Free Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Christina Freeburn

are you doing here?”
    I rubbed my forearm and thought about commenting on police brutality then decided remaining silent might be my saving grace.
    “I’ll ask again, why are you here?”
    I took two steps backwards, my pulse fluttering. Truth seemed the better option than evasiveness when dealing with a furious officer of the law. “Helping Marilyn.”
    His face reddened and his chest ballooned out as he took in a deep breath.
    Then again, maybe not. I cringed backwards.
    He muttered under his breath, either counting or asking for restraint. “And just how is talking to Miss Holland doing that?”
    “I just wanted to know where she was when Michael died. Ask her some simple questions since—”
    “On what authority?”  He cut me off before I said “the police won’t ask her.”
    I met his gaze head-on, posture straight and regal. “Being Marilyn’s friend. I know she didn’t kill Michael. I can’t see her harming anyone. No matter how horribly they treated her.”
    “Miss Hunter, did you ever see yourself trying to solve a murder?”
    I shook my head and remained standing tall.
    “Or see yourself talking to, or rather arguing with, a homicide detective?”
    Again I responded with a denial.
    “Or see yourself coming really close to being arrested?”
    Once. I kept that truth and remained silent.
    He rested his hands at his hips, fingers drifting over the handcuffs. “If you can’t even know for certain what you would do, how can you be so certain about your friend?”
    NINE

       
    I jabbed the blade of the box cutter into the thick tape and jerked my arm downward. The top flaps separated and I yanked the flaps open, the cardboard tearing at the seam. How did Roget know there was no way I could be absolutely sure? I could so know that Marilyn wouldn’t murder a person. Cynical cop.
    The bell above the door sounded its polite ding. I put on my happy face, stood and placed the box cutter into my front pocket before I turned around.
    Steve filled the doorway. My warm smiled faded when I saw the closed expression on his face. Usually he greeted me with a flirtatious smile, but the straightened lips said something bothered him.
    And it involved me.
    “Can I talk with you?” Steve asked.
    I continued unloading the paper. “I need to restock. Our customers have been badgering us for more of this brand. Then I need to get the easel boards set up for the layout contest displays.”
    Hope rushed over. “I’ll finish the paper.”
    I wanted to glare at her, but could never do that to my grandmother. Instead, I rolled my eyes and continued unpacking. “Grandma, I don’t want you to strain your back bending over and standing so many times. I can talk to Steve tonight when I’m done working.” I flashed a smile at Steve. “That okay with you?”
    His mouth remained straight. “It’s important we talk right now.”
    Hope closed the flaps on the box. “This can wait until later, Faith. Why don’t you two talk in the office? He did interrupt his day to come over. You should speak with him.”
    “Thanks, Hope.” Steve started in that direction.
    Why did my grandmothers always comply with Steve’s wishes—or him with theirs? Especially when it came to me. For once, I’d have liked respect for my choice. “Grandma, I know you’re in the middle of checking the statements.”
    “I can use the break.” She shooed me back toward the small area. “Take all the time you need.”
    Unknowingly, my grandmother was leading me to the firing squad. Steve didn’t come here for a date. The only interest he had in me right now was delivering a lecture.
    Trudging into the office, I made my way behind the desk and sat down. A large piece of furniture between Steve and me seemed like a good idea. I wasn’t sure if it was more for my benefit or his.
    Steve shut the door and locked gazes with me. “Guess who stopped by my office?”
    Even though playing dumb didn’t become me, I entered into the game. “Did