Permed To Death [Bad Hair Day Mystery 1]

by Nancy J. Cohen

  "We've got him! That crook has been embezzling money from the company for years.” He'd rattled off his sources of information, and Marla crowed with triumph.

  This morning Roy wasn't her target, however. She'd get to him later. First she'd interview the photographer, since he might provide more fuel for the fire.

  Approaching the photographer's studio took more courage than she'd known she possessed. Not until late that afternoon when she had a cancellation did she run out of the salon on what she told everyone was an urgent errand. Later she'd agreed to meet Tally in her boutique to try on clothes, after which they'd go to dinner. Ken was out of town, presumably on business, and Tally needed mood lifting. So did Marla, and buying new outfits always made her feel better.

  She'd need a major mood lift after this visit, she thought, pushing open the door to the photographer's studio. Her knees quaked and her stomach heaved. Not since her shameful episode had she set foot in a place like this. Huge framed photos decorated the walls: wedding couples, family portraits, graduation pictures, children with a look of purity in their eyes. Marla glanced away, her gaze seeking the receptionist's desk. No one was about, but when she dinged a bell, a strawberry blond woman wearing glasses emerged from the back office.

  "Hi there, how may I help you?” she croaked in a raspy voice. Her chin disappeared into her neck, Marla noticed, making her seem weak-minded by virtue of appearance alone. Or maybe it was the jerky motions she used to accompany her words with gestures. This wasn't someone she'd choose to tend the front desk, Marla drought cynically. Possibly she could use the woman's insecurity to her own advantage.

  Although she'd rehearsed her speech, when she went to say them, the words faltered on her lips. “I-I'm working with Bailey's print shop. He said you had a pickup for me?"

  The photographs in the magazine had to come from somewhere, and it was her guess that this was the place. The calendar might have been given as an innocuous business gift, but the imprint had led her here. She realized the erotic photos would have to be delivered to the printer, or at least the negatives, whereupon he'd assemble the magazine. Or else the printer picked up die items here. Either way, she hoped to gain some useful information from her inquiries.

  "What happened to the young man who usually comes for die package?” the lady asked, frowning.

  Marla smiled knowingly. “He couldn't make it. I'm not sure about your schedule, but he told me to stop by."

  "Well, I don't know. I'm only supposed to release it to him. If you'll wait a minute, I'll check in the back."

  Boy, wouldn't she be lucky if the woman gave her the package, she thought after being left alone. Of course, what would she do with the evidence? Bring it to Vail? A bundle of erotic pictures by themselves meant nothing.

  Glancing up when the door to the office opened, Marla felt her heart figuratively leap into her throat. That distinctive carrot-colored hair couldn't belong to anyone else, and she'd seen those leering cobalt eyes before. Maybe he'd gained weight in the past fifteen years and now walked with a waddle, but she recognized the man who'd shot her photos as though the humiliating event had happened yesterday.

  A light of recognition dawned in his face as he regarded her closely. “Why, Marla, my dear. What an unexpected pleasure.” She shuddered at his syrupy tone. “It's been such a long time since you were here last I'm so pleased to see you. Come, let's go into a consultation room so we can have some privacy."

  Rounding the desk so they were face-to-face, he slid his fingers along her upper arm. She got a strong whiff of garlic as his hot breath caressed her cheek.

  Recoiling, she gasped, “Get your filthy hands off me.” Just remembering how he'd fondled her during the photography episode made her skin crawl. Oh God, how could she face this man again? Yet he might have the answers to her questions. It was worth a bout of self-imposed trauma if she learned something valuable. Dex's presence confirmed her hunch that she'd come to the right place.

  "My, you've certainly changed,” he cooed. “No longer the lovely young girl desperate for money. Or is that why you're here today? I must say, you're looking swell.” His glance raked her body in a slow, leisurely manner that made her feel ill. If she weren't so determined to garner new data, she'd leave now. But this man was too important to let go out of her own feelings of disgust and embarrassment.

  Letting resolve firm her expression, she stared back. “I've just come to talk, not to work for you again, Dex."

  "Is that right? We'll see. This way, please."

  Her fists curled by her side, Marla followed him to a private alcove, insisting that the door remain partially open as she seated herself in a comfortable armchair. Dex levered himself into a leather swivel chair behind a desk strewn with wedding albums.

  "So what's this visit about, Marla?"

  Sensing an undercurrent of menace to his words, she thrust herself into the fray. “You're sending sexually explicit photos to Bailey's print shop, where they're scanned into porno magazines. The finished products are sold via mail order. Sunshine Publishing is financing the venture."

  Dex's shrewd expression bored through her. “I don't know where you came up with these absurd allegations, but that's all they are, I assure you."

  "Who else besides Bertha Kravitz is in on the deal? Does Roy Collins know about this little subsidiary business?"

  "Huh? What are you talking about?"

  She hesitated. Could she be mistaken? “Bertha told me how she'd come here for boudoir pictures and you showed her a racier set of photos. That's where she got the idea for the porno magazine from, I'll bet Were you aware she was blackmailing me? She insisted on getting free hair services or else she'd publish my photos in her popular regional magazines. For years I've been demeaning myself to accommodate her. I've spent too much time and effort building up my reputation to have her ruin it with a single mistake from my past."

  His look of puzzlement took her aback. “I don't know anything about blackmail. You're confusing me, Marla."

  "Bertha came here to get her pictures taken, and that's when you showed her my photographs. At least that's what she told me. You've been working with her ever since."

  "You've got it all wrong,” he said, scratching his head. “It's that male model who bought your photos and came up with the scheme for an erotic magazine."

  "What?"

  "Bertha Kravitz never stepped foot in here. Wasn't she the dame who was murdered in your salon? Hey, I follow the news,” he added at her astonished glance. “You didn't do her in because she was blackmailing you?” His frightened glance strayed to her handbag as though she might have a loaded weapon inside.

  "Don't be ridiculous. I'm trying to uncover Bertha's killer."

  He sagged in relief. “Well, you're not going to tell the cops anything about me, are you? Because I'm not doing anything illegal. People pay me to take pictures, that's all."

  "Who pays you?” Marla demanded. “If Bertha wasn't the one, who then? Roy Collins?” She supposed he might be the courier who picked up the photos and delivered them to the print shop. Maybe he'd even given Bertha's name on the post office box card. But if she wasn't involved, how did Bertha get hold of Marla's negatives? Obviously, she'd lied about coming here for boudoir pictures. So how else could she have obtained the goods?

  A link. She needed the link between them all.

  "Don't sic the cops on me,” pleaded Dex, wringing his hands. “I swear I don't know any Collins character, either. You want to pin the deal on someone, ask Todd.” Marla leaned forward. “Excuse me? Who did you say?” “Todd Kravitz, the old lady's son. Don't you remember? He was the male model who posed with you for those sexy shots."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 18

  So you think Todd killed his mother?” Tally asked. Marla shrugged. Seated across from Tally at the Olive Garden restaurant, she debated how much to reveal. Her heart burst with the truth. After recognizing that Todd was the man who'd posed with her for those
shameful pictures, she needed to unburden her anguish. Who else but her best friend might understand her motives? Certainly not Detective Vail. He'd accuse her of withholding vital information and construe her actions as corroborative evidence against her.

  "Marla, spill it.” Tally wagged her index finger. “You're not telling me everything."

  Marla had a reprieve while the waitress delivered their entrees. Staring at her steaming dish of eggplant parmesan, she murmured, “You won't think badly of me if I confess, will you?"

  "Don't be silly. I'm your friend. We can tell each other anything. Now what has you looking like you've just swallowed a blasted bullet?"

  With difficulty, Marla raised her eyes to meet Tally's compassionate gaze. “I've never told anyone,” she whispered.

  "Go on, I'm listening.” Shooting a longing look at her plate of spaghetti and mushroom sauce, Tally politely waited.

  Twisting her hands, Marla bent her head. “After Tammy's accident, her parents decided to sue me. If you recall, my father had just recovered from his illness. I didn't dare inflict this further injury upon him. Daddy and Ma already shared my grief, but they didn't need an additional burden. I consulted an attorney—Stan's law firm—and resolved to pay the fees myself."

  Squirming in her seat, she drew in a tremulous breath, grateful for Tally's encouraging silence. I should have told her long before this, Marla realized. It wouldn ‘t have been so hard to bear if I wasn't alone.

  "I'd done modeling jobs before to earn money,” she went on, eyes still cast downward. “I thought I could work to pay off my debts, so I answered a call for a lingerie ad. I assumed the job would be for something like the Victoria's Secret catalog or weekend newspaper ads. But the photographer wasn't anyone familiar to me, and he offered me a lot more money if I posed ... in an indiscreet manner."

  "How indiscreet?” Tally's fascinated expression told Marla her friend was getting a kick out of this story. Well, at least she's not horrified by my moral ineptitude ... yet.

  "I, er, put on this black lace merry widow ... with garters and a thong bikini, no less ... and figured I'd have different outfits to try on. Well, the photographer, who couldn't manage to keep his hands to himself, had me recline on this couch. I should have been suspicious because we were in a back room, not his usual studio."

  "And he wanted to pose with you himself?” Tally guessed, too engrossed to eat her meal.

  Marla had completely lost her appetite. “Worse,” she said. “He offered me an incredible amount of money if I'd pose with a male model. He'd sell the photos to a small audience who preferred to keep their voyeurism private. The pictures would never be made public, so no one else would ever see them. How could I refuse? I needed money desperately, not only to pay the lawyer, but also for beauty school. Ma was devastated I'd dropped out of college, and she didn't support my career change. I felt totally alone, so, naive schnook that I was, I agreed.

  "Well, this man came out of another room wearing nothing more than a jock strap. Good-looking, blond hair, big chest Okay, I figured, what harm would it do if we snuggled close and the guy took his photos? I'd never have to do this again. But they wanted more than two bodies facing each other. They intended it to appear as though we were having sex. We were already entangled when the model pushed my clothing out of the way and put his hands ... in private places. The jock strap came off before I even knew what was happening. And then he poised atop me, as though he was about to ... you know. He almost did, too. He was that close.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together.

  Tally's mouth hung open. “Couldn't you knee him where it hurt? You didn't agree to pose for those kinds of shots."

  "The photographer insisted that I had. We did more,” she admitted, her face flaming. “I was so embarrassed, I wanted to die. I kept telling myself this disgrace was my punishment for killing Tammy. In my unworthiness, I deserved no better."

  "Oh, Marla."

  Unwanted tears sprang into her eyes. Her feelings were so vivid, as though her shameful indiscretion had happened just yesterday. “I was at the bottom, Tally. My life had turned upside down. I felt I couldn't sink any lower."

  Neither one spoke for a while until the waitress came to inquire if everything was all right. Hastily shoveling a forkful of food in her mouth, Marla avoided looking at her friend. She was too choked-up to speak, the morsel of eggplant sliding down her throat like a lump of clay.

  "You survived,” Tally said at last, her wavy blond hair swinging as she sipped her Chardonnay. “Not only did you crawl out of that morass, you triumphed in your new career and have helped save countless other children from drowning by your work in the coalition. I'd say you should be proud of yourself."

  Marla smiled grimly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Stan, meeting her during her sojourns to his law firm, had latched on to her. Offering his support, he'd gained her gratitude during a period of intense vulnerability. Not until later did she understand he was a domination freak. At first she'd believed his belittling remarks, but finally she regained enough confidence to overcome his influence. She'd fought her way out of the swirling currents of despair and would never plunge into them willingly again.

  "I won't let anyone ruin the reputation I've worked so hard to build,” she gritted. “Least of all will I let Bertha's murderer get away with the crime. She was my customer and my responsibility, and no one will ever say I've shirked my duty again. I didn't kill her, even though she was blackmailing me with those photographs. The only way to prove my innocence is to find the real culprit."

  "Have you told Detective Vail any of this, or does he already know about your, uh, sullied past?” Tally had given in to her voracious appetite and was rapidly devouring her spaghetti. Marla marveled at how neatly she twirled the long strands into her mouth without a single dribble of sauce.

  "I haven't said anything to him. I'd hoped to get hold of the pictures myself. I've got the negatives, but I can't find the original prints. Bertha had them both, and she was blackmailing me into getting free hair appointments."

  "How did she get them?"

  Marla wasn't quite certain herself. “Todd must have bought them and showed them to his mother. I'd wondered if she was blackmailing other former models. Todd might know."

  "Todd is the courier who takes the pictures to the printer? If his mother's name is on the business post office box listing, they must have been in on the deal together."

  "I need to see Todd."

  "Wait a minute. Didn't you tell me Todd was upset about his mother's announcement that she was going to publish her memoirs? Do you think he killed her to stop her from exposing their dirty dealings?"

  "Bless my bones, you may be right."

  "You can't go to him alone, Marla. It's too dangerous."

  She bit her lower lip. “I'll have to see him. Maybe he's got the prints."

  "Or maybe Detective Vail does. He's bound to find out this stuff sooner or later. You'd be smarter to admit your wrongdoings first"

  "No, I can't He might book me for murder.” “Well, I think you're making a big mistake.” Putting her fork down, Tally gave a bright smile. “Dessert? Let's splurge."

  Marla had several calls waiting on her answering machine at home. A couple were from clients who needed appointments over the weekend. One was from Dalton Vail, which she ignored. He wanted her to call him back, but she'd rather avoid conversation with him at present Wendy's urgent message concerned her. Since it wasn't late, Marla returned the call. She'd already let Spooks out and changed into slacks. Lounging in her office chair, she dialed Wendy's number.

  "Marla!” Wendy said in a breathless tone. “I'm so glad you called. I need to see you as soon as possible."

  "Why? What's happened?"

  "It's something I need to talk about, but I can't leave the house tonight. Zack is out of town, and I told him I'd be home in case he called."

  "You can't tell me on the phone?” Marla's body sagged. After the emotional events of t
he day, she was exhausted. Going out again would require an enormous effort.

  "Sorry. I don't want to say anything that might be overheard."

  Was Wendy afraid her line was tapped? “I can come there,” she offered halfheartedly.

  "Please, would you mind? I'm going crazy sitting here by myself."

  Stifling a groan, Marla heaved herself upright. “Hang on. I'll be there shortly."

  An hour later, Marla flung herself onto a blue-silk-upholstered couch in Wendy's living room. Wendy didn't even bother to offer the social nicety of a cold drink. Wringing her hands as she paced the room, she plunged directly into her tale.

  "I'm worried about Zack.” Her eyes shot a furtive glance at Marla. “I didn't tell you before, but the night before Aunty Bertha died, Zack went out after we'd argued about her."

  Marla sat up straight. “You mean he wasn't home all night with you?"

  Wendy's slender shoulders slumped in defeat as she paused in front of Marla. “I wasn't going to say anything until I heard about that janitor, but now I'm concerned."

  "Carlos ... what did you hear about him?"

  "He was poisoned. I listened to the news tonight. The police say there may be a link between his death and my aunt's.” Her chin quivered. “I'm afraid Zack might be involved. He was worried about money, Marla. He'd made some bad investments. I know he felt frantic with a baby on the way and debts to pay. Do you ... think he's capable of harming someone?"

  "You know him better than I do. But I'm surprised. Zack implied you didn’ t know how bad things were. When I visited his office, he said he was expecting a financial windfall. It would allow him to dig himself out of his pit."

  "What windfall? Surely you don't think he meant Aunty Bertha's inheritance? Oh dear, he knew the terms of her will. And I have no idea where he went that night, but it could have been your salon."

  "You didn't share this with Detective Vail, did you?"

  A look of misery crossed Wendy's face. “No, and I suppose that means he can accuse me of being an accomplice."