Died Blonde

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Carolyn avoided serious relationships. I always attributed it to a flaw in her character, that she couldn’t trust anyone. Like she projected the pettiness within herself onto others, you know? Or else she was just too kooky.”

  “Wasn’t she seeing a medium?”

  Linda gulped her wine. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she went on, confusing Marla about what she meant. “Carolyn did get engaged at one time to some man she thought she loved. The guy took advantage of her; anyone could see it, but my sister wore blinders where he was concerned. He wanted to start his own business and figured she could support him.”

  “When was this?”

  “About five years ago. After he died in a car crash, Carolyn turned weird. She started visiting mediums to communicate with him.”

  “You mean Wilda Cleaver?” Leaning toward her companion, Marla lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Detective Vail mentioned that Carolyn had left her the salon.”

  Linda’s face scrunched like a prune. “That woman has no right. I’m Carolyn’s sister. She should’ve left the business to me.” Taking a long gulp from her glass, she set it down, then glared at Marla. “Carolyn figured I had it all: a husband who supported me, kids, a nice roof over my head. She always whined about how she had to earn a living while I could stay home.”

  “You think that’s why Carolyn didn’t leave you the business? Because she thought you didn’t need the money?”

  “Partially. That witch lady brainwashed her. All Carolyn could talk about were messages from her dead fiance that she felt were guiding her. She got into crystals, candles, and seeing some shaman when she didn’t feel well. Nuts, that’s what she was! It’s all that Cleaver woman’s fault.”

  “So you feel Wilda unduly influenced your sister?”

  “No doubt about it. She made Carolyn resent me even more. I’m surprised my sister left me her collection.”

  “Oh?” A large man jostled past on his way to a barstool. When he bumped Marla’s shoulder, he gave her a leering grin. She shifted her position, turning more toward Linda. Her stomach growled, reminding her it was dinner hour, but she didn’t want to linger any longer than necessary.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be mentioning this, but Carolyn bragged that the items were valuable. Whenever I saw her recently, she said how they would be mine one day. She seemed to think that would make me happy, but she never showed them to me.”

  “What did she acquire?”

  Linda’s gaze clouded. “I have no idea. Detective Vail and I went through her place together, but we couldn’t find anything worthwhile.”

  “Did he look in her salon? Maybe she hid the stuff there.” “No luck.” Linda jabbed a finger in the air. “You know what I

  think? Either Carolyn was putting me on, or she had something so valuable someone killed her for it.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything about Carolyn’s valuables,” Marla told Vail on the telephone later that evening. She’d driven home, fixed herself a quick dinner courtesy of a frozen meal, let Spooks into the backyard for a brief foray, then settled down to make her phone calls.

  The detective’s gruff voice held amusement. “I gather you spoke to Carolyn’s sister. What did you learn?”

  “Not so fast. You’ve told me hardly anything about this case. You go first.”

  “Want me to come over? It’s easier for me to confess everything when I’m staring into your beautiful eyes.”

  “Forget it. I have to get up early for work tomorrow, and you shouldn’t leave Brianna. Is she ready for school?”

  He gave a hearty sigh. “One more week. I can’t wait. It’s been a long summer without Carmen.”

  “You have been managing fine without your housekeeper.”

  “Thanks to you. When will you stay here during the work week? You know I don’t expect you to cook meals or wait on us.”

  That isn ‘t my concern. Your house stifles me. Pam ‘s ghost haunts the place and fills your mind with memories. “I’ll think about it,” she hedged. “You were telling me about Carolyn?”

  “Hmph. Carolyn promised Linda she would inherit her collectibles, but we couldn’t find any items of value.”

  “Jewelry? If a collection exists, it makes sense that they were gifts from her private benefactor. I don’t see how Carolyn could afford anything else. Did she have a safety deposit box?”

  “It held deeds and other papers. No jewels or mementos.”

  “Did you find out who funded her relocation? Subsidized those girls at the academy?”

  “I’m working on it. Any other advice?” he teased.

  “You might want to ask around to see who had keys to her apartment. It someone gave her valuable gifts, he might have retrieved them after her death.” That would support what Linda theorized about Carolyn being murdered for her collection. Then again, it was always possible Carolyn had been lying. She might have made empty promises to her sister to mollify her.

  “Linda all but accused Wilda Cleaver of brainwashing Carolyn. She blames Wilda for driving a wedge between them.”

  “Yes, I know. I’d like you to talk to Wilda, give me your impression.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “I hate it when you hide things from me.”

  “I’m not doing that. I just don’t want to color your perceptions.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “She’s a popular psychic who lives in Miami. Her customers think the world of her. I told you that already.”

  Marla pulled a nail file from her desk drawer. “Did Carolyn have any other friends, people she confided in?”

  “Oh, yeah. She played bingo pretty regularly, based on some receipts I found at her apartment. According to her calendar, she met a woman named Rosemary Taylor at the Indian casino in Hollywood on a weekly basis.”

  Marla mulled over this news. She wouldn’t have guessed Carolyn was a gambler. “You think Carolyn won big, and that’s where she got the money to invest in collectibles?”

  “We can’t prove this cache of treasure really exists,” he replied, his tone cynical. “Anyway, I can think of another secret treasure I’d rather explore.”

  “Such as?”

  “You know.” The huskiness of his voice revealed the direction of his thoughts. “I don’t think I can wait until Friday night.”

  “Tempting. I wish we had time before then.”

  “So do I, but I can dream about it for now.”

  “Good. While you’re indulging yourself in fantasies, I’m going to call my mother. Talk to you later.” She dialed her mother’s number. “Hi, Ma.” Rolling her shoulders, she yearned for a shower. It had been a long day.

  “So, bubula, you decided to call your mother? To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Just reporting in. I visited Carolyn’s sister today.” Filing her nails while cradling the receiver to her ear, Marla shared her latest findings.

  “You’re a schnook for getting involved, unless you can influence the new salon owner in your favor. Better you should take more time to care about your family.”

  Here we go again. “I just spoke to Michael yesterday. He and Charlene were taking the kids to a water park.”

  “I’m not talking about your brother. Do you ever call Aunt Polly to see how she’s getting along? She has no children, you know. It would be nice if you thought of her now and then.”

  “She’s your sister.”

  “Polly won’t do anything I say. She lives like a pauper and embarrasses me by the way she dresses. She’ll listen to you.”

  Marla snorted in derision. “Like I could get her to change after how many years?”

  “Seventy-two.”

  “No! I didn’t realize she was that much older than you.”

  “Someday maybe you’ll be interested in my family when you lift your nose out of police business.”

  “Since when is looking after Aunt Polly your responsibility? She manages well enough on her own
.”

  “She’s becoming forgetful, and I’m worried about her. You’re the closest niece. Do me a favor and go visit. See if you can help her with things.”

  Just what I need when I have so much else to do. If you dump anything else on me, I’ll scream. “Okay, but you have to do something for me in return.”

  “What’s that?” her mother’s wary voice responded.

  “Go out with Sam Levy from the hardware store. I could tell he was taken with you. He’s a nice man, and it’ll give you something to do while Roger is away.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Roger wouldn’t like it.”

  “You have no commitment to him.”

  “You’ve made no commitment to Vail, either. Do I see you going out with Roger’s son, Barry? He’s a good catch.”

  “Things are going well with Brianna now. She needs someone she can trust. I don’t want to spoil our relationship.”

  “Kinehoreh.” Ward off the evil eye. “If everything is so smooth with Vail, why aren’t you engaged?”

  “He hasn’t asked.” Finished with her nails, she put away the file. Since when had this conversation diverted to her personal life? “You want me to help with Aunt Polly, then agree to meet Sam if he calls you. Deal?”

  Anita clicked her tongue. “All right, but you should have learned by now that manipulating people doesn’t always lead to the outcome you expect.”

  After a refreshing shower, Marla phoned her friend Tally. She spent the first few minutes of their conversation complaining about her mother and then about Vail’s lack of progress on the case. “Want to play bingo this week? I’d like to check out Carolyn’s gaming partner.”

  “That works for me. I had my aura class tonight, but I’m still not getting anywhere. The instructor says my energy is blocked.”

  “Is that so?” Marla hadn’t followed her friend’s foray into the New Age.

  “Maybe it’s why I can’t get pregnant, although Ken doesn’t believe in psychic influences. All our tests have come back negative. What else can it be?” Tally said.

  “Too much stress. Did you listen to my advice about hiring a manager? You put in too many hours at the store.”

  “Like you should talk. You won’t trust anyone else to run the salon. When is the last time you took an entire week off?”

  “Nicole handles things for me when I’m gone.”

  “I’ve seen those travel brochures stuffed in your purse. When do you expect to go anywhere? When you retire?”

  Marla pursed her lips. “Look, you’re the one who’s having problems. Maybe you and Ken should take a vacation.”

  “Holy smokes, this is hurricane season. Ken is up to his ears in insurance claims. He just got back from South Carolina where that last storm hit.”

  “So how do you expect to make a baby if he’s, never home?”

  “That’s not the issue.”

  “No? Then what is?” Marla might not be psychic, but she sensed an underlying tension in her friend that wasn’t being expressed.

  “I’m hoping my yoga and meditation will relax me. That’s what my guru says I should do because I’m absorbing too much negativity, and that can imbalance my chakras. Did you know that if you tighten your stomach muscles, it locks your aura?”

  It does more than that. If your abs are flab, exercise makes sense-erase. “That’s good to know,” Marla said wryly. “How about if we talk more about this when I see you? I need to check my e-mail.”

  “Okay, do you want to look into what hours the bingo place is open and give me a call? Then we’ll set a time.”

  “You got it. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Marla hung up, shaking her head. Tally seemed to be turning into someone she didn’t know. It saddened her that they were diverging onto such different paths; how it would affect their friendship remained to be seen. She used to have such fun with Tally, too: going shopping, night-clubbing, exploring the environs. Tally, a statuesque blonde who could pass for a model, had had a career-track mind and dreamed of expanding her boutique empire. But then she’d become dissatisfied. Marla couldn’t put her finger on when or why, but Tally had started searching for fulfillment in alternate realities.

  I should take her to Disney World, on the Tower of Terror ride. She’d like that ghost story. Right now, visiting the theme parks was a far more attractive option than helping Vail solve Carolyn’s murder.

  No matter how hard she tried to disengage herself from the Carolyn Sutton case, fate kept intervening. Marla was working on a foil highlights Tuesday morning when a woman cruised into the salon, drawing all eyes to her strange appearance. Her generous body dressed in a flowing caftan, she commanded attention with her striking features, vibrant green eyes, and flaming red hair. As an advertisement for a color chart, Marla thought, she’d serve well. Even her eyebrows, drawn in a perfect bark brown, reflected calculated expertise. What she couldn’t correct without surgery were the sagging folds about her eyes, but they conveyed wisdom rather than decline.

  The apparition strode straight up to Marla and introduced herself. “I’m Wilda Cleaver. You’re going to help me.”

  Thunderstruck, Marla stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “She said to go to you, that you would know what to do.”

  “Oh, Claudia must have sent you.” Belatedly, Marla recalled her promise to greet Wilda that morning at Hairstyle Heaven.

  Wilda tilted her head, making her earrings clink. The tiny pink stones matched the odd-shaped quartz pendant she wore around her neck. “Carolyn sent me, darling, not Claudia. She has a lot of faith in you.”

  Bless my bones, we’re dipping into fruitcake territory again. I should get you together with Tally. “Really?” Marla said, picking up her brush and resuming work. She painted on the color, wrapped the foil, then separated the next strand. “As you can see, I don’t have any free time right now. I’d be happy to stop by later and have a chat.”

  Dalton, you owe me one, she gritted inwardly. I’m only doing this for you. Her glance strayed to the rabbit’s foot on her counter. It had been part of a birthday gift her staff had presented her in February. She might have need of such talismans if Wilda relayed any other messages from Carolyn. Kinehoreh, she said, repeating one of her mother’s favorite words. Not that she believed in such superstitious nonsense.

  Wilda closed her eyes, rocking on her sandaled heels. “You don’t believe I see things. That’s because your energy pattern is disrupted. But it’s not yourself you should be worried about. It’s the other.”

  Chapter Five

  “What are you talking about?” Marla asked Wilda. She hated talking to people who spoke in riddles.

  Wilda’s eyes seemed to glaze with mysterious depths. “You help me, then I’ll tell you about my disturbing vision. I’ll be waiting.” Whipping around, she stalked off at a brisk pace befitting a younger woman.

  “What was that all about?” Nicole said from the next station. Her expression reflected the same avid curiosity as was showing on the faces of the rest of Marla’s staff.

  “Carolyn’s successor is probably going to use her mumbo jumbo to entice me into giving free managerial advice. It’s not as though I’ve given her staff enough of my time already.”

  Nicole clucked her tongue. “Unless she’s been in the business, she wouldn’t have a clue what to do.” Cutting a client’s hair, she snipped automatically while regarding her friend in the mirror.

  “Wilda is a psychic. Why doesn’t she communicate with Carolyn? She can receive instructions from the spirit world.”

  “You’re closer to home,” Nicole said, grinning.

  “Carolyn left her sister some kind of valuable collection that no one is able to find, along with the rest of her personal effects.

  Maybe Wilda knows more about it, although Vail likely asked her already.”

  “You may get a different response.”

  “That’s true.” Marla returned her attention to her client, Kathleen Marsh. The elderly pat
ron had been listening intently. Marla already won the prize for entertaining customers with her adventures, and this would start a whole new round of gossip. So be it; people often flocked to the Cut ‘N Dye to get the latest scoop. Marla hoped it would increase her coffers.

  During a break in the afternoon, Marla moseyed over to her competitor’s salon. Seated at the front desk, Wilda had a perplexed frown on her face as she pored over the schedule. Her countenance brightened upon spotting Marla.

  “By the light, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t understand anything. The girls say we’re running out of supplies, and I need to order them. The phone keeps ringing. Someone has to deposit these checks in the bank, plus we have bills overdue. I can’t possibly handle all these details.” She fluttered her hands. “How do you manage to run your place and stay behind the chair?”

  Marla smiled. “Hire a receptionist. Then you won’t be glued to the front desk. You’ll have to ask each of the girls what hours they work in order to schedule appointments. If you’re not into bookkeeping, you can use a software program designed for salons that’s very helpful. Or consider working with an accountant. I’d also suggest you go to the bank as soon as possible to open an account under your name. As for supplies, set yourself a time each week to do inventory and place orders with suppliers. Why don’t we start with that job?” It would give her an excuse to open drawers and search through cabinets.

  Marla didn’t find anything of significance other than disorganization and uncleanliness that she never would have tolerated in her place. Carolyn’s station had been cleaned out by the police, and if she’d hoped to find a stash of valuables or clues to Carolyn’s murderer there, she was disappointed. At least she helped Wilda get her feet on the ground as far as management was concerned, although she seriously doubted the flaky female would last long in that role.

  “Didn’t you have something to tell me?” she said before departing. Aware that she was five minutes late for her next customer, Marla stamped her foot impatiently by the front desk when the other woman delayed her response.