"Go stuff it. I've just been busy."
"So what's the score?"
Marla waited as the waitress served her meal. Chewing on a piece of sandwich, she responded. “Well, I've talked to Mrs. Kravitz's niece and her son. Wendy is suspicious of Todd and Todd is suspicious of Zack. They're each trying to place blame on the other.” Between bites, she explained her findings.
"All right,” Arnie drawled. “So you feel you've met Todd before but can't remember when. He wouldn't tell you what he does for a living but isn't hurting for money."
She nodded, taking a sip of cream soda. “The guy gives me the creeps. As for Zack, Detective Vail confirmed that he's in debt I made an appointment with him for a consultation on Monday. According to Wendy, he resented Bertha's attempt to control their lives, but she doesn't believe he'd resort to violence."
"Of course not, she's his wife. And pregnant, besides. That gives him even more of a motive, especially if those gambling friends he owes are getting nasty."
"I hope Lance comes up with something useful. I'll give him a call later, although I'm sure he would have contacted me by now if he had news.” Finishing off her sandwich, she frowned. “I remembered that the creamer jar was fuller when I used it last. Someone must have emptied it so only a spoonful remained and then added the poison. That person must have known Bertha was coming in that morning. Wendy and Zack knew about her appointment. I forgot to ask Todd."
"Didn't your staff know you were coming in early to do Mrs. Kravitz's hair?"
Playing with her spoon, she didn't answer immediately. “Yes,” she finally replied, “and that about eliminates a customer from doing the deed unless Bertha confided in a friend. With the back door left unlocked, anyone could have entered during the night once the cleaning crew finished."
"Carlos never came back to work, did he?"
Marla slapped a hand over her mouth. “I forgot to follow up on that one, although Vail might have told me if he'd talked to the man.” She eyed Arnie. “Any good gossip come through here?"
"Nope. Say, do you really think Vail is leveling with you?"
A small smile played about her lips. She dropped her hand, cupping her glass. “I believe he's attracted to me, but he can't trust me. I'm sure he's learned things he isn't revealing. If I could get a trump card, I'd offer to trade information with him. We ran into each other after I met Todd, so I told him about that conversation and seeing Wendy. You see, I'm willing to share."
"But he suspects you of poisoning Mrs. Kravitz."
"I was alone with her. So says Roy Collins, who sent me a letter from his lawyer. He's going to sue me for negligence."
"Oh Lord.” He gave her a worried glance. “What are you planning to do?"
She grinned. “I've hired Lance to check into Sunshine Publishing. Lucille hinted that Roy had been involved in some activity detrimental to the company, but she wouldn't elaborate. Either it turned out to be insignificant or she's afraid of repercussions if she rats on him. After all, that's what got her fired in the first place. She told Bertha, and the old lady didn't believe her. Lucille said she doesn't harbor any resentment, but who knows?"
A puzzled expression crossed his face. “What's the difference if Lucille exposes Roy now? That is, if her hints are substantiated."
"I don't think Lucille would betray him. Don't ask me why.” She thought a moment. “Maybe the old lady just found out Collins was siphoning off company funds. Bertha wouldn't accept the truth from Lucille, but seeing it for herself would be different."
Arnie followed her train of thought. “And if she threatened to bring charges against Roy, maybe he retaliated. You think Lucille suspects him of doing Bertha in?"
Marla pressed a palm to her forehead where a dull ache throbbed. “You can suspect anybody if you try. I wish Vail would be so smart."
"He wouldn't be in the detective department if he didn't consider all the angles."
"Tell me about it.” Stretching, she rose. “Time to get back to work. Thanks for being such a good friend, Arnie.” Flipping a couple of dollar bills on the table, she grabbed the check and headed for the cashier.
"Hey, you got plans for tonight?” Arnie said, resuming his post at the cash register.
"Yeah, I'm retiring early. It's been a long day."
His face brightened. “Any chance we could—"
"Sorry.” She paid her tab, flashed him a brilliant smile, and strode out before he coaxed her into accepting.
Still smiling, she entered her salon. Arnie always had the ability to lighten her mood. Maybe one day she'd take him up on his offer, purely for a friendship outing, of course.
"Marla, you got a call from Mr. Thomson,” Lucille stated. The receptionist looked harried, the phone receiver clamped to her ear while she scribbled in the appointment book with a pencil. Although Marla liked her to keep their schedule on the computer, Lucille insisted on doing some things the old-fashioned way as well.
At her news, Marla frowned. Thomson's call was probably about their lease, which came up for renewal next month. What was their landlord planning to do? Noting her next appointment waiting in the reception area, she signaled for her to go on to the shampoo station. Scurrying past, Marla charged into the storeroom where she picked up the telephone reserved for private calls.
"Mr. Thomson?” she said after his secretary transferred the line. “This is Marla Shore. I got a message that you'd called."
"That's right,” his gruff voice responded. “I see your lease expires in June. I'm sure you're aware of how high insurance premiums have gone since that last hurricane hit so close to home. Costs have escalated with inflation, meaning my expenses have risen. What this means is that I have to raise your monthly rent and ask for a supplement to your security deposit."
Naming a figure that made her jaw drop, he continued before she could protest. “I realize this might prove to be a difficulty under your current circumstances, so I've opened to other offers. I have to say I'm tempted to take the one who says she'll pay me double your rent."
Marla sputtered for a reply, at first so outraged she couldn't speak. Doubtless he was referring to Carolyn Sutton, who'd been scheming to take over her salon. But where would Carolyn, whose business was declining, get the funding?
"I'm sure we can reach an agreement,” she said in a smooth tongue, “as long as I have your assurance you'll honor my option to renew."
"You match those figures and the lease is yours. Get back to me in two weeks. I'd like to wrap this up by June fifteenth."
Two weeks! Frantically, Marla wondered where she'd get the money for the new security deposit without even considering the hike in rent. Was Thomson deliberately trying to ruin her? He knew her income wasn't sufficient for those requirements. But then neither was Carolyn's. Someone had to be backing her, Marla realized as she headed back into the salon. Her eyes narrowing with suspicion, she contemplated a likely source. Damn Stan, he could be so Machiavellian. She could just conceive of him setting up a plan like this. Force her to come up with a large sum of cash and she'd have to sell her share of their jointly owned property. Well, she'd find another way.
Gritting her teeth, she breezed through her last appointment. In a morose mood, she waved good-bye to her employees as they filed out at the end of the workday. Just make it through tomorrow and you ‘II be done for the weekend, she told herself, gathering her purse.
"Want to grab a bite to eat?” Nicole asked, lingering behind. Her expressive brown eyes reflected concern.
"I'm not hungry. I just ate a sandwich at four."
"Then how about a cup of coffee? You look done in."
Marla stiffened. “Am I that obvious?"
"Yeah, you are. What's wrong?” Nicole paced forward until she stood facing Marla. Planting her hands on her hips, the slender dark-skinned woman looked as though she wouldn't budge.
Heaving a sigh, Marla leaned against the reception counter. “Thomson won't renew our lease unless we come up with a lot more money
. He's received a better offer, and you can guess who from."
"Carolyn Sutton? Oh, no. But how can she afford anything more than we can?"
"A loan, perhaps?” Marla sneered, knowing the true answer. “Maybe we should ask her ourselves."
"That might not be such a bad idea.” Nicole shifted her feet. “Does our lease allow for such an increase? I thought there were limits."
"So did I, but if someone makes a better offer, Thomson has the right to accept it. At least I think he does."
Nicole frowned. “Shouldn't you consult your attorney?"
"The guy who originally handled my affairs moved to Connecticut, remember? And I don't have another good lawyer I can trust. If I did, I'd have already consulted him about this other business."
"Stan—"
"Is probably backing Carolyn Sutton. He wants me to sell a piece of rental property we jointly own, but I refuse. He's warned me he'll get his way."
"That's pretty despicable."
"So is he.” Her neck snapped around at a commotion from the rear. Darlene was clattering out of the storeroom. Marla's eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you'd left,” she said to the girl, who boldly stalked toward the front door.
"I, er, had to check my supplies for tomorrow. And there was a load of towels to fold. Dunno why you're not grateful.” Sashaying by, hips swinging in a miniskirt, she tilted her chin defiantly.
"Sure, Darlene,” Nicole spit while Marla stood to the side silently chewing her lip. Once they were alone, Nicole leaned forward. “She was listening to us,” Nicole hissed.
"No kidding.” Marla sighed. “I'll deal with her another time. Right now, I need to figure out how to beat this latest problem.” Giving a weak smile, she regarded her friend. “We'll have dinner together next week, okay?"
Nicole gave her a thumbs-up. “If you say so. Hang in there, Marla. Things will turn out all right."
Always an optimist. As she walked to her car, Marla wished she possessed such confidence. It seemed as though the burdens of the world were falling onto her shoulders. But then she thought of Tammy and everything focused into a new perspective. You'll survive, just like before. Life consists of challenges but at least you're able to face them. Not like Tammy, who will never have the chance.
Realizing she couldn't make any business calls until next week, she tried to relax at home. Anita phoned, and they agreed to a lunch date on Monday. Marla figured she'd be finished at Zack's by then, and she didn't relish spending the afternoon alone. After taking Spooks for a walk, she fixed herself a light supper: a bowl of red beet borscht that she'd mixed with sour cream and chunks of boiled potatoes. Along with buttered rye bread, it made a tasty meal. She surfed the Net for a while, checking the news sites, then retired early.
Saturday arrived with the sultry promise of rain. She'd just finished her second blow-dry when a walk-in called her name. Glancing up from the counter where she was straightening hairbrushes, she groaned. Detective Dalton Vail marched in her direction, a determined gleam in his steely eyes.
"What now?” she snapped, not in the mood for word games.
He grinned, and the transforming effect on his demeanor made her breath come short. Bless my bones, Marla thought, but doesn't he look smashing today. Her quick perusal absorbed his camel sport coat enlivened by a geometric-patterned cocoa-and-crimson tie. His beige dress shirt tucked into dark brown pants. As he neared, she caught a whiff of spice cologne.
"I need a haircut. You busy?"
Marla muttered an expletive under her breath. Just what I need, I'll probably snip too much, and he'll arrest me.
"Not at the moment,” she crooned, recovering her composure. “Have a seat.” Waving to Lucille to put him down in her appointment book, she focused her attention on his hair. They discussed his style and she sent him to get shampooed.
This would be a good opportunity to question him about what he'd learned regarding Bertha's murder. Maybe she could disarm him enough so he'd talk readily. Naturally, it crossed her mind that he'd come in for the same purpose, and she resolved to reveal as little as possible.
Marla didn't count on the feelings engendered by sifting her fingers through his wet strands of hair. His silver highlights were more pronounced when she had him under the microscope, so to speak. Pleased to note the thickness of his layers, she didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until she glanced in the mirror. Pursing her lips, she withdrew her hand as though touched by fire. Handling his hair seemed too intimate a gesture, as though the distance between them had suddenly closed. She wasn't comfortable with that notion and showed her agitation by dropping the first comb she picked up. Snatching another, she jumped nervously when his eyes snapped open and met hers straight on through the mirror.
"You have a gentle touch,” he said softly.
His voice lacked its usual arrogance, and she found the change to be disconcerting. Parting his hair, she proceeded to use the shears in quick, automatic movements.
"I was meaning to ask—have you been able to reach Carlos? From what I gather, he hasn't returned to the cleaning crew."
"His boat isn't in its berth, and we've been unable to track him,” Vail responded, his tone grim. “I spoke to some of his friends at Seaside Marina. He'd bragged about a sum of easy money he had coming, so they assume he got it and took off."
"Interesting,” Marla murmured, thinking he might have accepted a bribe to leave the back door unlocked so the killer could enter her salon and poison the creamer. Or maybe he'd been paid to do the deed himself. She said as much to Vail.
"We have a set of prints from the doorknob that may belong to him. Until we can check them out, this is all supposition. They don't match anyone who works in the salon."
"And if the prints belong to Carlos?"
He shrugged. “The killer may have worn gloves, or perhaps Carlos added the poison. Or maybe someone wants us to believe those options.” His casual tone belied the clever look in his eyes. He's trying to bait me, Marla figured. Sorry, pal. I won't bite.
At the next station, she noticed Nicole had stopped talking to her customer. Their eyes met, a knowing smile curving the stylist's mouth. Marla wondered what amused Nicole the most, her clumsy attempt to interrogate the detective, or his smooth delivery that provoked her defensive response. Glancing at her other employees, she noted
Lucille staring at them in blatant curiosity. Darlene pretended an air of disinterest but she'd sidled halfway across the room to straighten magazines in the reception area, clearly within listening distance. The others were enclosed in their own private domains.
"Don't you feel it's significant that Carlos has vanished?” she said, annoyed that Vail continued to suspect her. “He wouldn't disappear if leaving the door unlocked was an honest mistake. Have you been checking into the movements of Bertha's relatives for that night? Todd was with a woman he met at Scudders, but how about Wendy and Zack?"
"Why don't you tell me,” Vail said wryly. “You seem so well informed about this case."
In the middle of spritzing his hair with water, she paused. “That's only because I know I didn't kill Mrs. Kravitz. I'm trying to expose the real murderer. You, on the other hand, are blinded by your suspicions of me."
"Is that right? I'm glad you're such a mind reader.” A sardonic grin curved his mouth. “What am I thinking about you now?"
"Who knows,” she murmured, spraying more water on his head than necessary. He blinked his eyes, thick lashes glistening with moisture. Marla wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Compressing her lips, she finished the cut, applied mousse, and blow-dried his hair into an attractive style that curved at his brow.
"Thanks,” he said, rising from the chair after she'd removed his cape. “Anything else you figure I should know?"
Like I'd tell you when you ‘re not leveling with me, pal? “Not really."
He gave a jaunty nod as though undaunted by her refusal. “Be seeing you around, then."
It wasn't until he'd paid h
is bill and gone that Marla realized she'd been outwitted again.
Detective Vail had neatly deflected her question about alibis for Wendy and Zack.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 9
Marla arrived home just as the phone was ringing. Cursing, she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed the receiver. Too late. Remembering the code for call return, she touched the keypad, then pressed number 1. To her pleased surprise, Lance's voice replied.
"Hi, it's Marla. You were trying to reach me?"
"How did you know?"
"I used call return. What's up?"
"I've got news. Wanna meet for dinner?"
"Sorry, I ate earlier."
"A movie, then."
Get on with it, Lance. Her hand tightened on the receiver. “Please tell me you've found something on Sunshine Publishing."
"Sure, but it's nothing earth-shattering. My report can wait Come on, taking a break will make you feel better. I can tell from your voice that you're wired. I promise I won't hound you to see my web sites."
"No, tell me now.” Annoyance rippled through her. Didn't he realize how desperate she was for information?
"If I spill the beans, will you still go out with me?"
"Blackmail, eh?” Marla's bones melted with fatigue, but she conceded his offer was tempting. Since Bertha died, she hadn't experienced a moment of enjoyment except for the show attended with Tally. Mental fatigue could dull your senses and impede logic. If she wanted to think clearly, she needed to allow time for recreation.
"All right,” she accepted reluctantly. “Now talk."
He cleared his throat. “Sunshine Publishing's financial records don't jibe. I'm finding inconsistencies. I need to delve deeper but thought I'd let you know you might be on the right track regarding Collins."
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