Scrapbook of the Dead by Mollie Cox Bryan Page A

odd that she has so many foreigners working for her?”
    â€œI’ll grant you, that is strange. But she’s a good businesswoman. I reckon she knows what she’s doing.”
    â€œWhat do you know about the rumor that there are gangs in Cumberland Creek?”
    The sheriff stiffened. “Not my jurisdiction. You have to talk to the police about that.”
    â€œI find it hard to believe myself, but I was over at Druid where new apartments are and I was threatened. So I went to the cops and they told me not to go there alone.”
    â€œI’d take that advice if I were you,” he said.
    â€œBut if the Martelino sisters were killed over some gang dispute—”
    â€œNow, hold on. Nobody said anything about that.” He had finally stopped tapping.
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m just thinking out loud. Here’s what we know. Two sisters were killed within twenty-four hours of one another. They lived in an apartment complex, which is evidently the hub of gang activity. Do you follow me?” Annie said, cocking an eyebrow.
    The sheriff leaned back in his chair, placed his hand behind his head and then clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if to say shame on you . Annie found it hard to look him in the eye—his mustache was distracting.
    â€œFirst of all, it seems to make sense that the murders were related,” Annie went on. “And second of all, if they were involved in these gangs—”
    â€œThey were not involved in gangs,” he finally said. “They were two young women wanting to work and start a new life. That’s all.”
    â€œAre you certain?” Annie asked.
    â€œLook, you’re making all sorts of assumptions here. Not everybody at those apartments are gang members. Just because they were poor immigrants doesn’t mean they’re criminals.”
    Annie’s face reddened. “That’s not what—”
    â€œThere’s plenty of decent families living over there. A few bad apples—”
    â€œI think if this was a gang-related incident, people should know. The people need to know what’s going on in their community.”
    â€œIs that all?” Sheriff Bixby said, annoyed. “Is that all, as far as your questions go?” His pleasant demeanor had vanished.
    â€œNo,” Annie said. “I promised some of the women in Cumberland Creek that I’d get the address of the Martelino family in Mexico so that they can send their condolences. Do you have any information?”
    â€œWe’re working on it, but as far as I know they had no family,” said Sheriff Bixby.
    â€œI imagine the process is convoluted.”
    â€œAt best.” Sheriff Bixby’s buzzing phone interrupted the conversation. “Just a minute. I have to take this.” He picked up the phone and began talking.
    Annie busied herself looking around his office. The man had a lot of photos of himself with other officials. Interesting. And very different from a police officer’s office.
    Sheriff Bixby cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.” His face was white as he hung up the phone. “Ms. Chamovitz, I’m sorry. I need to get going.”
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked.
    â€œI’m sorry. I need to go,” he repeated and stood. Reaching out his hand to Annie’s, he shook it then quickly ushered her out the door.

Chapter 23
    Beatrice punched the company name Hathaway Transatlantic Employment into the search engine. It had a nice Web site, very sophisticated. But what she wanted was a phone number. Aha—there it was. She grabbed her phone and dialed.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Jon said and Bea shushed him. He stood nearby with his hands on his hips.
    â€œTransatlantic Employment, this is Linda Smoke. How can I help you?” the pleasant voice said on the other end of the phone.
    â€œYes, my name is Beatrice Matthews Chevalier and I live in