Died Blonde

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Do you really think that?”

  Zelda gave a harsh laugh. “Talk to her sister. I met Linda Hall at a women’s club meeting, and she recommended me to Carolyn. I don’t know why, when there was no love lost between them. Two more diverse personalities, you’ve never seen. Linda’s more the quiet sort, while Carolyn could talk up a storm.”

  “Linda told me Carolyn was jealous of her because she stayed home and raised a family, but Carolyn’s friend Rosemary said it was the other way around. Linda was jealous of Carolyn, who owned a salon and had an independent career.”

  Zelda tilted her head. “I’d be more inclined to believe the friend. Linda seemed to be riding on Carolyn’s coattails when she recommended her sister as a hairdresser. She must’ve been really pissed off when Carolyn connected with that psychic.”

  “Sometimes siblings don’t get along as well as friends,” Marla said, thinking of Anita and Polly.

  “Yeah, well, I guess Carolyn pissed off a lot of people. That detective must have his hands full trying to determine who killed her.”

  Wondering if Vail or his deputies were making any progress on Carolyn’s case, Marla swung by his house on the way home. He greeted her at the door with a welcoming smile and a hug.

  “We’re just starting dinner,” he said, reluctant to disengage their embrace. She warmed to the affection in his eyes as he stood holding her. “Join us; we’re having my famous lasagne.”

  “I was going to call but decided to stop over,” she explained. She rubbed up against him, enjoying his spicy scent. Lifting her mouth, she invited a kiss. “How did Brianna do today at school?” she asked after he obliged in a manner that left her breathless.

  “She’s already complaining about having homework.”

  “I heard that,” Brie snapped as they entered the kitchen arm-in-arm. “Hi, Marla. Whassup?”

  “I have some news. I spoke to Zelda Reiss, one of Carolyn’s clients. They had a disagreement that ended up in court.”

  Vail took a plate from a cabinet and ladled out a portion of lasagne dripping with tomato sauce. “I interviewed her,” he commented. “She didn’t tell me much I hadn’t already found out. You?”

  “I would agree that she didn’t bear a grudge enough to commit murder,” Marla commented. “I was hoping to learn something else from her that would shed new light on the investigation.” She repeated the gist of their conversation, refusing his offer of beer but accepting a glass of merlot.

  “Listen,” Brianna said, pointing to the television while they claimed seats at the table.

  “September is the most active month for tropical storms to form,” the meteorologist on the news was saying. He pointed to a colorful map of the Atlantic and Caribbean basins. “On the average, we have three named storms in this month alone.”

  Marla’s mind wandered. She’d heard this recitation every year and knew the categories by heart. Who wouldn’t when even the supermarkets pushed hurricane guides every summer? Weather systems became tropical depressions when they rotated with wind speeds up to 39 mph. They got named as tropical storms when the circulation became more distinct, with wind speeds up to 74 mph. From experience, she understood these systems could bring heavy rains and gusty winds with local flooding. Once the wind speed reached 74 mph, the storm became a hurricane. Arlene looked as if she might surprise everyone. The circular clouds appeared to be aiming for Florida’s east coast, and there was another disturbance right behind the first hurricane of the season.

  “Arlene dropped several inches of rain on Barbados, where it uprooted trees and blew roofs off homes,” the weatherman said. “It downed power lines in St. Vincent and will probably gain strength as it crosses open water.”

  Rattling off the latitude and longitude, the meteorologist segued into a recitation of hurricane preparedness. Marla always thought the newscasters loved hurricane season because it gave them something exciting to report. You heard talks of how to stock up on supplies ad nauseum. She’d rather think about all the questions to ask Vail regarding Carolyn’s case.

  “So tell me how your classes went today,” she said to Brianna.

  The girl gave her a pained look. “School sucks. I mean, it’s good to see my friends again, but having all this work to do? Maybe there will be a hurricane warning so we can get a few days off. This is September first. It’s the height of the monsoon season. Kids up north get snow days. We deserve storm days.”

  “No way; I don’t need to lose the business at my salon. Besides, you were getting bored. Once your dance classes resume after Labor Day, you’ll have plenty to keep you occupied. So, Dalton, what’s new?”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m working with immigration to check into a few irregularities. There’s some funny business going on between McGraw and those French girls, but that’s not my sphere of expertise. I’m not sure what role Carolyn played, either.”

  “How about Atlas Boyd? He stormed into her salon this morning and demanded to see the bookkeeping records. It appears he’s a foreign investor. Claudia couldn’t move fast enough to oblige him. I wondered if he might have been Carolyn’s silent partner, but Zelda assured me that Carolyn was sole proprietor of Hairstyle Heaven. Still, Zelda said Carolyn got income from somewhere. I understand she’d been seeing a lot of the landlord, if that means anything.”

  “Thomson showed me his invoices and receipts for rentals,” Vail replied. “Sutton made her payments on time; he didn’t give her any breaks from what I could tell.”

  Marla swallowed a mouthful of pasta with tangy sauce. “There goes my theory about them having an affair.”

  “Not necessarily. It’s possible he keeps a second set of books, but I haven’t been able to unearth anything yet.”

  “You mean he claimed to receive the full amount for her monthly rental, but maybe he didn’t?”

  “It happens. How many corporations keep crooked records? Why not a property manager who doesn’t want his favoritism exposed?”

  “Have you spoken to Thomson’s wife? She might be suspicious about any shenanigans going on.”

  “She vouches for his fidelity, and I didn’t want to start trouble by suggesting otherwise. The women did say Thomson’s relationship with Carolyn went back to her first establishment.”

  “That could explain why he let her into the shopping center despite my protests, unless he accommodated her for another reason.”

  “Such as?”

  “She had some kind of hold over him, like that chiropractor Rosemary mentioned. I should see Dr. Hennings again, find out what Carolyn discovered about him that he didn’t like.”

  “Be careful. Snakes may hide under rocks you overturn.” A frown creased his face. “Mrs. Thomson mentioned that her husband takes a lot of trips out of town to assess properties for his management company. I don’t suppose Carolyn left her salon at those times, but I’ll check.”

  “I can ask around if you let me know the dates.” Marla glanced at Brianna, who was listening with a resigned expression. The teen was accustomed to their discussing murder cases over meals. If Marla moved in, perhaps she should set rules for dinnertime. Family discussions only, no business. Besides, hadn’t Anita taught her not to disturb a man until he’d been fed? If she had satchel, she’d at least wait until Dalton finished eating before addressing sensitive topics. Speaking of her mother, they had to reschedule their barbecue.

  “Next Monday is Labor Day. How about if we ask Anita and Sam for dinner then?” she said. “The holiday gives us a good excuse to have them over. My mother is dying to see your house.” Especially after 1 told her how much I hate it. Despite Marla’s intention of giving up the role of matchmaker, she had slipped into it again. But, she reasoned, having Sam present might mitigate Anita’s reaction to Dalton’s home. She could imagine her mother’s disapproval already, especially when she saw Pam’s angel figurines.

  “That’ll work.” Reaching across the table, Vail patted her hand. “I wish you’d forget about fixi
ng your mom with a date. She does well enough on her own.”

  “Sam is such as sweet man, and I think he’s lonely. He hasn’t called her, so he’s probably too shy. If Ma likes him, she’ll take it from there, and Roger will be gone until after the Jewish holidays. We don’t have to worry about the competition at this point.”

  Wearing a fond grin, Vail shook his head. “I should lock you up. Then you wouldn’t get into trouble.”

  “What trouble? I got Arnie and Jill together, didn’t I? I’m just giving Ma alternate possibilities.” Like Ma pushes Rogers son, Barry, on me. All right, so I’m getting even. She’II come around when she sees Dalton in his domestic role.

  She smiled as she regarded Vail’s food-splattered shirt. Poor guy; he needed a woman’s guidance. It warmed her to the core that he’d chosen her. That Brianna had come to rely on her advice as well was only the tip of the iceberg. Marla needed them just as much as they needed her, and she was finally beginning to accept that fact.

  Dalton must’ve seen something in her expression because his eyes darkened to a sultry slate. Her pulse accelerated, and she held his gaze until Brianna coughed.

  “Earth to Daddy. If you’re finished ogling Marla, you can help me with math.”

  Raising his hands, he laughed. “Not me, muffin. I don’t do equations. Ask Marla. She does her own bookkeeping.”

  Oh, joy. Multitudes of evenings spent doing homework loomed in her future. But when she thought of the alternative, lonely nights where she could do what she pleased with no one to talk to except the dog, her answer came as a surprising affirmative.

  “You get the dishes, and I’ll help with homework,” she told him. “Deal?”

  “Did I ever tell you how you drive a hard bargain?” Shoving his chair back, he rose and crossed the room quickly to kiss her. Whistling, he grabbed their empty plates and proceeded to the dishwasher.

  At home later that evening, Marla’s thoughts focused so exclusively on Vail that at first she missed the sealed envelope on her front stoop. After collecting her mail at the cluster box, parking in her garage, and walking around to the front lawn to remove a palm frond that had fallen in a recent thunderstorm, she noticed the item by her door. Shaking it off to remove wet leaves, she stared at the typewritten address. Her name and street number were correct, but the lack of a stamp and return address alarmed her.

  Grasping the envelope by the corner, she took it inside and dropped it on her desk. She didn’t deal with it right away, instead letting Spooks into the backyard, removing the cell phone from her purse and plugging it into a charger, and plucking a sandwich bag from the pantry. Then she proceeded into the den, where she took a letter opener from her desk drawer, held the envelope with the plastic bag, and slit it open. A plain white paper fell onto her desk blotter. She stared at the stark typed words:

  STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

  In the absence of clues as to who had sent the missive or why, Marla ventured a guess. Carolyn’s killer topped the list, although Marla realized she might have stirred more than one hornet’s nest. Certainly, return visits to most of the people she’d spoken to lately were in order to evaluate who might have perceived her inquiries as a threat, but time was getting short. The strengthening storm system could inhibit the investigation and disguise any number of foul deeds if it hit here. A fallen tree branch, or a blow to the head? A fire caused by downed power lines, or arson? Accident, or intent? Who, besides Dr. Hennings, had the knowledge or ability to kill a person by breaking their neck?

  She hadn’t discussed the critical factors with Vail. In addition to considering the murder technique, who else could have gotten into the meter room with a key? Anyone from the shopping center plus the landlord. How about alibis? Where were Mr. Thomson, the sister, and the psychic? Did the chiropractor see patients that day? Was Mr. McGraw in his office? And don’t overlook disgruntled former employees or customers. Where were Zelda Reiss and Peg Krueger? Nor did she discount the mysterious Atlas Boyd. Vail hadn’t said much about him. In fact, he hadn’t told her nearly as much as she’d brought to the table. Next time she wouldn’t be so easily distracted by his charm. Not if she wanted answers before Hurricane Arlene charged for the coastline with savage fury.

  Her glance fell on the typed note on her desk. What if the approaching storm represented an ominous portent? What if Wilda’s prediction hadn’t been meant for one of Marla’s friends or relatives? What if it was meant for me?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Work consumed Marla’s attention for the rest of the week to the extent she was unable to follow up on anything she’d promised Vail. With Hurricane Arlene bearing down on them, she’d moved their barbecue to Sunday. Newscasters predicted the storm would hit by Tuesday unless an eastward high-pressure ridge forced it out to sea. This saving grace was expected to dissipate, having no effect on tropical storm Bret churning in the first gale’s wake slowly toward the islands.

  Tension mounted as hurricane supplies disappeared from the stores. Marla shopped early, making sure she had adequate bottled water, batteries, and canned foods. She decided she’d weather the storm at Vail’s house with Spooks if it became necessary. Meanwhile, they’d wait on bringing in his patio furniture until a hurricane warning was posted.

  Friday she dropped off a bag of groceries at Aunt Polly’s apartment. The older lady scolded her for spending so much money and reassured Marla she’d be safe during a storm. At Anita’s urging, Marla offered to help her sign up for evacuation assistance through a program available to the elderly.

  “I can take care of myself,” Polly snapped, flashing Marla a contemptuous look. “I’ll bet Anita put you up to this, didn’t she?” Polly shuffled into her living room wearing her customary ragged slippers and housecoat. “I don’t know why she hates me so much. She says I shame her, but I don’t do things when she orders me around. Is she that bossy to you?”

  Marla swallowed. “My mother means well.” Hoping Polly wouldn’t notice, she advanced to the thermostat and turned on the cool air.

  “I never see your father. Does he talk about me? Is he well?” Polly’s rheumy eyes snagged hers. “Your mother keeps him from me, I know it. She’s afraid he’ll agree with me.”

  From the grave? I doubt it. “I’ll take you to visit him. Our temple is holding a service at the cemetery next weekend.”

  “What?” Polly peered at her intently, her wrinkled face marred with more crevices than an iceberg. “You’re going to serve me a cherry? I don’t eat cherries, bubula.”

  Marla rolled her eyes. “I give up,” she muttered.

  Accompanying Polly to the dining room table, she glanced at the papers strewn on its cloth-covered surface. Idly picking through them, she discovered empty envelopes from junk mail that Polly saved for recycling, expired grocery coupons, and an electric bill due two weeks ago. “Polly, have you paid this bill to FPL yet? And look, here’s a second notice from your homeowner’s insurance. You’ve missed the deadline for renewal.”

  Polly waved an imperious hand. “I’ll get to them.”

  Things are only going to get worse. “I hope you’ll allow me to help you. Where’s your checkbook?”

  Convincing Polly to accept her assistance took time, but Marla managed to fill out the checks and have her sign them. Then Marla readied them for the post office. “If we add my name to your checking account,” she said, “I can come in periodically to help you with the bills.” Not that she needed another chore, but Marla doubted Polly would accept aid from her mother. The alternative was to hire a caretaker, but they’d have to assess Polly’s assets to see what the older woman could afford.

  She discussed the situation with her brother, Michael, on the telephone the following day. “Can’t you come down to keep watch on things?” Marla pleaded. “I have so little spare time.”

  “I’m a half hour away in Boca. You’re closer,” his firm voice stated. “If you wouldn’t run around playing cops and robbers, you’d have more time for family.”


  “Gee, thanks, I needed to hear that.”

  “Leave the police work to your detective friend. Speaking of the fellow, it’s clear you’re stuck on him. When are you going to move forward in your relationship?”

  Soon, bro, but you don’t have to know that yet. “I’ve been burned before. I want to take things slowly this time.”

  “Go any slower and you’ll have gray hair when you’re rolling down the aisle.”

  “I thought of inviting him to our Rosh Hashanah dinner. Do you think the family would mind?”

  “It’s a good opportunity to introduce him to the rest of our cousins, at least the South Florida contingent. Would it make him uncomfortable?”

  “I already approached the subject, and he’s agreeable. If we’re to be together, we’ll have to respect each other’s traditions. Learning about them is the first step.”

  “Ma would be horrified if you had a Christmas tree.”

  I’ll deal with that when the time comes. “We’ll work out some type of compromise. Anyway, Ma will be happy that I have someone to spend my life with.”

  “So it’s that serious, huh? Have you made wedding plans? You could always honeymoon at our family reunion. Cynthia is planning a big bash in November for the entire extended family.”

  “Oh? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke to her? She’s looking into some hotel that Aunt Polly recommended.”

  “Polly? What does she care? She can’t even understand what you say half the time.”

  “She’s the one who put the bee in Cynthia’s bonnet.”

  “Well, that’s interesting. I’ll talk to Ma about it. In the meantime, give my love to Charlene and the kids. See you soon.” Marla hung up, puzzled over Polly taking the initiative regarding a family reunion. It was true that she hadn’t seen their distant relatives in many years, but why now?