Color Me Dead

by Constance Barker

  “You do?” The idea was certainly pleasing.

  “I most definitely do.”

  “I’ll put your proposition to a popular vote.”

  “The heck with that. You own the salon. You brought them here. Be a benevolent despot and make them come out for a drink. They’ll love an expedition in the Quarter.”

  “I don’t know, that sounds pretty awful being forced to get out into a famous locale for a free drink. Would that be fair to them?”

  “Fair enough,” he said laughing. “And Pete absolutely has to come. If one of the others makes an excuse you can exercise your judgment, but Pete gets no choice.”

  “What if he and Leander…”

  “He has no choice whatsoever. It’s non negotiable. Tell him I’ll send uniformed cops for him if he refuses.”

  “Why Pete?”

  “It’s all very mysterious. This, after all, is New Orleans.”

  “So it is,” she laughed.

  “So can I count on you carrying out your mission? I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “Getting Pete there, or going to dinner?”

  “Both.”

  “You can be awfully enigmatic at times.”

  “It’s something I learned interviewing suspects.”

  “Okay. I will be there, and with Pete in tow, one way or another.”

  “Excellent. I’m going to text you the place, address and time.”

  I hung up just in time to hear Nellie ask, “He ate all of the dog food? Fine. Now please explain what dog food you are talking about? Why do we, why did we, I mean, have dog food?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh. Okay then.”

  “Trouble?”

  She covered the phone with her hand. “Django the temperamental armadillo isn’t eating. Rudy decided he needed variety in his diet and put out dog food for him. Naturally Django turned up his nose at it.”

  “That’s not a crisis is it?”

  “Naw. The crisis came when they left it in the porch in Django’s bowl. It attracted a brown bear who does eat dog food and in vast quantities. Now they are all sitting inside with the bear waiting for seconds on the back porch.”

  “Django isn’t eating?”

  “Keeping in mind that we’ve been gone less than one day and that I have all this on hearsay, the consensus is that he is on the slippery downhill slide to starvation. The home front has divided opinions as to the cause. Rudy thinks Django misses me and is sulking. The dog food was his idea—it was supposed to be some kind of treat to cheer him up. Aubrey thinks it’s just that he got into the peanut butter and wrecked his appetite.”

  “Peanut butter?”

  “One of the kids left it open. Apparently armadillos have a thing for peanut butter.” Just then the voice on the phone caught her attention again. “You tell your father I said there is absolutely no way,” she said firmly. She looked at me. “Rudy is asking where I hid his ammo. He wants to shoot the bear.”

  “It isn’t threatening anyone is he?”

  “No, it’s just that Rudy says this is why we have a gun—for shooting predators.”

  Once again I didn’t mention the fact that she no longer knew the ammo was either. “He does like to shoot things.”

  Her attention went back to the phone. “Yes, Aubrey that sounds like a good plan. If he even makes a move toward the door you tell him that I said that if he even shows the bear one of his guns, if he even tells the bear he has one, when I get home I will lower the boom on what’s left of him. Yes, after the bear smacks him around. Good. Yes, watch the NASCAR race with him.”

  She hung up and sighed. “The bear seems to be wandering off. I guess he didn’t like the service.”

  “Speaking of service,” I said, “after the demonstration tonight we are going out for a drink.”

  “We?”

  “You, me, Betina, Pete… the crew. We are going to the French Quarter.”

  She perked up. “For Dixieland jazz, wild and crazy night life?”

  “For whatever is out there, I guess. It’s something of a command performance. James Woodley just called and informed me that we are meeting him for a drink. All of us.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I know the thought pains you. Having to see that man again…” she grinned.

  “Of course I want to see him.”

  “Well I can go for a drink. And then what happens?”

  “That is a good question. The man has something else up his sleeve and won’t tell what it is.”

  “An overthrow of the government?”

  “I don’t think so. He said he wants to take me out to dinner after. A revolution might make us miss whatever reservation he made. They are so unpredictable.”

  “Not if it was well planned.”

  “It might be very well planned. Regardless…”

  “This is good news,” Nellie said.

  “That there is no revolution planned?”

  “That he’s asked you out to dinner. He’s a nice man and he likes you.”

  “I’ll admit I want to see him again. I like him and I’m flattered and looking forward to the evening. I’m also nervous.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m just not sure if seeing him is a good idea.”

  Nellie tossed her phone on the bed and laughed. “And why on God’s green earth wouldn’t that be good?”

  I considered how to phrase the answer. “I’m not sure it sends the right message.”

  “What message do you want to send?”

  “If I knew, then things would be easier. Life is pretty good right now. Adding a romantic relationship, especially a long-distance relationship into that mix… well, I don’t know how it would work out. Us getting together would upend everything. Also, I’m gun shy.”

  Nellie grinned. “Skipping that last item, basically you are saying that you are unsure what you want to happen because you are physically and emotionally entrenched in Knockemstiff and he is definitely a city boy. Although, if he likes you enough, perhaps he’d be willing to change his ways? He could be the one uprooted and upended.”

  “And you could see him working with our police force in Knockemstiff?”

  Nellie winced. “I guess even nice things can be complications. Messing with things that are working well isn’t always desirable.”

  “Or maybe something or someone isn’t so nice because they complicate things. And sometimes it’s hard even acknowledging they are desirable because that makes you think what’s missing from your otherwise perfect world. Then you want to change it.” Thoughts of life with Saran and Finn washed through me, mixed with the a little pain, because desirable was an appropriate word for James Woodley. “And it is telling that his stated goal is to make me like New Orleans.”

  “So like it.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “I’m keeping an open mind. But it’s complicated.”

  Nellie shook her head. “What worthwhile thing was ever easy? I mean, you’d think an armadillo would be a trouble-free pet, wouldn’t you?”

  “A brown bear? Really?”

  “On the porch. Aubrey said it was a pretty big one and this is from a kid that likes being around the things.”

  Nellie’s family was definitely the most interesting I’d ever known.

  “I better call Pete and Betina so they don’t make other plans. James said it’s important that Pete be there.”

  “Pete?”

  “Pete.”

  “Woodley is both secretive and enigmatic at times.”

  “And that’s when he’s being talkative,” I agreed.

  Since Pete was the chosen one, I called him and he talked it over with Betina and they both excitedly accepted. “We’re going back down to my station until the demonstration,” Pete said. “Leander says if I stand there and imagine myself working in front of the crowd then it will be less of a shock tomorrow.”

  “Good plan. I’m going to take a shower. Nellie will see you at the demonstration and we can go out after that.”

 
; “I think I’ll call the Ranger station outside of Knockemstiff and tell them to keep an eye out for a bear with dog food on his breath.”

  # # #

  As we crossed the lobby toward the ballroom, headed for the demonstration, Nellie stopped and pointed at a crowd of people near one of the double doors. “Looks like something interesting must be going on over there.”

  “That’s where Manus’s booth is. I wonder what’s going one?”

  “There is one sanctioned way to find out,” Nellie said and she launched herself forward, pushing her way through the crowd with me following. As we got close I saw Victoria and Manus were the center of attention. They stood toe to toe, having some sort of dispute. A young woman who was working the booth for Manus was cowering to one side as Victoria tongue lashed Manus.

  “I should’ve known better that to trust you for a minute,” she was saying. “If my assistant hadn’t misplaced my best scissors I wouldn’t have even come over here. I thought I could trust you to at least provide real products.”

  “Real? Of course these are real.”

  She waved a pair of blue scissors. “If these scissors you sold me are genuine Kissaki shears I’ll eat them. The Asashi model is made out of titanium and my old ones had an edge like nothing else. Whatever these are,” she said, waving them again, “they don’t even cut hair at all. I could do better with a butter knife.”

  Manus waved a hand in dismissal. “Get out your salt, Victoria because you are about to eat those shears. Look here—there is the blue metal, the butterflies on the blades, the Kissaki name on the blade, the jewel at the hinge… Just because you have no talent for cutting hair don’t be a bad craftsperson and blame the tools.”

  She turned the scissors and handed them to him, handle first. “If these are real, then you cut something with them, Manus. You show me how anyone can cut even paper with this garbage. Go ahead.”

  “Why not?” he said. He picked up a brochure and started to cut it. As the blades closed, the paper twisted between them. Manus looked shocked.

  “See, they won’t cut.”

  “You must’ve dulled them, Victoria. Did you try cutting metal with them?”

  “Why would I do that? I bought them from you to use.”

  “So you could come over here and make a fuss. You are trying to make me look bad.”

  “Right. Just when I need a really excellent pair of scissors for the competition I decided to blunt these and bring them back. Besides, I’ve abused my old pair like crazy and they still cut—these are new and don’t.”

  “You did something to them.”

  She scratched her nose. “Okay. Let’s make a test. You think I blunted these?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I assume you have more of these great scissors on hand, Manus? Get out another pair and show me that you actually have scissors that will cut. Find one and we’ll make an exchange, and I’ll call this an unfortunate mistake.”

  “And then you’ll admit to all these people that you were wrong?”

  She grinned. “If you have any decent scissors.”

  He turned to boxes of scissors stored under the table top and opened a box. “These are the same make and model as those,” he muttered as he grabbed a pair and attempted to cut the brochure again. The results were the same.

  “Great,” Victoria said. “More gray market garbage.”

  “Gray market?” Nellie asked.

  “Counterfeits,” I explained. “There are some unscrupulous factories that use a company’s product design to make their own products. They copy the original right down to the smallest detail, but they make them out of cheaper materials. Since hair cutting scissors need a strong blade and to keep their edge, a professional won’t use them.”

  I turned to Victoria. “Are you absolutely sure Manus sells gray market tools? That’s a pretty heavy accusation, Victoria.”

  Manus paled as he held the blade up to his face, staring at it. “This isn’t a counterfeit. Look at the grinder marks on the blade. Someone deliberately blunted these scissors,” he said.

  “Or your counterfeiter forgot to sharpen them,” Victoria said. “It works out the same either way. Why don’t you refund my money and I’ll send someone downtown to get me some scissors that cut?”

  Manus turned to his now very nervous assistant. “Credit her charge, Jane.”

  As the woman began doing the paperwork Nellie and I slipped away. “Thing is,” Nellie said, “even if Manus was importing fakes, he wouldn’t bring them to this show, would he? Why risk exposure for being a cheat just when you are introducing your own brand of scissors?”

  That made sense to me. “Maybe this thing with the scissor is another act of sabotage. If someone wanted to ruin him, messing with his scissors or substituting fakes for the real thing would do it.”

  Nellie looked thoughtful. “That’s pretty vicious. Even if he wasn’t stirring a hornet’s nest by introducing his own brand, making him appear to be selling fakes could cause all the manufacturers to freeze him out—they’d refuse to let him distribute their products.”

  “Wow. That would be what’s going on then. Someone is playing really dirty.”

  “That sounds right to me.” Nellie touched my arm. “I appreciate you arranging all this entertainment for my benefit.”

  “Anything for you,” I said. “I’m sorry the brown bear couldn’t make an appearance. We didn’t get any dog food anyway.”

  “I think this is even better.”

  # # #

  Naturally the flare up between Victoria and Manus Jenkins spread like wildfire, generating a generous mix of opinions and speculations. One of the hottest was that Victoria had blunted the scissors to set Manus up for that public showdown. Given the public way the confrontation had played out and the general dislike Victoria generated, I could see people believing the accusation.

  I didn’t think she’d done it though. I knew that she was competitive and demanding, and often harsh. She wouldn’t mind arguing publicly with Manus, and showing him up had to be delicious for her. Deliberating damaging the scissors just to have that opportunity wasn’t her style, however.

  “You don’t think Victoria set up Manus, do you?” Nellie asked.

  “No, I don’t. That isn’t her style—she doesn’t even think it necessary. She is certain her enemies will screw up sooner or later,” I said. “She makes sure she is poised to exploit it when they do, but my guess is she did buy those scissors from Manus and discover they were blunt. She was truly angry and went for the jugular.”

  “So you are saying she’s vicious, but not sneaky?”

  I had to chuckle. Nellie liked Victoria less all the time. “Well, if she was going to be sneaky, then she’d mess with his scissors and make certain that it was someone else raising hell with him. She would make certain she was well out of the firing line, watching, and savoring his discomfort.”

  “Gotcha. That sounds right.”

  As we walked by Sylvia’s station, the woman looked over at us. She was talking to a well-dressed man. He was attractive and tall, but certainly didn’t look like he belonged at this show. His clothing was conservative and his posture suggested he was uncomfortable.

  When Sylvia looked at me and caught my eye, she winked as if we shared some secret. “She’s gloating,” Nellie said. “That smile tells me that she’s involved in all this somehow, or at least knows something. She’s too pleased with the course of events.”

  “It struck me that way too.”

  “Maybe she has a rasp or grinder stashed away somewhere?”

  “Cheap shot, Nellie. It’s a possibility to keep in mind though.”

  “Speaking of taking advantage of an opportunity… she has a problem with Victoria, right.”

  “Apparently.” I wondered if Victoria had a problem with everyone here.

  “What if she has one with Manus as well? She could have changed out the scissors and stolen Victoria’s pair, hoping she’d get new ones from Manus?”


  “A double whammy?”

  “Exactly. If she’s trying to get backers for her own salon franchise, making her the biggest competitor and a detractor look bad at once could be a brilliant move.”

  I wondered if the well-dressed man was a potential investor. “I suppose that could be her ploy. She isn’t the nicest person we’ve met this week.” Having the blow up happen when an investor was present might be a good thing.

  “Now that you mention it, I’m not sure any of these city people have a nice bone in their bodies.”

  “Now, Nellie, that’s an unkind generalization.”

  “Okay, so the generals are nasty too.”

  “You have your mind fixed on the idea that there is nothing about the city or in it to like, don’t you?”

  “Maybe I do. Although I promise to give Bourbon Street and the free drink a fair try.”

  Just then Victoria walked up to us. She flicked a glance over at Sylvia who was glaring back at Victoria. I noted that the man looked even more uncomfortable. Then Sylvia turned to what appeared to be an assistant and whispered something as she nodded toward Victoria. Whatever she said made the woman laugh in a rather evil way.

  “My guess would be that she doesn’t like you much,” Nellie said.

  “Ignore Sylvia. She is carrying a grudge. We worked together once upon a time. It didn’t turn out well.”

  “What happened?” I asked, starting to remember Sylvia. I'd met her briefly back when I worked in Baton Rouge. “Didn’t she start working for you about the time I left?”

  Victoria nodded. “She had just moved there from Georgia. I hired her before you left—she was supposed to take your place. That was how I saw things. The way she saw things was that she’d use my salon to build a client base then walk off with them and start her own salon.”

  “That’s cutthroat,” I said. It did sound that way, but I had to reserve judgment, seeing that Victoria’s view of the world was rather lopsided even when she wasn’t being nasty. The truth was probably close to what she’d said, but one of those situations where, if you heard both sides, both of them would seem like the injured party.

  “We’ve fought tooth and nail ever since. And this year, if what I hear is true, I might be forced to scratch her eyes out.”