Died Blonde (4 page)

The Frenchwoman’s expression brightened, and she signaled Marla to come over. No one manned the reception desk, Marla noticed.

“I thought your new owner was coming in this week,” she said, sniffing the familiar scents of hair spray, permanent-solution fumes, and polish remover.

“Wilda said the signs weren’t right for today,” Claudia said with a sneer. “I fear she will add to our problems. Have you come to assist us? Girls, this is Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye.”

Busy with customers who required cutting, coloring, and conditioning, the stylists waved while Marla’s quick glance took in counters strewn with equipment and hairs littering the tile floor. Where was their shampoo assistant? In her salon, Joanne took care of sweeping chores along with other mundane tasks. Each hairdresser cleaned her own station. Apparently, no such standards existed here. She didn’t see how a fortune-teller would be able to run the place without experienced counsel. Clients had to receive a significant discount to remain loyal; Marla made a mental note to check their price list.

“How are you getting on?” Marla asked, genuinely perplexed. If these stylists rented their booths, they paid a fixed monthly sum to the owner and maintained their own stores. Alternately, when a proprietor wanted more control, she employed a commission system wherein operators kept sixty percent and gave forty percent to the owner. These shared profits often led to better teamwork and a broader sense of cooperation. It was how Marla ran her salon. In return for the percentage fee, she paid for overhead expenses, stocked the shelves, and scheduled advanced training seminars.

“Detective Vail took things from the front desk,” Claudia said. “Wilda promised to set things straight when she gets here, but I am afraid she may consult her crystals instead of the appointment book. We are scared, mademoiselle. If we lose this job, we shall have to go home.”

A tall, model-thin brunette sidled up to her. “
Je suis
Lisette. I am sorry if Carolyn made us do mean things to you. It was not our wish to cause harm. We had to obey, or she would have dismissed us. You will forgive,
non
?”

Marla lifted her chin. “I fired that manicurist she suckered me into hiring after catching the woman pilfering our supplies. Not only did Joy talk against me to customers, but one day she put depilatory into our shampoo bottles. Carolyn must have paid her well to sabotage me. How about the rest of you? Did you get a bonus to order that truckload of toilet paper in my name? Or to cancel that delivery from Sebastian that I really needed?”

The girls exchanged glances. “We’ll do anything you ask if you’ll help us,” Lisette pleaded. “Right, Claudia?”

The Mona Lisa look-alike nodded curtly, giving Marla the impression that the younger hairdresser looked to her for guidance. Had Claudia hoped to gain management of the salon for herself? Possibly, if Carolyn had relied on her. Surely she wouldn’t expect to inherit ownership, though. Why the devil was she so desperate to keep her current job? Marla surveyed the other stylists. Were they here on work visas, meaning they’d be shipped back to France when their documents or employment expired?

She’d have to ask Vail these questions. He might be more familiar with immigration regulations, plus he’d be looking into the background of Carolyn’s staff along with anyone else who had been close to her.

The detective had wanted Marla to talk to Carolyn’s sister, but she’d been negligent in fulfilling his request. Avoidance behavior was something she was becoming adept at, especially in regard to any actions involving Carolyn. Now would be a good time to contact Linda Hall. Then she’d have an excuse to call Dalton with news.

“I’ll come in tomorrow when Wilda Cleaver is here,” Marla promised the French stylists. “Maybe we can work out some sort of agreement.”
As in a noncompetition clause in exchange for my expert advice
. Too many salons existed already in nearby shopping centers, as ubiquitous as Chinese restaurants, pizza kitchens, and bagel dens. What she’d really aim for would be to persuade the new owner of Hairstyle Heaven to change locations.

Marla wished she could convince Dalton Vail to do the same. While she spent weekends at his house, she still felt uncomfortable surrounded by his dead wife’s belongings. He hadn’t removed a single knickknack since Pam died three years ago. It drove a wedge between them, one that she’d chipped at but barely budged. If she ever made her move permanent, a new house might be their only solution.

In the meantime, she divided her time between his ranch-style home and her one-story town house. As she drove into her driveway, she noticed her neighbor, Goat, walking his dog. The black poodle yipped and tugged on its leash, yanking its scraggly-haired owner in Marla’s direction. Hearing her own dog, Spooks, bark in response when she emerged from her Camry, Marla unlocked the kitchen door and grabbed his leash from its hook. Her male white poodle bolted out the door to meet his lady love, Rita. The two poodles sniffed each other while Marla addressed Goat.

“Aren’t you at work today?” she said, glancing at his parked van. Goat, whose real name was Kyle Stanislaw, ran a mobile animal-grooming business. His thin straw-colored hair, sparse beard, and menagerie of pets had given him his nickname. Today he defied the August heat in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and a new addition: an Indiana Jones style hat.
Probably the summer substitute of his usual fur cap
.

“Ugamaka, ugamaka, chugga, chugga, ush,” he chanted, tapping his bare feet against the sidewalk. “Took some time off, to build my loft, and then I met Jenny, who tossed a penny at Walt Disney World, where we cut and curled.”

“Oh, you met your sister in Orlando?” Marla deciphered his lyrics. Jenny lived in Mount Dora, a quaint town with an annual antique fair.

“You got it.” He stumbled when Rita, chasing Spooks, twisted her leash around his ankles.

Marla jerked her pooch to a halt. “Spooks, behave.” Their dogs joined forces to touch noses. “He may be fixed, but he still has his mojo,” she remarked.

“So does Rita.” Goat grinned. “How are things with your boyfriend?” Tightening his grip on the leash, he danced a jig. “Your lights go out, the house is bare, weekends go by with nary a scare.”

“I’m spending time with him and Brianna. Dalton still has some issues to settle before we, uh, take the next step.”

“Has he?”

“What?”

“You know, popped the question.”

“No, thank goodness. I’m not ready for that yet. He wants me to help him investigate another case.”

“Awesome, dudette. You’re good at the crime thing.”

“Not this time. Carolyn Sutton and I didn’t get along. She probably made other enemies. It doesn’t surprise me that someone bumped her off.” Marla watched while Spooks did his business on an elderly neighbor’s lawn. “I’d better go inside and make a phone call. I promised Dalton I’d call Carolyn’s sister to see what I can learn.”

Goat gave her the thumbs-up sign. “I’m with you, man. If you need help, you know where to find me.”

Marla appreciated his sincerity and support. “I know. Have a good day. I’ll talk to you later. Come on, Spooks, move.”

Having delegated the role of matchmaker to herself for Anita and Sam, Marla now considered whom she could find for Goat. Poor guy, all he dreamed about was acquiring a piece of land up North to raise his animals, but he’d taken too many wrong turns. Maybe if he found the right person to focus his attention on, he’d stay on the proper path. His sister had explained his weird mannerisms as being due to shyness. What he needed was a woman who loved pets and could tolerate his shenanigans.

That wasn’t her concern yet, though: interviewing Carolyn’s sister came first. A promise made was a promise kept. Marla entered her house, released Spooks, washed her hands, then picked up the telephone.

“My name is Marla Shore,” she said when a woman answered on the other end of the line. “Is this Linda Hall?”

“Speaking.”

“I am…was…er, a friend of your sister’s.” Marla wondered how much Carolyn had confided about their rivalry.

“Aren’t you the lady from the other salon?” Hall’s sharp response answered her question.

“Yes, I’m with Cut ‘N Dye. I was terribly sorry about your sister’s untimely death.”

“I told that detective about you.”

Sinking onto a kitchen chair, Marla gripped the receiver. “Look, I don’t know what Carolyn said about me, but I meant her no harm.”
She was the one who played nasty tricks on me
, Marla wanted to add but held her tongue.

“What do you want?”

She squirmed at the awkwardness of their conversation. “I feel bad about what happened, and I’d like to help. Is there some way we can get together for a chat? I gather you live north of Palm Haven. I could go to your home, or we can meet somewhere, and I’ll buy you a drink.” Biting her lower lip to stop babbling, Marla waited.

A long silence met her request. “All right. The kids are at their friend’s house, so I can spare an hour. I’m in Delray Beach. Take 1-95 to Atlantic Avenue. Get off at Exit Fifty-Two, and go east six traffic lights to Pineapple Grove Way. Make a left, and look for Murder on the Beach Mystery Bookstore. A few doors down is the Seagrape Cafe. I’ll meet you there at five.”

“Okay. I have brown hair and eyes, and I’ll be wearing a peach slacks set. See you soon.”

Her preparations took less than ten minutes. She stuffed a large notebook into her white leather purse, changed into the peach outfit with matching sandals, refreshed her makeup, and refilled Spooks’s water dish.

“Bye, precious.” Scratching the poodle behind his ears, she smiled. “Guard the house while I’m gone.” She set the alarm, locked the door between the kitchen and garage, and swung into her car. Putting her cell phone into its charger, she switched on the ignition.

Traffic wasn’t too bad, considering it was close to rush hour. She veered north on 1-95, dodging the usual assault of trucks and sport utility vehicles. Once she’d cleared the Fort Lauderdale corridor, she allowed her mind to drift into automatic gear. Time to plan the interview.
Don’t let Linda know how you really felt about Carolyn, or you’ll turn her off
. She would assess Linda’s relationship with her sister first. Consider what Linda had to gain, if anything, from Carolyn’s death. Regard everyone as a suspect. That was Vail’s oft-repeated advice. She hoped to question Linda concerning her whereabouts the day Carolyn died. Presumably, Dalton had already interrogated the woman, but Marla would use a softer approach, especially when the funeral was just yesterday.

She found the restaurant without any trouble and parked her car around the corner. A few minutes early for the rendezvous, she stopped in the Murder on the Beach bookstore where the proprietor, Joanne Sinchuk, recommended a couple of medical thrillers for Nicole. The stylist enjoyed mysteries and was always imploring Marla to read them, but who had time? She preferred the real-life thing to armchair detecting anyway.

At the cafe, Marla was surprised to find a full-service restaurant instead of the coffee shop she’d expected. Already bustling with shoppers and businesspeople who had gotten off work earlier, the crowded bar had few empty seats. Nor would it lend itself to a quiet chat, she realized with dismay. Someone waved, and she spotted a woman on a barstool saving an empty seat beside her. When Marla met her gaze, she signaled more vigorously.

“I’m Linda Hall,” said a heavyset blond whose lined face put her in the late forties. “You must be Marla.”

They shook hands while Marla did a quick inspection. Linda’s heavily mascaraed eyes made her complexion pale in comparison. Pink glossy lipstick and plum blush might have worked on a younger person, but on her they gave the impression of someone clinging to youth who was past her prime. Nor did the thick hair straight to her shoulders have any appeal.
You’d look better with a shorter cut angled to your face and more subtle makeup
. If Linda worked with her attributes, not against them, she’d be much more attractive, Marla concluded.

Smiling sweetly, she took the proffered chair and ordered herself a bushwhacker along with another white zinfandel for her companion. “I’m grateful you took the time to see me,” she began, nibbling on a honey-roasted peanut from a dish set in front of them. “I guess Carolyn told you about my salon.”

“She said you wanted to run her out of business.” Linda’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Carolyn gave you your first job, then you stabbed her in the back by walking out with half her staff. You set yourself up in direct competition, forcing her out of town.”

“I left only because Carolyn didn’t give me any respect. She had problems getting along with the other stylists, and that’s why they came with me. As for her relocating, I suspect that was due to her business decisions rather than any influence I might have had.”

“She said you visited her new place and accused her of conspiring with your landlord.”

“Someone was trying to take over my lease, and I knew Carolyn wanted to return to Palm Haven. My ex-husband, an attorney, confessed he’d set her up with the money to offer my landlord. Fortunately for me, their plan fell through.”

“Didn’t you bear a grudge against her? Maybe enough to permanently get rid of a rival?”

Marla stiffened. “I didn’t kill her. I was grateful she’d hired me when I graduated beauty school, and then I just wanted to succeed on my own. She’s the one who started playing nasty pranks on me to steal customers.”

“That sounds like my sister.”

“How well did you get along with her?”

Linda gripped her glass, a large diamond ring flashing on her left hand above a slim gold wedding band. No bracelets, and an inexpensive watch. Here was a lady who didn’t burden herself with jewels, unless she was storing them for more important events. Diamond tennis bracelets were so common among South Florida mavens that you could pave the streets with them.

“Carolyn was incredibly jealous of me,” Linda said. “In her mind, it wasn’t fair that I’d met Richard and married him before I hit thirty. We have two beautiful children, a nice house, and a comfortable life. I quit my job two weeks before Kevin was born and haven’t worked since.”

“Go on.” Marla’s nostrils picked up the scent of ale mingled with barbecued beef. It made her mouth water. She took a sip of her coffee-flavored beverage, enjoying the kick from the liquor.

“Carolyn avoided serious relationships. I always attributed it to a flaw in her character, that she couldn’t trust anyone. Like she projected the pettiness within herself onto others, you know? Or else she was just too kooky.”

“Wasn’t she seeing a medium?”

Linda gulped her wine. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she went on, confusing Marla about what she meant. “Carolyn did get engaged at one time to some man she thought she loved. The guy took advantage of her; anyone could see it, but my sister wore blinders where he was concerned. He wanted to start his own business and figured she could support him.”

“When was this?”

“About five years ago. After he died in a car crash, Carolyn turned weird. She started visiting mediums to communicate with him.”

“You mean Wilda Cleaver?” Leaning toward her companion, Marla lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Detective Vail mentioned that Carolyn had left her the salon.”

Linda’s face scrunched like a prune. “That woman has no right. I’m Carolyn’s sister. She should’ve left the business to me.” Taking a long gulp from her glass, she set it down, then glared at Marla. “Carolyn figured I had it all: a husband who supported me, kids, a nice roof over my head. She always whined about how she had to earn a living while I could stay home.”

“You think that’s why Carolyn didn’t leave you the business? Because she thought you didn’t need the money?”

“Partially. That witch lady brainwashed her. All Carolyn could talk about were messages from her dead fiance that she felt were guiding her. She got into crystals, candles, and seeing some shaman when she didn’t feel well. Nuts, that’s what she was! It’s all that Cleaver woman’s fault.”

“So you feel Wilda unduly influenced your sister?”

“No doubt about it. She made Carolyn resent me even more. I’m surprised my sister left me her collection.”

“Oh?” A large man jostled past on his way to a barstool. When he bumped Marla’s shoulder, he gave her a leering grin. She shifted her position, turning more toward Linda. Her stomach growled, reminding her it was dinner hour, but she didn’t want to linger any longer than necessary.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be mentioning this, but Carolyn bragged that the items were valuable. Whenever I saw her recently, she said how they would be mine one day. She seemed to think that would make me happy, but she never showed them to me.”

“What did she acquire?”

Linda’s gaze clouded. “I have no idea. Detective Vail and I went through her place together, but we couldn’t find anything worthwhile.”

“Did he look in her salon? Maybe she hid the stuff there.” “No luck.” Linda jabbed a finger in the air. “You know what I

think? Either Carolyn was putting me on, or she had something so valuable someone killed her for it.”

“You didn’t tell me anything about Carolyn’s valuables,” Marla told Vail on the telephone later that evening. She’d driven home, fixed herself a quick dinner courtesy of a frozen meal, let Spooks into the backyard for a brief foray, then settled down to make her phone calls.

The detective’s gruff voice held amusement. “I gather you spoke to Carolyn’s sister. What did you learn?”

“Not so fast. You’ve told me hardly anything about this case. You go first.”

“Want me to come over? It’s easier for me to confess everything when I’m staring into your beautiful eyes.”

“Forget it. I have to get up early for work tomorrow, and you shouldn’t leave Brianna. Is she ready for school?”

He gave a hearty sigh. “One more week. I can’t wait. It’s been a long summer without Carmen.”

“You have been managing fine without your housekeeper.”

“Thanks to you. When will you stay here during the work week? You know I don’t expect you to cook meals or wait on us.”

That isn ‘t my concern. Your house stifles me. Pam ‘s ghost haunts the place and fills your mind with memories
. “I’ll think about it,” she hedged. “You were telling me about Carolyn?”

“Hmph. Carolyn promised Linda she would inherit her collectibles, but we couldn’t find any items of value.”

“Jewelry? If a collection exists, it makes sense that they were gifts from her private benefactor. I don’t see how Carolyn could afford anything else. Did she have a safety deposit box?”

“It held deeds and other papers. No jewels or mementos.”

“Did you find out who funded her relocation? Subsidized those girls at the academy?”

“I’m working on it. Any other advice?” he teased.

“You might want to ask around to see who had keys to her apartment. It someone gave her valuable gifts, he might have retrieved them after her death.” That would support what Linda theorized about Carolyn being murdered for her collection. Then again, it was always possible Carolyn had been lying. She might have made empty promises to her sister to mollify her.

“Linda all but accused Wilda Cleaver of brainwashing Carolyn. She blames Wilda for driving a wedge between them.”

“Yes, I know. I’d like you to talk to Wilda, give me your impression.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“I hate it when you hide things from me.”

“I’m not doing that. I just don’t want to color your perceptions.”

“What do you know about her?”

“She’s a popular psychic who lives in Miami. Her customers think the world of her. I told you that already.”

Marla pulled a nail file from her desk drawer. “Did Carolyn have any other friends, people she confided in?”

“Oh, yeah. She played bingo pretty regularly, based on some receipts I found at her apartment. According to her calendar, she met a woman named Rosemary Taylor at the Indian casino in Hollywood on a weekly basis.”

Marla mulled over this news. She wouldn’t have guessed Carolyn was a gambler. “You think Carolyn won big, and that’s where she got the money to invest in collectibles?”

“We can’t prove this cache of treasure really exists,” he replied, his tone cynical. “Anyway, I can think of another secret treasure I’d rather explore.”

“Such as?”

“You know.” The huskiness of his voice revealed the direction of his thoughts. “I don’t think I can wait until Friday night.”

“Tempting. I wish we had time before then.”

“So do I, but I can dream about it for now.”

“Good. While you’re indulging yourself in fantasies, I’m going to call my mother. Talk to you later.” She dialed her mother’s number. “Hi, Ma.” Rolling her shoulders, she yearned for a shower. It had been a long day.

“So,
bubula
, you decided to call your mother? To what do I owe the honor?”

“Just reporting in. I visited Carolyn’s sister today.” Filing her nails while cradling the receiver to her ear, Marla shared her latest findings.

“You’re a schnook for getting involved, unless you can influence the new salon owner in your favor. Better you should take more time to care about your family.”

Here we go again
. “I just spoke to Michael yesterday. He and Charlene were taking the kids to a water park.”

“I’m not talking about your brother. Do you ever call Aunt Polly to see how she’s getting along? She has no children, you know. It would be nice if you thought of her now and then.”

“She’s your sister.”

“Polly won’t do anything I say. She lives like a pauper and embarrasses me by the way she dresses. She’ll listen to you.”

Marla snorted in derision. “Like I could get her to change after how many years?”

“Seventy-two.”

“No! I didn’t realize she was that much older than you.”

“Someday maybe you’ll be interested in my family when you lift your nose out of police business.”