"Yes?” she answered.
"Todd Kravitz here. I need to see you. How about coming over to my place after work?” His words slurred, as though he'd been drinking.
Her heart thudded in her chest “Why? What's happened?"
"I can't tell you on the phone."
Marla glanced at Lucille, who had a look of avid interest on her face. “Uh, I can meet you, but I'd rather go to the same place as before. Shall we say the same time, too?"
"Oh. Okay. See ya later, babe."
She hung up, dreading the prospect of spending time in his despicable company. Maybe he'd be able to tell her if Roy knew about the porno magazines. That would make their talk worthwhile.
Feeling her margin of time was narrowing, she headed for the Strip after dark with a sense of urgency dogging her heels. Todd was waiting for her in the nightclub at a corner table.
Marla slid into the opposite seat, wrinkling her nose at the mingled smells of cigarette smoke and liquor. From the empty beer bottles on the table, she surmised he was on his third drink. His aim was suffering, she noticed with a wry smile, surveying a couple of stains on his rumpled shirt.
"What did you tell the cops about me?” he demanded without preamble. His bleary eyes regarded her angrily.
No wonder she'd been blind to his identity. His disheveled appearance had aged him considerably and filled out his fine-boned features past the point of recognition.
"I spoke to the photographer, Todd,” she said, ignoring his question. “At first, I didn't realize you were the man who ... I'd worked with in the past. But you recognized me at your mother's funeral, didn't you?"
"Huh.” Stroking his stubbled chin, he regarded her warily.
"Why didn't you remind me who you were then ... or later, when we met here?"
"You would have remembered me if you'd come back to my place, babe. I would have made sure of that"
To emphasize his point, he sidled closer. His hand disappeared under the table to stroke her thigh in a decidedly northern direction. With a shudder, she brushed him off. “Fat chance."
Not to be dissuaded, Todd grinned. “You need to loosen up. You'd enjoy yourself, babe."
"Forget it. What were you asking about the cops?"
Giving a furtive glance around the room, he dug a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “Let's take a hike. You never know who's listening in here."
Yeah, right. Are you just trying to get me alone, pal? Marla wasn't thrilled to follow him outside, but she complied nonetheless. Maybe he'd be more communicative in the wide-open space. The evening air was warm and humid, tinged with a salty sea breeze and the hint of an approaching storm. Lightning flashed in the distance, the squall being too far away for thunder to reach her ears. They walked along the beachside path, dodging other passersby.
Todd plowed stiff fingers through his stringy hair. His blond roots were no longer visible. He must have had it colored since she'd seen him last.
"Why do you do it, Todd?” she asked curiously.
His resentful glare raised her hackles. “It's a means of making a living. Just how much do you know, anyway?"
She detected a hint of menace in his tone but forged on. “I meant your hair. Why dye it black instead of a lighter color? That's the way I would go to cover the gray."
He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You've got it wrong; I'm not so vain. I don't want certain parties to recognize me."
Halting, she stared at him. “What?"
"You didn't mark me right away. That's why I go for the hair job. Wouldn't want all the gals siccing their husbands on me, ya know? At least I wasn't doing you, babe. That was my mother's pleasure."
"Dear Lord. You mean you're blackmailing other former models like me?” She'd suspected as much, but from Bertha's viewpoint. Now that she thought about it, Todd was the more logical choice. He'd been the model, after all. And he was the link between the photographer and printer.
Resuming their pace, she tried to clarify the jumbled thoughts in her mind. “Your mother said she got my photos when she went to the photographer for boudoir pictures. Yet, the photographer said she'd never been there. You're the one who bought the photos. So how did she end up with them?"
He bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “I brought home a batch of photos, and my mother saw them. She'd always scorned my means of making money, but this time she realized the opportunities for herself. She took the ones of you to get some personal services for free. I began ripping off other models like you who'd retired. With her publishing background, my mother thought up the idea of starting a subsidiary venture using current pictures. The magazine was mostly her ball game. I just acted as intermediary."
"Was Roy Collins in on it?"
"Nope. Ma and I made all the money, minus the cuts for the other guys involved, of course. You know Vail came to my house with a search warrant?"
Her brows raised in surprise. “He didn't say anything to me. What was he looking for?"
"You tell me.” He turned to face her, gripping her shoulders. Suddenly Marla realized they'd reached an empty stretch of territory. Cars crawled past on Route A1A, but there weren't any walkers up that far. Smart girl, she'd let herself get into a compromising situation. A few steps away, the sandy beach met the water. Would anyone notice if Todd became violent?
"Detective Vail brought me in for questioning,” she said, a defiant gleam in her eyes. “He'd found the original prints of our photos. He wondered if Bertha was blackmailing me because then I'd have a motive to want her out of the way."
"Did you kill her?” His grip tightened.
Shaking him off, Marla snorted.’ ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. Bertha intended to publish her memoirs. Weren't you afraid she'd expose your blackmailing scheme? Not to mention those stolen goods you fence."
"How'd you find out about that?” he growled. “Vail discovered my stash."
"Someone else told me,” she said, thinking of Zack. “So how come he didn't arrest you?"
"I didn't kill my mother.” His eyes glittered in the reflection from the streetlights. “Someone else got to her first, or I might have done it. Vail wasn't after me. He wanted information. But he's busted my job, babe. Like he confiscated all of my stuff and told me he'd be watching me. I'm finished, and I have you to thank for it."
He edged closer, his gaze glinting with malice. She could smell his beer-laden breath and see the pulse throbbing at his throat. Fear rushed her like a tidal wave. “You don't want to hurt me, Todd,” she said, keeping her voice even.
"No, I want to have you, babe.” He grasped her arms, jerking her against his body. “I've remembered how you felt beside me, your skin soft and supple. The way you squirmed in my arms for the camera, I knew you wanted me. Well, you can have me now.” His mouth descended, his kiss erasing her protest.
Marla struggled in his grip but he held fast, his strength laced with liquor and fueled by lust. Refusing to be subjugated to his will, she stomped on his instep. At his howl of pain, she broke free.
"Give it up, Todd. I don't want you now ... or ever. If you don't leave me alone, I'll be the one who blows the whistle on you next."
Taking a chance, she turned her back on him and strode away. Her heart raced and her blood beat a staccato rhythm in her neck. As she quickened her pace, her footfalls sounded like a tap dance on the pavement. She dared not look back, or he might take it as a signal to pursue her. What a slimeball. To think he believed she lusted after him! A quiver of revulsion shook her spine as she hurried toward a more populated area.
Back home, it took a steaming hot shower and twenty minutes of scrubbing to erase the feel of his touch from her skin. Scooping Spooks into her arms after dressing in her nightshirt, she stroked his soft creamy hair. He gave a low growl, lifting his long throat so she could pet its sensitive underside. The repetitive motions, along with his warmth snuggled close to her body, brought her comfort.
That night brought her troubled dreams, howe
ver. Bertha's face floated in the water of a shampoo sink, her eyes mildly accusing. Dark fluid dribbled from a corner of her mouth. Her strands of thinning hair twisted like tentacles, gyrating about her head as though alive.
Suddenly, Marla was in her viewpoint, seeing with her eyes. She caught sight of naked bodies writhing on the salon floor, a man and a woman entwined in each other's embrace. The woman glanced up, and she had Marla's features. The man's countenance wasn't clear, but he had dark hair ... peppered with gray. Naturally colored, not dyed.
Jerking awake, Marla sat up in bed. Her sheets were strewn at her feet, and sunlight streamed past the borders of her drapes. She'd slept well past nine, she noticed, glancing at the battery-run clock. Early for a Sunday but she wasn't surprised. Too much on her mind to sleep peacefully.
As she performed her morning routine, she reflected upon yesterday's talk with Todd. She'd been too weary last night to think about it, but now she believed his assertion that he didn't murder his mother. Guilty of other crimes, he wasn't a killer. So who did that leave? Mentally, she scrolled down the list of suspects during her walk with Spooks.
Stan and Carolyn were out as potential teammates. They might have conspired to destroy her lease, but Carolyn claimed she had nothing to do with Bertha's death. She could be lying, but Marla didn't think so. The woman's attitude was too smug over that one nasty tactic.
Darlene and Roy? They were a distinct possibility. She ‘d call Darlene's number today to see if the girl was in. A visit to Roy's place might be in order, too. She could always consult the gatehouse guard as to when he'd seen Roy last. So far, this investigation seemed to be leading in circles. She hoped Vail was having better results, unless he focused too much of his attention on her.
Scanning the street, she became alert to a black sedan cruising along as though the driver were a stranger to the neighborhood. Oh, shoot. Was Vail having her tailed?
Crossing the road and stepping past a swale of newly mowed grass, she headed home. Spooks cavorted after a squirrel, necessitating a firm yank on his leash. The scent of freshly turned earth rose in her nostrils. Warmed by the sun, her skin bore a light sheen of sweat when she pushed open her front door. Just after she'd unhooked the poodle's leash, the phone rang.
Tally's excited voice squealed in response to her greeting. “I just got a call from Ken in North Carolina. You'll never guess what he's been up to these past few weeks, Marla! Oh, I'm so ashamed of myself."
"Calm down. Explain slowly, please.” Jamming the receiver to her ear, Marla poured herself a glass of orange juice.
"Apparently he'd made a bad investment through an old friend from business school—guess who? Zack Greenfield. To recoup their money, they invested in a risky mining operation which just struck it rich in Franklin. Gemstones, Marla. It's near that Mason's Mine where a three-hundred-twelve-pound ruby was found by Tiffany's. That stone is in the Smithsonian, or so Ken said. His group found a sixty-six-hundred-carat sapphire, uncut weight. I'm just stunned. And to think I believed he was fooling around with another woman."
"I knew he wouldn't be unfaithful, Tally.” Well. Now she knew what Ken and Zack had been conspiring over. Was this the income Zack had expected? She'd bet her bonnet on it if she had one. So where did that leave her investigation?
"What about the surprise you were planning?” she asked her friend. “Remember, your plan to confront him over his avoidance behavior?"
Tally laughed. “He didn't want me to find out he was such an idiot! I'm going to take him on anyway. We've both been too wrapped up in work and other activities. It's time we were alone together to air things out My plan is to kidnap him for some preplanned vacation fun on a cruise."
"Sounds great! I'm so happy everything is turning out all right.” For Tally, that is. Not far me.
"Oh, there's one more thing I forgot to mention. Remember those tiny sapphire earrings he gave me for my birthday last September? They were the wrong kind—screw-backs instead of pierced—and I'd meant to have them reset? Well, he said not to bother. He's got replacements, and they're much more impressive."
"That's swell, Tally.” Marla heard her own voice as though from a distance. A suppressed memory had risen to the surface of her consciousness and was clanging in her mind like an alarm. An earring ... why was that so important?
Forcing a farewell to her lips, Marla hung up. One more step in the process of elimination was required. Placing a quick call to Wendy, she asked, “Has Zack contacted you or returned from his weekend trip? Did you have a chance to talk to him about where he went the night before your aunt died?"
"Oh, Marla.” Wendy's voice shook with emotion. “The most fabulous thing has happened! Zack's big windfall turned out to be a gem mine in North Carolina. And yes, I asked him where he went that night. He said he'd just been steamed and had gone for a drive. I believe him, Marla. I shouldn't have doubted him."
Marla wished her good luck and replaced the receiver. Conviction shook her with the solidity of rock. She knew. She knew! Denial slammed into her mind, but she forced it back. No, she'd kept this from herself for too long. Now it was time to face her demons.
Betrayal came in one color. One color only. Reddish gold.
Trembling, she punched in the number for Detective Vail's beeper. When five minutes passed and he didn't return the call, she dialed his answering machine at home to leave a message. Her heart pounding against her ribs, she grabbed her purse and dashed out of the town house.
Time was of the essence. If she was right, Bertha was destined to have company in her grave.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 20
Marla approached the sprawling house as though this were the first time she'd seen it. Truthfully, her visits had been limited to the occasional holiday party. Sometimes she invited the staff over to her place, but other times they rotated. It was important for morale to celebrate seasonal rituals together, and Marla was usually the first one to plan a party. She wanted her staff to feel part of a team in order to work amicably with each other. All the more reason why she felt so bad about coming here today. Betrayal didn't sit well in her book. She preferred to take people at face value. So much for my instincts, she thought unhappily. In this case, she'd been wrong. Dead wrong.
Pausing on the front walkway, she surveyed the grounds. Situated in an older section east of Federal Highway, the Mediterranean-style house was surrounded by lush tropical greenery on an acre of land. Brilliant pink bougainvillea mingled with scarlet hibiscus blossoms. Oleanders clustered among black-olive trees and philodendrons. A generous herb garden off to the side rested beside a Key lime tree. Ground cover appeared well mulched and weed-free. Overall, the yard gave an impression of being cared for and tended by a person highly versed in gardening skills. Someone who might have firsthand knowledge of edible as well as poisonous plants.
Marla stepped forward and pressed the doorbell with a stiff finger. She was taking a dangerous risk in coming alone, but it wasn't her way to lay blame without confirming the facts in person. Besides, she'd left a message for Detective Vail telling him to meet her here. If she were right, he'd serve as backup providing he got the voice mail in time.
A small part of her still refused to admit she'd been bamboozled. Possibly, she'd just jumped to erroneous conclusions. That was easier to believe than the alternative: a trusted colleague had tried to harm her.
Dismay filled her gut when Lucille answered the summons. Opening the door, the older woman showed little surprise at Marla's visit. Dressed as though she were expecting guests, she'd swept her reddish gold hair into a knot atop her head. Her attire consisted of a tailored pair of black slacks, a loose overblouse decorated with silver studs, and heeled sandals. Perfume drifted on the air. With a sharp gaze, Marla noticed the tinge of rouge on Lucille's cheeks. She wore no earrings. Her lobes were smooth, absent of any pierced holes.
"Come in, Marla. I was wondering when you'd show up."
Marla strode inside, smooth
ing down her khaki shorts. Sneakers kept her tread silent on the ceramic-tile flooring. “Were you expecting me?” she asked, swinging around to face Lucille. It wouldn't be wise to turn her back on her employee.
Lucille gave her an oblique glance. “I thought you'd have this figured out a long time ago. You weren't so smart, were you?” Smirking, she gestured to the living room. “Take a seat. I'll get you a drink. Then we can talk."
Marla glanced around uneasily while Lucille left the room. Her house was laid out with the bedrooms on one side and the kitchen and family room on the other. If she remembered correctly, the place had three bedrooms. Lucille had renovated the master bathroom so that the marble tub overlooked a pleasant tableau outside with a rock waterfall and large glossy ferns.
"Here, honey, it's my herbal iced tea I've been wanting you to try,” Lucille said, returning with two tall, frosted glasses. Marla's gaze flickered to the yellow-plastic gloves on her hands. “Land's sake, I ran out of clean glassware, so I just washed these."
She handed a glass to Marla and set her own on a cocktail table before returning to the kitchen to remove her gloves. Marla gripped the glass, moisture droplets clinging to its exterior. Cautiously, she sniffed the amber liquid. It lacked any particular fragrance. No bitter almond essence, anyway.
"Go on, taste it,” Lucille urged. She smiled encouragingly, but it was more like a crocodile grin. As though to prove her concoction was harmless, she took a sip from her own glass.
That proves nothing, Marla thought, guarding her expression. She claimed an armchair, placing her drink on a side table. Waving a hand, she indicated the glass. “This wouldn't be sun-brewed tea, would it?” she inquired. “Because someone else you knew drank some homemade tea once and died from poisoning."
The liquids in their glasses looked a like, but Lucille could have poured something different into hers. Narrowing her eyes, she watched Lucille's reaction to her remark. Her plan was to provoke Lucille, to trigger an emotional hot spot so she'd talk. Getting a rise out of her might be the best way.
Permed To Death [Bad Hair Day Mystery 1] Page 22