by Body Wave
"I didn't win any friends, but at least I was able to learn some new facts in the case." She gulped a sip of hot coffee. "Miriam didn't get along with her granddaughter. The sisters don't get along with each other, and Stella wants some family albums that are in Stanley's possession. Florence said something about Kim messing in things she didn't understand."
"Meaning?" Nicole licked a crumb off her mouth, a simple gesture as refined as the rest of her. Wearing a long-skirted jumper dress, she carried her tall, lithe figure with feline grace.
"I don't have a clue," Marla replied, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "She planned to leave Stan, but I don't think that's what Florence meant."
Nicole's eyes widened. "Why would she leave him if he was her sugar daddy?"
"Gary Waterford said Stan didn't treat Kim right. He implied Stan might react violently if he knew her plans."
"Did Stan mention this to you?"
"Of course not. It might give him a motive, although I've never known Stan to act physically in anger. He has a temper, but he lets loose his tongue, not his hand."
"Huh. What does Detective Vail think?"
"I haven't spoken to him. I tried to reach him yesterday but got his machine. I left a voice message, and he hasn't called back." She heard the forlorn note in her voice but couldn't help it. Apparently, Dalton wasn't interested in hearing her news.
Nicole tossed out their empty paper plates. "What's your next move?"
Marla scanned the shelves for the tube of Framesi color she required for her next customer. Spotting the right shade, she brought it to the sink. She squeezed the coloring agent into a bowl, added developer, and mixed the solution with a stiff brush.
"I tracked down Lacey Mills, who was Kim's friend. Gary gave me her name, but I'm not supposed to mention that I met him. I'm buying her drinks after work at Pebbles. The restaurant bar shouldn't be crowded on a Tuesday."
"If you learn anything exciting, you can tell Detective Vail tomorrow night. I'll bet he's waiting until he sees you in person to compare notes. In the meantime, good luck with Lacey!"
* * * *
When six-thirty rolled around, Marla found herself hanging at the restaurant bar watching for Kim's friend.
"Are you Marla Shore?" asked a twenty-something dyed blonde who wore her hair in an attractive layered cut. She flaunted her generous assets in a cashmere sweater and jeans that fit so snug they looked about to burst. "I'm Lacey."
Marla shook her hand, then indicated a pair of empty stools. They gave their drink orders before she got down to business. "I used to be married to Stanley Kaufman," she said bluntly. "I understand you were a friend of his late wife, Kim."
The girl's tawny eyes narrowed. "We were best buddies. I didn't notice you at her funeral."
"I'd only met her a few times. We weren't ... on the friendliest of terms."
"So I gathered, from whenever she spoke about you."
An awkward silence passed, during which time the bartender supplied their drinks. Marla had ordered a bushwhacker, her favorite alcoholic beverage. The cool, coffee-flavored liquid slid down her throat while she fumbled for a new opening.
"Stan asked me to help him," she admitted finally.
"Why?"
"I owe him one for old time's sake. He thinks I can find Kim's killer. I've helped the police solve cases a couple times before."
Lacey arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you a hairdresser?"
Marla nodded. "I know a lot of people around town, and they talk to me. Like you're doing now. Can you tell me about Kim's relationship to Stan?"
Lacey jiggled her hips, adjusting her seat. Marla noticed several male patrons glancing their way with interest. "She planned to leave him."
"I know that, because Ga -- " Marla swallowed. She'd been about to say Gary's name. "Gathered as much from what her aunt said," she continued lamely. Oh gosh, she probably shouldn't have mentioned Florence, either. Lacey would wonder where they'd met. "Was Stan aware of her plans?"
"Heck, no, unless she told him. I don't think she'd be so dumb."
"What went wrong?"
"Stan didn't understand her, but it was partially her fault. Kimberly didn't realize what he was really like until it was too late."
"At least she had you to confide in. You were a good friend to stick by her."
Lacey clenched her beer glass. "I knew where she was coming from and where she wanted to go. Stan tried to control her spending. That was a bad move to make."
Marla grabbed a few peanuts from a dish on the counter. "How so?" she said, munching.
Lacey gave her an appraising glance. "Why do you care so much what happened to Kim? She said you were a selfish bitch who wouldn't sell a piece of property he co-owned with you."
"I need the income from my share. Stan just wanted to sell it to buy a bigger house because Kimberly wasn't happy where they lived."
"It wasn't a good neighborhood for her."
"Tell me she was not spoiled by her wealthy background. I heard she couldn't wait for her trust fund, and that's why she married Stan. Do you think she would've been satisfied with anything less than a beachfront mansion?"
"Kim had aspirations. You don't understand, just like Stan didn't."
"So explain to me. If I could get an inkling about her life, it might help me figure out who had reason to harm her." _Besides Stan,_ she thought to herself. Would he have reacted violently if Kim confessed she was leaving him? Did he even know she had been planning that? "You do want to see that justice is done, don't you? I mean, if you cared about Kim, you'll help me find who killed her."
"I might have done it myself if someone hadn't beaten me to it," Lacey muttered.
"What's that?" Marla leaned forward.
"Look, if I tell you what I know, you'll report to the cops that I had nothing to do with her murder, okay?"
Marla's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Are you saying things weren't all that rosy between you?"
"We were best friends, darlin'. We disagreed on certain issues, that's all." Her pointed glance told Marla she'd better stay on safer turf or their conversation would be over.
"Tell me about Kim. What did she do after finishing high school?"
Lacey brushed back a strand of wavy hair. "She made it through one semester at Broward Community College but didn't have the patience to stay in school. She got a job at a bank, eager to earn money, but Stella hadn't prepared her for real life. She didn't like waking up every morning to work at a mediocre job. Marriage became something Kim saw as a way out, but only if she snagged a rich man. When her grandmother stopped her allowance, Stan seemed like the answer to her dreams."
"Go on." Marla wondered about the hard edge in Lacey's tone. Had Stan been the source of contention between two friends?
Lacey's attention wandered to a couple of men who hovered nearby, casting suggestive glances their way. They appeared to be typical yuppies wearing business suits and uniform haircuts.
"At first, Kim was really happy," Lacey continued, redirecting her attention to Marla. "She liked staying home as a housewife. She redecorated their house, planned dinner parties, and played tennis twice a week. She'd just started a new hobby, tracing her genealogy. She was totally taken aback when Stan cracked down."
"I can imagine." Memories surfaced of her own dismay when Stan took control of her life. At first she'd welcomed his overprotective nature. She had needed someone to care for her after Tammy's tragic accident. But when her ego began to rise from the ashes, she realized Stan had restricted her activities to solely waiting on him.
"Kim said it was the last straw when he put limits on her shopping. She retaliated by racking up charges on their credit cards. Stan could be really nasty, and he took her car in for repairs and never brought it home."
"That was pretty drastic," Marla agreed.
Lacey lowered her voice. "She was afraid of him, Marla. He even checked their Caller ID to see who'd phoned her during the day. Desperation made Kim consider her future more seri
ously. Like her mother, she had a flair for design. I picked her up one day, and we went to the School of Arts and Design. She registered for classes. No matter how long it took, she was determined to leave Stan."
"How did she go to classes if she had no car?"
"Kim made a case for staying in shape. She said her figure would fill out if she skipped her tennis games. Stan believed her and returned her car. He thought she was going to the club when she went to class. The jerk kept bugging her, though, so Kim decided to walk out on him before he cut off her funds. Gary warned her to be careful."
"Gary?"
"Gary Waterford. He's ... a mutual friend."
"I see. Why did he warn her?"
"He feared Stan's reaction. Stan is the type of man who regards his wife as a trophy. He wouldn't take kindly to Kim's abandonment when he felt he owned her."
"I left him. He didn't hurt me, not physically at least."
"But did he ever really give up on you?"
Marla lifted the bushwacker glass to her lips, her movements jerky. "He kept harassing me to sell our property and persisted in telling me how much I needed him."
"See? He would never have let Kimberly go free. She was the type of woman he'd always wanted."
_Oh yeah? Better her than me!_
"Hey, guys. Wanna buy us a round of drinks?" Lacey called, winking at the two men ogling them.
"I have to go," Marla said, handing Lacey a business card. "If you think of anything to add, please give me a call."
During the drive home, she contemplated the various relationships. Either Gary hadn't left off his relationship with Kim when she'd met Stan, or else they'd started seeing each other again after her marriage. Had Kim gotten in touch with Gary at some point, and if so, why hadn't he mentioned it to her?
Lacey claimed Gary was a mutual friend. Just how close were Lacey and the repair man? How intimate had he been with Kim after they'd resumed their acquaintance? Gary had implied Lacey would be jealous if she knew he'd spoken about Kim. Did that mean Lacey was interested in him? Could it be possible both women had set their hearts on the same man? If so, that could have fueled Lacey's resentment.
Kim's classmates might shed more light on her personal ambitions. Gripping the steering wheel, Marla turned north on Pine Island Road. When would she have time to see them? Most likely not until the weekend. After work tomorrow, she had to meet Dalton for her birthday dinner. Turning thirty-five meant climbing another rung on the ladder of life. At least she had that chance, she thought gratefully, saying a silent prayer for Kimberly.
* * * *
Arriving at the salon the next morning at nine, Marla stopped short inside the entrance. Coal black fabric draped the walls, and silver and black balloons floated from the ceiling.
"Surprise!" rang out her staff members, all of whom had dressed appropriately for the occasion in mournful attire.
"What is this?" she cried, laughter bubbling in her throat and mingling with tears.
"Happy Birthday, Marla!" Nicole, grinning broadly, presented her with a wooden walking stick. The curved handle held a horn with a squeeze ball, a magnifying glass that was supposed to be a rearview mirror, a rabbit's foot, and a sign: CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'RE OVER THE HILL.
"Hey, guys, I'm only thirty-five," Marla wailed.
"Arnie's bringing bagels," Nicole said, wearing a black cape from last year's Halloween costume. "We purposely didn't schedule any appointments until ten, not that you noticed."
"I guess my mind has been elsewhere." She greeted her other staff members, overwhelmed when they showered her with gifts. Her smile quivered when Arnie pushed through the door carrying a huge tray of bagels and pastries.
"Breakfast is on me!" He kissed Marla on the cheek before setting down his load on the coffee table. "I'll be right back. I have something for you." He rushed out, returning moments later to thrust a gift bag in her face. "Here, you'll enjoy this. Jillian sends her regards."
"What? Dalton and I are meeting you tonight. Why -- ?"
"Work calls. See ya." Arnie backed out, a wide grin on his mustached countenance.
She glanced inside the bag, delighted to see a bottle of Kendall-Jackson chardonnay, a package of Starbucks ground coffee, and a box of marzipan candies shaped like fruits. Yum, her favorite treats!
"Here's something from all of us," said Nicole.
Marla opened the envelope. It was a gift certificate for The Pelican Watch, a multilevel waterfront restaurant known for its prime seafood, intimate seating arrangements, and spectacular view of the Intracoastal. On the top floor was a dancing and dessert room popular with the singles crowd. Marla had dined at the restaurant a couple times with Stan, but it was no longer in her budget.
"This says it's good for their Valentine's Day special," she noted, confused. "That's tonight."
Nicole beamed at her. "Dalton made a reservation for the two of you. You've had a change of plans."
"But we were supposed to meet Arnie and Jill. Does this mean -- ?"
"You got it, girlfriend. A romantic dinner for two."
_Oh joy._ "Did my mother put you up to this?"
Giorgio piped in from across the room. "We thought of it all on our own. That detective is hot for you. Somebody had to make a move to put you in the mood."
Marla should have felt indignant, but as she greeted her first client and proceeded through the day's schedule, all she could think about was being alone with Vail. When a couple of deliveries arrived, her excitement increased. One was a huge bouquet of two dozen red roses in a crystal vase. The note read, _Happy birthday. See you tonight. Yours, Dalton._
Those simple words fired her hormones until she couldn't wait to run home and prepare. Tally's thoughtful gift made her wonder how many of her friends had conspired regarding tonight's plans: she gasped with pleasure when she saw the short black and silver lace cocktail dress by Amazone. Its low-cut sweetheart neckline was sure to provide a generous view of her cleavage. _For this evening,_ her friend's note said. _Some risks are worth taking. Love, Tally._
Oh God. Why did she feel like she was being manipulated? _Because you are,_ Marla told herself. Not that she was angry with her friends. She'd needed this kick in the pants to decide where things were going with Vail. But why now, when he was in the middle of a case involving Stan?
Why ever? She confronted her feelings during the drive home. _Let's face it, Marla, you've been avoiding the issue. It's easier seeing him on a casual basis without any real commitment on your part, but he wants more from you. How much more are you willing to give?_
She hadn't wanted to become involved with another man after Stan. Her road to independence had been long and hard, and she valued her freedom. How delightful to come home after work and grab whatever she wanted to eat without worrying about fixing elaborate meals for another. Yet hadn't she told Vail she wanted to cook for him and Brianna one night? Didn't the thought of serving him her favorite brisket dish and herbed garlic potatoes bring her pleasure? Yes, because she wanted to bring _him_ pleasure, she realized with surprise. Her heart went out to the lonely man and his daughter who had no woman to care for them. Perhaps this was the difference between Vail and Stan. She'd needed Stan, whereas the reverse was true with Vail. He needed her, and that made her heart rate accelerate.
Damn, she hadn't wanted children, either. Yet she was becoming increasingly fond of Brianna since she'd started driving the girl to dance class. When she shed her bratty manner, the preteen could be downright vulnerable. Marla was supposed to help plan her thirteenth birthday, and she'd been neglecting this duty. Was it her way of avoiding the issue with Vail as well?
Knowing she'd have to come up with some answers by tonight made her a nervous wreck while she showered and dressed. Diamond stud earrings perfectly complemented her attire. She put them in before fixing her hair in what she called seductress style, using a curling iron to create soft twists that framed her face. Her hand shook when she applied Plum Brandy lipstick by Clinique. Slidin
g her stockinged feet into black leather heels, she squirted herself with Obsession, then pronounced herself ready.
The doorbell rang, and she glanced at the clock. It was only 7:15! He was early, but it didn't matter. She snatched up her purse and flung open the front door.
Stan faced her, a smug look on his face. He'd dressed in a suit, and his hair was slicked back in its usual suave style. "Happy birthday!" he called, thrusting out a gift-wrapped package.
Marla's heart sank. "I'm expecting company. This isn't a good time."
He shouldered his way inside. "Did you think I would forget? You're being kind enough to help me, so it's entirely appropriate for me to think of you in return."