster ride. Someone else who knew the door was broken called the