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

by Linda Ross

  “Touchy subject,” Thelma said in an undertone.

  Jeffrey Connell was wearing a white dress shirt with a blue tie that had little lemons all over it. Car salesman humor, I guess. His hair was graying and thick, trimmed professionally. At least it wasn’t styled by a dog groomer, like mine.

  He looked up when we tapped on the door frame and for an instant I saw annoyance on his face. But he quickly brought out the salesman’s smile. “Can I help you? Ron was just here if you’d like to look at some trucks.”

  “Actually we’re here about Kara Koch,” I said.

  Instantly his hand went to his neck, and then just as quickly he moved it away and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  We introduced ourselves, and he asked if we were with the police.

  “No,” I said. “We’re working on a newspaper story about the murder. And we’re trying to get some background.”

  He leaned back in his chair and tapped a finger on his desk. “I’m not sure I want to talk about her.”

  “I can understand,” I said. “We’re getting that reaction a lot from everyone she knew.”

  He smiled without humor. “I can imagine. She and Paul were quite the team.”

  “Paul?” Thelma asked.

  “Her knife. That’s what she called it. Like some people name their car or truck. She’d talk as though it was her pet. ‘Paul and I don’t like it when you do that,’ she’d say,” he said, mimicking a woman’s voice. “’Paul needs to give you a talking to.’”

  “Wow, that’s creepy,” I said.

  “Especially if you’re in bed naked,” he said dryly.

  “I know this is sensitive, and I apologize, but we need to know everything about her. I understand that she carved her initials on you.”

  I didn’t think he was going to answer at first, but then he sat up in his chair and said, “Oh, what the hell. Might as well tell you.” He stared down at the desk as he talked. “We were having an affair when we were both living in Arnold. We used to drink at the bar I owned, then get a room somewhere. As you probably heard, we used toys.” He shrugged. “I suppose some people would find it disgusting, but I’ve always known my tastes were different.”

  “And Kara’s were too,” I guessed.

  “We were perfect together,” he said, a faint smile on his face. “For a man of my inclinations it’s difficult to find a woman who likes to play the opposite part, for lack of a better description.” He looked at us, and I guess both Thelma and I must have appeared baffled. “In terms of our sexual relationship, I was a bottom and she was a top,” he said. “It’s something my wife isn’t into, and she’s never expressed any interest in learning. In fact, she finds it depraved.”

  Thelma cleared her throat. “So you had to keep the relationship hidden from everyone.”

  “I’m sure several people guessed. I don’t think we were that careful. A joke or a personal remark at work.” He shrugged. “But mostly they just laughed behind my back or rolled their eyes. Most people don’t understand. The sex can be a tremendous release.”

  I didn’t want to go there, so I tried to steer the subject back to the breakup.

  “But Kara ended the relationship?”

  “I think she got bored. Women like Kara need a lot of excitement in their lives. They’re always looking for the next thrill. Which suited me fine, but she wanted to escalate things a bit much.”

  “Like carving her initials on you?” I asked. I know it wasn’t tactful, but we were discussing sex, for heaven’s sake. Tact had no place in the conversation.

  His hand went to his neck again. “We’d had a fight, and I was drunk. We were at a motel, and she wanted to do more than our usual. . . routine.”

  I wasn’t going to ask for details, so I waited for him to continue.

  “I wasn’t open to what she wanted, even drunk, so she kept getting me more to drink. I guess I passed out at some point, and I woke up with a throbbing pain in my neck and blood on the bed. With the blood and my drunken state, I couldn’t see that there were letters on my neck when I looked in the mirror. I thought she’d just made her usual cuts. She liked to do an X or a cross. I wrapped my shirt around my neck and went home. I told my wife I’d been mugged, but they hadn’t gotten anything.”

  “And then the cuts healed,” Thelma prodded when he fell silent.

  “I suspected what it was when the cuts scabbed over, but I wasn’t sure. Then when the scabs came off and I saw the scars, well, there was no denying it. KK. A perfect scar.” He pulled down his collar on the left side, and I saw the two letters, a perfect brand of scar tissue on his white skin.

  “But you still followed her when she left town,” I said.

  Jeffrey sighed. “I thought I’d found the one woman who understood me.”

  “Even after she cut you like that?”

  “I know it’s crazy, but sometimes sex is like a drug. You want more and more. And you get to the point you’ll pay any price, even getting her initials carved on your neck.” He shook his head. “I knew I was throwing away my marriage. I was damn lucky Cindy didn’t toss me out when she realized I had Kara’s initials carved on my neck. We were going to start over, but I just couldn’t let go of Kara. When I heard she was in Hannibal I convinced Cindy we needed to start over in a new place. I thought maybe she wouldn’t find out Kara was close by if we didn’t live in the same town.”

  “But she found out anyway?” Thelma asked.

  “I heard about the B and D club where Kara was going, and I showed up there. I hooked up with her again, and for a while everything was great. But one night she was different. I don’t know. Maybe she’d been doing drugs. We started our usual session, but this time she went after me with a crop. I was handcuffed and couldn’t get away. She was cursing at me and hitting me as hard as she could everywhere. I couldn’t stand it anymore and started screaming. She stuffed a gag in my mouth and kept hitting me. I think I finally passed out.”

  He fell silent, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. “I heard that’s why she got kicked out of the B and D club.”

  He nodded. “That night she walked out of the room and left me bleeding on the couch. I had to be taken to the hospital. David told her to get out and never come back. She left, but she came back long enough to slash some tires and try to set fire to the house. That was the end of it.”

  “Did it end your marriage?” I knew it was a nosy question, but I was curious.

  “In a way. We’re still married, but we each go our own way. She sees other men when she wants, and I don’t complain.”

  I wondered why Cindy stayed with him. He was a good looking guy, but he didn’t seem to have much else going for him. And from what we’d heard, she had money of her own.

  As if reading my mind, he said, “You’re wondering why my wife didn’t leave me.”

  “Well, it crossed my mind,” I admitted.

  “She has MS. She has fairly mild symptoms now and just walks with a cane. But we know what’s coming. I’ll stay with her, and she knows it. It’s the least I can do.”

  Thelma and I didn’t speak after we left the building, and we were back on the road before I said, “Wow.”

  “I’ll say,” Thelma agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever known someone quite like that.”

  “You mean the kinky sex?”

  “Not just that. Someone who goes back to an abuser for more abuse.”

  “Women do it all the time.”

  “I suppose so,” she said. “It’s sad. I got the feeling Jeffrey Connell is unable to function alone.”

  We rode the rest of the way to the office in silence. The sky was clouding over, promising rain. The temperature was beginning to drop as well.

  I couldn’t believe that I was going to have to do a cow story after interviewing Jeffrey Connell. It was like leaving a Liam Neeson movie for a Pee Wee Herman one. The change was jolting.

  As soon as we got to our desks, Rose came over to
see how we were doing.

  “Lorenzo said you were going to go see Jeffrey Connell,” she said. “How did it go?”

  “Did you know him?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Kara mentioned him when we were living in Arnold. He sounded kind of weak to me. Like the kind of person she liked to dominate.”

  “That’s about the sum of it,” I said.

  “Did his wife leave him?”

  “They’re still together,” Thelma said, “but they lead separate lives.”

  “Too bad.” Rose shook her head. “So, have you talked to that iron works guy again?”

  “Loren Haskell?” I asked. “Not yet. But we’re going to.”

  “He always gave me the creeps. I don’t know what Kara saw in him. I think he was as violent as she was. And that barn where he works was infested with rats.” She shuddered and headed back to the counter where she was filing.

  I exchanged a look with Thelma. Rats.

  “Do you still want to go look around his place?” Thelma asked me, using the voice you would use to ask someone if they still wanted to juggle flaming swords.

  “We’ll be careful,” I said. “He’ll never know we’re there.”

  Thelma crossed herself.

  There was no time to scout out Loren Haskell’s place now though. Now was cow time. I left to check out the cow that was a walking advertisement, and Thelma headed for the boy who could recite the Gettysburg address backwards.

  The farm was north of town on a county road off the main highway. Dark, low clouds were moving in, and I was hoping to get done before rain started. I passed a field of black and white cows before I turned in the drive. A huge metal arch straddled the driveway, the words Noll Dairy Farm at the top. Les Noll was waiting for me by the barn when I pulled to a stop. There was a nice two-story white clapboard house, well kept up, and a few chickens that scattered in every direction when I got out of the car. I could hear basic farm sounds—the chickens clucking, some pigs squealing, and a cow lowing somewhere—and I could smell the basic farm smells. But I won’t go into that. It reminded me of Lorenzo’s office on a Monday after lunch.

  Les was about sixty-five or so, wire thin and leathery. He was wearing overalls, a light jacket, boots and a John Deere cap. White tufts of hair stuck out from under the cap.

  I told him who I was and that I was here to see the cow that he’d called about.

  “Lassie,” he said. “She’s in the pasture here behind the barn. Great little milk producer. Lots of fat in the milk too.”

  “So you have a family?” I asked. I was picking my way around various small piles of something that was probably not meant to be stepped in.

  “Wife and two daughters,” he said. “The girls are both married now and live nearby. The wife just moved her mother in with us.” He glanced back at me and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s going well.”

  I laughed, being no stranger to family drama.

  “Here we go,” he said as we rounded the barn and went through a wooden gate. There were about ten cows in a penned area, clustered around a bale of hay that sat in some kind of big hay platter. One of the cows looked at us curiously, then went back to eating. The munching sounds carried on the crisp fall air. Strangely, I was getting a craving for ice cream. I don’t know if it was the cow smells or what.

  “We didn’t notice that Lassie’s markings said anything for a while, but this summer cars started honking when they drove by the pasture and the girls were out. So one day I was out in the pasture and Roger from up the road came by. He stopped, and he was laughing like he’d just heard a really good joke. I asked him what was so funny, and he said my cow. Said she was a regular billboard. So I took a good look, and there it was. I guess that’s why everyone was honking when they saw her.”

  Les stepped over to the cows and pushed and shoved a couple out of the way until I could see one of them broadside. And there it was. NOLL Big black letters against a mostly white background.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s like a miracle.”

  Something didn’t seem quite right, and I moved a little closer to Lassie, trying to avoid the large piles of manure. The O looked like it had dripped. I took another step. Yes, a definite drip.

  The first hard raindrops started to fall, and the cows started moving into the barn of their own volition. Lassie was last in line, and as she passed me I saw that now the rest of NOLL was dripping as well.

  “Mr. Noll,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. “I think your cow is melting.”

  “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sometimes that happens when they get wet. The hair gets moved around and looks different.”

  “Mr. Noll, did you paint that cow?”

  He sighed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. People aren’t drinking milk like they used to, and we’ve got expenses to cover. You can’t run a farm on nothing but hay. I just thought a little publicity might help.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Why didn’t you use spray paint that wouldn’t run?”

  “The hissing sound of the can scares the cows. I had to go with some poster paint from the dollar store.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of the rain and figure out what to do.”

  We moved into the barn, and I studied the cows. They were nice looking cows. Some of them were mostly white with very little black, like a blank canvas. No wonder Mr. Noll had gotten the idea to paint one. And that gave me an idea.

  “I guess you won’t run the story now,” Mr. Noll said.

  “Hold on a minute. I think I might have an idea.”

  Ten minutes later Mr. Noll was back in the barn with his paints. He worked on the cows while I coached from the sidelines. An hour went by, and five cows sported messages and drawings. One read DRINK MILK and another had a drawing of an ice cream cone. It turns out that Mr. Noll had some artistic talent, and his drawing of the ice cream cone was inspired. I took photos of each cow. I took some notes on Mr. Noll and his dairy farm, and then I headed back to the office.

  It took me about fifteen minutes to write up the story, which I titled “The Banksy of Bovines.” I heard Lorenzo chortling in his office while he was reading it, so I figured it was a success.

  I stopped by Thelma’s desk on my way out to ask if she’d changed her mind about coming over for Thanksgiving. “I’m never going to even finish this story before Thanksgiving,” she said.

  “The kid who says the Gettysburg Address backwards?”

  “More like speaking in tongues. I don’t know what the hell he was saying. Now, look. You’ve got me swearing.” She shook her head in exasperation.

  “The kid was that bad?” I asked.

  “He sounded like a record played backwards. He could have been saying anything. And apparently he talks like that all the time. His parents are nuts. Even they don’t know what he’s saying, but they don’t seem to care.”

  “Sounds like a case for child services.”

  “He’s going to preschool, and I pity his teacher.”

  “Well, just write it up so you can get out of here.”

  “Okay. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

  “You too. And don’t forget the big anniversary party here on Saturday.”

  Thelma groaned.

  I poked my head into Lorenzo’s office long enough to tell him I was heading home, and he said, “Nice angle on the cow story, Moon. Maybe we can get the guy to do some cows on other farms.”

  “Yeah, I imagine farmers would love that.” I gave him a cheerful wave, buttoned my coat and headed to the car.

  It was time to make a cherry pie. I’d promised Jimmy.

  Jimmy was already at my house when I got there, and he’d let Nancy out and was feeding her. It struck me that we were like an old couple, familiar with each other’s routines and comfortable together. Except there was no sex. I guess we were a really old couple. And Nancy was our adult child who’d returned to the nest.

  “So what’s on the program for toni
ght?” Jimmy asked.

  “Cherry pie. I promised you one for tomorrow.”

  “That you did. Need any help?”

  “Sure. How are you at making pie crust?”

  It turned out that he wasn’t bad, and we got the pie made with a minimum of mess. If I’d harbored any romantic fantasies of us tossing flour at each other and ending up kissing, they went unfulfilled. We worked well together.

  “Pizza and TV tonight?” Jimmy asked.

  “Sure. Never gets old.”

  We ordered from the Brick Oven and sat at the table with a beer and a Diet Coke. Nancy got an occasional piece of crust. I filled in Jimmy on the visit Thelma and I made to Jeffrey Connell.”

  “You know I’m not happy about you talking to him,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, you aren’t going to be happy with this either. We went to Stephanie Riley’s house and walked around.”

  “And?”

  “There’s an iron sculpture on the patio that I’m sure was made by Loren Haskell. I think she was having an affair with him.”

  “Could be,” Jimmy said noncommittally. “He hasn’t been very forthcoming.”

  “And Rose mentioned that his barn was full of rats. So maybe he was the one who put the rat in my car.”

  “Well, she probably knows Kara better than anyone else. Pay attention to what she says. As for the rat, you can find them on any farm.”

  I sighed. “Every time I turn around there’s some new suspect. Everyone hated Kara.”

  “The lab got some fibers off the front of Kara’s car, and it looks like they match what Stephanie was wearing when she was hit.”

  “So Kara’s car was the murder weapon.”

  “Looks like it. No prints inside other than Kara’s.”

  “Do you think she killed Stephanie?”

  “It looks that way. She must have run the car into the tree in an attempt to cover up the damage.”

  “And then someone killed her,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “As you said, there are enough suspects. Maybe it was just coincidence that she was killed shortly after she ran down Stephanie Riley.”

  “It doesn’t feel like coincidence,” I said.