Returning through the garage-door entrance, she unfastened Spooks's leash in the kitchen and grimaced when he shook his body. Dirt particles splattered in a circle.
"You like getting me messed, don't you?” she muttered, while he gazed at her with a smug expression. After washing her hands, she checked the answering machine in the study. Three calls registered. Pressing the play button, she retrieved two hangups and one call from her landlord demanding her response to his terms for the new lease.
"Damn, this is the last thing I need. I'll bet he isn't allowed to raise my rent much. If only I had a good lawyer.” No way she'd call Stan. Maybe Lance knows someone, she thought, after wracking her brain for ideas. He'd bought a condo recently. He might have used an attorney.
Lance was happy to give her his lawyer's name. “I'm still checking on that Collins character. The deeper I get into public records, the more things don't jibe. I've got some friends who owe me favors. Hopefully they'll get something solid for you."
"I'll be forever grateful.” She'd interview Roy now except for his lawsuit threat. Otherwise, he'd probably add harassment to her offenses.
Lance's voice deepened. “How grateful, luv?"
"I promised I'd come to view your favorite web sites, didn't I?"
"Oh, yeah. So are you busy tonight?"
"Get me a handle on Roy, and I'll free my schedule."
He laughed. “Check your e-mail. I sent you a couple of jokes."
"Thanks, pal.” She replaced the receiver, a smile tilting her lips. Leave it to her friends to cheer her when things were rough. And speaking of friends, she needed to call Tally back.
A loud crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes. Glancing outside, she was startled to note the churning clouds presenting an ominous edge on the horizon.
The phone clamored along with the next peal of thunder. She sprang to answer it, her nerves agitated by the darkening gloom. In her haste, her fingers brushed a small item on the desk. Oh, yes, it was the earring she'd found at Bertha's house. She'd taken the pearl-and-marcasite piece from her pocket and forgotten about it.
"Hello,” she mouthed.
A sharp intake of breath came from the other end.
"Hello,” she repeated, the hairs rising on her nape. She put the earring in a drawer, her attention diverted. “Is anyone there?” Lightning streaked across the sky, forcing trees and pitched roofs into sharp relief. Through the receiver clamped to her ear, she heard a muttered expletive. Then there ensued a click followed by the dial tone.
Frozen in place, Marla stared out the window. A fierce wind had blown up, whipping branches against the house along with a driving rain. Splattering sounds pelted the roof. Another blast of thunder brought Spooks yelping at her feet. Replacing the receiver in its cradle, she bent to scoop him into her arms. His small quivering body gave her comfort, but it wasn't the storm that made her fearful.
Someone hadn't been too pleased she was home, safe and dry. Someone who didn't wish her well.
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Chapter 13
Marla sniffed the freshly brewed coffee as soon as she stepped inside the salon. Apparently, Lucille had beat her to work that morning. The receptionist sat at her desk peering at the computer screen, a frown of concentration between her eyes. Upon Marla's entrance, she glanced up with a startled look.
"Marla! I didn't expect you ... s-so early.” “It's nine-thirty,” Marla answered, stashing her purse in a drawer. Actually, she was later than normal. Being the owner, she tried to arrive by nine to prepare for the day and sometimes to grab a bite to eat at Arnie's place. But some of her staff, including Lucille, had keys in case they needed to come in for an early customer.
Straightening, she gazed approvingly at Lucille's groomed appearance and attractive hairstyle. The older woman's golden highlights glinted in the bright overhead glare. She'd need a touch-up to her coloring in a few weeks, Marla realized as her trained eye observed the gray roots. She'd drop a hint to Giorgio later. Usually he did Lucille's hair, utilizing a reddish gold tint to complement her skin.
"Why did you come in so early today? You must have been here for a while.” Marla nodded at the coffeepot and neatly stacked magazines on a low table.
"I thought I'd update our customer profiles,” Lucille said in a flat tone. “It's been a while, and I know you have too much on your mind to bother.” Her expression softened. “I hope you didn't take work home with you this weekend. You really looked done in last week. Did you have a chance to relax?"
Marla grinned as she reflected upon her busy two days off. “Not really. I had some interesting events happen."
"Oh? Like what?” Lucille gulped down a sip of coffee from a mug resting by the mouse pad, activating Marla's salivary glands. She'd love to indulge herself in a third cup.
"Nothing worth reporting.” Standing by the refreshment table, Marla poured herself a drink. Bringing the mug to her nose, she inhaled deeply to sniff for any unusual odors. Stop being so paranoid! she chastised herself as her nostrils hovered over the steaming brew. Satisfied it was worth the risk to get another shot of caffeine, she allowed herself a long drink. Someday she'd be sorry she consumed so much coffee, but she hoped that wouldn't be soon.
Putting the mug down at her hair station, she counted supplies. “How's my schedule look for today?” she queried Lucille. Tuesdays usually brought a steady workload, while Wednesdays were the slowest day of the week.
"You're pretty heavily booked.” Lucille shut down whatever program she'd been revising.
"Nice blouse,” Marla remarked, nodding at her beige-silk top. Reconsidering her decision not to talk about the past few days, she realized Lucille might have the answers to some of her questions. Sauntering over to the reception desk, she leaned casually against the counter. “Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead.” Lucille's pale blue eyes regarded her warily.
"I heard a rumor that Bertha's partnership with Roy Collins involved more than just business. What do you know about them?"
"Who've you been talking to?” Lucille demanded, pursing her lips.
"I consulted Zack Greenfield for some financial advice yesterday, and we got to discussing mutual acquaintances."
A play of emotions crossed the receptionist's face. “Roy always was a womanizer. Instead of appreciating how willing /was to listen to his problems, he chose to consort with Bertha. I knew why, of course. He hoped to dazzle her so she wouldn't find out about his—” Lucille bit her lip, her face reddening.
"His what?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
Marla leaned forward, her probing gaze making Lucille glance away. “Was he fixing the books, Lucille? Is that what you discovered, and when you tried to tell Bertha, she didn't believe you?"
The receptionist clenched her hands together, her knuckles white. “I can't talk about Roy."
"Why not?” Marla persisted. “Has he threatened you?"
"Ha! As though he'd dare!"
Marla still couldn't figure Lucille's relationship to Roy. To provoke her into further revelations, she offered a tidbit of information. “Did you know he's seeing Darlene?"
Lucille stared at her, openmouthed. “What did you say?"
"She's been lying to us about all those guys she picks up on the beach. She and Roy live together."
Lucille's face suffused with a purplish hue. “He wouldn't ... no, that can't be true."
"Remember when Detective Vail accused Darlene of giving us the wrong address? She scribbled something down and handed it to him. The paper had her current residence, which I'll bet you won't find in your computer files."
"So what does that prove?"
"Vail checked it out and told me she's shacked up with Roy."
Lucille shot to her feet, eyes blazing. “If what you're saying is true, it's her fault. That hussy! No wonder he didn't seek ... his true friends when he lost interest in Bertha. She stole him away."
Marla stepped back. She'
d never seen Lucille so emotional. “Was Bertha aware that he was seeing Darlene, do you think?"
"No, she would have said something when she came here to get her hair done. As far as I knew, he still gave Bertha the impression they were together. It wouldn't have been smart for someone in his position to turn his back on her. But she was aware he was losing interest, and it made her vengeful. She cursed him and called him a cheating liar."
Sinking back into her chair, Lucille ran a shaky hand across her face. “She'd discovered what he was doing with the company funds. She wouldn't believe me, you understand, but she confided to me that she'd caught him at it herself. My guess is that she was irked because he wasn't paying her enough attention, so she planned to publish her memoirs to expose him."
Well, Marla thought, so Bertha's impending memoirs affected others besides Todd. Maybe Roy wanted to stop Bertha from revealing his deceit, and Darlene had gotten involved. What was the girl's role anyway? Was she planted here as a spy, to warn Roy if Bertha got wise to him? And when Bertha did turn against him, had he and Darlene decided to eliminate her as a threat to their security?
Marla bit back her next question when the phone rang. While Lucille was occupied, she headed toward the deli to buy bagels before their first customers arrived.
"Hey, sweets,” Arnie greeted her with his usual enthusiasm. She marveled at how he managed to look like a hunk wearing an apron over jeans and a T-shirt.
"My usual order for the salon, please."
He shouted to an assistant. “Two dozen assorted.” There being no one else waiting at the cash register, he leaned forward and grinned. “I've got something for you.” Reaching behind the counter, he withdrew a large-size brown paper bag and thrust it at her.
"What is this?” Marla liked surprise gifts when she knew the giver's identity. Inside the bag was a square box labeled: JACK DANIEL'S TENNESSEE WHISKEY-FILLED GOURMET CHOCOLATES. “Oh, Arnie, you're a doll!” Selecting a confection, she popped it into her mouth. The liquor drained down her throat, leaving a burning trail mingled with the taste of semisweet chocolate.
Arnie's dark eyes twinkled playfully. “I figured you'd need a boost How'd your weekend go?"
"Delightfully,” she muttered, unwilling to elaborate. “Would you like one?"
"No thanks, I know you'll enjoy them.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I want you to think of me each time your luscious lips close on one of those sweets."
"Come off it, pal. I've got a better idea. Isn't your daughter's dance recital next month?"
"Yeah, that's right. She's got her dress rehearsal soon."
"Well, if you haven't already asked another hot date, you can buy me a ticket. I'd like to go.” It was the least she could do when he was so kind to her.
His expression brightened. “You're on! Want to do dinner first? Lisa and Josh will be with us,” he warned with an apologetic shrug.
Great, a romantic dinner with the kids along. “That'll be all right"
Their conversation reminded her of some other calls she needed to make. Rushing back to the salon, she quickly put the bagels on a platter, retrieved the cream cheese and spreading knife, and laid them beside the coffeemaker. Then she closed herself in the storeroom and dialed the number of Lance's lawyer. Briefly she outlined her situation with the landlord and promised to drop off a copy of her lease during her lunch break. Thus relieved, she called the child-drowning-prevention coalition to find out the date for their next meeting. Last week's had been canceled, and she'd forgotten to get in touch with them. She didn't want to neglect her duties in the wake of recent problems.
Tally was on her mind, too. They'd touched base last night, but Tally had been on her way to a meeting. She'd invited Marla to come along to a metaphysical study group, but Marla had no desire to connect with her spiritual side. Enough matters confronted her on the earthly plane. “I'll go shopping with you but I won't join analysis groups,” she'd replied in a bantering tone. In her heart, she knew Tally was seeking answers to her own difficulties, but that wasn't the route Marla chose to follow. Making her last call, she caught Tally just as her friend was starting work.
"I can't talk now,” Tally gushed. “Can we meet later?"
Marla hesitated. Face-to-face, she might inadvertently let slip that she'd seen Ken. “Er, I'm not sure. Why don't I contact you this afternoon?” Then she thought maybe Tally had news. “Has anything different happened since we spoke?"
"Not unless you count Ken saying a few civilized words to me at breakfast, not to mention eating at home."
"That sounds like progress.” Pleased that Ken might be making an effort to ease Tally's anxiety, she hung up just as Nicole burst into the storeroom.
"Marla, why are you hiding in here? Your first customer has arrived."
"Already?” She was losing track of time these days, and that didn't translate well for her mental state. Exchanging pleasantries, she left Nicole reaching for a pile of towels and entered the salon.
The day whipped past in a flurry of activity. Having meant to question Darlene, she didn't get the chance. People were always nearby, and she dared not invite eavesdroppers. Another alternative presented itself as six o'clock neared. She could confront the girl on her own turf, and besides, Marla was curious to see where Darlene headed when she left work.
Crouching behind the wheel of her Toyota, she waited in the parking lot for Darlene to leave the salon. She'd gone as soon as her last customer finished, using the excuse she was meeting a friend for an early dinner. Hopefully Darlene wouldn't notice the white car following behind.
The trail led to a condo high-rise near the ocean. It was a swanky development with a guardhouse at the entrance and a gate surrounding the community. Initially, Marla cruised past at a slow pace. No way Darlene could afford a place like this on her salary as a stylist She'd need a sugar daddy like Roy to afford such an expensive lifestyle. When she was certain Darlene had cleared the guard's vicinity, she drove through the entry.
"I was supposed to be following my friend,” she explained to the uniformed security man with a dazzling smile. “She went too fast and got ahead of me. This is my first visit here, and I'm not sure of her apartment number. Darlene Peters is her name.” Anxiously, she scanned the road leading to an underground garage. Darlene must have pulled in there because her Corvette wasn't visible outside.
"You'll find Ms. Peters at B-507 in the second tower,” the guard said after consulting a clipboard. “I'll ring her that you're on your way."
"Oh, that won't be necessary since she's expecting me. Is her roommate in, do you know?"
"Mr. Collins usually gets back around seven, miss.” He gave her a curious stare that warned her she'd best move on. She'd already gotten information which confirmed Vail's report Darlene and Roy were definitely sharing the same living quarters.
Going inside to talk to Darlene probably wouldn't be a good idea right then, she decided after glancing at her watch. Roy might arrive soon, and it wouldn't be safe to confront them together if they'd conspired against Bertha. Tomorrow presented another opportunity to question Darlene. Somehow Marla would find a way to be alone with her.
She went directly home, exhausted more from mental fatigue than physical exertion. Her answering machine was flashing, but she didn't feel like retrieving messages right away. Probably some customers who wanted special accommodation. Running a weary hand through her hair, she headed to the bedroom to change. Peace and quiet were not on her list, however, because the phone rang just as she stepped onto the cool tile floor in her bare feet.
"Marla, it's Wendy. Zack told me he saw you yesterday. It was kind of you to choose him as your financial counselor."
Marla settled onto the edge of her bed, legs dangling. Apparently Zack hadn't confided in his wife the full gist of their conversation. “He gave me good advice."
Wendy cleared her throat. “I guess he showed you the beautiful view out the picture window from his office."
Didn't she know his work
space consisted of a tiny cubicle with no view except walls? “Yes, it was lovely. You sound as though you haven't been there in a while."
"Right. Zack ... doesn't like to be bothered at work. Did he, er, mention anything to you about my aunt?"
Marla's brow folded into a frown. “Sure, we talked about her. Zack resented her interference in your lives, but I believe he understands how much she meant to you."
"Oh, dear."
"Wendy, what worries you?” Did she know something about Zack's activities that would implicate him in Bertha's death?
"Nothing ... nothing at all. Actually the reason I called was because I found that envelope you wanted."
"What!” Marla rolled off the bed, rocketing upright. Her fingers gripped the receiver with an iron fist.
"There was a secret compartment in her desk. I found the Manila envelope addressed with your name like you said. There was another item in there, too. I-I'm not sure where Bertha got it or what I should do, so I'll give them both to you. Can you meet me tomorrow at lunchtime?"
"Of course. Want to join me for a meal?” Her heartbeat skipped erratically. The envelope ... at last it would be hers!
"I can't spare the time. I only have a half hour for lunch, but if you come to the hospital where I work, I'll give these to you.” She rattled off her location, then disconnected.
Marla hung up, then realized she was shaking from head to toe. Dear Lord, let this be an end to my problems in this arena, she pleaded. I can't afford for Vail to get hold of those photographs. Speaking of Detective Vail, maybe he'd left her a message. Forty-eight hours had passed since she'd given him the marzipans. That should be enough time for a lab report, right?
Permed To Death [Bad Hair Day Mystery 1] Page 15