EMBELLISHED TO DEATH by Christina Freeburn Page A

and cards littered the carpet. He stood and chose to walk the long way around the table, inching past Marsha.
    Marsha scooped up her possessions while avoiding getting her fingers stepped on.
    Morgan pressed against Garrison’s chair, shoving him into the edge of the table.
    Garrison grimaced.
    â€œHey!” I jumped up.
    Morgan pivoted and faced me. “Pardon me. I didn’t know I bumped into him.”
    â€œYou rammed into Garrison on purpose.” I balled up my hands.
    â€œLet it go, Faith.” Garrison stood.
    Morgan sent a look of disgust at Garrison. “Trust me, I wouldn’t touch him.”
    â€œIs there a problem?” The bartender walked out from behind the bar.
    â€œOnly if that person touches me.” Morgan used his chin to point at Garrison.
    â€œYou can take your attitude out of here.” The bartender gestured at the door. “And I mean now.”
    â€œYou’re throwing me out.” Morgan seemed to size up the bartender.
    The bartender smiled. “I’d love the chance to throw you.”
    â€œThis isn’t over.” Morgan made a gun with his fingers and “fired” it at me.
    â€œWho the hell was that guy?” Marsha glared at Morgan’s retreating figure.
    â€œTrouble,” I said.
    â€œA private investigator.” Garrison stacked the papers into a neat pile.
    I was right! Morgan wasn’t a federal agent. But why would he blow his “cover” by confronting me in front of Garrison? Because Morgan doesn’t care if you know. Fear jolted me upright. The man wanted my confession and would use anything to get it. He pretended to be an agent and it didn’t work. Now, he upped the threat by dragging Garrison into my problem.
    â€œWhat’s he doing here?” Marsha clutched her tote. “Do you think he was hired to find me?”
    Garrison studied her. “Why would someone be looking for you?”
    Marsha glanced around then stretched herself across the table. She wiggled her finger, beckoning Garrison to come forward.
    He complied.
    â€œI’m done with my marriage. My ex-husband isn’t.”
    He patted her hand. “Did you tell the police?”
    â€œI don’t want to tell the police.”
    â€œYou should.” Garrison squeezed her hand gently. “Keeping this a secret will only hurt you.”
    Marsha readjusted her ponytail. “I can’t. If he isn’t here, my talking to the police will bring him here.”
    Poor Marsha. No wonder she was so frazzled. I exchanged a concerned look with Garrison.
    He mouthed “Bob”.
    While Garrison and I kept our eye out for an ID thief, Bob could make sure Marsha’s ex—or his hired goon—stayed away from her.
    â€œMy life-partner has had some dealings with Morgan in the past. The guy is a bully for hire. The cases that man takes are usually ones to dig up dirt about someone. The police know that. They don’t trust that guy.”
    Marsha sniffled. “But what if they do?”
    â€œThey won’t,” I said. “You’re not the only person that guy is here to make miserable.”
    â€œWho else?” Marsha asked.
    â€œMe. He’s determined to prove that I’m murderer.”
    â€œYou? Why?” Garrison asked.
    Garrison and Marsha shared the same confused expression.
    â€œI guess to make a name for himself. I helped solve some murders. He’s determined to prove that the reason I could was because I committed them and set up other people to take the fall.”
    â€œAnd I thought I was in trouble.” Marsha squeezed my hand. “I wished the bartender left those drinks. I think you could use one.”
    My cell phone buzzed against my derrière. I snagged it. Ted.
    â€œI have to take this.” I scurried out of the bar. Play it calm. Cool. Collected. No need to let him know how rattled I was by Morgan. I headed for the conference center. An officer was speaking