Nancy J. Cohen - Bad Hair Day 04 - Body Wave

by Body Wave

  Vail snorted. "Don't you find it hard to believe he heard nothing while his wife was attacked?"

  Marla faced him, refusing to be intimidated by the stubborn thrust to his jaw. Tall and imposing in a sport coat and tie, he wore an authoritative air that fit as tautly as his jacket. "Not if Kimberly had let someone she knew into the house. Since the door was unlocked, that seems logical."

  "Have you considered that Stan is playing upon your sympathies, and through you, he hopes to throw me off track?"

  Marla smirked at the absurdity of the notion that Dalton could be thrown off track. "You? You're like a bloodhound running after a piece of fresh meat, never put off from the scent. He's afraid, Dalton. The evidence looks bad against him, and he knows it. He wouldn't have asked for my help otherwise." She returned the miniature car to the shelf. "If you brought Stan in this morning, why did it take so long for him to call me? I didn't hear from him until three o'clock. He's lucky I was home; Monday is normally my day to run errands."

  "Processing a crime scene takes time, and so does questioning a suspect. His attorney didn't make it easy for us."

  She noted the gleam in his eyes. "I'll bet you enjoyed interrogating him."

  "The man hasn't treated you well. I did him a favor by letting you into the cell block."

  "No, you didn't. You're hoping I've learned something new. Stan suspects one of Kimberly's relatives may have bumped her off to inherit her share of the family fortune. You'll be speaking to them, I presume."

  "I'll question anyone associated with the deceased. That's my job, remember? Not yours. What did Kaufman want you for, honey?"

  Marla was so taken aback by his use of the endearment, mostly because she felt he meant it, that an answer tumbled from her lips. "He wants me to find Kimberly's killer," she said, stopping herself before she blurted out the rest of Stan's scheme. "What about friends and neighbors? I really don't know much about their life together."

  He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed perceptively. "I don't either, not yet. I'll attend the funeral to see who shows up."

  "I suppose you'll canvas the area to see if any of the neighbors noticed strangers in the vicinity."

  "I know my duties, thanks. Why do I have the feeling you've got something up your sleeve? You've given me that same look before, and I don't like it."

  Uncomfortable from standing in one place for so long, Marla crossed the room to lean on his desk. "I owe him, Dalton. I don't expect you to understand, but I feel an obligation to the man. He was there for me when I needed him, and now it's his turn."

  Vail groaned, passing a hand over his face. "Oh no, he's got you wrapped around his little finger like ribbon on a package. Well, I need you, too. Brianna's thirteenth birthday is in March. When are you going to help me plan her party like you promised?"

  "I've been meaning to check into different places around town. Did your daughter mention how many kids will be coming?"

  His face folded into a perplexed frown. "The list tops thirty and keeps growing. A lot of her friends are having fancy affairs for their bat mitzvahs, so Brie wants to do something different from an ordinary party. In the meantime, next week is your birthday. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty that night. We'll meet Arnie and Jill at the restaurant." His voice lowered. "February fourteenth is Valentine's Day. That makes it special for us."

  "Yeah, I'll be thirty-five. Another year older."

  "That's not what I mean."

  "Oh? Tell me more."

  "You'll see when the time comes."

  Marla swallowed. Going undercover to investigate Kimberly's death beckoned as a more appealing option than dealing with Dalton's hints. If her intuition was right, she wasn't the only one with something up her sleeve.

  "Stan wouldn't look so spiffy in prison garb," she said to change the subject. "I'd hate to see him convicted if he's innocent, so I hope you'll keep an open mind where he's concerned. I assume you're planning to keep me informed about your progress on the case."

  "That depends."

  She could swear his tightened lips were stifling a smile. "On what?"

  "On my progress with you, sweetcakes."

  * * *

  *Chapter Two*

  Marla decided to visit Leah Kaufman before the police interviewed her. She wanted to assess the woman's reaction to the news of Kim's death, and this afternoon held no other plans except for completing chores. Thus when Marla exited the police station, she steered her white Toyota Camry toward Coral Springs, where Leah lived.

  Fifteen minutes later, Marla glanced at the address she'd copied from a phone book at the gas station. Leah's house should be down a side street just past the City Center, off Coral Springs Drive. Getting lost cost her another ten minutes. The turnoff for Leah's residential development was just before Wiles Road, and she'd gone too far. When she finally identified the correct house number, her heart quickened. A brick red Chevrolet Lumina sat in the driveway.

  Marla emerged into the cool February air, wishing she'd brought a jacket to wear over her olive cashmere sweater and khaki pants. A cold spell had lowered temperatures into the fifties. Her lips pursed as she strode the short distance to Leah's front door. While she liked the seasonal change in wardrobe, her body preferred warmer climates. Winters where the thermostat stayed around seventy degrees, as they often did in this part of Florida, were preferable. Under those conditions, she could enjoy the balmy sea breezes while others endured frigid weather up north.

  A single step brought her to the front door. It was adorned by a half-moon crystalline glass insert guarded by cobwebs. The white ranch-style house had midnight blue shutters that matched the door of a two-car garage. Landscaping consisted of ixora hedges with bright crimson blossoms. _Red, white, and blue: how patriotic._ She rang the doorbell, shifting her handbag to the other shoulder. Although she'd met Leah a couple of times, this was her first visit to the woman's house.

  "Who's there?" cried a female voice from inside.

  "Marla Shore." In case Leah didn't remember her, she added, "I want to talk to you about Stanley."

  Leah swung the door open. Her charcoal eyes regarded Marla with surprise. "Hey, there. I suppose you'd better come inside. We're letting the cold air into the house." Leah patted the apron she wore over a shift dress. Exhaustion showed in dark circles marring her pale complexion.

  _You could use a deep-conditioning treatment_, Marla thought, observing Leah's limp layers of short auburn hair. She stepped gingerly around a tricycle parked in the front hallway, while shrieks of children's laughter rang in the background. "Am I interrupting your dinner preparations?" she asked, sniffing the spicy aroma of spaghetti sauce.

  "The pot is simmering. What's this all about?"

  Marla faced her. Nearly an inch and a half taller, she was dismayed to feel their difference in height was more due to Leah's slumped posture and dejected manner than to skeletal structure. _Oh joy, wait until she hears what I have to say!_

  "Uh, how are the kids?" she asked, to delay the inevitable. Her glance swept the Chinese motif furnishings in the living room. Most outstanding was an ebony lacquered screen with mother-of-pearl inlays depicting Japanese ladies in kimonos chatting by a gazebo. Their porcelain faces held more life than Leah's wan expression. She'd looked better the last time Marla had seen her, right after her divorce from Stan about two years ago. Were times that tough that she seemed so downtrodden?

  Leah gave a small smile. "Keith is fine. He's in third grade this year, and Emily is in first. That helps me a great deal since I don't get out of work until three o'clock."

  "I see." Marla shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Does Stan ever see them?"

  Leah grunted. "He comes by, but it's not often enough. Look, I can spare a few minutes to sit down. Would you like a drink? I'd just poured myself a glass of merlot."

  "That would be great, thanks." Marla sat in an armchair and waited patiently. She heard voices, presumably from the kitchen, where Leah must have been quieting her kids.

&nb
sp; A few moments later, Leah returned, wineglasses in hand. The two children followed, and she introduced them. Keith looked like a younger version of his father, with black hair and hazel eyes. Emily had an angelic face framed by a halo of reddish gold hair. Both of them wore _schmattes,_ clothing Marla would have consigned to the local rummage sale.

  "Finish your game in the family room," Leah advised them. Obediently, they scampered off. After handing Marla her glass, she sat on a weave-patterned sofa.

  "They're beautiful children," Marla began. Crossing her legs, she sipped her wine. The fruity liquid slid down her throat, leaving an astringent aftertaste.

  "Stan has always been good about child support payments," Leah admitted, clutching her goblet, "but it's never enough when you have two kids to raise. I need health insurance and other benefits, plus I contribute toward my mother's support. It's been a struggle."

  "Does Stan share custody?"

  "He didn't request custody, said it would crimp his style. I think Kimberly was the one who didn't want the burden."

  Diving into the opening, Marla said gently, "Kimberly is dead. Someone killed her early this morning."

  Leah stared at her, eyes intent like a seagull searching for prey. "Are you for real?"

  Marla nodded. "Stan's been arrested. The cops discovered him bending over her body, his pajamas covered with blood. Stan claims he came downstairs and saw her lying there. He turned her over to see if he could help her, but she'd been stabbed. I'm so sorry, Leah, but I felt it would be better for you to hear the news from me rather than a stranger."

  "I don't believe it. Stan wouldn't kill anyone," Leah murmured, her eyes glazed. "Kimberly ... dead? How horrible!" A few moments of heavy silence passed before Leah spoke again. "I can't say her departure saddens me."

  "I understand how you must feel," Marla said soothingly. "Kim was a thorn in my side, too. Stan and I owned some property together, and he kept pressuring me to sell so he could use the proceeds to move. Kimberly wanted a house on the water."

  Sharing confidences might encourage Leah to talk. Sipping her drink, she waited for the woman's response.

  "Kim had been his secretary, you know. I popped into the office one day and caught them doing it on Stan's desk. My dreams for the future evaporated in that instant."

  "How so?" Marla leaned forward.

  Leah averted her gaze. "I'd always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. College was just a means to an end for me. I didn't expect to work the rest of my life. Stan and I were a good match. He handled our finances, made the major decisions. I didn't want to manage those details, so I was glad he took charge."

  "You complemented each other," Marla said. It hadn't been that way between her and Stan. When she'd met him, it was just after Tammy's death. Marla had been a nineteen-year-old babysitter when the toddler she was watching drowned in a backyard swimming pool. She'd panicked when the girl's parents threatened to press charges. Stan was a member of the law firm Marla had consulted. Her vulnerability appealed to his need for dominance, and they'd been attracted to each other like positive and negative ions.

  Rising from a pit of self-recrimination, Marla strove to prove herself a worthy individual. That wasn't possible under Stan's demeaning influence. She'd found redemption by attending cosmetology school, opening her own salon, and working for the child-drowning-prevention coalition. As she regained self-esteem, Stan's dictates lost their power to sway her.

  "The best thing I ever did was to leave Stan," she confessed, placing her empty wineglass on a table. "It must've been terribly difficult for you, especially with the children."

  Leah, who'd been lost in her own memories, lifted eyes blazing with animosity. "I hated Kimberly. That bitch stole my husband and ruined our marriage. Life will never be the same."

  "I think Stan is telling the truth. He said the front door was unlocked, and Kim might have let in someone she knew. Do you have any idea who might have had reason to kill her?"

  Leah's mouth curved in a wicked grin. "Other than me? Her death leaves my children as Stan's main beneficiaries. If he doesn't remarry, that is."

  Marla snorted. "Ha, I wouldn't count on it. Stan's an easy one to criticize others, but he doesn't recognize his own failings. If you ask me, I think he's afraid to admit he's growing older. You'll see, he'll shack up with someone younger than Kimberly next."

  "He'd better not! Stan visits the children once a month," Leah said, answering Marla's earlier question. "He tells them about adventure trips he's taken: white-water rafting, hiking the Appalachian Trail, skiing in the Alps. We should have had the money he spent on those extravagances!"

  "So the man likes to live dangerously."

  "He holds on to his youth, like you said. My kids need a father who is around for them. If not for Kimberly -- " Her voice cracked, and she halted.

  "It takes two people to tango," Marla said quietly. "Stan let himself be seduced. If not Kimberly, another woman might have come along."

  "Maybe so, but I still blame her. A decent woman wouldn't get involved with a married man." A triumphant gleam entered her eyes. "Kim got what she deserved."

  "Did you ever meet any of Kim's family?" Marla relaxed against the upholstery, feeling light-headed from the wine. Food would be welcome, she thought to herself, salivating at the aroma of cooking onions and peppers.

  Leah finished her drink and put her glass next to Marla's. Rising, she stretched. "I heard they were wealthy, but I never encountered her relatives. Why would I?"

  Marla shrugged, then rose to face Leah's shorter figure. "I told Stan I'd ask around to learn if someone had a motive."

  Leah propped her hands on her hips. "Wait a minute, how do you know all this if Stan was arrested?"

  "He called me, and I went to the station. I was allowed to see him in his cell. I'd helped the police with a couple of cases before," she added for an explanation.

  "So I'm the first person you chose to interview?" Leah's brows furrowed angrily.

  "You and I were closest to him, Leah. I felt I should tell you about Kim's death."

  "Does Stan feel I had anything to do with it?"

  "No, of course not. He doesn't even know I'm here."

  Leah glared at her. "I'm not sure if I should be grateful or upset by your visit."

  "I was hoping you could help me."

  Leah edged toward the door, signaling an end to their conversation. "You might want to talk to Gary Waterford. He was dating Kim when she took up with Stan. Gary wasn't happy that she chose to leave him for richer prospects. I think he runs an air-conditioning business down in Dania."

  "Okay, thanks."

  A loud shriek came from the back of the house followed by a crash and a prolonged wail.

  Leah's jaw tightened. "Now what?"

  "You've got enough to keep you busy," Marla commented. "I appreciate your taking the time to see me."

  Leah swung open the front door and gave her an appraising glance. "Yeah, well, Kim couldn't have chosen a more convenient time to die."

  "Huh?" Marla stepped over the threshold.

  "Never mind. Kindly give Stan my regards and tell him to come see the kids when he gets out of the clinker."

  "Sure. Please say good-bye to the children for me." Her gaze shifted inadvertently. "And if you have some free time, drop by my salon. I'll give you a complementary cut."

  On the way home, she reviewed their dialogue. All she'd learned was that Leah hated Kimberly for the woman's intrusion into her idyllic life. Leah and Stan had been perfectly suited for each other. Too bad Stan's inadequacies had kept him from recognizing that fact. Apparently, his will named their children as his beneficiaries after Kim. How convenient for Leah that Kim had dropped out of the picture. As for Leah's last remark, maybe that's what she meant.

  Marla would have to talk to Gary Waterford another day. Spooks was home waiting for her to let him outside, plus she was hungry. Stan had promised to call tomorrow regarding the nurse's aide position, assuming his arraignment
took place as expected. So there was nothing more she could do about this affair tonight. Today had been an emotionally exhausting episode. She needed to recover her equilibrium before showing up for work in the morning.

  Spooks greeted her with wild barking. She stroked the poodle's cream-colored hair until he calmed, then she let him outside. Her meal consisted of a heated meat-loaf dinner in front of the TV. Newscasters made brief mention of the murder in East Fort Lauderdale of a prominent attorney's wife. Stanley Kaufman had been detained by the police for questioning, although he claimed an intruder was responsible. Marla cringed when his name was mentioned, imagining the smear on his reputation. Unpleasant memories surfaced of her own ordeal after Tammy drowned, and she vowed to help clear his name.

  Deciding to do the dishes later, Marla let Spooks back inside before calling her mother. Anita lived in a housing development about fifteen minutes away.