STYLED FOR MURDER
Copyright © 2021 by Nancy J. Cohen
Published by Orange Grove Press
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN: 978-1-952886-21-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-952886-22-5
Edited by Deni Dietz at Stray Cat Productions
Cover Design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Digital Layout by Formatting4U.com
Cover Copy by BlurbWriter.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used, reproduced, stored in an information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written consent by the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Family Brunch Menu
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
About the Author
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Chapter One
“Ma, I can’t just drop everything and drive over there. You’re forty-five minutes away, and I have a bunch of errands to do this morning. What’s so urgent that it can’t wait until later?”
In the midst of doing chores at home, Marla adjusted her earpiece. She stood in her kitchen, gazing out the window at the brilliant Florida sky.
“There’s a dead guy in our shower. You have to come right now.” Her mother’s voice rose in pitch.
“A dead guy? How is that possible?”
“Does it matter? Reed called the police, and they’re questioning him like he’s a suspect.”
“Why? Is it someone you know?”
“It’s Jack Laredo, the project manager for our bathroom remodel. Lenny Brooks, the tile guy, discovered him when he came to work this morning.”
“That’s horrible.” Marla stared at a fallen coconut outside on the ground. Her mother had recently married Reed, a former literature professor, and they’d moved into a senior living community. This would throw a wrench into the happy life they had planned.
“Do you know how the man died?” she asked, needing more information.
“Not yet. I was out food shopping. When I got home, I found police cars in our driveway. I nearly had a heart attack thinking something had happened to Reed.”
“That must have been scary. I’m glad you’re both safe.”
“Oy vey, I can’t believe this is happening,” Anita said.
Marla’s heart wrenched at her mother’s distress. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, try to stay calm. Maybe the guy had medical issues and collapsed on the job. We can’t make assumptions until we know more.”
She hung up at the same time as a musical tone sounded in the faint distance. The dryer had finished. She crossed the kitchen in her ranch-style home and headed to the laundry room.
Almost by rote, she scooped the onesies, burp cloths and other baby items into a nearby basket. Her shoulders sagged as she carried the load into the master bedroom.
Since having her son, Ryder Harrington Vail, ten months ago in June, she’d been doing the laundry every day. Who knew an infant would require so many clothing changes? Marla had never expected to have a child in her late thirties and rejoiced in her blessings despite the repetitive routine. She sniffed the fresh laundry scent as she dumped the clean items on the bed.
As she folded clothes, she wondered how the job foreman might have ended up dead in her mother’s shower. Was it an illness that had caused him to keel over? Or some sort of accident? When did the tile guy arrive to find the body? What was Reed doing while this was going on?
Marla wanted to leave immediately but had to follow her morning routine. At least this was Monday, her one weekday off from work. She’d thought of cutting back on her hours but knew her clients would protest. As owner of the Cut ’N Dye Salon and Day Spa, she still kept her own roster of customers.
She carried the clean clothes into the nursery to sort them into Ryder’s dresser drawers. Dalton had already left for work and dropped the baby off at daycare. The image of her child’s wide brown eyes, pert nose, and sweet little mouth brought her comfort. She missed his soft body and baby scent even now.
After she’d exchanged the soiled trash in his room for a fresh bag, Marla did her morning pumping.
A half hour later, she placed the bagged breast milk in the fridge and checked to make sure the dogs had enough food and water. Her head throbbed from lack of sleep. If one more thing piled onto her to-do list, she’d topple over like her son’s set of stacking blocks.
“Spooks, stop rubbing against that chair,” she told the cream-colored poodle, while Lucky, their golden retriever, nudged her leg. “You two behave while I’m gone.”
Brianna, her teenage stepdaughter, had already taken the dogs out before leaving for school. Marla was the last one to exit the house. First, she texted Dalton to fill him in.
He responded with a volley of questions. A homicide detective, he was happiest when tracking down killers and bringing justice to their victims. Marla had experienced the same satisfaction with her sleuthing. Having given it up when Ryder was born, she missed the challenge. As a mother, though, she couldn’t put herself at risk.
“Ma didn’t say how the guy died,” Marla wrote back. “I’ll contact you when I know more.”
She blinked to better focus her bleary eyes. While worry for her mother consumed her, a pang of resentment surfaced as she got into her SUV for the trip north.
Anita had moved away from Palm Haven right when Marla needed her the most. She’d always expected her mother to be present when she raised children of her own. But Anita had remarried and wanted a new life with her second husband. Although she deserved to enjoy her golden years, couldn’t she have chosen a development closer to her only daughter?
Marla knew her attitude was selfish but couldn’t help it. If Ma had bought a place less than a half hour away, it would be easier for them to get together for a quick lunch. Yet despite the distance, Ma made every effort to be there for her. She’d come over to stay for two weeks after Ryder was born. Marla shuddered at the memory of the sleepless nights, frequent feedings, and sense of helplessness at being responsible for a baby’s care. Dalton may have done it before, but she’d never faced such utter terror. At the very least, she could return the favor for her mother.
She glanced at the stately palms that flashed by the roadside and the fluffy white clouds in a bright April sky. The summer humidity would return next month, but for now moderate temperatures and drier air prevailed. Not that she could enjoy them. If only she could ge
t one night of solid sleep, it might clear the fog from her brain.
Hopefully, she could calm her mother and be on her way. The remodeling job hadn’t been without its hiccups, but she couldn’t conceive how Jack Laredo might have died on the job unless it had been a natural death or an accident. She could think of all sorts of means for the latter, such as electrocution if he’d touched wiring that wasn’t grounded or falling from a ladder and hitting his head.
Most likely, the project would be temporarily halted during the police investigation, but eventually it would resume. She hoped Anita and Reed didn’t have too much disruption in the meantime.
Her self-assurance faltered once she arrived on their street and noticed the crime scene van parked there along with a bevy of patrol cars. A chill swept through her. Did the cops suspect foul play? Or did they investigate all unattended deaths in this county like they did in hers?
A surge of sympathy swept over her for the dead man’s family. Had they been notified? How horrible to get a visit from the police with such tragic news. She wondered if he had a wife or children that would be left fatherless. Maybe she could send them a gift food basket or offer a donation toward their expenses.
Her heart rate accelerated as she emerged from her parked car. She approached the open front door of the sand-colored house with shaky knees, dreading what she might learn. The exterior white trim stared back at her with blank conformity, broken only by thorny plants with red flowers that lined the walkway. Somehow those seemed symbolic in the wake of a death.
Was blood involved? A horrifying vision of a man sprawled in the shower came to mind. If he’d bled out from an injury, the seepage would go down the drain. Her throat constricted at the mental images. Ma would never want to shower in there again.
She entered the foyer and firmly shut the door in her wake so the mosquitoes wouldn’t get in. Voices sounded from the rear of the house. Instead of heading that way, Marla veered to the right toward the kitchen and family room at the opposite end from the bedroom wing.
“Ma, I’m here,” she called, anxious to see how her mother was faring.
Inside the kitchen, maple cabinets faced her along with granite countertops, tiled floors, and stainless-steel appliances. Absent was the smell of chicken soup or brisket that Ma liked to make for her visits. The place seemed sadly empty. No one sat on the couch in the family room, either. They must all be down the hall.
She stuck her cell phone in a pants pocket and plopped her purse on the counter. Then she headed toward the voices at the other end of the house. Across from the foyer, she was about to pass Reed’s office when a flash of white from inside caught her eye. Reed sat in his desk chair, a morose expression on his bearded face. Anita paced the room while wringing her hands.
Upon spotting Marla, she shrieked and opened her arms. “Marla, you made it! I didn’t hear you come in.” She rushed forward to embrace her daughter.
Marla hugged her back, feeling secure and comforted in her mother’s arms and wanting to provide a sense of reassurance in return. After a moment, she stepped away to regard the pair. The scent of Reed’s musk aftershave effused the air.
“Why are you two not sitting in the family room? It’s more comfortable in there.” Plus, they’d be less likely to hear the commotion coming from the master bedroom suite.
“The detective told us to wait in here for him,” Reed replied in a somber tone. His face looked drawn with the corners of his mouth turned down. “He’s already questioned us both. We can’t give him much more information.”
“I’m so sorry this is happening,” Marla said, wondering what she could to do ease their anxiety.
Anita ran stiff fingers through her short, layered white hair. “It’s still hard to believe. A man died in this house. It’s horrifying.”
“Did the detective confirm that it actually happened on these premises?” she asked. That might validate her earlier theory that it had been a natural or accidental death. Because if not, the man’s body might have been moved inside the house. She shunted aside that notion, not wanting to consider this other possibility without further information.
“Detective Wanner hasn’t said much,” Reed responded, stroking his white beard.
“Ma, you said you’d been out food shopping. Did you unlock the bathroom door for the work crew like you’ve done every morning?” The master bath suite let out to a screened lanai at the rear of the house. Florida bathrooms were designed to open into pool areas so people didn’t track water through the house from a dripping swimsuit.
Anita studied a spot on the wall. “Yes, I’d unlocked the door. Reed was busy working on his research paper. The same journal that published his last piece wants another article.”
“That’s great.” Marla’s attention swung to the retired literature professor who maintained his air of dignity despite the current disaster. A widower with two grown sons, he had an imposing presence that commanded respect. “So you were alone in the house until one of the workers discovered the body?” she asked him for clarification.
Reed nodded. “The guys usually enter on their own and go to work. I’ll check on them periodically to see if they need anything, and then I leave them to the job. This time, I was watching the news on TV when I heard a howl from the rear of the house. I raced back there and found Lenny Brooks standing over Jack’s body in the shower. Lenny is the tile installer.”
“What else did you see?” Dear Lord, here she was jumping onto a case like in the past. But this was personal, so how could she resist? She’d just have to find a way to juggle baby care and work at the salon with snooping things out to help her mom and stepdad.
“Jack lay on his back on the shower floor,” Reed stated in a flat voice. “It was pretty obvious he was dead, but I felt his wrist anyway. No pulse. That’s when I called nine-one-one. Lenny stood there in shock and wasn’t much help.”
“Were there any signs of trauma or injury that you noted?”
Reed’s complexion paled, and he glanced away. “One of my ties was wrapped around his neck.”
“What?” Her eyes bulged at this revelation. “Good God, why didn’t you mention this earlier? It changes everything.”
“I know. Somebody else had to be inside the house. It wasn’t me who put it there. Does that mean Jack was murdered?” His voice cracked, betraying his emotions.
“We won’t know anything for sure until the autopsy is done. Let’s wait to see how the man died before we jump to conclusions.”
Nonetheless, she couldn’t help the thoughts that somersaulted in her mind. Reed didn’t have any enemies as far as she knew. He’d been respected by his colleagues. So why would someone wrap one of his ties around the victim’s neck? Had Jack been strangled?
“What did Lenny say happened?” she asked, instead of voicing her fears aloud. Was the killer still around? Should she be worried for her mother’s safety?
“He planned to finish tiling the shower seat,” Reed explained. “Lenny was here nearly all day on Friday. I could hear him arguing with someone on the phone from all the way down the hall.”
“Maybe your tile guy had a beef with the foreman. Which one of them got here first this morning?”
Reed spread his hands. “I have no idea. We never know from day-to-day who will show up or when.”
“Don’t you get a message from the company beforehand on who to expect?”
“Unfortunately, no. Jack didn’t communicate well with customers or his crew. He’d say someone was coming, and they’d show up three days later. We learned not to rely on his promises.”
She noted the resentment in his tone but didn’t comment on it. Hopefully, Reed hadn’t complained about the foreman to the police detective, or that would make him even more suspect. “Did you notice anyone loitering outside?” she asked.
“Honestly, I didn’t think to look around after... you know.” Reed fell silent, his eyes sad. Regardless of how it happened, a man had died there. The heavy weight of a death
put a pall on them all.
“Have you notified your sons? They might want to be here for you.” Reed had one son still single and another who was married with two kids. They didn’t live far and could help provide support.
“No, I didn’t want to bother them at work. I’ll tell them later. Besides, you and Dalton are more accustomed to this sort of thing.”
“That’s true. Listen, I’ll go talk to the detective to see what I can learn. Wait for me in the family room.” Her mother would be more comfortable on the sofa, even though Reed probably felt more in control in his home office.
As she moved down the hall toward the voices at the far end, her stomach pitted. This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her day off. But then again, the foreman hadn’t anticipated a morning like this, either. What a horrible turn of events for everyone involved.
In the master bedroom, she halted to regard the melee of authority figures who had invaded her mother’s privacy. Her gaze came to rest on a tall African American man with a trim moustache. He wore a slate gray suit and a commanding presence. He was pointing toward the bathroom while speaking to a white-haired fellow with a thin face and sallow complexion. They broke off their conversation upon noticing her arrival.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m looking for the lead investigator,” she said, unable to control the tremor in her voice.
“That would be me,” said the taller man. He had a deep voice like James Earl Jones. “I’m Detective Edgar Wanner. And you are?”
“Marla Vail. I’m homicide detective Dalton Vail’s wife. He’s with the Palm Haven police force. Anita Shorstein is my mother.” Ma hadn’t changed her name after she’d married Reed, saying it was easier that way at her age. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Wanner’s tawny eyes narrowed. “It appears the supervisor of your parents’ project ended up dead this morning. We’re still trying to determine how he landed in the shower.”
“Reed is my stepfather,” Marla clarified. “Was the guy strangled? I know you can tell these things from petechia in the eyes and such.”
“Then you also know our medical examiner will determine the cause of death.”
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