by Gina LaManna
“It was her friend, the other hairdresser.”
“Ellen?”
“Yes!” Sandy brightened. “Do you know her too?”
“She did my hair for the Bachelorette Ball,” I said. “I completely forgot they were going in on it together. Ellen didn’t mention anything about it.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sandy said. “I don’t think it was a happy split. In fact, Shania came in on the sly, if you will. Took Ellen’s name off the paperwork.”
“She could do that?”
“I won’t go into details, but the way the contract was set up, Shania was the primary business owner.”
“I see,” I said. “Then I suppose it makes sense Ellen wasn’t talking about it. Do you think—”
“I’m sorry, I really have to get going,” Sandy said. “I used my lunch break for the clothes shopping, and I’m running a little late getting back.”
“Of course.” I stepped out of the way. “Thanks for coming in, Sandy.”
“Anytime. And let me know once Green’s is up and running again. I’d be happy to help you get started. Legally, I mean.”
I walked Sandy to the register and transitioned her to small talk with my mother. While my mom was distracted, I leaned over the counter and nudged her.
“Do you mind if I borrow the truck?” I asked. “I’d like to take a quick lunch break.”
“You just got here,” my mother said, ringing up Sandy’s clothes.
“I didn’t get breakfast,” I said. “I’m starved. And I don’t have another appointment until the afternoon.”
“Fine,” she said. “But if it comes back without a muffler, with flat tires, or otherwise destroyed, you’ll be working for me—for free—for the next year.”
“Got it,” I said grabbing the keys. “I appreciate the support, mom.”
Before anyone could change their minds, I scurried out of the shop. I had an hour for lunch which meant I would probably have time to get to Butternut Babes and back before my mother sent out Cooper looking for me. Just enough time to pop in for a quick blowout and see what Ellen had to say about her failed business venture with a very dead Shania Boot.
Chapter 18
My phone rang when I was halfway to Butternut Bay. I nudged the speakerphone on at a stoplight, sighing when I saw the name on the Caller ID.
“What can I help you with, Chief?”
“Why’re you driving your mom’s truck?” Cooper asked. “I thought we bought you that nice, fancy car so you didn’t have to report your every movement to your mother.”
“You really know how to brighten a girl’s day, don’t you?”
“Is everything okay, Jenna?”
“Yes. I mean, with me it is.”
“And your car? Don’t tell me you’ve been hit with the famous Eddie Curse.”
“Is that where your car doesn’t work the day after you buy it?” I asked. “Because if that’s it, then yes. I’ve been cursed.”
“What is it? I thought I saw the tank leaking. But then there was the sound it made when you got on the highway. I’m not even sure what that was, but it sounded sickly.”
“It’s just a little skittish on the highways,” I said. “Nothing wrong with that. The issue happens to be the tires.”
“What about the tires?”
“Specifically, that they are flat.”
Cooper gave a huge sigh. “I’m tempted to extend an offer to fill your tires with air, but I’m afraid Angela will see me if I swing by. The next thing I know, I’ll be called every time someone pops a flat.”
“Save yourself a trip,” I said. “An air compressor wouldn’t help anything.”
“And why’s that?” Cooper asked, a hint of dubiousness creeping into his voice.
“Because there are big holes in the tires.”
“Holes, huh?”
“More like slashes.”
“Slashes—like, from a knife?”
“Those would be the sort of slashes I mean.”
Cooper went silent on the other end of the line. “Someone slashed your tires last night.”
“It appears that way,” I said. “Seeing as my brand-new car sort of thunks instead of rolls.”
“Oh, Jenna.”
“It’s not my fault! I told you I was giving up the case yesterday.”
“That doesn’t make much of a difference if nobody else knows.”
“Only you and Matt knew,” I said. “Which doesn’t exactly limit our suspect pool seeing as I know neither of you killed Shania. Nor did you slash my tires.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, I guess I’ll have to buy some new tires,” I said. “Not that I can really afford it quite yet. That’ll have to wait until the next paycheck, hence the reason I’m driving my mother’s truck around. Are you happy?”
“Not exactly. Where are you headed?”
“Brow wax,” I said, spitting out the first girlie thing that popped into my head. Cooper didn’t seem like the sort of guy to pay attention to feminine grooming habits. Specifically, the fact that my eyebrows were already in perfectly good condition. “Why?”
He coughed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know. Have you looked at my eyebrows lately? They’re horrendous.”
“I think you look just fine.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“You’re not headed to Butternut Bay to poke around some more, are you?”
“I already told you I’m off the case.”
“Something tells me you’re back on it.”
“Well, that’s not my fault. Whoever slashed my tires made me mad. Now, it’s personal.”
“Please, Jenna. We’ll find who did this. It’s safer for everyone if you stay out of it.”
“I don’t know why you’re warning me, seeing as I’m just about to get my brows done. Maybe, while I’m at it, I’ll get a bikini wax.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to get me off the phone.”
“If I wanted to get you off the phone, I’d just hang up,” I said. “Like this. Goodbye, Cooper. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He exhaled once more. Loudly. “I’ll talk to you soon. Don’t get yourself in trouble.”
“Never,” I said. “Bye, chief.”
I’d already parked by the time we disconnected. I flipped down the mirror and took a glance at my face, thinking that maybe a brow wax wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Or a manicure. Probably, if they had a mani/pedi package that would be best, and then maybe a discount on brows?
“New tires,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the vehicle. “New tires, Jenna McGovern. More important than perfectly manicured brows.”
I made my way inside and stopped at the front desk where the same red-headed receptionist sat with a bright smile on her face.
“You’re Jenna, aren’t you?” she asked. “I told you, I’d have remembered you if you’d been here before.”
“That’s me,” I said, relieved to find the plaque on the table reminded me her name was Kendra. “I was wondering if you have any walk-in appointments available for a brow wax?”
“Let me see...” She bit her lip, looked down at the computer screen.
“With Ellen,” I added quickly. When Kendra glanced up at me, I shrugged. “She did such a great job on my hair for the Bachelorette Ball. I’d really like to, you know, ‘find my hair girl’ now that I’m settling in Blueberry Lake.”
“You’re not going back to Hollywood?” Her eyes widened. “Why ever not? It sounds ah-mazing out there.”
“It’s got its pros,” I admitted. “And a whole lot of cons. But for now, I’ll probably be sticking around, at least for the next year or so.”
“That’s great! And sure, it looks like Ellen has an opening in ten minutes for a quick wax if you’d like to take a seat.”
“Great, thanks.” Before I turned away, I decided to take a slight risk. I leaned on th
e desk. “Did you know Shania Boot well?”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? What happened to her. We weren’t best friends, but I knew her as well as any of the other stylists. I’m just the receptionist, so I don’t know the stylists as well as some of the other ladies here.”
“Was she acting differently in the last few weeks?” I asked. “Anything you noticed?”
Kendra frowned as she thought back. “Like I said, I mostly just said hello and goodbye to her. Every now and again I conferred with her on a client or a scheduling conflict. She was a tiny bit quieter than usual recently, but even that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“What about her clients?”
“What about them?”
“You said you know most people who check in at the front desk.”
“Now that, I can help you with,” Kendra said with a grin. Her grin dimmed slightly as she looked at me longer. “Why exactly are you asking?”
“Just curiosity. Were there any clients she didn’t get along with?”
“Now that you mention it, there were one or two clients who’d requested not to go to Shania lately. Her regulars. I was surprised but didn’t think anything of it at the time. I just thought maybe they wanted a change of pace.”
“Could I get the names of these people?”
“You’re not going to bother them, are you?”
“Of course not,” I lied.
It was a murder case. I was allowed to bother people. Except for the whole I wasn’t officially working the case thing, but that hadn’t stopped me before.
“Angie Wu was one,” Kendra said, flicking through a stack of files on her desk. “Becky Swanson was another. They both scheduled their latest appointments with Ellen instead of Shania.”
“Ellen?”
She nodded. “They requested it. She’s quite popular. Second, actually, to Shania. I suppose she’s first, now.”
I tried not to let my face show surprise, but it was hard. It was pretty weak for a motive, killing a fellow stylist to become the most popular among clients. However, combined with the background information from Sandy, it made me think twice. If Ellen had been upset enough about her deal with Shania Boot falling through, she could have gone after her out of revenge. With a nice added kick to know she’d benefit financially when she inherited Shania’s remaining clients.
“Do you have any idea what spurred them to switch?”
She shrugged. “You’d have to ask them.”
“Gotcha.”
“But!” She raised a finger in my direction. “Don’t bother them. Please. I shouldn’t be talking about clients.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, dodging her request. “Thanks, Kendra.”
No sooner had I plopped down with a magazine than I was called up front by Kendra and directed to Ellen’s chair in the back.
“You have great natural eyebrows,” Ellen said as an introduction. “What would you like done today?”
“Not a whole lot. Just a brief touch up.”
“Clean up around the edges, maybe accentuate this gorgeous arch you’ve got going?”
“Why not,” I replied sagely. “We’ll live dangerously.”
Ellen turned away, put on gloves, and began to set up her station. I debated asking her about Shania but decided that it was a much better idea to let her handle my eyebrows before I risked upsetting her with talk of failed businesses and murder. I had a date coming up, and I couldn’t go to it looking like I’d burned my eyebrows off.
“There,” Ellen said. “Just a bit of a touch up. What do you think?”
Ellen held the mirror down so I could see. I tried to raise my eyebrows, but there was just so much less of them. They were my eyebrows, just a little bit less. A lot a bit less, actually. They were like eyebrows from the nineties, all thin and arched. Today’s fad was all about bushy, natural looking eyebrows. Which Ellen would have known if she didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota.
I took a deep breath, forced a smile. “They look great.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I do,” I mumbled unconvincingly. “I just haven’t had an eyebrow wax in ages, and I forgot what it looks like.”
“M-hmm.”
“Okay,” I admitted. “They’re a little skinnier than I’m used to. But that’s also because bushy eyebrows are all the rage on the runway right now. I mean, we’re talking Brooke Shields bushy.”
“Isn’t that weird how things come back around?” Ellen asked, studying my face. “For the record, I think this looks way better. Plus, it’s all the rage around here. And you’re a resident of Blueberry Lake now, yeah?”
“That’s true,” I said, my heart sinking the tiniest amount as I realized that I was firmly a member of Blueberry Lake. While that was exciting in so many ways, there was still the tiniest bit of sadness over the fact that I now had official Blueberry Lake eyebrows.
“You’re the winner of the Bachelorette Ball,” Ellen said, sitting me up in the chair. “You have to look the part. Speaking of, has Matt proposed where he’s going to take you on a date?”
The word propose threw me off, and I spluttered a bit until I realized she’d meant it innocently enough. “We haven’t talked about it.”
“Well, in case he springs it on you as a surprise, at least now your eyebrows will be ready.”
“I suppose so.”
“Anything else I can help you with today?”
“You don’t do manicures, do you?”
“I do,” Ellen said, glancing at her watch. “I have my lunch break next, so I could squeeze you in if we’re doing something simple.”
“The simplest,” I gushed. “I take pride in my cuticle care. I’m just thinking a fresh color to match my fresh eyebrows would be prudent. Just in case, like you said, Matt surprises me with a date this week.”
“Come on, sweet pea. Take a seat over there. But first, would you like to pick your color?”
“Stylist’s choice,” I said, taking a seat and cringing as Ellen picked a shade just beyond blood red and well into highlighter pink. “Wow, that’s bright.”
“It’s spring,” Ellen said, as if that excused the eye-watering shade.
“Say, speaking of becoming a local Blueberry Lake resident,” I said, “I heard a rumor at the shop the other day.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I heard you really got screwed over by Shania Boot,” I said. “That the two of you were supposed to open your own salon together, and she ditched out.”
Ellen froze. A drop of pink nail polish dripped onto the desk, and she didn’t seem to notice.
I cleared my throat. Kendra happened to be walking back to the breakroom at that point, lunchbox in hand, and spotted a frozen Ellen. The receptionist came by, handed over a bottle of nail polish remover and a rag, and that did the trick to spur Ellen back to life.
As Ellen dumped the remover onto a cotton ball and wiped the smudge from the table, she glanced up at me. “Who told you that?”
“I don’t remember; I must have overheard someone mention it,” I said, trying to remain lighthearted. It was a struggle. Ellen didn’t look particularly happy. “I was only asking because I was interested. See, I have to drive all the way over to Butternut Bay every time I want to get a quickie trim or a nail polish touch up. I don’t mind; I’m happy to do it because the service is awesome. But I thought, if the rumors were true and you are considering opening your own salon, maybe you’d set up shop in Blueberry Lake. I’m sure it’d be a money pot for you.”
My furious backpedaling seemed to have a positive effect on Ellen’s mood. She went from looking annoyed, even angry, to thoughtful.
“That’s interesting,” she said. “You think it’d work?”
“Girlfriend,” I gushed, trying probably a little too hard to rope Ellen onto my side. “Did you see the number you did on my eyebrows? Plus, your choice in nail polish color. You have exquisite taste. Double plus: Everyone knows you did my hair for Saturday evening when
I won the Bachelorette Ball. You wouldn’t exactly have to drum up business—you’re in high demand. Add on the fact that people could walk to your shop instead of having to drive across town, and you’d be set. Cash cow.”
Every time I mentioned the potential buckets of money she could earn, Ellen looked a tiny bit more interested.
“You know, that’s not such a bad idea,” she finally muttered. Then, she gave a shake of her head as if bringing herself back down to earth. “But I’m not looking to branch out on my own. I shouldn’t even be talking about it.”
“Oh, right.” I glanced around, winced. “Is that what got Shania in trouble?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just saying, it seems like the rumor was that Shania was trying to open up her own shop, then bam. She ended up dead.”
“You think there’s a correlation between Shania wanting to branch out on her own and her death?”
I tried to tread carefully. “I don’t know. Maybe it ticked some people off. Either her customers, or maybe even someone who worked here. Do you know anyone who might have had bad blood with Shania?”
“Oh, I see.” Ellen sat back. She looked particularly intimidating with her violent purple hair. Her curves spilled over in a tight black tank top that looked to be made of straps and leather, covered by a sheer violet kimono-style wrap that was actually quite cute. “I see what this is about, Hollywood.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re asking around about Shania for a reason. I heard you and Cooper were getting cozy.”
“Me and Cooper? No, I have a date coming up with Matt. Cooper is... just a friend.”
“A friend who’s a cop,” she said. “You’re asking around about the murder because you’re trying to figure out who killed Shania. Did Cooper put you up to this?”
“That’s not—”
“What makes you think you can figure out a murder case before the chief of police?”
“I don’t! I’m just curious. The murder happened next door to me. I’d hate to think... I don’t know. Maybe there’s still a danger to people in the community.”
“So, you’re the Good Samaritan, cleaning up crime because you have experience styling folks for NCIS?”