Murder by Manicure (16 page)

"Restaurant? Were you at that place where the cars blew up? Marla, if I didn't already have white hairs on my head, you'd be causing them!"

"I gotta go, Ma. Tally is here. Are Michael and his family coming for dinner tonight?” she asked about her brother.

"Yes, and you're still invited. We need to talk about your birthday next month."

"Thanks, but I have a date with Lance."

A snort of exasperation followed. “Is he the man who works in the body shop?"

"No, that's Ralph. He's been busy with night school, so I haven't seen him in a while. Lance is my computer friend. I called him after I got home last night and asked him to look up car bombs on the Internet to see if a normal person could figure out how to make one. I'm invited to his place later; he's barbecuing chicken."

"Is that kosher when you're going steady with Lieutenant Vail and are engaged to Arnie?"

"I'm not attached to anyone, Ma. Now I've got to hang up. Give my love to Michael, Charlene, and the kids. Love you, bye."

She turned to Tally. “Bless my bones, our conversations always turn to my love life."

Tally's eyes twinkled. “Doesn't Lance usually ask you over to view his favorite web sites?"

Marla pursed her lips. “Don't worry. I'll tell him Arnie and I are engaged. Being taken does have its advantages!"

Spooks scratched at the door, so she let him back in. He headed for his water dish while she made tuna sandwiches and poured their coffee. Marla tossed the poodle a biscuit before sitting opposite Tally. Her body sagged as she delved into lunch. She hadn't realized how tense being at the sports club made her feel. Wasn't that the place where she was supposed to relax?

"I was hoping Dalton would call,” she began. “He might have found out more information about the explosion last night, or if Eloise was there. I wonder if anyone has tried calling her house."

"Did the Zelmans have any kids?"

Marla swallowed a piece of sandwich. “Two grown children. Eloise talked about them when she came into the salon.” Her eyes misted. “I'll have to see when she made her next appointment. Guess I'll have to cancel it."

They finished eating in silence. Marla brought the dishes to the sink, then turned to Tally in dismay. “Oh, no, I forgot to make the noodle dish! Would you mind if we talk while I work around the kitchen?” Already she'd found an apron and donned it before Tally responded.

"Can I help?” Tally jumped from her seat.

Marla crouched to withdraw a soup pot from the cabinet. “No, thanks. It'll take me longer to do the dishes than to make the kugel.” Filling the pot halfway with water, she set it on the electric burner to boil.

"Do you really think Jolene's death was not an accident?” Tally asked, watching Marla stride to the pantry.

Marla grabbed a sixteen-ounce bag of wide egg noodles, a tall can of crushed pineapple, and a jar of cinnamon. Placing them on the counter, she turned to face her friend.

"Vail is suspicious, and so am I. He's never said outright that he's investigating a murder, but that must be why he's on the case. Lab tests detected sedatives in Jolene's blood. Why would she take something that would make her drowsy when she still had to drive home? It doesn't make sense."

"So the alternative is that someone drugged her."

"Tell me about it. But how? She'd swallowed two gelatin capsules, but Vail said the rest of the capsules in her bottle were genuine. Could it have been in the nail-biting solution?"

When the water boiled, Marla tossed in the egg noodles and set her kitchen timer for eight minutes. Next up was to melt a stick of margarine in the microwave. Spooks followed at her heels, eager for any particles she might drop on the floor. His nose worked overtime sniffing the different aromas.

"It's also possible the guilty party slipped a drug into Jolene's drink at the snack bar,” Tally said, snatching up a clean dish towel. “Anyone walking by could have done it if her attention was diverted."

Rummaging in the fridge, Marla selected four eggs. She brought them to a bowl beside the kitchen sink. Cracking each one, she beat them together until blended.

Tally regarded her steadily. “So who do you suspect?"

Marla grinned wryly. “Everyone we've encountered at Perfect Fit Sports Club."

"Gloria must be doing something crooked,” Marla said to Tally, draining the hot noodles in a colander. “According to Slate, Jolene informed him about Gloria's activities that Friday night during her massage. She'd wanted to know if Keith was involved. If I could get into Gloria's office, I might learn more.” She poured the noodles into a large bowl after rinsing them in cold water.

Putting aside her damp dish towel, Tally opened the microwave and retrieved the dish holding the melted margarine. “Gloria might have wanted to get rid of Jolene to shut her up."

"That's one possibility.” Marla stirred a couple of hot noodles into the beaten eggs, then added all the eggs to the noodles. A half cup of sugar went in the bowl next, followed by the margarine and quarter teaspoon cinnamon. “Meanwhile, Keith is forcing Slate to follow his orders in return for his silence. That means Slate is involved in some dirty business. Jolene could have found out what he's hiding."

"Don't forget Amy, who was jealous of Slate's attention to Jolene,” Tally contributed.

"Maybe they're all in it together!” Marla tossed the drained crushed pineapple into the mixture along with the juice from a fresh lemon.

"Don't you add raisins?” Tally asked, peering over her shoulder.

"That's an option. You can add a half cup of raisins, or cut the butter to a quarter pound and add a pint of sour cream. Or you can put in one teaspoon of vanilla instead of lemon juice. I'm using the ingredients I have available.” She spread the mixture in a greased rectangular pan, sprinkled two tablespoons of cornflake crumbs and cinnamon-sugar over the top, then put it in the oven at 350 degrees to bake for one hour.

The phone rang, and Marla resolved for the umpteenth time to get Caller ID.

"Hi, Marla. It's Stan."

Lord save me.
She threw Tally an annoyed glance. “Yeah, what's up?” Her ex-spouse was the last person she wanted to talk to on her day off.

"Kim and I are going to be in your area this afternoon. How about we drop in to say hello?” His smooth tone oozed oil.

"Sorry, I won't be home."

"We'll come now, then. We've had a new offer on our rental property. It's a good deal, Marla. A good deal. Let's unload the place before values go down."

"I'm not stupid. Property values in that area have been rising. I'm not going to sign, so you'd be wasting your time coming here."

"You're not as adept in financial matters as I am, dear heart. That's why you have to work for a living these days. You know you need my advice."

"Go to hell.” Slamming the receiver down, she faced Tally, who'd been idly thumbing through a
Modern Salon
magazine. “That louse. He'll never give up trying to get me to sign those papers. Kimberly is probably nagging him to get the money so they can move to the beach. Well, wife number three isn't going to gain anything from me."

Tally nodded. “Don't let him get to you. He can't stand it because you've made something of your life without him."

Marla's heart rate, which had accelerated at the sound of Stan's condescending tone, calmed. “At least Dalton respects me for what I do. I'm going to call him and see what he's learned,” she decided, picking up the phone.

He didn't answer either at his home or at the station, so she left a voice message.

"I hope he isn't out with Hortense,” she grumbled, sinking into a seat at the kitchen table.

"What makes you think Dalton's interest in her goes beyond being professional?"

Marla gave her a considering glance. “You know, I got taken in by her looks myself. I just assumed Dalton was attracted to Hortense, because he was paying her more attention than me. But you may be right. That detective can be very subtle when he wants to interrogate a suspect. When he thought I might be guilty of Mrs. Kravitz's murder, he pretended to be interested in me. I knew it was a ploy to get me to talk, so hopefully that's all he's doing with Hortense.”
Except he did become involved with you, girl. He'd even said he didn't know if he should arrest you or date you. He couldn't possibly feel the same way for the blonde bombshell.

Restless, she called Arnie next.

"Bagel Busters, Arnie speaking."

"Hi, it's Marla. Hortense showed up at the sports club this morning. Why didn't you tell her the truth about us when you took her home last night?"

"Because if I confess I lied, she'll run in the other direction. We'll follow through with our original plan to break off our engagement."

"But Arnie, word is spreading around town!"

"Don't worry, it'll work out."

His reassuring tone did nothing to ease her concerns. “Did Hortense say where she lived before moving back to Palm Haven?"

She heard voices in the background, and Arnie didn't answer right away, until he had dealt with the customers at the cash register.

"She'd been in Vero Beach. She liked the town, but there weren't enough opportunities for her acting career. Living in Fort Lauderdale, she can easily commute to Miami, and plenty of casting agents have offices in the area."

"If she's an actress, why does she have a job at Stockhart Industries?"

"Since when has acting been a full-time profession? She still has to earn the rent."

"Speaking of real estate, have you heard anything new about the Zelmans?"

His voice lowered. “No, but Vail was in here earlier asking me questions about Hortense."

Her ears perked up. “Why?"

She sensed Arnie's silent shrug. “Beats me. You know the detective, he doesn't give anything away. Could be he's interested in her from a purely male viewpoint, or could be he suspects there's a link to his case. I made it clear Hortense is my target, and you're his domain."

"Gee, thanks, pal. I knew I could count on you. So what's our next move?"

"You and I should definitely be seen together. It'll make Hortense jealous. I think she still likes me."

"She was impressed by your kindness last night, so I'd say you're right.” Hortense had flirted with Keith earlier, Marla recalled. Was it true she played up to men to pry information from their loosened lips? If so, who was she really, and what did she want? “I'll talk to you later,” she promised before disconnecting.

Tally patted Spooks, who'd been begging for attention. “Any news worth reporting?” her friend inquired.

"Arnie said Hortense used to live in Vero Beach. Tomorrow I'll stop by Eloise's office in the morning, then I'll take a ride north to see what I can learn. If I gain nothing else, there's a great outlet mall off I-95."

"I wish I could go with you, but I'll be at work."

"That's okay. It'll give me a chance to think things through regarding my relationship with Dalton. I'm not sure where I want to go with him."

"Are you ready to stake a claim?"

"Not yet, but if I don't, he might lose patience and find someone else."

"What about his daughter?"

"Brianna would be happy keeping things status quo. When we saw
Rent
together, she warned me that Vail quickly lost interest in his lady friends, but she was just trying to scare me off."

"She probably misses her mother, poor thing. I'd expect her to resent any woman who insinuates herself into Vail's life. She must be afraid of losing her father's attention or of being disloyal to her mom's memory."

"Yeah, but if I go a step farther with the lieutenant, it would mean accepting Brianna with her multitude of problems, whatever their cause.” A stormy road would surely follow. “Come on, let's get some fresh air,” she suggested, anxious to change the topic.

They took Spooks for a short walk. Old man Moss and his wife, Emma, were outside chatting with Goat.

"Hey, mate,” Moss called, his weathered face crinkling into a smile. “How ya doing? Hi, Tally, good to see you."

"Tally, I don't think you've met Goat before. Goat, this is my friend, Tally Riggs.” She felt silly calling him Goat, but she didn't know his real name—if he had one. He wore a sheepskin vest over a Hawaiian shirt, a raccoon cap, and shorts over his skinny knees.

Moss pulled a piece of paper from his pants pocket. “I wanted you to take a look at this new limerick,” he told Marla.

"He's too shy to show it to his poetry group,” his wife remarked. Emma wore a wide-brimmed straw hat over her gray head, a faded housecoat, and slip-on shoes so worn they could have been a dog's chew toy.

Her sickly complexion would benefit from the sun, Marla observed with a critical eye. Normally, she advised clients to avoid basking in sunlight to protect their skin and to keep their hair coloring from fading. The strong Florida sun could damage skin cells easily, but Emma might benefit from exposure to fresh air to restore her healthy glow.

Aware that Moss was anxiously waiting for her opinion, she took the paper from his outstretched hand. “Can I read it aloud?"

His face flushed, but he nodded his agreement, so Marla read in a clear tone:

—A woman named McGuire

Once lit a fire

She meant to cook a steak

But her oven did break

So she ended up building a pyre.—

Goat danced a little jig. “Light a fire under my pyre. We'll toast some marshmallows, roast a swallow, and rub on the aloe. Give it to me, babe. Ugamaka, ugamaka, stew me a brew.” The tail on his raccoon cap swung with each jerky movement.

"Is he always like that?” Tally murmured.

Marla grinned. “You got it. He keeps a whole zoo in his house, although I've never been brave enough to step inside."

He heard her last sentence. “You babes want to tour my humble abode? I promise I'll keep Junior in her cage."

"No thanks. We're working at the fair this afternoon, and we have to leave soon.” She gave Moss back his poem. “Show this to your writing group,” she urged him. “They'll be able to advise you where to send your collection."