“So would I. Linda believes the jewelry was stolen. She mentioned that Rosemary Taylor and Wilda Cleaver may have had keys to Carolyn’s place. Have you spoken to her landlord or her neighbors?”
“Of course.”
“Linda’s other theory is that Carolyn had a boyfriend who gave her the jewelry as gifts, since there was no way Carolyn could afford an investment like that herself. Possibly this boyfriend returned to regain his property after her death.”
“That would work in with your idea that Sutton had a benefactor.” He gave a heavy sigh, and she heard a tapping noise, like a pencil on his desk.
“Have you eaten dinner?” she asked with a touch of concern.
“I had a snack from the vending machines. Look, I’ve got to get back to work.”
“If this new case with the teen has your attention, who’ll solve Carolyn’s murder?”
“Sergeant Peterson is working on it. But if you find out anything new, let me know. I’m worried about the way the wind is blowing, and I don’t mean that tropical storm festering offshore.”
“That reminds me, I meant to listen to the weather report. I’ll talk to you later. Good luck,” she said, hanging up before he could mention anything else about the slain teenager. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.
After her second call of the evening to Brianna to reassure herself the girl was all right, she turned on the television to the weather station. Exactly ten minutes before the hour, the storm report came on. Watching the perfectly coiffed female meteorologist, Marla listened halfheartedly to her report on how the storm in the Caribbean was strengthening into a distinct rotary circulation with wind speed of up to fifty-five miles per hour. That wasn’t the matter uppermost in her mind.
Carolyn Sutton’s image conjured itself in her imagination. Once again she saw the woman’s body lying on the ground in the meter room, with that uneven patch of layered hair. What could it mean, and how could two cases with victims so diverse in age be related, if indeed they were? She shook her head. That was for Vail to determine. In the meantime, she could help him by interviewing Peg Krueger.
By eleven o’clock on Monday morning, Peg Krueger already had clients backed up, and the receptionist told Marla bluntly no openings were available. Catching an opportunity when she spied Peg heading for the rear, Marla charged after her. The woman at the front desk had pointed her out. She’d look right at home on a battlefield, Marla thought. The woman had a head like an aircraft carrier, with a flat-top haircut and a chin that drove forward like a jet on patrol. Her bland brown hair, dry as straw, would have suited the military, just the same as her rigid posture and trim, tailored clothes. In contrast, Carolyn’s soft strawberry blond hair and miniskirted figure must have provided the antithesis in their partnership.
“Why the hell should I talk to you?” Peg snapped after Marla introduced herself. “I’m doing a touch-up; I have no time for this. Besides, the cops already questioned me.” Yanking a color tube from a shelf, she squeezed the contents into a bowl, then added developer. She didn’t impress Marla as a woman to engage in an argument.
“Just tell me briefly what happened between the two of you,” Marla pleaded, glancing at the well-stocked supplies. “You and Carolyn were partners once, right?”
“Until that bitch cheated me.” Peg mixed the solution vigorously with a stiff brush.
“I’m not sure I understand.” Sniffing the familiar chemical scents of a salon, Marla smiled encouragingly.
“We were friends, like, you know, before we went into business together. Carolyn and I opened the salon as partners because we shared the same dream. It was going to be our nest egg that we built up for our retirement someday.”
“So things went well for a while?” Leaning against the counter, Marla folded her arms across her chest.
Peg bobbed her head in time to her stirring motions. “Then Carolyn, like, gets grandiose ideas. She claimed I managed the salon poorly and lost money. After filing for bankruptcy, she took over the business, and it flourished after I left.”
Doesn’t that tell you something, pal? Keeping her expression bland, Marla pushed onward. “Some people have good business sense; others have talent and should stay behind the chair. You seem happy here. Maybe you weren’t suited to running a business. Being an owner/manager adds to your responsibilities and takes a lot of energy.”
Peg glared at her. “That’s not the point. Carolyn owed me money for my investment. When we signed the lease, the building wasn’t open yet. We each put down five thousand dollars toward security and rent. I had no credit card and no checking account, so I took money from my savings. What I didn’t know was that Carolyn just sent in her payments.”
“You mean the landlord thought Carolyn was the only one paying on the lease?”
“Exactly, and this happened every month. She said I wasn’t paying my share of the rent. Carolyn, like, just wanted to push me out, so she discredited me to Mr. Thomson.”
“Dennis Thomson was your landlord?”
Peg’s lip curled into a snarl. “That man had the nerve to evict me, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was all Carolyn’s fault. She’d paid her part. Since her name was on the lease, he gave the shop solely to her.”
“What happened to your money?”
“Carolyn said she used it to equip the salon. Like, to buy shampoo bowls and such, you know? Plus it was her job to pay the utility bills, so she spent some of my cash on the telephone and electric.”
“Let me see if I understand correctly. You believed you were paying your share of the rent, yet Carolyn ended up using it to stock the salon and pay for utilities. Weren’t you supposed to split the cost of these items, too?”
“Well, sure, but I had no choice in anything she ordered. Look what it cost us before we even opened: six hundred and seventy dollars each for the stations, three hundred and fifteen for shampoo bottles, not to mention wallpaper, towels, and other supplies. I wasn’t going to pay for all the extras she wanted. Carolyn claimed I owed her for these things, but they stayed in her salon after I left. She owed me back my investment plus interest.”
“At some point you filed for small claims, right?”
“You got it. I wouldn’t let her steamroll me like that. I paid to open the shop same as her.”
It looks like you reneged on your part of the deal, if you didn’t contribute toward the overhead. Regardless, it appeared as though Carolyn had taken advantage of her friend’s ignorance to seize control of the salon. “How did the case turn out?” Marla asked, trailing Peg back to her station.
“The judge, like, told her to pay me two thousand dollars. I felt that was grossly unfair, and even my mother said Carolyn got away with highway robbery. I think Carolyn ditched me because another player came along.” Donning a rubber glove, Peg began applying coloring to her customer’s roots. Marla waited patiently for another opening during the ensuing conversation between stylist and customer.
“You said Carolyn got involved with another player. How so? Did she acquire a silent partner?”
Peg shot her a sly glance. “All I know is, Atlas Boyd solved her money problems. I’m not sure they were actually partners in a business sense, if you know what I mean.” She winked. “But she seemed to do a lot better after he came along.”
“Who is this guy? Where can I find him?” Excited by this new lead, Marla couldn’t wait to act on it.
“I dunno. He’s some big-shot foreigner.”
Her heart pounded. “Carolyn sponsored foreign students at the Sunrise Academy of Beauty. Do you think he was involved?”
“Who knows and who cares? Carolyn paid the price for what she did to me, and that’s all that matters.” Turning her back on Marla, the stylist proclaimed her dismissal.
“Because she was killed?” Marla persisted. “Or because she paid you two thousand dollars?”
“She died for her sins, you dolt.”
“By whose hand?”
Peg whippe
d around. “You ask an awful lot of questions. I told the cops I had nothing to do with it, but I’m not going to cry over her grave. Like, that bitch stole my money, you know. She used the profits from our salon for personal gain without giving me any of the revenue. She got what she deserved.”
Chapter Eleven
On the way home, Marla thought about her conversation with Peg Krueger. If Carolyn had been using salon profits for her own investments rather than putting them back into the business, that could account for her eventual decline. Had she used the money to buy Victorian jewelry, or to play bingo? Maybe she won enough cash at the casino to buy the baubles for herself. Marla needed to glean some idea about Carolyn’s winnings from the gaming hall. That necessitated a return trip to the Indian bingo parlor and another chat with Rosemary Taylor. Besides having a key to Carolyn’s place, Rosemary had known about the collection.
Carolyn had gotten cash flow from somewhere: first from her salon when it was profitable, a portion perhaps from bingo, then from a mysterious benefactor when her business faltered. Gripping the steering wheel and keeping her eyes on the road, Marla considered another alternative. Carolyn may have had a lover with generous pockets.
“Check out the man named Atlas Boyd,” Brianna told her later that evening when Marla swung by Vail’s house with takeout Chinese food. They sat in the kitchen eating from paper plates, and Marla had just filled in the teen on her recent progress.
“Peg seems to blame this guy for Carolyn’s betrayal,” Marla replied. “His name hasn’t come up before, which makes me wonder why not.”
Brianna gazed at her with serious brown eyes. “It’s possible no one else knows about him. He could be history.”
“I’ll ask Claudia if she’s met him. She’s one of Carolyn’s stylists,” Marla explained. “If Boyd is a foreigner, he could be the one who helped Carolyn bring in those French girls.”
“Then Peter McGraw might know about him. Daddy said the lawyer was involved with immigration stuff.”
“True.” Frowning thoughtfully, Marla bit into a steamed dumpling dipped in soy sauce.
“Daddy won’t tell me about his latest case. I know he’s afraid of scaring me since the girl was close to my age, but I heard about it in school. It’s horrible, but I’m glad she wasn’t anyone I knew.”
Marla nearly gagged on her food. “So am I, but it’s still frightening. I hope you always know to keep your doors locked and the alarm on when you’re home by yourself, and to be aware of who’s around when you get off the school bus.”
“Like Daddy has told me a hundred times.” Brianna thrust a forkful of lo mein noodles into her mouth.
From the way she chomped down, Marla could tell the girl was disturbed. Vail wouldn’t be unaffected by this new case, either. It was too close to home. She only hoped it wouldn’t keep him from pursuing Carolyn’s killer.
“He told me about the hair,” Brianna blurted, a noodle hanging down her chin. Avoiding Marla’s eyes, she slurped it up.
“Oh.” Wondering how to allay the teen’s fears, Marla tasted her beef-with-broccoli dish. The crunchiness of the vegetable melded with the tender meat.
“I can’t believe people made jewelry out of their dead relatives’ hair,” Brie continued. “That’s so gross.”
Marla heard her unspoken thoughts. Maybe someone was doing the same thing now, clipping pieces of hair from people he’d killed and keeping them as remembrances. But it didn’t make sense. How could a dead fourteen-year-old girl be related to the murdered Carolyn? And where did Carolyn’s missing collection fit in?
Vail strode through the door just before eight o’clock, and Marla didn’t delay her departure. She still had things to do at home before retiring.
“Anything new?” she asked him after giving him a quick kiss in the front hallway. Brianna, organizing her backpack in her room, talked so loudly on the telephone that they could hear her.
“I’d rather leave my work at the station tonight.” His smoky eyes regarded her with affection. “Thanks for keeping Brie company.”
“No problem.” She looked him over with concern. He didn’t hide his fatigue too well. Lines around his eyes had deepened; his five o’clock shadow had grown darker; his shoulders sagged. And his rumpled suit needed a fresh pressing. Discontented with her brief greeting, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly before nuzzling her neck. Although he was tempting her to stay, she knew he needed his rest.
Pushing him away, she spoke lightly. “Not tonight, honey. I’ve got to get home. Let’s touch base tomorrow to exchange information. I saw Peg Krueger today, and she told me something interesting.”
“Well, unless it’s urgent, I’m too tired to act on it, anyway.” He gave her a strained smile. “I wish you’d move in already. I hate you leaving like this.”
“We’ll talk about it,” she promised. “Oh, there’s one thing I wanted to mention. If we’re going to, uh, be together, what are we going to do about holidays? I mean, Rosh Hashanah is this month. We usually have a big family dinner. Would you feel terribly awkward if I wanted you and Brianna to go?”
His gaze warmed. “Would your family mind?”
“They wouldn’t have any say in it. My mother drags Roger to family events.”
“He’s Jewish.”
“So? Some of my cousins have married goyim.”
“I’ll talk about it with Brie, okay?”
“We’ve never really discussed traditions and how we’ll handle them,” Marla said. “I’ve never met your family. We could run into barriers we’re not expecting.” Anxiety made her words pour out.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he regarded her steadily. “All relationships have obstacles to overcome. We’ll manage.” His reassuring kiss melted her doubts, reminding her she didn’t have to face things alone.
Vail’s watchful eyes guarded her back as she strode outside toward her car. Crickets sang their nightly chorus, piercing the moisture-laden air. In the distant sky, a jagged streak of lightning exposed a mass of towering cumulus clouds.
That’s nothing compared to the storm front that’s going to hit when I suggest Dalton sell his house, she figured, dread sinking her stomach. It was one thing to consider which traditions of each other’s they’d respect; it was another to ask him to shift his life completely by moving. She’d have to bring it up sooner or later, because she couldn’t announce their engagement until they’d jumped this hurdle.
Dining with Brianna, she’d felt Pam’s presence emanating from the angel figurines and painted plates in their glass-fronted kitchen cabinet. While she could tolerate the ticking grandfather clock, she wouldn’t have chosen patterned fruit wallpaper or framed prints of wine and cheese. Never mind the claustrophobic feeling she got from the tiny window and garish fluorescent lighting. Imprinted with another woman’s personality, the house would never suit her, no matter how many crystals she wore or bowls of water she put out to deflect negative energy.
“So when are you going to talk to him about it?” Tally said on the phone when Marla called her after she got home.
“Who knows? He’s wrapped up in the case with this teenager. I don’t want to add to his burdens right now.”
“He’s always going to have a case that draws his attention,” Tally admonished. “Just as you leave work at the salon, he should leave his at the police station. It shouldn’t interfere in your personal life.”
“Oh, like your boutique doesn’t come between you and Ken?”
“He has his job; I have mine.”
“Maybe the pressure is what’s keeping you from getting pregnant.”
“That’s what he says, and I’ve told him to take a hike. I’m not giving up what it took me so long to achieve. You know how that goes. Would you give up your salon to have a child?”
Marla laughed. “What, me get pregnant? Are you kidding?”
“You never know where life will take you. You’re doing a bang-up job with Brianna. Maybe you’ll want to hav
e Dalton’s baby some day.”
“Oy vey, I can just imagine myself with a squirming infant. Better you than me,” she said emphatically, considering all the things one had to worry about with a child. “Besides, I’d be a paranoid mother, scared of letting my kid do anything.”
“You’d be a wonderful mother,” Tally countered.
“I don’t think so. My brother Michael can fulfill those family obligations, thank you.”
“Ever since Tammy died, you’ve been striving to prove your worth. You’ve set yourself on a career track, become self-reliant, and given your time to prevent similar tragedies. If that’s not enough to satisfy you, maybe bringing new life into the world is what you need to cleanse your soul.”
“My soul needs more freedom, not less. I want to travel, maybe finish my college degree, expand my salon services. I’d rather be godmother to your baby. Is Ken really giving you a hard time?”
It was a long moment before Tally answered. “I’m beginning to feel he may have been happier with the stay-at-home type. It was okay for me to work before we wanted a family, but now his attitude has changed. His mother doesn’t help the situation. She nags us for grandchildren.”
“How does she feel about your shop?”
“She loves to bring her friends there and get a discount, but she’s blaming me for not conceiving.”
“And the fertility tests show nothing is wrong, if I recall. Are you feeling okay otherwise? I mean, you have no underlying health problems, right?”
“None that I’m aware of. You sound worried.”
“Wilda the medium said someone close to me needs to see a doctor. I can’t imagine who it is, although my mother’s blood pressure has been bothering her, and my aunt’s mental functions are deteriorating. Then I got anxious about you. Of course, Wilda could be spinning tales, but you never know.”
“Well, don’t be nervous on my account; I’m fine. When can I meet your psychic?”
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