I sighed, thinking she’d finished torturing me, but her mind was still working. “One more thing. I’ll welcome each guest at the reception desk. And would you please greet them as Mrs. Mr. or Miss, as the case may be? Shall I write that down? I am particular about how my clients are cared for.”
“No need to list it. I’ll remember, I promise.”
“I hope so, dear.”
Dear? I put my head back and studied the ceiling. Rarity, what have you done?
Fortunately, my boss and Gladys approached the desk before Ellen could think of one more thing to add. And before I gave in to the temptation to slap her.
I slid Gladys’s check into the cash drawer hoping Ms. Felicity would go away. Instead her voice pierced my eardrum. “Bella! Your coiffure is simply bellissima.”
Poor Gladys stared at Ellen as if she’d sprouted horns.
“Forgive me. Sometimes my grandmother’s words of the old country come to mind before English. I meant your hair is beautiful. The perfect style for you.”
Old country? Good grief.
I watched a pink tinge flow into Gladys’s cheeks and a grin take over her face. The humble lady walked a little taller as she strutted from the salon. Ellen had won her over.
Rarity and Ellen left the reception area, and I used the time to retrieve my chair from the site of collision. As I rolled it to the desk, Ellen marched to her styling station as if she owned the place. That area had been vacant for a year, since Patsy’s arrest. Rarity had postponed filling the spot to allow all of us—customers and workers alike—to come to terms with the absence. We missed her. It’s true she’d been homicidal, but she was one of ours. Patsy might have been easier to live with than Ellen promised to be.
Before my shift ended I managed to speak to Rarity privately. “Are you sure Ellen is the right fit for the salon? She seems to be particularly rigid in having things her own way.”
Rarity slung her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure she’ll grow on you as she gets used to the salon.”
My boss tipped her head toward me and lowered her voice. “Ellen has had a rough time in the last couple of years. She’s in need of cash, so she’s determined to build her business. That will be good for us. Be patient with her.”
“Sorry Rarity. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
The truth was, I’d never been the best judge of character. Patsy turned out to be a murderer, yet I remembered her with fondness. Ellen Felicity may be hard to get along with, but at least I wouldn’t find her in my house, with a gun.
Chapter Twelve
I shoved open the door of Ava’s Java, expending a little more force than necessary. But as the aroma of fresh coffee swirled around me, my jaw relaxed and the tension in my neck released. Standing just inside the door, I took a moment to inhale the scent of freshly ground beans. “Thank you, Lord, for coffee. And for friends.” After picking up my cup from Ava, I found Anita and Clair seated at our favorite table.
Clair scooted her chair to the side to make room for me. “How was your day at work?”
I shut my eyes for a second, taking time to construct a kind answer. Unfortunately, a sharp retort found its way out. “Fine.”
Guess I shouldn’t have revisited the thoughts of the day. Neck muscles twitched and twisted. I gazed at Clair and spat the words out. “It was terrible. There’s a new hairdresser at The Rare Curl, and I don’t like her.” There I’d said it. My friend’s eyes widened. I rushed ahead. “Rarity thinks she’s wonderful, but she’s bossy and snobbish. Doesn’t fit in at all. The dynamics of the place are already changing. It won’t be comfortable anymore.”
Anita emptied a packet of sugar into her cup. “Blond? Really tall? Looks like a model?”
I nodded. “That’s her.”
“I saw her going into the salon yesterday. She’s very glamorous.”
“That’s another thing. The way she dresses makes the rest of us look like we’re working a garage sale. I felt like a bag lady.”
“You always look nice.” Anita put a hand on my arm. “Rarity’s usually a good judge of character. I bet you’ll find she’s right about this employee.”
I wasn’t ready to listen. “Did I say the woman is bossy? Tried to tell me how to do my job. I know how to be a receptionist. I’m good at it.”
Clair set down her coffee. “Wow. Listen to you. I’ve never heard you say you didn’t like anyone. You might suspect them of murder, but you’ve never expressed dislike.”
Anita gave me the look that reminded me of the town librarian. “We all have pointy corners to our personalities. Some sharper than others. You’re seeing hers now. As you work together for a common cause—the salon—the prickly parts get smoothed over. You’ll get used to her. Is this the first day you’ve worked with her?”
I hung my head, feeling like a scolded child. “I only met her four hours ago. Guess I overreacted. I could give it some more time. I’m sure I’ll become accustomed to her eccentricities—eventually.”
“Great. I knew you’d figure it out. Glad you’re feeling better.” Clair sat up straighter and wrapped long fingers around her coffee mug. “On a more interesting note, I wonder how long it will take the police to release the dead woman’s house so it can be sold.”
Anita stirred more sugar into her coffee. “What do you suppose happened to that poor woman? Ava told me people are betting she had an aneurysm or something.”
“I doubt even the forensics people could tell after so much time has elapsed. I wish they’d get on with it.” Clair tapped a bright red fingernail on the table. “Just goes to show, you never know when your time on earth is up. Better keep your affairs in order.” She stared into Anita’s eyes. “You and Jake have made your wills haven’t you?”
“Oh sure, long ago. We had to provide for the girls in case something happened to us.” Anita glanced in my direction. “Have you made arrangements?”
“No. Why would I need arrangements? What do I have to leave anybody? And who would I leave it to? Tell you what, I’ll take care of it right now.” I faced Anita. “If something happens to me, will you take care of Mason?”
Anita’s face softened. “Awww. Of course. I love that furry little guy. Thank you for trusting me with him.”
She straightened up and squinted at me. “Hold on a minute. We’re not talking about right now. You’re not going to drop dead tomorrow. God willing, it will be many years. But this is serious. You own a house and you will still own a car. Probably not the one you drive now, of course.”
My Chrysler station wagon was thirty-five years old when my aunt left it to me last year. I couldn’t imagine how she’d kept it running as long as she had, but it was still carrying me. “Let’s hope I’ll be changing transportation soon.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the SUV we found in the mummy woman’s house? You could probably get it for free.” Clair grinned at me over the top of her coffee.
I shuddered and threw a napkin at her. “Ugh. You have a strange sense of humor, Clair Lane.”
Anita glanced over my shoulder toward the counter. “Look. There’s Perry. Haven’t seen him in here for a while.”
Clair and I twisted to follow her gaze. Our former classmate was making his way to us. Never a small person, he’d seen considerable weight gain in the years since graduation. Perry maneuvered his girth through the crowded coffee shop until he’d arrived at our table.
Clair leaned back and lifted her chin. “Perry Sizemore, how are you? Where have you been hiding?”
“Hello beautiful.” His eyes swept the table, eyes lingering on each of us. “I should say, hello all you gorgeous ladies. I’m speechless in the presence of the three most attractive women in town.”
Anita pointed at him. “You’ve never been speechless in your life.”
Perry’s laugh echoed in the room.
“Jake and I’ve missed seeing you since he hasn’t been able to play this summer.”
Perry touched Ani
ta’s hand. “I’ve missed our golf dates. I hope his ankle is on the mend.”
“He’s determined to be on the course again by spring.”
“Good to hear. Good to hear.” He reached back and pulled a chair from a nearby table. “May I join you? I haven’t had the pleasure of conversation with such lovely ladies in a while.”
I guess he didn’t expect a negative response, since he’d lowered himself into the chair and begun the process of scooting it closer. With one last scoot his ample belly bumped the table, sloshing coffee.
Clair and I snatched up our cups to keep them from tipping. Anita grabbed a napkin to mop up spilled liquid while she scanned the area around him. “Do you have enough room there?”
He stretched to place his coffee within reach at the edge of the table. “Perfect. I’m the envy of every man in the room.”
My friends and I wore matching polite smiles as Perry arranged himself in the seat. I imagined they wondered, as I did, when he’d run out of the corny flirtations.
He tipped his head toward Clair and lowered his voice. “There’s talk around the office you got a big surprise when you went to assess a property. I bet that was one time you wished my firm got the contract instead.”
Clair set her mug on the table. “I wouldn’t wish that on you, even though you are my biggest competitor.”
The large man made an effort to lean back in his chair, but had already filled the space. “It was a tragedy. Have the police said anything to you about how Valentina died?”
Our three heads pivoted in his direction, all eyes focused on him. Clair spoke. “Valentina? Was that her name? How did you know her?”
Perry stretched forward to get his cup, took a slow sip of coffee, and he set it back in its place while we waited. “Valentina Utkin. I met her about a year ago, at the club. The guys and I went in for a drink after a round of golf. She was sitting by herself, so I started a conversation—just to be friendly. Hate to see anyone sitting alone.”
Clair slid her chair closer to the table, staring into Perry’s eyes. “Tell us about it.”
Perry, who couldn’t resist being the center of attention, lowered his voice. “As you know I’m always on the look-out for leads, so pretty soon I was telling her about the housing market. Let her know if she ever wanted to sell, the time was right.”
Anita leaned in. “Was she interested in selling? Did you see her house? What age would you say she was? What was she like? Did she say what she did for a living?”
Perry’s mouth hung open until she’d finished rattling off questions. “Umm, I suppose she was in her thirties. Or maybe early forties? Nice looking. I could tell she took care of herself, like you girls. But as I said, I only met her that one time, and it was casual. Not personal at all.”
He took another swig of coffee. “I saw her house—the outside of it. She’d given me directions so I could do a drive by. That’s what grabbed my attention when it was on the news. I remembered the address because it’s my job. Anyway, I called after I checked it out and gave her a ball-park figure.” He waved a hand. “She wasn’t interested, so I let it drop. But that was a year ago. Maybe more. I’m surprised the address stuck with me.”
Clair hadn’t missed a syllable. “So you talked to her twice?”
Perry shook his head. “No.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, I guess I did.”
I’d never been comfortable with Perry, even on his best behavior, which I hadn’t seen since my return to Evelynton. He was more flirtatious than I thought a married man should be. So at this moment I was torn between wanting him to go away, and the niggling need for more information. “Utkin’s an interesting name. Was she from Europe? Did she speak with an accent?”
Perry tipped his head back and guffawed. “Did she have an accent! And sexy. She could’ve stepped right out of a Bond film. I expected her to pull a revolver from her garter.” He leaned forward and produced a sly smile. “I have to say she wouldn’t have needed one. I’d have gone anywhere with her.” Perry’s smile faded fast and he began to sputter. “She sounded Russian to me but what do I know? I didn’t ask her nationality. Like I said, we only spoke for a few minutes, and it was mostly business.”
Anita was insistent. “What did the woman do for a living? Did she say?”
“No. She never said.” Perry shook his head and scooted his chair out. “I hate to leave you ladies but this is a work day and my schedule calls. Have a great afternoon.” He left his cup on the table and his chair in the middle of the aisle, as he made a break for the door.”
Anita scooted forward, whispering. “This is exciting. A Russian woman found dead in Evelynton, Indiana.” She flicked her hair back from her face and tried on a Russian accent. “Hello darling, my name is Valentina Utkin.”
Clair and I laughed, but Anita sobered quickly. “Sorry. The poor woman is dead.”
“You’re right. How insensitive of us.” I wondered about Valentina Utkin. Who had she been? “How could a woman live in that house without anyone knowing her, and then die with no one being aware? Didn’t she have anyone who cared enough to notice she was missing?”
We sat in silence for a few minutes while my brain went into overdrive sorting through scenarios. I slapped the table. “I bet this is what happened. We’ve concluded she lived alone and didn’t have any friends, at least not in Evelynton. She was far from her homeland. Probably from Russia or Kazakhstan.”
Anita faced me. “Where’s Kazakhstan?”
“I have no idea. But it’s a great name, don’t you think? Anyway, maybe Valentina was from some obscure country and in hiding. She’d fled her homeland because of political persecution. Couldn’t return. Never to see her family again. Then, she became so lonely and depressed she killed herself.” I took a deep breath. “Or the foreign government tracked her down. They crept into town one night, assassinated her, put her body in the car so she wouldn’t be found, and sneaked out of Evelynton the same day. No one the wiser.”
Clair cut her eyes to me. “You’re constructing quite a tale, Mystery Woman.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth as I returned to reality. “Oh. I guess I was embellishing a little. But it could fit the facts.”
Clair had given me the nickname Mystery Woman during my first month back in Evelynton. She told me I found mysteries behind every door and new questions around every corner.
But really, didn’t everyone?
I wasn’t ready to let the subject drop. “Did you believe Perry? Do you think he only met the Utkin woman the one time? I thought he emphasized that point more than necessary. Maybe there was more to the relationship than he wants known.”
Clair slurped her coffee. “Once you get started, that mystery seeking brain of yours can’t stop.”
Anita leaned forward and grabbed my wrist. “I agree with you. There is more to the story, and I’d love to find out what it is.”
She paused. When I didn’t respond, she went on. “You said all Valentina’s belongings were in the house. Don’t you wish we could search her things? There are bound to be clues to her life. Let’s try to get in. Valentina’s house looks just like Tonya’s, so it probably has a sliding door in back. They’re easy to open.”
Had I created a monster?
I shook my head. “Don’t even think about it. That would probably be against the law. You are aware that I can’t afford another conflict with Jimmy Farlow, right?”
Anita’s eyes had taken on a wicked gleam. “Come on, we’ll only take a little look. I know the people who live behind the dead woman’s house—Jean and Jerry Parker. They’re out of town for a month. We could leave the car in their drive and cut through the backyard.” She leaned back and grinned. “It’ll be easy.”
She glanced toward Clair. “It would be easier if you still had the keys. Do you?”
Clair threw up her hands. “You’re both crazy. No! I gave both sets to the police.”
“Darn. But I know how to get in.”
“You do? How?�
�� I paused to consider it. “No, I don’t care how. It’s a bad idea.” My reply wasn’t particularly convincing. I waited for her to persuade me.
Anita was whispering now. “We’ll go in through the back yard at night.”
Clair shifted in her chair to gaze at Anita. “You have lost your mind. What happened to the nice housewife I used to hang around with?” Her head swiveled toward me. “You aren’t going to do it are you?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. We won’t be breaking in to that house. Much too dangerous. No way.”
Chapter Thirteen
H eadlights lit up my living room window at exactly nine-thirty. I opened the door and shouldn’t have been surprised that Anita had worn black pants and sweatshirt, almost identical to the outfit I’d chosen. She wore a navy bandanna to cover her blond curls. I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail.
Jeez. Twin cat burglars.
Anita’s eyes flashed as she bounced into the entry. “All set? I brought two flashlights and Jake’s flathead screwdriver to jimmy the door. Too bad we don’t have night vision goggles.”
I laughed. “That would be a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?” I paused, letting the image sink in. “Do you think those are available on the Net? I wonder how much they would cost.”
Anita drove. We’d realized, in a previous caper, that my thirty-five-year-old Chrysler station wagon was easily recognizable since it was probably the only one still on the road in all of Indiana—or anywhere.
Anita extinguished her headlights as we rolled into the Parker’s driveway. As she’d predicted, the house was dark. We stepped out and closed the car doors as quietly as possible. Only two faint clicks were heard.
“This way.” She whispered.
I followed Anita’s shadow around the side of the house, too scared to use my flashlight until necessary. Out of range of streetlights, and with no moon to illuminate the way, I became disoriented and grabbed the back of her sweatshirt to steady myself. I kept my hand on Anita’s back as we traversed the yard. We were stopped at a thick hedge, and had to crawl through on hands and knees. I made it through to Utkin’s property with minor scratches and muddy knees.
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