Nancy J. Cohen - Bad Hair Day 03 - Murder By Manicure

by Murder By Manicure

  "Did you throw that Molotov cocktail through my window?"

  "Huh?"

  "Someone tossed a bomb into my house. The police have evidence. Would you care to confess now, or later in an interrogation room?"

  "I don't know nothin’ about that."

  "Did you kill Jolene? Is that why you want me to quit investigating? You're responsible for the deaths of three people?"

  His smug superiority was replaced by a look of fear. “What the hell are you talking about?"

  Hearing voices outside in the corridor, Marla spoke quietly. “Sam Zelman and Cookie Calcone. Whoever killed Jolene might have murdered them, too. You have a history of violence, pal. The cops will want to bring you in, especially when I tell them how you've threatened me."

  He stumbled backward, his bravado dissipated. “I only tried to scare you in the parking lot, nothin’ else."

  "Then what are you hiding?"

  "Jolene knew. She knew a lot of things, like how Gloria rakes in extra money by manipulating commissions on the computer. Jolene figured it out when Gloria sent her repeated renewal notices."

  "Is that what Jolene meant when she asked you if Keith was involved?"

  "I never cut myself in for a share. Gloria would have broadcast what she'd learned about me."

  Frustrated because he was revealing significant information, but not what she wanted to know about him, Marla shook her head. “What is that?"

  "I can tell you,” Tally's voice rang out loud and clear from where she leaned against the doorjamb. "He's the man who comes into my boutique and changes into women's clothing!"

  Striding into the office with Gloria at her heels, Tally pointed a finger at Slate. “I'll bet I know why such a mystery surrounds Tesla, the elusive massage therapist. You're looking at her. They even have the same letters in their names!"

  Marla's mouth gaped. Gloria snickered, and Slate blanched.

  "Is it true?” Marla croaked, even as the puzzle pieces mentally tumbled into place. Panty hose in the massage suite, lipstick smeared on Slate's mouth, Betsy's obvious distress. No wonder, if her boyfriend preferred to dress in drag! “Why were you following Amy?” she demanded.

  Slate's face crumbled. “Keith would have told our boss if I didn't do what he wanted. He's hot on Amy, so he ordered me to follow her to see who she hooks up with. The jerk doesn't understand she's not interested."

  "That's because Amy likes you, stupid,” said Gloria. “You're all a bunch of assholes. I'm the only one with brains around here.” Her crimson lips pouted. “Now Marla, explain what you're doing in my office."

  It was Marla's turn to feel cornered. “I understand Jolene learned you were cheating on customers and boosting your commissions. Did she threaten to expose you? Is that why you killed her?” She'd learned to go for the gut reaction, but she didn't really suspect Gloria. The girl wouldn't stoop to making bombs.

  Gloria laughed raucously. “She couldn't have hurt me. But there were others whose reputations she could damage.” Her glance flashed to Slate.

  He raised his hands. “Hey, I didn't do it. I'd like to clear this up just to get the heat off. You were here the night Jolene drowned. Did you notice anyone other than Sharon and Amy in the lobby?"

  "It was pretty quiet,” Gloria admitted. “You might ask Lindsay who was in the locker room. She didn't leave until after Jolene went in for her massage. Maybe she saw someone else."

  "Why was Lindsay still here?” Marla queried. “Hadn't Dancercize been over for at least a half hour?"

  Gloria gave an evil grin. She was the type of person who enjoyed relating sordid gossip, Marla realized. “Hank Goodfellow had checked in earlier. I've seen the way those two act together. You should talk to him about it."

  "Yes, I should.” She signaled to Tally. “Let's get out of here. We've dug up enough dirt for tonight. These people need a shovel to cover up their sludge."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marla didn't get a chance to follow through on her visit to Hank Goodfellow's pharmacy right away. Hectic days at work and evenings out with friends consumed her time until the weekend was nearly over. A frantic call from Hortense in Vero Beach gave her the impetus she needed to carry on her investigation.

  "Have you seen Jill lately?” Dr. Crone inquired. “She left a message on my machine Friday indicating she'd found the link to Jolene. I called her back, but no one answered."

  Working in the kitchen, Marla cradled the phone on her shoulder. She slid on a pair of mitts to remove a lemon bread pudding that had finished baking in the oven. “Jill was at the sports club Thursday. I haven't seen her since, but maybe Arnie's gotten together with her. I can ask him for you."

  A pause. “Have you told him about me? I mean, does he know about Jill playing my part?"

  Marla detected a note of apprehension in Dr. Crone's voice. Did she still care about Arnie? “My lips remain sealed. Why don't I trace Jill and get back to you? If you hear from her in the meantime, please ask her to call me."

  Putting the pan on a rack to cool, Marla puzzled over Jill's silence. Maybe the girl had accepted an audition out of town. Or perhaps she'd wanted to confirm her findings before returning Dr. Crone's call. Either way, she might have told Arnie.

  Bagel Busters was on the way to Hank's drugstore. It was four o'clock on Sunday; both places might still be open. Rushed for time, Marla let Spooks outside to do his business in the backyard while she refrigerated the pudding. Fishing for a treat, she grabbed a piece of chocolate-covered halvah for a quick energy boost. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as the sweet sesame-seed candy melted in her mouth.

  Spooks yipped at the door to be let back in. Stooping, Marla spared a moment to scratch behind his ears. “I'll pay attention to you when I come home,” she promised, feeling guilty about leaving him alone again. After allowing him to lick her face, she straightened. Her purse was on the counter. Without bothering to check her appearance, she dashed out the garage exit. The denim jacket that matched her jeans should still be in her car. A chill wind whipped the air, and she shivered as she dove into the Toyota. Her long-sleeved silk blouse didn't provide much insulation, she thought, turning on the heater.

  As she reversed from the driveway, she prayed under her breath. Please don't let anything bad have happened to Jill. Three people were dead so far. Even if Jolene's actions had brought about her own demise, that didn't explain why Sam or Cookie were targets unless self-protection was the motive. They might have uncovered Jolene's killer, which in turn made them a threat. Was that why a bomb had been tossed through her window? Someone feared she was getting too close to the truth?

  Slate had admitted he'd attacked her in the parking lot. He'd been afraid her snooping would reveal his secret, but he'd seemed confused when she mentioned the Molotov cocktail. That indicated to her he wasn't the car bomber, either. He didn't possess the aptitude required to make explosives, regardless of how much instruction was available on the Internet.

  Dr. Crone was a scientist, an inner voice whispered. And Jill worked at Stockhart Industries, albeit in public relations. Other than those two, someone had provided Jolene with lab reports she substituted for her own. Learning that person's identity was the key.

  Wait a minute, she thought. Hadn't Cookie said her ex-spouse used to work at Jolene's plant before he'd been fired? What could have happened to cause his dismissal? Jolene had been his superior. Could he have discovered her deception? Or was he the source of those fake reports?

  Dear Lord, another avenue to follow, Marla thought wearily. She wondered if the man had stayed in town, and considered how to find him. Relatives must have notified him about Cookie's death. Marla had been so wrapped up in her own concerns that she'd forgotten to ask about the woman's funeral arrangements.

  A line of customers was waiting outside Bagel Busters when Marla arrived at the shopping strip where her salon was located. Arnie must be serving early-bird dinners, she thought wryly. The senior citizen crowd was out in force. She allowed h
erself the luxury of glancing into the rearview mirror to check her hair. The reddish highlights glinted in the fading afternoon light. Opening her purse, she withdrew a tube and applied apricot lip gloss. Now she was ready to conquer the world.

  "Hey, Marla,” Arnie called when she'd elbowed her way inside his establishment. Waving, he grinned in unabashed delight from behind the cash register.

  Wondering how he always managed to look so manly in a T-shirt, jeans, and full-length apron, Marla approached with an answering smile. Ruth, one of the waitresses, greeted her while she waited for Arnie to finish giving change to a customer. “Have you spoken to Jill lately?” she asked at the first opening.

  "We went out Friday night. I hope you don't mind.” His dark eyes gleamed expectantly as though he would have liked her to protest.

  "Doesn't bother me!” she said breezily. “I'm glad the two of you have hit it off. Has she, uh, told you anything new about herself?"

  The grin disappeared from his face. “Hortense, alias Jillian Barlow, confessed her secret identity. I was upset that she'd lied to me, until I remembered we'd done the same thing to her. Then I thought how brave she was to investigate Jolene's drowning."

  "The real Hortense Crone—who is married, by the way—has been trying to get in touch with her, but Jill hasn't answered her telephone. Any idea if she went away for the rest of the weekend?"

  "She was excited about something but wouldn't tell me more until she checked her facts."

  "Ah! She left a message for Dr. Crone, who works at the Marine Annex in Vero Beach. Apparently, Jill found a link to Jolene's killer."

  "Jill explained her role to me and how she's grateful to Hortense for helping her. She wouldn't do anything stupid, do you think?” A worried frown transformed his features.

  "Maybe Dalton can enlighten us. I believe he's working today. I'll stop off there on my way to Hank's pharmacy."

  Promising to let him know what she learned, Marla left to head for the central police station. As she'd surmised, Dalton was mired in paperwork when she was admitted to his office. Nonetheless, her heart somersaulted when his gaze brightened at the sight of her. He looked pretty decent himself, his broad shoulders encased in a white dress shirt. He'd loosened his tie and appeared relaxed, with his thick hair ruffled and a mug of coffee on his desk.

  His glance scanned her denim-clad figure before settling on her face. “Sorry I haven't called lately, but I've been busy."

  "That's not why I'm here.” She plopped herself down on one of his chairs. “Dr. Crone has been trying to get in touch with Jill, who left a message on her answering machine that she'd found the link to Jolene's killer. When Arnie saw Jill Friday night, she was excited but wouldn't talk. He says she wanted to gather more information before coming to you."

  A bemused smile curved his mouth. “You mean Arnie knows the lady's real identity?"

  "She told him the truth. They like each other, Dalton. I'm so glad for Arnie."

  His gaze captured hers. “Me, too."

  She blinked, realizing she could easily get lost looking into the depths of his smoky eyes. “Jolene passed off someone else's lab test results as her own. My guess is, Cookie found the source. Jill may have pinpointed the same person, in which case I'm worried for her."

  "You think Jolene had a deal going with someone else who works in a lab?"

  "That's what Cookie implied. The question is who? The same culprit who sold Jolene the lab reports may be the person who designed Sam's car bomb and heaved that explosive through my window."

  "Sold to Jolene? You mean someone made money on their deal?"

  Annoyance puckered her brow. Was he being obtuse on purpose? “Why else would the perp contribute his own reports to be used by someone else in an unethical manner?"

  Vail regarded her with a patient smile. “He could be unhappy in his job, wanting to get back at a colleague who wronged him. There are lots of reasons. Find the perpetrator, and you'll have your motive."

  Marla brightened. “Possibly Jolene got disenchanted and broke off her end of the bargain. I don't think she would've exposed her partner in crime, because it would have brought forth her own duplicity. But she must have angered or threatened this person somehow."

  Picking up a pen, Vail studied her, as though weighing how much to say. “Have you spoken to Hank Goodfellow lately?"

  Her jaw dropped open. “He's a pharmacist. Do you think he's—"

  "Goodfellow doesn't work in a lab."

  "So why ... wait, Slate implied Hank and Lindsay were interested in each other. Isn't Hank married?"

  "Hank's got problems, and his rocky marriage is only one of them. We're about to bust him wide open."

  "What exactly is he messed up in?” she asked encouragingly, as though Eloise hadn't already told her.

  "Illegally selling prescription drugs. One of his clerks has turned informant, and we've obtained a list of his private customers. Apparently, Hank thinks he's doing them a service, but the law doesn't see it that way."

  "That must've been what made Wallace Ritiker so upset. He was afraid he'd be implicated. Is his name on the list?"

  Vail shook his head. “Not on that one, but he may have been paid to turn his back on the scheme. Jolene was one of Hank's customers. She'd been pretty vocal about protesting his recent price hike. You'd mentioned Lindsay. Isn't she Brianna's dance teacher? She takes some sort of pain med Hank supplies."

  "She hurt her back a while ago,” Marla replied, “and it still bothers her. Was Sam one of his customers, too? I don't see how he enters the equation. What did Eloise tell you?"

  "Not much I didn't already know.” He clicked the ballpoint pen in and out.

  Marla sat forward as another idea flooded her mind. “Could Hank have supplied Jolene's gelatin capsules?"

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That's a distinct possibility."

  Scraping her chair back, she stood. “I'm going to see him."

  "You are not.” His bulk rose. “This investigation is nearly a wrap. He's about to go down for his little side business. Steer clear, understand?"

  "Are you giving me orders, lieutenant? I don't believe I'm a member of the police force."

  "Marla, please."

  His pleading tone wormed into her heart. “I won't screw things up for you, but I'm concerned about Jill. If she knows who the killer is, she's in danger."

  Walking to her car, she realized they hadn't identified any new suspects, other than Hank, who possessed the skills to make a bomb. Dr. Crone? Heck, she lived in Vero Beach. Besides, she'd sent the actress to learn who had harmed Jolene.

  Wasn't there another chemical plant in town? Maybe their personnel files held some answers. Certainly it was worth a try, but most likely, they wouldn't be open until tomorrow. Hank's pharmacy seemed the best bet.

  Fortunately, he hadn't locked his doors when she arrived. Ignoring the “Closed” sign in the window, Marla pushed through the entrance. Obviously figuring he'd seen the last of his customers, Hank had removed his white coat and was securing the cash register when she coughed to announce her presence.

  Hank glanced up, his blue eyes looking startled at first, then relieved. “Oh, it's you."

  "Who were you expecting?” she replied. The cops, maybe?

  Giving a sheepish grin, he ran a hand through his thinning hairline. “I'm just about to lock up, but since you bring your mom's prescriptions in a lot, what can I do for you?"

  Marla leaned on the counter. “I've been having headaches lately, and over-the-counter medicines aren't working. What have you got that's stronger? Forget my insurance card. I'm willing to pay cash."

  He leveled an appraising stare at her. “Don't you hang around with that police detective?"

  "I've helped him with a couple of cases."

  "I think you'll have to see a doctor."

  She smiled in a beguiling fashion. “Hank, I understand you've helped people. It's not exactly a secret. You probably figure you're doing them a kindness,
especially with the way managed-care plans deny benefits these days."

  His guarded expression didn't soften, so she tried another tack. “Look, I know law enforcement doesn't take kindly to folks supplying certain medications without a prescription. It's a shame, because patients can't even get a doctor's appointment unless they're dying. You're treading the line between healer and druggist. In some cultures, that's acceptable, but not in ours. In fact, if I were to give you a word of warning, I'd say the shit is about to hit the fan. Get my drift, pal?"

  "Why are you here? You don't usually have headaches, do you?"

  "Wally was afraid you'd drag him in. Did you bribe him so he'd look the other way? He was mighty upset after that break-in."

  "The thieves stole my money,” Hank said. “Ritiker felt I should've been more security-conscious."

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn't stage that robbery yourself to cover up your cash flow imbalances? I'd heard you raised prices recently, and Jolene didn't approve. Did she threaten to blow the whistle on your lucrative sideshow?"

  Hank slammed a fist down on the counter. “Don't implicate me! I don't know anything about her death."

  "She swallowed a couple of capsules, thinking they were gelatin, but they contained sedatives. Did you supply them, Hank?"

  His oblong face sagged. The pinkish jowls reminded Marla absurdly of a turkey's wattle. All he needed were a few tufts of hair standing on end. “I knew I'd get into trouble. She said to make up a bottle of capsules that looked like Jolene's. If I didn't, she'd produce evidence against me. She was angry because I hadn't filed for divorce like I'd promised."

  "Is that why you fixed a bomb in Sam's car, because your friend ordered it?"

  "No, I knew what she'd planned. I opened his hood to see if I could dismantle the device, but I'm no good with wires."

  "Eloise saw you. She figured you'd bumped off Jolene to keep her silent, then murdered Sam. Eloise suspected Jolene and Sam were having an affair, and she gathered you knew about it and were afraid Jolene had confided in Sam."

  "That's absurd. Of course, Jolene was seeing Sam. She told me that Sam was their contact person."