Aretha Moon and the Dead Hairdresser: Aretha Moon Book 2 (Aretha Moon Mysteries)

by Linda Ross

  The woman I was thinking of as Tiny clicked off her phone and came to stand beside me. We kept to the side of the doorway, neither of us looking in that direction.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said, her voice shaking. “I called her last night, and we were going to talk at lunch today about what. . . . Oh, no,” she moaned as something occurred to her. “There’s a bridal party coming in an hour. I’m supposed to do the bride and two bridesmaids. What am I going to do?” She looked at me, wide-eyed and totally lost.

  “You’ll have to call them and cancel,” I said. “You’d better do it now.”

  She nodded and went back to the bench. I saw her punch in a number and start talking, and then she was crying. I heard the sirens, and a moment later two black and whites and an unmarked car pulled up. Three uniformed cops stood in the street, and Jimmy Burrell got out of the unmarked car. I realized my heart had been beating faintly in the wake of finding the body, but now it kicked into high gear. And a wave of relief washed over me.

  Other women can have their George Clooneys and Matt Damons. My lustful heart belongs to Jimmy Burrell, childhood crush and detective with the Hannibal Police Department.

  Jimmy saw me standing near the open door and came over. “Aretha? What are you doing here?”

  “I brought Eileen’s girls for a haircut and found the body.”

  He frowned. “Are you all right?” I looked up into his blue eyes and immediately felt guilty for feeling even a shred of lust when we were just feet from a dead body. I guess I’m just not a good person.

  “I’m okay,” I said, looking away. “I should send the girls home though. They didn’t see anything, so I don’t think you’d need them to stay.”

  Jimmy glanced at my car. “No, they can go. Do you want me to get an officer to drive them home?”

  “Tiffany can drive. She has her license.”

  Jimmy nodded, and I went to the car and told Tiffany she was to drive home very carefully. The seriousness of the situation had sobered her to the point of maturity, and she quietly said, “Okay.” I gave her my keys and watched as she very gingerly got into the driver’s seat and ever so slowly pulled out onto the street. The uniformed officers were busy taping off the street, and they stood aside to let the car through.

  When I turned around, Jimmy was standing in the doorway looking at the scene. Then he went to the bench and sat down beside Tiny, who was still crying. I stood by the door, and I could hear what they said. Jimmy asked for her name, and she said she was Serena Roosevelt, and she owned the salon. She went through basically what she’d told me, that Kara was supposed to unlock this morning, but when Serena arrived the shop was dark.

  Jimmy asked her if she was sure that was Kara on the floor, and she nodded, then cried harder.

  “I recognized her hair right away,” she said between sobs.

  Jimmy asked her what kind of car Kara drove, and Serena said it was an older Chevy Camaro. “That one over there,” she said, pointing to a red Camaro parked three spots ahead of her own car. “That’s Kara’s.” Jimmy called to the uniforms, and they got on their radios. Serena looked at Jimmy, stricken, and then she turned her head and threw up on the sidewalk. I felt sorry for her. I’d been tempted to do the same thing.

  The techs arrived then, two guys who pulled on hazmat suits and gloves. One of them started taking pictures of Kara’s body, and Jimmy turned to me. “Tell me what happened when you got here.”

  “Well, like I said, I drove Tiffany and Desi here for a haircut this morning, and the place looked dark. We were a little early for the appointment, so I figured we could wait inside if someone was in there. When I got out of the car, that woman, Serena, was just pulling up. And so was the other woman.”

  “What other woman?” Jimmy asked.

  I pointed toward the Audi parked behind my spot. “She got out right after I did. I tried the door, and it was unlocked, so I opened it. Then I saw the body.” I swallowed hard as that image swam before my eyes.

  “It’s all right,” Jimmy said. “Go on.”

  “Serena saw the body, and I told her to go call the police. Then the other woman saw it and started screaming.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “I think she said, ‘It’s Kara,’ or something like that. She was so upset that I told her to wait in her car until you got here.”

  Jimmy looked at the car and nodded. “I’ll go talk to her. Wait here.”

  It was warm for early November, and the windows were down on the car. I inched closer to the car, pretending interest in a maple tree that was still clinging to a handful of red leaves. Almost the red of the blood on the floor, I thought in a macabre moment. But I guess thoughts like that are normal when you’ve just seen a dead body.

  I could hear most of what Jimmy and the woman were saying. He was leaning into the open window on the passenger side, and she had turned partially to face him.

  “Do you know the deceased, ma’am?” he asked gently.

  She nodded, her head down. I almost couldn’t catch what she said. “She’s my sister Kara.”

  “And what is your name?” Jimmy asked, pulling out his notebook.

  “Rose Sanderson. I just moved to Hannibal a couple of weeks ago. My husband died recently, and I wanted to connect with my sister.”

  “I’m sorry. This must be a shock.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “I need to ask if she had any enemies that you knew of. A disgruntled boyfriend? Anyone like that?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone she knew could have done that to her,” she said with a shudder. “She’s had her share of run-ins with people, but nothing serious. And I guess you’ll find out sooner or later that she’s done some jail time.”

  “When was that?”

  “A long time ago. She was wilder when she was young. She wrote some bad checks and stole from her employer.”

  “When did you see her last?” Jimmy asked.

  “Last night.”

  I saw Jimmy perk up at that. “What time?”

  “I guess it was around six or so. She’d called and asked me to come by the salon. She said she had a late client, but she wanted to talk to me.”

  “And what did she say?”

  Rose sighed. “She wanted to make plans for Thanksgiving. We were going to go to a restaurant and then back to my place for pie.”

  “And what time did you leave?”

  Rose rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I think it was around seven. I told her I would see her today. She was going to give me a shampoo and trim when she had time.”

  “And she seemed fine?” Jimmy asked.

  Rose nodded. “I think I called to her not to stay too late as I was leaving. And that was the last time I saw her.” Her lip began to tremble. “Until today.”

  “Thank you,” Jimmy said. “That’s very helpful.”

  Jimmy got Rose’s home address and came back to me as she started her car. “I guess there’s no chance you won’t be involved in this?” he asked wryly.

  “Not if I can help it,” I said. “Lorenzo will want me all over this. You know that.”

  Jimmy sighed. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.” He glanced over his shoulder as Rose Sanderson pulled away from the curb. “If you remember anything else, call me.” He sighed and said, “I know this is useless, but try to let us handle this.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “That said, if you want to hang around a bit longer, I’ll run you home when I’m done.”

  My heart skipped a beat, but it could have been a hot flash. “Thanks.”

  “Just sit over there and stay out of the way.”

  I hustled over to the bench and sat down with Serena, who was on her phone, apparently explaining to the bride’s mother why the bridal party couldn’t get their hair done.

  “I’m so sorry,” Serena was saying. “You might want to try the salon in the mall. I know the owner, and I can call ahead.” I could hear a loud, unhappy voice on the other end, and Serena held the ph
one out and grimaced. “I’ll call her and call you right back,” she promised.

  “Oh, man,” she said when she clicked off. “You’d think this was a plot to ruin the wedding.” She punched in another number and talked for a few minutes to someone, then called the brides mother back. “They can do all of you if you can get there in an hour and a half. She’s going to call in another employee who’s off today.” She listened and made sympathetic sounds for a few minutes, then clicked off her phone.

  “Were you and Kara going to do the bridal party by yourselves?” I asked.

  Serena nodded. “We had the styles all planned out, and we have a system. We work well together.” She swallowed and said, “I guess I mean we worked well together.” She glanced at the open door and shook her head. “This feels like a really bad dream.”

  I agreed. I watched as a uniformed cop started the house to house inquiries, beginning with the house next door. At the same time, a tow truck pulled up and two guys jumped out and talked to Jimmy. Then they started loading Kara’s car onto the back. This was becoming more real by the moment.

  “Were you friends with Kara very long?” I asked, more to keep my mind occupied than anything. And I have to admit that I knew Lorenzo would want me to follow the murder investigation and write the stories. I’d become the de facto crime reporter after I was closely involved in a murder investigation a couple of months earlier. I was nearly one of the victims, and that thrilled Lorenzo no end. He still gives me the weird stories to write, like Avery Turnberry, the reincarnated stripper, and I still do the horoscopes, but I now have a personal coffee cup, courtesy of Lorenzo. It reads World’s Greatest Bowler. Yeah, I know. I don’t bowl. I assume Dollar General was out of World’s Greatest Employee mugs. It’s not exactly a certificate of merit, but for Lorenzo it’s like being knighted.

  “She came in looking for a job six years ago,” Serena said. “She was good, we got along, and I hired her.”

  “Did you ever have any trouble with her? Did she get along with everyone?”

  “Oh, yeah, everybody liked her. Well, maybe,” Serena began, then paused.

  “There was someone?” I prompted.

  “I’m sure it was nothing,” Serena said, almost apologetically, “but two days ago Stephanie Riley came in for a trim and color. Kara didn’t have anyone at the time. I washed Stephanie’s hair in back, and we were walking to my station when she suddenly stopped and yelled at Kara.”

  “What did she say?”

  “It was like, ‘What are you doing?’ and then she went and sat down in my chair.”

  “What did Kara do?”

  “Nothing. I was a couple of feet behind Stephanie and couldn’t see. I think Kara had been standing near my chair, and she went back to her own station and picked up a magazine to read.”

  “And that was it?”

  “I thought so, but when Stephanie paid and was leaving she stopped near Kara and said something.”

  “What was it?”

  “She was talking quietly, so I couldn’t hear too well, but it sounded like she said something about her husband. She was going to let her husband know about something.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “I thought so too. I asked Kara about it later, but she said it was just about a mutual friend. So I dropped it.”

  “You said Kara didn’t have a client there at the time?”

  “Right. Someone came in later for Kara to do some highlights.”

  “Isn’t Stephanie married to a lawyer?” I asked. The name sounded familiar.

  “Yeah, I think he works in the state’s attorney’s office.”

  “That sounds right.” If I had antennae I would say they were quivering at that point, but it was probably the start of another hot flash.

  Serena and I fell silent and watched the cops do their jobs, moving back and forth efficiently and talking on their radios.

  My cell phone rang, and I recognized Lorenzo’s number. Bad news travels fast.

  “Hello, Lorenzo. What’s up?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” he boomed. I think I’ve mentioned that his voice is somewhere between a rock crusher and a cement mixer. “I’m hearing something about a murder. Do you know anything?”

  “Yeah, you might say that. I found the body, and I’m sitting in close proximity at the moment, along with a lot of cops.”

  Lorenzo nearly crackled with electricity. “Great! This is terrific! Find out everything you can and start writing it up for Monday.”

  “It’s the weekend,” I complained. “And I’ve got Avery Turnberry to write up.”

  “Who?”

  “The reincarnated stripper.”

  “Oh, him.” Lorenzo chuckled. “How about if you give your notes to Carl to write up and you work on the murder?”

  “No,” I said immediately. I was feeling a little protective of Avery for some reason, and I didn’t want him in Carl’s slimy hands. Avery seemed like a sweet, although befuddled, guy. “I’ll do Avery this weekend. And I need to talk to some more people before I write up the murder.”

  “Good work, Moon. This is going to boost circulation.” I could practically hear Lorenzo rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Even more to celebrate at the anniversary party.”

  “Work?” Serena asked when I got off the phone. I nodded morosely, and she said, “Men always expect women to work when they don’t want to.”

  I thought that pretty much summed up my marriage, which had ended in divorce when my ex found a woman who tickled his fancy more than I did. I had been the one who worked weekends at our printing business, while Boyd was apparently out getting his fancy tickled.

  When Jimmy walked over to us, I looked up expectantly. My adrenaline rush was starting to ebb, and I wanted to get home to a Diet Coke and something laden withsugar.

  “Ms. Roosevelt, you can go on home. We’ll call you if we need to talk to you again.”

  Serena sighed and stood, looking wobbly for a moment. Jimmy touched her arm and asked if she was okay. She nodded and walked to her car with Jimmy and me watching.

  “I can run you home now if you want,” Jimmy said. “Then I’ll have to get back to the station.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the lift.”

  Once we were in his car, I didn’t know what to say. I know I should have told him what Serena said about Kara having words with Stephanie Riley, but I wanted a chance to talk to her first. If I was going to write a decent story for Lorenzo, I had to go looking for information.

  Jimmy turned the car toward downtown and took the overpass on Highway 79. My sister Eileen and I live on property we inherited from our grandmother. It’s on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River. Eileen has the house, and I live in a converted barn, which has been nicely renovated after a bit of damage a while back.

  When we pulled into the drive, I couldn’t help remembering a time in the summer when Jimmy had come to the house and he had ended up kissing me. I swallowed hard at the memory, wondering if things between us would ever go beyond friendship. I’ve had a crush on him since he would visit his grandmother who lived next door to us when I was a kid, but things never got beyond the buddy stage except for that one kiss.

  I was lost in my fantasy world where Jimmy told me I was the hottest woman he’d ever known when he said, “I know what you’re doing.”

  I started and found myself blushing.

  “You’re planning how to get yourself in the middle of this investigation, aren’t you?” He stopped the car in front of my house and turned to face me.

  “Of course I am,” I said. I’d rather admit to that than to my fantasies.

  “Don’t do it, Aretha. I mean it. This one’s going to be nasty.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t get a good look at Kara’s body, did you?”

  “Not really. Enough to know that someone beat her face in.”

  “Not just her face.” He waited a moment for that to sink in and said, �
�Her face is gone, Aretha. And her arms and upper torso look like a side of beef. Someone hated her so much that they beat her to a bloody pulp.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “Not at the moment. But whoever did this is not someone you want to mess with. It would take a pretty sick person to do this to a woman.”

  I offered Jimmy a Twinkie and a beer if he wanted to come in, but he had to get back to the station. My car was in the drive, so I knew that Tiffany and Desi had made it home safely. As Jimmy pulled away, I sighed and headed for my house. Nancy, my poodle, was waiting, along with the puddle of pee she’d left. I cleaned that up, took her outside, then fed her. I stuffed down half a box of Oreos myself.

  Even the Oreos didn’t settle my racing mind. So I turned to Little Debbie. A couple of cupcakes later the sugar rush was starting to focus me.

  I figured I’d go see my sister Eileen and fill her in. The girls had probably already scared her half to death with their tale of the dead body. I cracked open a Diet Coke first, then, fortified, went to face my sister.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eileen is prone to migraines and a certain self-righteousness, probably because she’s a perfectionist at heart. And also because our mother was killed in an unsolved hit and run when I was fourteen and Eileen was four. As a result, I developed a smart mouth that often gets me in trouble, and Eileen got headaches.

  Today’s headache looked like a killer. Eileen was sitting at her kitchen table with her head resting on one hand. Her eyes were glazed. Tiffany and Desi were apparently upstairs from the faint bass notes throbbing through the ceiling. This was puzzling, since I thought they would be talking nonstop about the murder. But maybe they were on their phones.

  I looked at Eileen, but she stared at the table. “Eileen?” I asked tentatively. I was starting to worry that she was in the middle of some kind of breakdown.

  “I have to get a bigger turkey,” she said in a monotone.

  “What now? Why do you need to get a bigger turkey?” This was beginning to look more and more like a breakdown.

  “They’re coming for Thanksgiving.”

  “Who’s coming for Thanksgiving?”