Died Blonde

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Surely you’re not suspecting that nice old man from the hardware store?”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Nicole folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, come on. What about that chiropractor? If anyone would know how to snap a neck, he’d be the one. Did you find out what Carolyn had on the guy?”

  “Not yet. I have to make another appointment.” She paused. “Someone left a warning letter at my doorstep. My inquiries are stirring up trouble, but I can’t decide where to look first.”

  Nicole fixed her with a level stare. “Carolyn’s salon must hold her secrets. If anyone can search behind the scene, you’re the one.”

  As soon as Marla had a respite in her schedule, she hustled over to Hairstyle Heaven. Fortunately, Wilda manned the front desk. Marla winced at the sight of her. The psychic’s outfit would be great for a seance, but it didn’t seem appropriate for a salon. Her flowing caftan, with silver stars and moons sprinkled against a navy background, matched the turban on her head. Silver drop earrings clinked at her ears.

  Wilda’s face brightened at Marla’s entrance. “I knew you’d come in today. Carolyn indicated that you’re doing well. You’re getting closer to her murderer.”

  Marla stopped by the waist-high counter. “Oh? What else did she tell you?”

  “Your attention is needed urgently. Danger is in the air.” Wilda’s gaze flickered to the staff.

  Marla struggled to interpret her words. Did she mean danger threatened her here? Scanning the operators, Marla noted Claudia’s absence. “Where is Claudia? I hoped to ask her how things were going.”

  “She’ll be back tomorrow. She’s taken a few days off.”

  A thought struck Marla, but it seemed too coincidental. “Dennis Thomson is out of his office until tomorrow. I wanted to see if Claudia knew why he visited the salon so often. Now I’m wondering if he came to see Carolyn at all.”

  Wilda gave her a sly smile that lent her wrinkled face the expression of a fox tracking prey. “Interesting observation.” Closing her eyes, Wilda appeared to ignore the whirring blow-dryers, chatter of customers, and radio music as she swayed slowly back and forth. A red-haired woman breezed through the door, stopped by the front desk, and tapped her foot impatiently. “Excuse me?” the lady said, scraping her acrylic nails along the countertop.

  Wilda didn’t budge, so Marla interceded. “I believe she’s communicating with those who have gone beyond. May I help you?”

  A pair of gray eyes surveyed Marla with disdain. “I have an appointment with Jeanine. And you are?”

  “Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye salon down the strip. I’ll tell Jeanine you’re here.” Great way to run a business, Wilda. Tune out to talk to the dead when you have a live customer in front of you. You ‘II increase your customer base if you offer readings at the same time as a blowout.

  “Jeanine, your three o’clock is waiting up front. Should I tell her to get shampooed?” Marla queried the ebony-haired stylist who hung out the open rear door smoking a cigarette.

  “Out, merci.” Jeanine dropped her stub to the ground and stamped it out. “This person who is in charge, she is not altogether with us, if you know what I mean.” Her accented voice lowered. “Monsieur Boyd has made her an offer. We are hoping she accepts. It would secure our place here.”

  Marla stepped partially outside. “What kind of offer?”

  “To buy the business. It is not the way his plan was supposed to work, but he says this will be better.”

  “I see.” What plan? How could she find out more? “I never fully understood his role,” she said carefully.

  “You don’t need to know. It could be dangerous. If Carolyn—how you say, ticked him off?—he may have been the one who, well, I have said enough.” She thrust her pale face close to Marla’s and expelled a breath of nicotine-tinged air. “I have to thank you for speaking to Zelda. She sent me a check.”

  “I’m so glad. Now you both can move on from that incident.”

  Shuffling her aside, Jeanine signaled for her customer to get washed. “Maybe our boss lady will tell you what she plans. Some of us may leave if she stays in charge, especially if she moves our location to Miami. Monsieur Boyd is not happy with this arrangement, but Claudia is even angrier.” Along the way, Jeanine paused to straighten a rack of magazines.

  Marla trailed her indoors, aware that she had to return to her own salon in a few minutes. “Claudia isn’t here today.”

  “She misses too many days. Because you helped me, mademoiselle, I will tell you something. Carolyn threatened to fire Claudia. She didn’t like the way Claudia spoke to customers. My friend would tell people about how we’re struggling to make a living in this country, and they gave her money. Carolyn accused her of being unprofessional, but Monsieur Boyd insisted Claudia remain.”

  “What influence does Atlas Boyd have over this salon?” Marla demanded. His name seemed to pop up everywhere.

  “Ask Madame.” Jeanine beckoned to the redheaded customer weaving in their direction, her hair dripping with moisture, and said, “I must go now. Thank you for your concern.”

  “No problem.” Marla retreated toward the front desk, where Wilda smiled at her benignly. “I see you’ve come out of your trance. Did you get another message from Carolyn?”

  “I did, darling.” Wilda’s eyes widened. “She said to tell you one of her friends is a thief. I keep seeing the same image in my mind: a necklace with a pendant that looks to be quite old.”

  “An item from her collection?” At Wilda’s blank look, Marla explained. “Carolyn collected Victorian mourning jewelry. Remember how her sister, Linda Hall, was supposed to inherit some valuables, but no one could find them? Rosemary Taylor believed Carolyn’s killer might have stolen the jewelry.”

  “Rosemary is the lady who played bingo with Carolyn at that Indian place, yes?” With a cry of pain, Wilda squeezed her eyes shut. “I sense her presence. That means…”

  “Rosemary is dead. Murdered.”

  “Sweet saints.”

  “Getting any signals from her?” Marla asked, biting back her cynicism.

  Wilda’s lids flew open. “Don’t discount the power of Spirit, my dear. You’re susceptible to negative energy. It surrounds you, more menacing than the monsoon that almost wreaked havoc along the coast. You cannot escape it unless you take the precautions I suggested.”

  Yeah, right. Putting out a bowl of water will absorb bad vibes and keep me from ending up like Carolyn and Rosemary. Not so, pal. The only way to get rid of evil spirits is to expose them in this life. “What are your plans for the salon?” Marla said, changing tactics. “I noticed Bunny isn’t here today. Did you dismiss your new receptionist?”

  “She’s part-time.” Wilda spread her hands. “This isn’t really what I wanted. I appreciate what Carolyn did for me. She was a good friend, despite what you believe. But this plane of existence is too grounded for me. Let me tell you a story. I had a man knock on my door once. He was beside himself with anxiety, constantly fidgeting and not knowing what could be wrong. From his aura, I could see where his energy was blocked. Stuck in a rut, he desired change but lacked courage to make the leap. After I cleared his channels, his renewed surge of energy gave him the guts to go after what he wanted.”

  “And this relates to things how?” Marla glanced at her watch, impatient to move on. She didn’t have time for Wilda’s long-winded tales.

  “Having to take care of these mundane tasks obstructs my chakras. It’s not for me.” Her sharp gaze lanced Marla. “You, on the other hand, it suits quite well. You see the inner beauty in people, and your skill translates that into style. This place would be wasted on Carolyn’s sister, whose narrow view obscures her vision. Mr. Boyd has his own agenda. That’s why I’m thinking of making you my beneficiary.”

  “What?”

  “I either need to get rid of the place or move it closer to my home. I can’t; keep commuting like this.”

  “Jeanine said Atlas Boyd made
you an offer.”

  “Mark my words, that man is more than just a foreign investor. He has a peculiar interest in these French girls, but that’s not my problem. I have to follow Carolyn’s wishes.”

  “Carolyn would jump out of her grave if you handed me the salon. Anyway, it’s in the same shopping strip as my place, and I’m not sure I’d even want another responsibility. What did you tell Boyd about me? He seemed to be aware of Carolyn’s message.”

  “I mentioned that you had a vested interest in seeing Carolyn’s murder solved, and why.”

  That would account for his menacing remarks, Marla thought. Pursing her lips, she pounced on another theory. “What about Claudia? Do you think she had any designs on Hairstyle Heaven? Maybe she expected more from Carolyn and got angry when she was overlooked.”

  “You mentioned that Claudia is gone the same time as our landlord. This may be significant,” Wilda remarked, raising an eyebrow. “The girl speaks highly of him and is impressed by his war stories. I don’t see how that sniveling idiot can impress anyone, but Claudia may be looking for a sugar daddy since her sponsor is dead.” Wilda’s eyes glazed. “Oh my.”

  “What’s wrong?” Marla asked with a note of alarm. Claudia’s absence didn’t herald anything more sinister, did it?

  “I just realized…Dennis Thomson had been in the Marines. Not that you can tell from the current shape he’s in, but he would have had combat experience.”

  All right! Besides the chiropractor, here was another suspect who probably knew how to break someone’s neck.

  “Go now, Marla. You’re needed elsewhere. Hurry.”

  Giving Wilda one last glance, Marla scurried from the salon. Maybe hauntings were for real, she mused as she entered Cut ‘N Dye with a sigh of relief. The contrast between her brightly lit establishment and Carolyn’s was like the difference between a level-one and level-ten hair color: night and day.

  Welcome warmth rushed over her as Luis smiled from behind the receptionist’s desk and waiting customers called out greetings. Scents of finishing spray mingled with the faint chemical tinge ever present in the filtered air. Feeling relief at being back at her own place, Marla pushed aside Wilda’s warnings and focused her skills on the next client’s hair.

  Marla wasn’t expecting Vail to show up. He’d been scheduled to work late, and she had promised to take Brianna to dance class. So when he burst into her salon with Brianna in tow at five o’clock, she felt a chill wind breeze past. Perhaps he’d let in Carolyn’s ghost, she thought, licking her lips nervously.

  Brianna didn’t look well; the girl’s complexion paled as though she’d seen the walking dead. “What’s the matter?” Marla demanded, aware this wasn’t a social visit.

  “Brie had a scary incident,” Vail said in a brusque tone. “Can we talk privately?”

  “I’m just finishing up. Give me a minute.” Spraying her last customer, she surveyed her work with satisfaction.

  “My sister wanted me to ask how long she has to wait to go swimming after having her hair highlighted?” the customer said.

  Unfastening the woman’s cape, Marla replied, “Ideally, she should wait seventy-two hours after highlights, but she can swim right away with precautions. After she comes out of the pool, tell her to rinse her hair with clear water and apply a conditioner.”

  Ten minutes later, Marla had put away her supplies, swiped her counter clean, and turned off the power to her outlets. Nicole and Jennifer were working late; they could lock up. Snatching her purse from a drawer, she signaled to the waiting duo. “I’m ready. Wanna go to Arnie’s for a bite to eat?”

  “No.” Vail’s mouth was set in a grim line as he took her arm and steered her toward the door. Brianna shuffled behind them, unusually quiet. She’d slung her knapsack over one shoulder and carried her ballet bag.

  Outside, the summer sun burned the pavement with heat. It had yet to descend enough to cool the humid air.

  “Brie will go home with you until it’s time for class. I want you to walk her inside. Don’t let her go unaccompanied.”

  He halted, clenching his fists at his sides in an uncharacteristic gesture that made Marla want to offer comfort, especially when she saw the worry in his eyes.

  “Someone accosted Brie on her way home from the school bus. A man in a black sedan. He wore a ski mask, pointed a gun at her, ordered her to get in his car. She did the smart thing and ran. Unfortunately, no one else witnessed it, so we don’t have more details.”

  “Lord save me. Oh, you poor child.” Putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders, Marla drew her close. The teen seemed so fragile and vulnerable that Marla’s protective instincts swung into play. The ferocity of her own feelings surprised her. “I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified. Thank God you didn’t get in the car.”

  “He knew my name.”

  Hairs prickled on Marla’s nape. “Was it anyone you recognized?”

  The girl shook her head, ponytail swinging. “He looked as though he were medium-height, with black hair sticking out from the mask. All I could see was the gun pointed at me.”

  “Of course.” She turned to Vail. “Can’t you track the vehicle?”

  “No luck. That other girl who was killed…she went to the same school. I’m checking into people who work there.”

  Marla hugged Brianna, then released her grip. “I’ll take care of her. She won’t be alone.”

  Vail cleared his throat. “Keep your cell phone on,” he said gruffly, “in case I need to reach you. And make sure you don’t park in any dark corners.”

  “I’ll watch my back and Brianna’s, too. You get on with your work. Don’t worry about us.”

  The detective escorted them to Marla’s Toyota. He stood in the parking lot, consternation twisting his features as he observed them driving away. Marla clutched the steering wheel, feeling a flood of warmth at the trust he’d placed in her. He’d given her his most precious possession, showing his faith that she’d keep his daughter safe.

  “I don’t feel well,” Brianna said when they reached Marla’s town house. “I’d rather skip dance class today.”

  “You had a scare, honey. I don’t blame you for being frightened, but you shouldn’t let it restrict your activities.”

  Spooks barked on the other side of the garage door. Inserting her key in the lock, Marla pushed open the entry and quickly punched in the alarm code.

  “No one took Lucky out,” Brianna said, throwing her bags on the tile floor.

  “Dalton will have to worry about your dog.” Spooks yipped excitedly, sniffing Brianna’s ankles. “See, he smells your golden retriever.” Stooping, Marla scratched the poodle behind his ears and told him, “Come on, I’ll let you into the backyard.”

  While Brianna sagged into a chair at the kitchen table, Marla laid her purse on a counter, let the dog out, and quickly rifled through the mail she’d picked up at the cluster box. More bills; nothing that couldn’t wait. After washing her hands, she turned her attention to Brianna.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked the girl, peering at her more closely in the bright interior light. Brie’s skin looked flushed, her eyes glassy.

  “I really don’t want to go to dance class tonight. I have homework due tomorrow, and my head hurts.”

  “Are you sure that man didn’t touch you?” Maybe Brie felt too uncomfortable telling her dad everything.

  “It has nothing to do with him. I wasn’t feeling well earlier.”

  Alarm frissoned through her. Perhaps more had occurred than Brianna could confess aloud, and the trauma was manifesting itself in other symptoms. She dispelled that notion as soon as she pressed the back of her hand against Brianna’s forehead. Her skin felt burning hot.

  “Uh oh, I think you really are sick. Wait here. I’ll get a thermometer.” Since she’d played nurse’s aide at Miriam Pearl’s house, Marla had invested in a digital oral thermometer. It read 102.8 degrees after Brianna stuck it under her tongue.

  Pani
cking, Marla phoned Vail who wearily told her to give the girl some aspirin. If that didn’t work, she could call their doctor. A cool sponge bath would help to bring the fever down.

  “I don’t know how to deal with this,” Marla said in a frantic tone. “Can’t you leave yet? Your daughter needs you.” And so do I.

  “You can handle it. Call me in an hour and let me know how she is.”

  Plopping down the receiver, Marla rushed into the bathroom to fumble in her medicine cabinet for a bottle of Advil. Was the thirteen-year-old considered a child or an adult? Scanning the dosage directions, Marla decided to give her two tablets right away.

  “Do you have a sore throat? Is your nose stuffy?” she asked Brianna, setting the two pills in front of her along with a glass of tap water.

  “I just have a headache.” Brianna swallowed the tablets then gazed at Marla with listless eyes. “Where can I lie down?”

  “In the guest bedroom.” Marla’s three-bedroom town house included her master suite, home office, and guest room plus the kitchen, laundry, family room, and rarely used formal dining area. She loved its spaciousness and the fact that it was single-story, so she didn’t have to climb stairs.

  Settling Brianna onto the queen-size pullout sleep sofa, she hovered over the bed like a nervous nanny. Now what? “Do you feel like eating dinner? Or shall I get you a Coke?”

  “Just the drink,” Brie said in a feeble voice. “My stomach feels upset.”

  Oh, great. Marla pushed an empty wastebasket to the side of the bed in case Brianna threw up. What was wrong with her? Did she have an ordinary virus, or something worse?

  Michael didn’t make her feel better when she called her brother for advice. He and Charlene had two young children. They’d know all about childhood illnesses.

  “Could be meningitis,” he offered. “Or mono. Kids get that a lot when they share drinks and such.”

  “Gee, thanks. What else should I worry about?”

  “Jacob is having hip pain. He shouldn’t be experiencing a joint problem when he’s only five. We’re taking him to the doctor tomorrow.”