Free Scrapbook of the Dead by Mollie Cox Bryan Page B

you?”
    â€œAbsolutely,” he said. “Marina was very gifted. Knew her stuff. I don’t know where she was trained. I never really have the time to talk to people when I’m working. It’s a very fast pace and I’m really still figuring out the way things work.”
    â€œI’m curious,” Annie said. “You’ve said that the place isn’t managed well.”
    â€œNo, the supplies don’t seem to be,” Randy said, placing a brown, jewel-embellished paper photo frame around a picture.
    â€œNice,” Paige said, looking over his shoulder.
    â€œI find that very surprising,” Vera said. “I mean, for such a successful place, you’d think she’d be more careful.”
    Randy grunted, holding up his page. “I’m not sure what the problem with the supplies is. I’m looking into it.” The page was gold with a Halloween photo of him and his dad sitting on a porch swing. He was dressed as Superman and only about three years old. The cranberry jewel embellishments he’d placed on the page added just a bit of flair. “I love those jewels. And they are so easy to work with. Now they have peel-off backs.”
    â€œDoes Pamela employ a lot of Mexicans?” Annie asked while searching in her bag for an envelope of photos she had stuck inside earlier.
    â€œShe employs mostly foreigners,” Randy said. “I’m one of the few locals there.”
    â€œWhat?” Vera said, dropping her scissors.
    â€œTo be fair, most of them are doing menial jobs. Dishwashing, chopping, mixing,” said Randy. “Pamela mentioned once that she couldn’t find Americans to fill those positions.”
    The room quieted.
    â€œThat’s hard to believe,” DeeAnn said. “I’ve never had a problem. In fact, I maintain a file of people who’d be happy to work for me, even if it’s just washing dishes.”
    â€œHow much is she paying those people, Randy?” Annie said, unable to ignore the pings of reporter’s intuition surging through her body.
    â€œI imagine minimum wage,” he said, sliding his finished page into a plastic page protector. “But I really have no idea.”
    â€œHas anybody gotten a good look at the scrapbooking pages they found with the sisters?” DeeAnn questioned.
    â€œThey’ve both been sent to the crime lab in Richmond,” Annie said, sliding out her photos of their day of hiking at Sherando Lake. She had bought some paper with stylized blue mountains in the background and couldn’t wait to preserve the memory of that day. It had been one of those moments when she wished she could stop time. The boys were so busy with soccer, music, and school that it was tough to get away as a family, even if it was just to a local lake.
    â€œCute pictures,” Randy said.
    Annie beamed. She played around with the placement of the photos. “How open would Pamela be to chatting with me?”
    Randy twisted his mouth. “Who knows?”

Chapter 17
    Beatrice and Jon looked forward to Saturday nights with their granddaughter when they babysat while Vera was at her weekly crop meeting. But they were also happy when Elizabeth finally went to bed. The child was exhausting. Bea was ready for bed way before Elizabeth. Jon, on the other hand, was still playing around on the computer.
    Beatrice sat in her chair reading the newest Louise Penny mystery and Jon sat in front of the computer reading intently.
    â€œWhat are you doing over there?” Bea asked.
    â€œReading about gangs in small towns. It’s troubling. I don’t think we have gangs like this in France.” He looked at her with a sideways glance and a grin.
    â€œThe hell you don’t,” Beatrice said. “Maybe you should be reading about gangs in Paris or Mexico City.”
    â€œMexico City?”
    â€œThat’s in Mexico.”
    â€œYes, of course it is, but we are in