Styled for Murder

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Sounds good,” Dalton said, getting out Ryder’s tray. “I’ll start Ryder’s lunch in the meantime. It’s early for him but maybe he’ll eat something.”

  “Okay.” Marla walked off with Anita and Reed. They passed displays of Cajun specialties, taco bowls, and Asian hibachi grill. Reed went to the booth selling garlic chicken shish kebabs, while Anita decided on a garlicky portabella burger.

  Laden with their meals, they returned to the picnic table. Marla cut a piece of chicken and stuck it in her mouth. She rolled her eyes heavenward as she chewed. The flavor of the tender meat was addictive.

  Ryder popped a piece of diced cantaloupe into his mouth and chewed while watching her. He grinned and reached for another bite. Glad he was eating, Marla concentrated on her meal. Dalton had gone off to get his selection and came back with a sizzling platter.

  A cooking show finished at a demo stage set up nearby with rows of folding chairs on the grass. Now a tall fellow took the mic, speaking loudly to be heard over the live music thumping in the background.

  “I’m from Castle Growers and I am here to tell you about garlic,” the man said, dressed as a garlic bulb with white pants and an inflated top. His head sported a flat cap to match the theme.

  “Garlic, or allium sativum, has been grown as far back as ancient Egypt. It’s used for both culinary and medicinal purposes. Close relatives are onions, shallots, leeks, and chives. The familiar odor is produced as part of the plant’s defense mechanism. When a pest invades its cell wall, the plant releases certain substances that react to form allicin. This compound is responsible for the smell we know.”

  “Is that why we’re supposed to crush garlic before cooking?” blurted one fellow in a front seat. He wasn’t as polite as others who raised their hands.

  “That’s correct. The amount of allicin created depends upon the number of cell walls that are breached. Chopping or crushing will stimulate a reaction. But if you boil or roast the bulb instead, you’ll cause the breakdown of other compounds that produce a different flavor.”

  Marla tapped Dalton on his arm. “I didn’t know that, did you?”

  He was entertaining Ryder with a toy and didn’t respond.

  The speaker pointed to a woman waving her hand. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “How can we clear our breath after eating garlic?” she shouted from a few rows back.

  “Chew on some greens, such as parsley or basil, although you’re probably better off using a minty mouthwash.” He chuckled and went on to the next question.

  The imagery of those colors raised an issue in Marla’s mind. She wondered how to tactfully approach the subject but decided on a direct attack. “Reed, I hate to bring this up when we’re having fun, but the mention of green brought to mind a question I have for you. Can you describe the tie that was taken from your closet?”

  A flush stole over Reed’s features, and he lifted his chin. “If you must know, it was emerald-green with diagonal red stripes. I’d wear it at Christmas. Why does it matter?”

  “I’m not sure it does, but it’s possible the killer picked that particular necktie for a reason.”

  Anita stared at her. “However did you get that idea?”

  “Tally suggested I ask what it looked like in case the tie was meant as a message.”

  Reed snorted. “The only message it means to Wanner is that I’m guilty.”

  “Those colors or pattern don’t hold any special significance for you?”

  “Not really.”

  Marla swallowed her disappointment. Probably every guy who celebrated the holiday had a similar tie in his wardrobe.

  “You and Ma have your own closets. How do you suppose the killer found this item? Was it hanging on a tie rack, or did he have to rummage through your belongings?”

  Reed gazed at her as though she’d sprouted horns. “I assumed he grabbed whatever was handy. All of my ties are well organized. Anita goes in there to straighten things up. She has them on those fancy hangars for that purpose.”

  This still didn’t tell them if the killer had picked this garment on purpose. She supposed they would never know until the cops caught the guy. How did Reed feel about Pete being the focus of Wanner’s attention now? It would certainly alleviate their anxieties if Pete confessed to Jack’s murder.

  Reed cleared his throat. “Isn’t it getting near the time when you have to assume your duties?” he asked Marla.

  Aware that he was changing the subject, she glanced at her watch. “You’re right. I’d better get going. The contestants and my other stylists should have arrived by now.” She blew a kiss to the baby. “Bye, bye, Ryder. Mommy will see you later.”

  “I’ll take him to the kid zone,” Dalton said, gathering their trash. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to hang around all afternoon. It depends on Ryder and if he naps in his stroller or not. Send me a text when you’re done.”

  “I will. Ma, do you want to come with me?” she asked, in case her mother wanted to talk in private.

  “No, thanks. We need more flowers in front of our house, so I’d like to see what the place has to offer. Then I want to visit the food shop for a jar of olive tapenade. We’ll probably hook up again with Dalton at that point and take a turn in watching our grandson.”

  Anita stroked the baby’s arm and made cooing noises to him. He smiled in response, eliciting a collective grin from his elders.

  Marla had to force herself to turn away. She headed in the opposite direction down the path but then came upon a vendor selling garlic-flavored condiments. It wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look, would it?

  She asked about prices and then zeroed in on a basketful of fresh bulbs. “You don’t have any jars of peeled cloves, do you? I forgot to buy it the last time I went to the supermarket.”

  The wizened guy wagged a finger at her. “It’s better you peel them yourself, lady. Or at least read the labels. Don’t buy any peeled garlic that originates abroad.”

  “Why not?”

  “Most of the world’s garlic supply comes from China. It’s been known in some instances to be processed by prisoners,” he said, distaste evident in his downturned mouth. “The acidic content dissolves their fingernails, and they end up biting off the skins with their teeth.”

  “Eww, that’s gross.” Marla’s stomach turned at the notion.

  “Also, imported garlic can be contaminated by heavy metal pollutants or pests. There was one case in Australia where a woman in the food industry imported garlic from another country. She told her online suppliers to label the packages as office supplies to avoid getting a permit. This meant those bulbs weren’t fumigated at entry. They carried a nasty plant pathogen that could have wiped out the entire country’s agriculture. That’s why you should buy fresh garlic grown and processed in our country.” He held up a netted bundle as an example.

  “Thanks, I’ll be more careful next time,” Marla promised, making a purchase and hurrying on before he could start another lecture.

  She passed the restrooms, roped off for the festival due to renovations. A sign from Amaze Design Center claimed credit for the job.

  Now that’s interesting. They have their hands in this pie, too?

  She’d find their booth later. For now, she had a job to do.

  Her other stylists had arrived along with the pageant contestants by the time she reached the prep tent. After waving to Nicole and Zoey, Marla hastily retrieved her tool bags from under the table where she’d left them.

  Robyn, the salon receptionist, stood by holding a clipboard. She gestured Marla over to an attractive middle-aged blonde who wore a starred nametag on a lanyard around her neck. It rested on her chest over a glittery black gown.

  “I’m Gladys Atkinson, pageant director,” the woman said, sticking out her hand for a firm shake. “We’re so pleased you’re donating your time for this worthy cause. These girls are amazing. You should have seen their talent show. Each one of them deserves to win.”

  “I imagine it’s
a tough choice for the judges.”

  Gladys leaned inward, a wave of lily-scented perfume accompanying her action. “The remaining finalists do get a valuable consolation prize, though.”

  “Oh? What’s that?” Marla asked, sensing it was expected of her.

  “A generous gift from one of our sponsors will award them each a laptop and a year of free technical assistance.”

  Marla gazed at her in wonder. “You know, I have a stepdaughter who’s about to graduate. I’d been thinking of getting her a piece of jewelry, but maybe she’d prefer a new laptop, too.” Either way, Marla had better get on it. Graduation was almost upon them.

  “The kids like tech these days. Or consider a Smartwatch if she doesn’t have one.”

  “That’s a good idea, also. Anyway, we need to get started if we’re to get the girls ready in time. Robyn, do you have our assignments?”

  Robyn consulted her notes. “Yes. You can start with Amelia,” the receptionist said aloud as though they hadn’t planned this beforehand.

  Marla nodded and turned toward the granite dealer’s daughter. Here was her chance to gain more insight into his confrontation with Jack. Although it appeared Pete was guilty of the murders, she shouldn’t rule out the other possibilities. George Eustice still had a very clear motive to have wanted Jack dead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amelia Eustice looked the same as Marla remembered from their brief encounter at the granite yard. She had wide almond-shaped eyes and straight black hair that flowed down her back like a Tahitian dancer’s. If this contest were judged on beauty, she would win without a doubt.

  Marla led the girl to one of the chairs in front of a mirror and dumped her bags on the table. She laid out her tools as she sought an opener for their conversation.

  “It’s nice to see you again, hon. If you remember, we met briefly at your dad’s granite yard.”

  Amelia gave her a startled glance. “Oh yeah, now that you mention it... that must be why you look familiar.”

  Marla chuckled. “I hadn’t realized there were so many different types of stone until I saw those slabs.”

  “Are you having work done on your house?”

  “No, but my mother is doing a remodel.” Marla changed the subject, not wishing to go down that road, at least not yet. “Do you have any ideas on how you want your hair done?” she asked in a breezy tone.

  Amelia shrugged. “Not really. If my hair is too heavy to put up, you can leave some of it down my back.”

  Marla studied the teen’s facial structure and felt her hair texture. A vision came to mind of the perfect updo with tendrils of hair framing Amelia’s face. She described what she had in mind.

  “That sounds perfect,” Amelia said, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

  Marla plugged in her curling iron. “What made you enter the contest?” From the corner of her eye, she noted Nicole and Zoey taking their clients to the prep tables. The other contestants chatted together by a rack of evening gowns.

  “I really want the scholarship.” Amelia spoke in a sweet, soft voice. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to afford going out of state.”

  “It’s a terrific prize. What did you do in the talent portion?” Marla spritzed her hair to give it some lift. Extensions would have added volume, but they weren’t allowed. Nor did Amelia need them with her gorgeous locks.

  “I played the flute. I’ve taken lessons since I was eight.”

  “Did that show take place here? I didn’t see any notices for it.”

  “It was held in the community college auditorium. Only members of the press were invited, along with our families, the pageant personnel and judges.”

  “Do you already know which schools you’re interested in?” She wondered how to touch upon the girl’s experience with Jack but would have to tread carefully. Marla didn’t want to upset the teen right before the pageant’s grand finale. Maybe she could steer their talk toward her father’s reaction instead.

  “I’d like to go to New York and study music at Juilliard.”

  “That would be fantastic. Your dad must be excited for you.”

  Amelia’s face pinched. “He’s not very supportive.”

  “Oh, no. Why is that?”

  “He wants me to stay in Florida and study something practical.”

  “I know that feeling. My mother wanted me to become a teacher. Maybe your dad will change his tune if you win the scholarship. Is he here today to watch the final event?”

  Amelia glanced away. “He’s somewhere outside.”

  Marla sectioned off pieces of her hair with large clips. “All dads are afraid to lose their little girls,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “My stepdaughter, Brianna, is a senior in high school. She’s been accepted at Boston University. My husband is still coming to terms with her leaving. Tell me, is there anyone else in your family?”

  “My mother died two years ago from cancer,” Amelia said in a matter-of-fact tone, but her eyes relayed her pain. “I don’t have any sisters or brothers.”

  Marla paused, curling iron in hand. “I can understand why your father is so protective, then. He wants to keep you safe. However, I’m surprised he let you enter the contest.” Especially because he knew you’d be on display in front of an audience.

  “The only reason was for the scholarship. He won’t admit it to me, but I’m aware of how the big chains have affected his business.” She met Marla’s gaze in the mirror. “You look surprised that I would know, but I’m good with math. Dad lets me help him in the office.”

  “Still, he had to pay your entry fees, not to mention your gown and other necessities. He may not verbalize his support, but he’s there for you.”

  “You’re right, and it’s been a great experience, even if I don’t win.”

  “Have faith in yourself. The competition isn’t over yet.” Marla fell silent as she curled each strand and pinned it in place. When she was nearly done, she dove into the topic she meant to address. “Speaking of competition, my mother chose Amaze Design Center for her renovations. Or rather, my stepfather selected them based on their reviews. Does your dad do business with this company often?”

  Amelia’s expression soured. “They’re one of his best referrals, but I’d be careful around them... well, except for Nadia. She’s always been nice to me. Dad shouldn’t have agreed to work with those people again. That was a mistake.”

  “Your father mentioned that he’d known Brad, the company president, in the past?” Marla stood back to study her artistry. The upsweep was elegant and yet softly feminine at the same time. She only had to loosen a few tendrils to complete the look.

  “They were business partners until they split up. Dad doesn’t like me to talk about it.”

  Why is that? Do you know about the shortcuts Brad took to save money?

  She tried a sympathetic tact. “I understand. My stepdaughter, Brianna, hears about her father’s cases. He’s a police detective. She can’t discuss what she learns, either. I’m concerned for my mother, though. She was aggravated when their project manager didn’t communicate things well. The old adage is true about being careful what you wish for. The man is dead.”

  Amelia jerked upright. “Was that Jack Laredo?”

  “Yes, the very same. Had you met him?”

  The girl’s eyes took on a hunted glaze. “He was a bad person. Whenever he came to my dad’s place and I was there, he gave me this creepy look. And when he suggested—” She broke off, pressing her lips together.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, honey. Did he make inappropriate advances?” Marla asked quietly so no one else could hear. She felt bad about pressing the young woman for answers, but a man had been murdered. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity to learn more.

  Amelia nodded, remaining mute.

  “Did you tell your father?”

  “Yes. I figured he’d ask the man not to come by anymore.” The girl spoke in such a low tone that Marla had to strain to hear her.

&n
bsp; “Is that what happened?”

  “I really can’t say.”

  Marla patted her shoulder. “I know it’s hard to talk about things that trouble us, but it helps to get them out in the open. My stepdaughter tells me things all the time. You remind me of her in some ways.” Her heart went out to Amelia who didn’t have a mother to confide in.

  It must be tearing her apart to keep this stuff bottled inside her.

  Marla’s kindly tone broke Amelia’s barriers. The teen covered her face with her hands and murmured, “Dad threatened to kill Jack. I’m afraid he did it.”

  “Your father may have been angry, but that doesn’t mean he acted on it,” she suggested with a hopeful note.

  Oh yeah? If anybody made lurid remarks to Brianna, Dalton would go after them for sure. But not to murder them. How far had George gone?

  Maybe he’d accosted Jack and they’d struggled. George might have broken Jack’s neck by accident. But then, would he still be complaining about not being paid by their company? He’d been pretty verbal about it when she’d met him. A guilty man would keep silent so as not to draw attention to himself.

  “What exactly do you believe your dad did to Jack?” she asked in an undertone.

  Amelia glanced at her through teary eyes. “Dad said he was going to make sure Jack never looked at me again. He went off in a rage.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “It’s been a month or so.”

  Marla did a rapid mental calculation. Tomorrow would be one month since Jack had died.

  “That doesn’t mean your father had anything to do with what happened to the man,” Marla said, hoping for the girl’s sake that she was right. “Or did he say something—”

  “He came home and said Jack wouldn’t bother me anymore. I got scared when I saw the bruise on his face. When I asked him what he’d done, he said Jack had taken a swing at him. My dad knew things that could get Jack in trouble, and Dad threatened to expose him if Jack didn’t leave me alone. That’s when Jack hit him.”

  “So Jack was alive when George last saw him?” Marla wanted to delve deeper into Amelia’s statements but didn’t dare upset her further. Besides, the next contestant was hovering nearby, impatient for her turn.