Styled for Murder

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “That’s no excuse. She’s whacked out to leave her husband for a job she could find here if she really looked.”

  “You’re right. There has to be some place in our state that needs a school principal and would meet her requirements. Maybe she is going through a midlife crisis as Michael suggested.”

  Voices sounded in the background, and Dalton responded to someone.

  “I have to go,” he said. “We’ve a homicide case on the east side of town. Looks like somebody knocked off a vagrant, and it’s the second one this month. I’m hoping it’s not a pattern.”

  “That would be terrible. At least you don’t have to do the foot work.” She was grateful he didn’t have to risk himself anymore confronting the bad guys. He needed to stay safe for their son’s sake and for her own peace of mind.

  “The admin duties have gotten worse,” he admitted. “Filling out forms isn’t as fulfilling as being in the field. I’m beginning to miss those days of hands-on detective work.”

  “Are you sorry for the promotion?” He’d made lieutenant a while back.

  “Not really. Things have changed in the department, though. City officials are breathing down our necks with their demands. We have to justify every single expenditure on the budget.”

  “Hasn’t that always been the case?”

  “Maybe, but it seems more onerous lately.”

  “Have you been able to look into any of the issues related to Jack’s murder?” she asked, wondering if he was truly dissatisfied with his position or just feeling restless.

  “Yes, I did, and here’s the thing. Amaze Design Center has been in business for five years. I can’t find any trace of Bradley Quinn before that time.”

  Chapter Seven

  “That’s weird,” Marla said. “How could a person not have any history?”

  “I can come up with a few reasons,” Dalton told her. “Different identity, as in witness protection. Name change due to personal preference. You’d shortened your own surname from Shorstein to Shore for business reasons. Or the company could have been around but under another title.”

  “True, but you’d think something would show up on social media or elsewhere. Brad couldn’t be a complete ghost.”

  “I’ll dig deeper. In the meantime, be careful when you speak to Lenny Brooks.”

  “I haven’t heard back from the receptionist at the tile place about his ETA. Maybe his plans have changed.”

  She wondered about it on Wednesday morning as she got busy with clients. An incoming text on her cell phone just after ten made her pulse quicken. It came from Canyon Tile.

  “Lenny said he’d swing by around two o’clock to pick up his customer’s order,” the message read.

  “Great, I’ll be there,” she wrote back. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  With a quick glance at her client getting shampooed, Marla figured she should finish the woman’s haircut and style by one. Then she had some free time before her next appointment. The customer who would have taken the empty slot had cancelled a Brazilian blowout.

  Her discussion with Lenny shouldn’t take long. He’d be impatient to make his delivery and get started on his installation. Anxious to meet him, she finished her current client and told Nicole to hold down the fort until she returned.

  The other stylist gave her a wink. “Good luck, girlfriend. I hope you learn something new.”

  So do I, Marla thought during the drive to Canyon Tile located in Hollywood. She’d looked them up online. Their emporium appeared to be the biggest place in the area with referrals from designers, architects, and contractors. They even offered workshops, training, and certification programs for their vendor partners. Lenny would have had to meet their stringent requirements to do business with them.

  The warehouse took up almost an entire city block, Marla noted as she pulled into a parking space. She should have come here to select the tile for their house when it was being built, but the developer had his own design center.

  As she entered, several salespeople perked up. She halted, dazzled by the displays. Oh, my. If she didn’t have a fairly new home, she’d be tempted to renovate from looking at these choices.

  “Can I help you?” asked a guy in a rumpled charcoal suit. From the way he kept tugging at his collar, she surmised he preferred casual wear to starched shirts.

  The receptionist’s desk was empty. Perhaps the woman had gone for lunch? Marla had hoped to thank her for the phone message.

  “I’m here to see Lenny Brooks, the tile installer,” she said, glancing toward the rear. Would Lenny even come into the showroom, or would he merely stop by the loading dock?

  “Does he know to meet you in here?” the salesman asked. His saggy face and large jowls reminded her of a canine.

  “Not necessarily. I was told he’d be here to pick up a delivery order.”

  “I’ll have to check at the bay outside, ma’am. Please wait here.”

  She scurried after the salesman, afraid that Lenny would deny knowing her. Worse, he might load his supply and leave. “Lenny might not remember me,” she called. “He gave me an estimate on replacing the tile in my bathroom, but it’s been a while.”

  She passed by galleries displaying different rooms in a house and a variety of tile options. The splash of water from a sink met her ears before the air-conditioning kicked in with a loud hum. Her heeled sandals clicked on the tile floor. She’d been through this selection process and was done with her house. Now baby toys and nursery supplies took priority.

  The salesman exited to the loading dock and shouted to a tall African American man who was loading boxes into his van. “Hey Lenny, this lady is here to see you.”

  Lenny put down the carton in his arms and advanced toward them. “What can I do for you?” he asked Marla with a glint of curiosity in his brown eyes.

  Her gaze swept from his close-cropped black hair beyond a wide forehead to his even features and thin moustache. “I need a few minutes of your time.” She turned to the salesman who’d glanced at his watch in the interval. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks for your help.”

  After he nodded and left, she addressed Lenny. “I’m Marla Vail, the lady who texted you earlier about using your services as an installer. Actually, you’ve been doing a job for my mother, Anita Shorstein.”

  His eyes bulged. “I know that name. I’ve told the cops everything I know, ma’am.”

  “It’s Marla, and I have a few questions for you. I understand the experience must have been traumatic. My mom respects your work and says you’re a skilled craftsman. It’s sad that something like this had to happen.”

  “Sad for Jack. Maybe not so for others who knew him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Please don’t misunderstand,” he said, raising his hand. “Jack had the usual crop of complaints from customers. They’d blame him when anything went wrong.”

  Marla got the impression he was backpedaling from his remark. What others did he mean? “It’s good you don’t have to handle many customer complaints in your role. Had you worked with Jack for long?” Maybe if she got him talking about his work, he’d be more willing to open up about his colleagues.

  Lenny moved a heavy carton closer to the van. “Nah, we’d done a few jobs together but not many.”

  “I imagine a highly skilled specialist such as yourself would be in demand. Where did you learn the business?”

  He responded to her flattery with a grin. “My daddy taught me. He knew his way around a construction site. It’s not what I’d planned to do, but when he died, I needed to support our family.”

  “You have siblings?”

  “Two sisters.” He took off his work gloves and tossed them on the pavement.

  “Any kids?” She noticed he wore a wedding ring.

  “Yep, but why do you care?”

  “My mother is upset over Jack’s death. I want to help her find peace. It must have been horrible when you found Jack on their shower floor.”

>   He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s hard to get that image out of my mind.”

  “My husband is a police detective. I know it affects me when he comes home and tells me about a bad case. He tries to keep things from me but sometimes he needs to talk it out.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to tell my wife, but Bianca sensed I wasn’t myself. I was scared the cops would think I’d done it. She said I should cooperate with the investigation. I’ve tried my best, but I get nervous around police officers.”

  She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Lots of people feel that way. However, the lead investigator seems more interested in my stepfather since it was his tie wrapped around Jack’s neck. I want to help clear his name. Regarding Amaze Design Center, did Caroline assign you to a particular project or was it Jack?”

  The whine of a siren in the distance mingled with the sound of traffic from the main road. A breeze stirred, bringing the scent of impending rain. From the corner of her eye, she noted dark gray clouds coalescing overhead. Hopefully, she could get back to the salon before it rained.

  “Caroline would contact me to see if I were free to do a job. Then she told Jack, who coordinated the workers on a project. But I’m done with them,” Lenny said with an emphatic shake of his head.

  “I can understand your choice in light of what happened,” she said, hoping to encourage him to keep talking.

  “It’s not Jack’s death that influenced me, although that didn’t help. The company still owes me for two previous installs, plus they’re behind in payments to the tile company. This might be of interest to the detective looking into Jack’s case, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

  This was news. Were they behind in other bill payments as well?

  “Have you had much contact with the company president?” Marla asked.

  “Nope. Brad keeps mostly to himself, except for his assistant.”

  “Who is it that doles out the paychecks? Would that be Brad?”

  “Uh-uh. Jack handed us the actual checks.”

  “Did you ask either one of them why you weren’t getting paid? It’s a serious issue if their company isn’t meeting its obligations.”

  He grunted. “I barged into Brad’s office one day and accused him of having cash flow problems. He denied any deficits.”

  Lenny donned his gloves and resumed loading his van. Marla knew that as soon as he finished, he’d drive off.

  “My mother said Jack didn’t communicate well,” she said in a last-ditch attempt to gain information. “He’d promise someone like the plumber was coming but the guy would show up three days later.”

  Lenny’s mouth curved downward, and his brow creased. “Everyone knew Jack was lousy at keeping in touch with people. When I complained, Brad told me to mind my own business.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have held a grudge against the foreman?”

  “No, ma’am.” Lenny’s arm muscles knotted as he hoisted another carton into the van. For a slim guy, he got in a daily workout handling those weighty boxes.

  “Are you aware Jack wasn’t strangled as it appeared?” Marla asked, meaning to startle him into providing more insights.

  He paused from lifting another heavy carton and glanced at her. “How did he die?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. However, I’m disturbed by my stepfather’s involvement. Were you aware of any friction between the two men?” She hated to ask but it had to be said.

  Lenny put the box in his van then turned to face her. “I did overhear Mr. Westmore and Jack talking in loud voices one day. They were at the side of the yard, and I was working in the shower, so I couldn’t make out what they said. Your stepdad was definitely riled about something.”

  Marla wasn’t happy to hear this. Reed had neglected to mention a direct confrontation with Jack, just that he’d been unhappy with his customer service.

  “I’d be angry if my valuable time was wasted waiting for workmen who never showed up. But killing Jack didn’t solve those problems. Instead, it brought everything to a halt,” she pointed out.

  So what if Jack and Reed had a disagreement? She could understand Reed’s annoyance with Jack’s behavior, but it didn’t follow that her stepdad would murder the guy for that reason. Then again, their discussion could have been about something else entirely.

  Lenny kicked at a pebble. “If you’re looking for other suspects, you might want to talk to George Eustice over at the granite yard. I’d met one of his friends on a job once and that man gave me an earful. George would have shot Jack on site if he showed up at his place.”

  Marla stared at him. “What did Jack do that made this man so upset?”

  “You’ll have to get the story from the horse’s mouth, ma’am. And please don’t tell him that I sent you there.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Lenny. I appreciate your time and the information. I’ll feel better when my mother’s life is back to normal.”

  Marla headed around the outside of the building toward the parking lot in front. She felt Lenny’s eyes boring into her back as she walked away from him. He’d given her important clues in mentioning the paychecks owed to him and the tile emporium. But the best lead was the granite guy.

  It seemed awfully convenient how Lenny had mentioned the man’s name. Was he truly as innocent and cooperative as he seemed? Or was he deflecting suspicion away from himself as a person of interest?

  Although he appeared to lack a motive, Lenny might still have had stronger feelings toward Jack than he’d let on. Had he suspected Jack of pocketing the money Brad issued for the payroll? If so, how far would Lenny go to replace their crooked foreman?

  She also needed to follow up on his remark about Reed, although it would pain her to do so. Marla agreed with her mother that he was keeping things from them. Why wouldn’t he tell his wife what plagued him? Was he afraid of losing her regard? He’d already lost Ma’s trust.

  Her cell phone pinged, and a message popped up. Oh, it was a photo from Ryder’s teacher. The baby was taking a nap, sleeping with his tush in the air. Her heart melted and a smile curved her lips at viewing his sweet little face, his eyes closed in slumber.

  He’s so adorable. I love him so much.

  Her cares eased as she pocketed the phone and unlocked her car. Leave it to Ryder to put things into perspective. She needed to tend to her family above all else, and that extended to her family of clients and staff at the salon.

  She showered attention on her next set of customers and then departed to pick up Ryder at daycare. The late afternoon evolved into a series of rote chores at home as she played with her son and prepared dinner. Brianna helped entertain the baby after she came home from school. She made funny faces at him during their meal and squeaked his toys.

  Marla focused their conversation on Brianna’s day. The teen groused about the statistics teacher who still insisted on homework even though the school year was nearly over.

  “Don’t you have to study for exams?” Marla asked, preferring to defer her conversation about the murder case until later.

  Brianna shrugged, a frown marring her forehead. “They’re not for a month yet, and I already know most of the material. These last few weeks are such a drag.”

  “It’ll be over soon. In the meantime, enjoy being with your friends. You’ll miss he closeness you have in high school once everyone goes to college.”

  Brianna got up to clear the dishes, then went to her room. Marla attempted to get Ryder to finish his milk, but he pushed it away. He gave her his sign language signal that he was done. Soon he’d be able to tell her verbally what he wanted. She couldn’t believe how much he’d grown in the space of a few months.

  She tickled his belly and her heart squeezed when he laughed. But then she got a whiff of his diaper and practicality took over. Dalton helped get his bath ready.

  Ryder splashed water around in the tub and squiggled on the changing table as Marla tugged him into his sleepwear. She read him a story until he conked
out, her own eyelids drooping.

  Back in the kitchen, she placed the portable video monitor on the kitchen counter. He looked to be sound asleep and didn’t move. With a sigh of relief, she washed the dishes that had accumulated. Most of them were Ryder’s. As she cleaned the bottle gear, Dalton wiped down the kitchen table and refilled the dogs’ water bowls. Marla still had a session of pumping to do before she could relax.

  Nonetheless, she wanted to get the discussion off her chest that she’d waited for all afternoon.

  “I need to tell you what I learned today,” she began, admiring her husband’s masculine form as he moved about the kitchen. “Lenny Brooks isn’t happy with the design company. He said they still owe him for two jobs, and they haven’t paid the tile place, either. He’s done working for them.”

  “How did he feel about Jack?” Dalton came up behind her and massaged her neck. She sagged against him, her tired muscles demanding more. His practiced fingers felt so-o-o good.

  “Lenny said Jack was the one who handed out the paychecks. When he went to Brad about the missing money, the president denied any problems with their cash flow. He told Lenny to mind his own business.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I agree. Is it possible for you to check into the company’s finances?”

  “Detective Wanner is likely already working that angle. I don’t want to step on his toes.”

  “Maybe you can be unobtrusive in your inquiries? It would really help to know where the design center stands in terms of their financial obligations.”

  “It’s not my case,” he reminded her. “We have to trust Wanner to do his job.”

  “My mother’s health is at stake. I can’t just stand by and wait for him to share details with us. He’s discounting the contribution we can make.”

  She dried her hands on a towel and turned to face him. “There must be public records you can access,” she said in a coaxing tone. “Didn’t you tell me how much you miss hands-on detective work? A bit of research on your part couldn’t hurt.”