Heart Beat

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  Maybe I should take lessons from Anita. Beth probably thought I’d come in to rob the place and lost my nerve.

  The motor was running as I jumped into the passenger seat. Anita grinned and backed her mini-van out of the parking space.

  I couldn’t wait to hear what information she’d obtained. “What did she say? Did she know who owned the box?”

  “Yes, and she told me.” She beamed. “I asked her about the history of the town. Then I asked if she knew who the first person to rent a box was. She didn’t, of course, but she knew the name of the current owner of the first box in the first row—box 101. Aren’t we lucky that’s the box we needed? I’d have had to ask her to recite all of them. Wonder if she could.”

  Anita’s expression turned stern. “The car is moving, so fasten your seatbelt.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed the belt and locked it in place. Anita liked being in control.

  “What’s the name?” I tried to lean toward Anita, but found myself secured to the seat.

  “Beth remembered because not many of the boxes are rented. Number 101 is Dorene Miller.”

  “Now we’re getting someplace. What’s the address?”

  “I don’t know. Beth didn’t have that information. I was trying to figure out how to ask her to look it up when she got into telling me Dorene’s life story. I guess she used to be married to Bob Miller, who ran the hardware store before it closed last Spring. Not enough business. Beth said he had no brain for figures and couldn’t keep his books straight. They had a messy divorce—not a pretty thing. But now Dorene is dating a nice Italian man from—guess where? Evelynton! She said his name is Mervin or Marvin or Melvin or something. Well, I figured we could find Dorene’s address in the phone book. And an Italian man in Evelynton? That shouldn’t be too difficult to track down. She was pretty sure his name started with M.”

  “No need to find a phone book. I’m looking up Doreen’s address on my phone.”

  I dropped the phone in my lap. “Got it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  T he town of Harold, Indiana consisted of ten or twelve streets. We drove on most of them searching for the street name and then the house number until we found Dorene Miller’s single-story, manufactured home. Anita made a u-turn and parked in front on the street.

  Faded red shutters on grimy windows accented the aging white siding. I stepped over a child’s well-used blue bicycle on my way to a rickety front porch. The door opened before my fist had hit it the third time.

  The woman filling the opening wore baggy jeans and a maroon t-shirt. She stood about my height, but was a few pounds heavier. Her thin brown hair faded to wisps as it reached her shoulders.

  “Can I help you?” The monotone voice and unexpressive eyes betrayed the phony smile she wore.

  “Hi. I’m Lauren Halloren. I wonder if I can talk to you about hair products.” I’d decided last year, after surviving a sticky situation, to be as honest as possible as often as possible.

  Dorene squinted at me and answered. “No. I don’t want any.” Her arm shot out to pull the door shut.

  I realized I hadn’t explained myself well and stuck out my foot to stop the door. I saw the move on TV. I don’t advise it, unless you’re wearing reinforced work boots. My sandals didn’t offer much protection. “Wait, I’m not selling them. I promise this won’t take long.”

  Dorene glanced down at my foot, and then lifted her gaze to my face. The fake friendly smile had vanished.

  I dragged my sore foot back to its place beside the other. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be pushy. Just a couple questions. Do you have a post office box?”

  My foot throbbed.

  “Yes, I have a P.O.Box.” She didn’t try to hide her impatience. “Whatever you’re trying to sell, I don’t want any.”

  “I’m not selling anything. Sorry I haven’t been clear.” I took a breath and tucked the stricken foot behind the other, taking the weight off it. “Let me explain. A friend of mine purchased some hair color online, and the return address was a post office box I think belongs to you. I just wondered….”

  She raised a hand. “Oh, got it.”

  Her mood changed as if I’d flipped a switch. In an instant she seemed amenable to talking to me and smiled a genuine smile.

  “That’s my boyfriend. He uses the box for his mother’s business. Maybe she sells hair dye, I don’t know. He’s one of the good guys. Helps his mom whenever he can, so I let him use my box.”

  I stood on my good foot and leaned against the door frame while Doreen continued. “I can call him if you want to order something. I’m sure he’d love to get more business for her.”

  That was it. All I needed to know. I was so excited I put my foot down and started to bounce on my toes. Until pain shot up my leg. Ouch. “Thank you. I don’t think I need anything right now, but maybe later. I just happened to be here in Harold, and thought I’d check it out. I feel it’s always good to know who I’m dealing with, don’t you agree?” Okay, I’d drifted into storytelling again. I was going to quit that.

  “May I ask your boyfriend’s name?”

  “Mallozi.” She giggled. “Don’t you try to steal him away.”

  I laughed and backed away from the porch. “Wouldn’t think of it. Thank you for the information.”

  Sidestepping down the walk, I tripped over the blue bicycle. Then, regaining my footing, I hobbled to the car.

  When I’d almost made it, Doreen called out, “Hey, what’s your name again? My man will want to know.”

  I kept my eyes on the car and yanked open the passenger door.

  As I climbed in, I ordered, “Hit it, Anita.”

  She gunned the engine, my door slamming shut as we pulled away from the curb.

  “I’m so excited we found the link. Doreen Miller’s boyfriend is Mallozi D’agostino. His mother lives across the hall from Louise. Can’t believe it was so easy.”

  Anita took her eyes off the road to look at me. “No kidding? That couldn’t be a coincidence. He’s absolutely the one who stole from Rarity.”

  She slowed at a stop sign, then turned onto the highway heading out of Harold. “What an exciting case. I wish you would’ve let me go up to the door with you. I love this. After we solve this crime and get the publicity, we should form a detective agency. Bet people would flock to us. Wouldn’t it be fun?”

  “Have you forgotten that last year I almost got shot? I’m glad Doreen didn’t see you. She was nice enough and didn’t seem dangerous, but we can’t be sure. Hope she doesn’t remember my name. Pretty sure Doreen’s boyfriend is dangerous.”

  “Lauren, the danger is the fun part. We’ll call the agency Danger R Us. Or maybe Danger Girls Detective Agency. Do you think Clair would want to be part of it?”

  I slumped into the seat. “No. I don’t want to be involved in a detective agency. I’m only doing this because of Rarity.”

  “Darn.” Anita pouted and drove in silence for five minutes while I thought about the case and hoped she would think of other things—like baking pies.

  Anita muttered, “Halloren-Corwin Detective Agency. Or if Clair wants in, HCL Agency.”

  I ignored her until we passed the Evelynton city-limit sign. “Okay, shall I drive straight to the police department?”

  “No. I still have to discover how Mallozi gained entrance to The Rare Curl. And I need real evidence of the theft. Maybe some of the stolen goods. Our police force won’t listen unless I put it all together for them.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I turned off the water and shoved the shower curtain open. My cat sat in the opening, staring up at me. “Move over, Mason. I have things to do.”

  Instead of making way, he lazily stretched and positioned himself across my path.

  “I don’t have time for our morning cuddle. I’m meeting Anita and Clair, and I want to stop at the salon first.” With my towel wrapped firmly around my chest, I gripped the towel bar and stepped over him. He rolled to his back and pawed my
feet as I passed.

  “No playing around, I want to have time to talk to Rarity before I meet the girls.”

  Mason stood and stalked from the room, not to be seen again before I left the house. I think he was mad at me. Or maybe I’d lived alone too long.

  ~

  Rarity sat at the reception desk, pencil in hand, when I poked my head into The Rare Curl. “Good morning, Lauren. How are you this morning? Uh oh. This isn’t your day to work is it? My goodness, I’m a day behind. Or am I a day ahead?”

  “No, you’re not confused. This is my day off. Just stopped in to ask a question.”

  Rarity sighed and leaned back, sliding the pencil into the mass of red curls above her right ear. “Oh, thank goodness. Hate those senior moments. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Just a question. Do we have any customers with the name D’agostino? Maybe Deloris D’agostino?”

  “Rings a bell.” Rarity scratched her head and repeated the name aloud. Smiling, she said, “Ha. The name rolls off the tongue. Sounds sort of musical, doesn’t it. That’s probably why I thought it was familiar, but I’m sure we don’t have any clients by that name. Why do you ask?”

  “No special reason. Deloris is a resident of Beaver Creek, and I wondered if she’d ever had her hair done here. Maybe on my day off. Or what about her son, Mallozi. Does that name ring a bell?”

  Rarity shook her head. “No, definitely not. And you know I never forget a customer. That would be like forgetting family.”

  “I doubt you would forget either of these two. Both have memorable personalities.” I swung toward the door. “It isn’t important. Just a silly thought.”

  I glanced over my shoulder as I pushed the door open and stepped through. “On my way to Ava’s to meet Clair and Anita. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The door had almost closed behind me when Rarity’s voice caught my attention. “Lauren. Wait. I remember where I heard that name.”

  I whirled around and held the door open. Rarity pulled the pencil from her hair and pointed it at me. “That cute young girl who came in asking about becoming a hairdresser. Melody D’agostino. That was her name. It sounds even more melodious than Deloris D’agostino. Sweet girl. Saw our ad in the paper and was curious about the business.”

  “I remember. We bumped into her the other day on our way out for lunch, didn’t we? I bet she’s related to the two D’agostinos I know.”

  “That’s the one. She’d never had her hair done here, but I knew the name sounded familiar. Have a nice day and tell Anita the pie she made for the church bake sale was delicious.”

  ~

  It looked as if half of Evelynton had stopped in for coffee at Ava’s Java. I waited in line at the counter and scanned the room. Anita and Clair waved from a table near the center of the room.

  Accustomed to serving the rush-hour crowd, Ava was adept at passing out the coffee and sweet rolls. Before long, I carried my coffee to join my friends.

  I’d just settled into a chair when Anita leaned in, elbows on the table. “I can’t wait to hear. Have you discovered the modus operandi?”

  Clair gaped at her. “The what?”

  “It’s detective talk. I asked Lauren if she knew how the thief got in when he stole the stuff from Rarity.”

  Clair raised her eyes to the ceiling. “So now you’re reading crime novels too?”

  Anita winked. “Who needs a crime novel? We’re having our own adventure.”

  I caught Clair’s eye. “I received a tip the stolen product might be in Harold, Indiana, so Anita and I took a drive there. Got a name and now know who’s at the bottom of it. Just didn’t know how they got into the salon.”

  Anita bobbed her head. “Clair, I was about to tell you about our road trip when Lauren came in.”

  “It all adds up. I know the man from my visits to Beaver Creek. I’m pretty sure the product he sends from that P.O. Box address was stolen from The Rare Curl. I couldn’t figure how he got into the salon until a few minutes ago.”

  Clair laughed. “A guy from the nursing home? He should be easy enough to apprehend. You didn’t mention the walker when you told me about seeing the thief during the stakeout.”

  I leveled my eyes at her until she quit giggling. “He doesn’t live there. He’s the son of one of the residents.”

  Forcing the grin from her face, Clair gave me her attention.

  “The name I got from the woman in Harold was D’agostino. I just asked Rarity, and she remembered a girl who was in The Rare Curl poking around a few weeks ago. Turns out her name was D’agostino. I think she picked up the extra key at the Rare Curl reception desk.”

  Clair shook her head. “Did the girl wander around the salon unattended? Why didn’t they watch her?”

  “She’s sweet and very polite. Wouldn’t have raised suspicion. In fact, she works here. Have you seen the new girl at the counter some days?”

  “You mean the one with the gorgeous thick hair? More than all of us put together? Pretty girl. She’s the thief?”

  Anita smiled. “Rarity would let anybody wander around the salon if they had a good enough story. Not a suspicious bone in her body.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “Anita’s right. Her name is Melody D’agostino. And she convinced Rarity she wanted to become a hairdresser. But I bet she wasn’t so interested in the hair business as she was in Mallozi’s business. Rarity said the girl studied the appointment book, so she would have been at the desk. Must have found the key. If Rarity and Stacy were with customers, they wouldn’t have watched her.”

  Anita slapped the table. “That’s proof. Let’s go get that Mallozi guy. Or maybe we should question the girl first and get her to admit to stealing the key for him.”

  I leaned my elbow on the table and took a long drink of coffee. “She’s young and sweet. Wouldn’t want to scare her. I’d agree with confronting Mallozi.”

  Clair’s gaze darted to me, then to Anita, and back to me. “I don’t think so, ladies. Go tell the police what you’ve discovered. Let them handle it. This guy could be trouble. For that matter, so could the girl.”

  Anita straightened. “The police never listen. At least not to Lauren. We can handle it. You know Lauren has experience.”

  I cut my eyes to Anita. “Experience? I keep telling you…” I blew out a breath. “Never mind.”

  I put down my coffee and pushed my hair out of my face with both hands. “Maybe Clair’s right. Mallozi as much as warned me off last week when I saw him at the nursing home. At the time I thought he had a personality disorder. You know, wasn’t good at relating to people. I think it’s more than that.”

  Anita leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “We could do it.”

  I shook my head. “And remember when I told you that someone chased me through the halls at Beaver Creek? It had to be him.”

  Clair put a hand on her mouth. “Oh yeah. Sorry I laughed at you. Now that I think about it, sounds like he did it to scare you away from the nursing home.”

  Anita shifted her gaze from Clair to me, then back again. “I know the three of us could catch him. After all, last year Lauren caught Patsy all by herself.”

  I clasped my hands to keep from pounding the table. “I did not capture Patsy.”

  Clair was shaking her head. “Anita, it’s time to get the police involved. Lauren had a lucky break when she tackled Patsy.”

  Did they ever listen to me? “I didn’t tackle…. It was Wallace.”

  Anita’s brow furrowed. “You may be right, Clair. Okay, but let’s take a day to consider our course of action before we do anything. Maybe we’ll come up with a better idea.”

  Clair slid her chair out. “Well girls, I have to get back to work. Don’t do anything without telling me. If you insist on confronting the guy, I’ll go with you. And Lauren, dig your gun out of the linen closet. We might need it.” She shouldered her bag and made an elegant exit, as only a woman in high heels can.

  Anita slid her feet back
into her flip-flops. “I’d better get going, too. It’s my afternoon at the food pantry. Let’s talk tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I paced from the living room to the kitchen. Mason left his food dish and followed me through the dining room. I took it as a willingness to listen to my rant.

  “What’s my next move? I don’t want to go the police. They never believe me. Probably filed our theft report in the “not worth looking at” file. And I definitely don’t want to talk to Officer Farlow again.”

  With a soft meow Mason trotted ahead of me and blocked my path. His golden eyes focused on my face.

  I stopped and blew out a breath. “You’re right. I should act like a grown-up and report what I know to the authorities. Confronting Mallozi, even with Anita and Clair as backup, would be dangerous. I don’t feel right about accusing Melody of stealing the key. I know she probably did. But I’ll add that suspicion to the rest and let the authorities deal with it.”

  Mason lost interest in our conversation when he spotted a fly buzzing by. He took off at a run to apprehend it.

  “I give up. I’m going to the police.”

  ~

  The office was quiet when I arrived at the Evelynton Police Department. I’d taken time to peek through the door. A few city employees went about their business. No civilians that I could see. I was glad of that, since I didn’t know what to expect in response. The department and I had never enjoyed a rapport.

  I squared my shoulders and marched in. They would have to listen to me one more time. Maybe they would see the new evidence as an important part of the case. With any luck, Farlow, and his snide remarks, would be out of the office. I could go straight in to see the chief.

  I hadn’t made it to the counter before I bumped into Officer Farlow. What was that song I’d heard? “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

  He let out an overly dramatic sigh. “Ms. Halloren. What do you want?”

  I guessed there would be no pleasantries as a warm-up to the conversation. No, nice weather we’re having or how’s your week?