Hair Raiser

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Cynthia hesitated. “It’s this boy she’s been dating. He’s totally wrong for her, but she can’t see it.”

  “Wrong in what way?” They approached the bridge arching across the lagoon, and Marla slowed her pace. She wanted to hear what Cynthia had to say before they reached the house. Maybe it was simply a matter of class differences. Wealthy folks were always on the lookout for gold-diggers.

  Cynthia cast a worried glance in her direction. “It’s nothing I can put my finger on. Shark dresses decently, shaves, and doesn’t have any weird body piercings, but sometimes he looks at Annie as though she’s fish bait waiting to be swallowed.”

  “Shark?”

  Cynthia smirked. “Cute nickname, huh?”

  Goes along with your own kids, cuz. Annie’s full name was Anemone and her brother, off in college, was Kelp. Cynthia and Bruce had always been enamored of the sea.

  Cynthia spied a figure seated at their table on the patio and waved. “Fabulous, he’s here. Marla, you remember David Newberg, the accountant for Ocean Guard? He was pleased to meet you the other day and phoned me afterward to get your number. I came up with the idea of inviting him to join us today.”

  Gee, thanks. She remembered the attractive man from the board meeting who didn’t participate in all the back-stabbing, and an unanticipated thrill coursed through her. His interest was a pleasant surprise, not that she was looking for a relationship.

  Her cousin winked. “By the way, David is thirty-five, single, and looking for a wife.”

  Marla detected a smug tone in her cousin’s voice and instantly grew suspicious. Had Ma been putting a bug in her relative’s ear about fixing Marla up with eligible men? She wouldn’t put it past her dear mother.

  David stood as they approached. His tall, lean frame fit superbly into a cream-colored summer suit. The light fabric contrasted sharply with a vibrant tie of aqua and crimson. Steady cobalt eyes regarded her closely as she neared the shaded porch. His tanned face split into a grin when she stepped up to him and extended her hand.

  “Hi, David,” she said, smiling. Her gaze swept over fawn-colored hair that brushed his forehead in a casual style.

  His eyes glimmered as he took her hand. “I’m pleased to see you again. You look prettier than I remember.”

  Yeah, right. I look great when I’m sweaty. Pulling her hand free, she turned to the table. “Forgive me, but I’m dying of thirst.” Confusion gripped her for an instant. Hadn’t she left her purse on the seat? It was slung by its strap on a chair arm. I must be dehydrated if I’m losing it. Sinking into her seat, she took a few noisy gulps of iced tea before regarding David with a wary eye. “I assume you heard about Ben.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. We’d just seen him that day.”

  “What an awful tragedy.”

  “The bastard brought it on himself.” David’s eyes blazed for a moment before he seated himself. “I mean, he did his best to antagonize people. You saw for yourself how he behaved at that meeting. Speaking of which, did you ever contact that chef he recommended?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll get to it this week. I haven’t even looked at Ben’s note with the guy’s name.” She’d stuck the envelope in a drawer at the salon so she wouldn’t lose it, figuring there was time enough to thank Ben for the referral. Now the attorney was dead, and her thanks would go unheard.

  “Let’s talk about more pleasant things,” Cynthia cut in, an annoyed frown on her face. She rang a crystal bell, and the butler appeared with a platter of crustless sandwiches.

  “Tell me about your work,” David said, giving a disarming grin. His teeth were so white she wondered if he bleached them. “You must meet lots of fascinating people. How many hours do you spend at the salon? What are your days off?”

  Glad to talk about a familiar topic, Marla rattled on about her job. Half her mind listened to birds twittering and sensed the gentle breeze upon her arms. David’s battery of questions held her attention, and she described details that brought a smile to his lips and laugh creases around his eyes.

  “You’ve really got some tales to tell,” he said, his tone filled with admiration. “It must be tough to take care of all the bookkeeping and maintain your own client list. That takes a huge amount of skill.”

  “I like working with people. That’s all it boils down to, when you think about it.” His high regard filled her with satisfaction. Not all men gave successful women the respect they deserved.

  “Well, if you ever need an accountant, I’m available.” His mouth quirked at the double meaning.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Marla cast a glance at her cousin, who munched on a chicken salad sandwich, pretending disinterest. Becoming aware of her hunger, Marla began eating. As though on cue, the butler reappeared with a plate of cookies.

  A door slammed, and Annie bounded onto the patio. She was followed by a young man wearing an angry scowl on his swarthy face.

  “Hey, Marla,” Annie called, grinning. She wore a spandex top that looked as though it would split if her bosom jutted any further. Below her bared navel, cutoff jean shorts showed trim thighs and a hint of lace panties. Long shapely legs ended in a pair of flip-flops, navy-painted toenails peeking out.

  Marla’s eyes were drawn to the three earrings shining from her ear, then to the brassy highlights reflecting sunlight on frizzy blond hair. You could use a good toner, honey. “How’s it going?” she responded, keeping her thoughts to herself.

  “Okay. This is Shark,” Annie introduced her friend. In contrast to Annie’s teen rebellion fashion statement, Shark wore a polo shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. The sneakers on his feet looked brand-new, and even his Coach leather belt still had a sheen. His light brown hair was cut so short, he might as well have shaved his head. At least he doesn’t wear any flashy jewelry, Marla thought, wondering why some men insisted on looking like pirates.

  “Mom, you didn’t fill up the gas tank again.” Annie planted her hands on ample hips. “How do you expect me to go anywhere when you don’t give me enough cash?”

  Cynthia stiffened. “You’ve used up your allowance for this week.”

  “So? I had to spend it on food. You should reimburse me for lunch.”

  “You should ask your friend to pay for his half.”

  “Leave him outta this. All my other friends get money when they need it. You’re just mean. I need to get gas.”

  “Tough luck. Guess you’ll have to stay home.”

  “We’re meeting some guys over at Hooters. Give me a break, will ya?”

  Cynthia’s scornful gaze turned on Shark. “Why don’t you let him drive?”

  “His air-conditioning doesn’t work. We’d swelter in his car.”

  “Of course, if he had a job, he could afford to get things fixed,” Cynthia sneered.

  “I’m trying to save up for repairs,” the youth cut in, “but I had to spend my last bucks on new tires.”

  Cynthia gripped her napkin in her lap. “How unfortunate that your car breaks down whenever you need a ride somewhere.”

  “It’s not that way, ma’am. I know what you think, but I really like Annie. I’d help out if I could.”

  Sure you would. Marla had met his type before. No wonder Cynthia disapproved. As slick as hair conditioner, he’d have an excuse for why he couldn’t contribute whatever the situation. In his early twenties, he should be working toward a career, but it appeared as though the only job he was applying for was a gigolo. As though to prove his point, he put his arm around Annie and gave her a possessive squeeze. Marla caught a glimpse of an expensive watch and narrowed her gaze. That boy got money from somewhere. She wondered if Cynthia had traced his background and resolved to query her cousin when they were alone. In the meantime, she exchanged amused glances with David, who was wisely remaining out of the conversation.

  “I hate to break this up, but I have to leave,” Marla said, after the young couple stomped off to scrounge up another ride. Too many chores demanded her attentio
n, and playing tea party wouldn’t get them done.

  “Can I call you later?” David asked, rising. “I’d like to see you again.”

  “That would be nice, thanks. Cynthia, would you mind walking me to the door?”

  As soon as they were alone, she pounced on her cousin. “I agree with you about Shark. There’s something unsavory about him but it’s hard to pinpoint. Do you know anything about his family?”

  Cynthia stopped at the inner courtyard. “I haven’t wanted to go so far as to hire an investigator. If Annie found out—”

  “Do it.” She clutched Cynthia’s elbow. “Better to make your daughter angry than to have her saddled with a crook.” Bless my bones, I’m starting to sound like Dalton Vail.

  “What about the mess in the mangrove preserve? Too many things are going wrong at once.”

  “Tell Bruce to clean it up.”

  Her cousin’s face clouded with anxiety. “First your chefs quit, then Ben is killed and now this. I have all I can handle with Annie.” A speculative gleam entered Cynthia’s eyes. “Whoever is sabotaging Ocean Guard has to be an insider. Since you’re not a board member, you could interview everyone to get an unbiased perspective.”

  “Sure,” she agreed without thinking, flattered at Cynthia’s faith in her.

  Cynthia’s voice lowered. “Be careful, Marla. You know what happened to Ben.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Her mouth tightened. “In the meantime, maybe Bruce can dig up the name of Popeye’s beneficiary. Bruce could always ask the trustee for the person’s identity, if he can do so without arousing suspicions. The medical waste bothers me. Whoever is polluting the preserve might also be Ben’s murderer.”

  “I can think of a lot of people who’d jump for joy at Ben’s demise,” Cynthia drawled.

  Her cynical tone brought Marla’s head up sharply. “Did you have something personal against him?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Cynthia’s closed expression said, Don’t ask me, either.

  Marla hadn’t known Cynthia had any association with Ben other than Ocean Guard. Her heart sank. She didn’t want to add Cynthia to her list of suspects.

  The attorney must have made enemies from his many newsworthy cases, but it was too coincidental that he should be murdered now. A gut feeling told her his death was directly related to Ocean Guard’s mandate, which would eliminate her cousin from the list. Cynthia was as devoted to the organization’s goals as her husband. But if Ben’s murder had nothing to do with their fund-raiser, her theory about the pollution being related would fly out the door. Then what? They needed time, dammit, but the clock was running out.

  “By the way, when should we arrive for Thanksgiving?” Marla asked her cousin.

  “Come at three o’clock. Last year at Julia’s, your brother had to leave before dessert because his kids were getting sleepy. We can start earlier.”

  “You know how I worry when Rebecca and Jacob are here.” Marla paused. “You don’t have any fence around your pool, not to mention the lagoon. Need I remind you that drowning is the number one cause of death among children four years old and younger in Florida? Home pools are the most common place where drownings occur. If either child slips away when our attention is diverted, that kid could easily drown.”

  “You say that every year, Marla. I’m not going to put up a pool enclosure for the few times when Michael and Charlene come over with their family. We never had a problem with our kids.”

  “All it takes is one mistake.” Marla’s voice cracked; she spoke from personal experience. “It breaks my heart when I read the newspapers during the summer, because nearly every week has a report about some child drowning.”

  “This isn’t summer, remember? It’ll probably be cool by Thanksgiving. Besides, if you’re watching them, Rebecca and Jacob will have nothing to worry about.” Cynthia opened the front door, standing aside for her to pass. Her tone was clearly one of dismissal.

  The mandatory pool enclosure law had passed but it wasn’t easy to enforce, Marla thought, reflecting on her activities with the Child Drowning Prevention Coalition. She wouldn’t give up because curious children always found a way to get near a pool.

  “Will Corbin be coming to Thanksgiving dinner? We haven’t seen your brother in a while,” she said to Cynthia.

  Cynthia blinked. “He’ll be out of town.” She rarely talked about him, and he almost never came to family functions.

  “What’s he doing these days?” Marla persisted.

  “You might say he’s tied up in a new job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve left David sitting back there all by himself. I’ll rely on you to find out what you can about Ben’s death. Ask that cop friend of yours, and check into which one of our board members might be involved.”

  Like you, cuz? Her cousin was hiding something about her relationship with Ben Kline. Marla might not like the dirt she dug up, but her sense of justice compelled her to investigate.

  She exited into the warm afternoon. At least Shark and Annie hadn’t blocked her car. Parked in front of the garage was a battered blue Chevy, presumably Shark’s vehicle. Seeing it gave her a sense of unease that she shrugged off. She had too many other things on her mind.

  Priority number one was finding out who was dumping medical waste, and Dr. Russ Taylor headed the list. First thing next morning, she’d make an appointment to visit the eminent surgeon. Now she only had to decide which faux medical emergency should afflict her.

  Chapter Five

  Monday morning brought a dreary start to the day. Dark gray clouds lumbered across the sky, bringing the smell of rain and a chill wind, heralding the first cold front of the season. Marla bundled herself into a sweater before taking Spooks out for his walk. It was too early to call Dr. Taylor’s office, and she doubted she’d get an appointment for today anyway. You had to be dying in order to be penciled in on a doctor’s busy schedule, and even then you were likely to be referred to the closest emergency room. That is, if you could get through the automated telephone answering system to a real person.

  “Busy schedule today, Spooks,” she told the dog, as they marched briskly through the neighborhood. “You have to see the vet for your vaccinations, then I’m going to the dentist for a cleaning. Oh, joy. At least you get knocked out when your teeth get cleaned.” Food shopping was next on her list. It was her policy to boycott the supermarket when she was hungry, so after a dental appointment should be perfect timing to avoid temptation.

  Later, she’d contact new chefs for Taste of the World and set up interviews with Ocean Guard’s board members.

  “A busy person is a happy person, right?” she added breezily. Her cheeks cold from the wind, she rounded the corner toward her townhouse and halted, yanking abruptly on the leash. Idling in front of her place was a blue Chevy Lumina. As soon as she veered into sight, it spun off like a scared squirrel.

  Her mind instantly made the connection between this vehicle and the one she’d seen parked in front of Cynthia’s garage. That one had looked awfully familiar. Was it because she’d seen the same car when taking Spooks out the other day? Nah, there were plenty of beat-up blue sedans in town. It was merely a coincidence that Shark had the same model. Paranoia was an understatement if she thought he was following her, especially since she’d just met the guy at Cynthia’s house.

  Her neighbor emerged lugging a sack of garbage to put by the curb. It crossed her mind that he might have seen the vehicle cruising by before. Perhaps she should put her neighbors on the alert. If someone was keeping tabs on her movements, extra insurance in terms of neighborly observation would be useful.

  Of course, she shouldn’t ignore the possibility that dear old Stan had hired someone to annoy her. Her ex-spouse should know that tactic wouldn’t work. She’d never sell her portion of their jointly owned property, no matter what nasty tricks he tried. Maybe she should call up his newest trophy wife and sound her out. Kimberly would be happy to brag about Stan.

  “Hey, Moss,” she c
alled to her elderly neighbor. “How are you doing? If you’ve got a minute, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure thing, mate,” Moss said in a gravelly voice. Plopping down his bag, he trotted over, a spry character for a man in his seventies. His wife, Emma, hadn’t aged as well. Moss was the one who ran errands and took charge of their household. A former carpenter, he enjoyed sea cruises and planned trips to different ports of call. Sporting a naval cap and wiry white beard, he reminded Marla of a ship’s captain. His leathery face crinkled with pleasure as he neared her.

  “I’m wondering about that blue car that was just in front of my townhouse,” she said, getting straight to the point. “Have you seen it around here before?”

  “Can’t say that I have. Why?” His brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

  Marla waved a hand in the air as though unconcerned. “Oh, it looked out of place in the neighborhood, that’s all.”

  “Any reason why you’re wondering about it being in front of your house? You do seem to have a knack for attracting trouble. What undertow is pulling you in deeper this time, mate?”

  The old codger was too perceptive. Shrugging, she cocked her head. “I’m involved in a fund-raiser, and someone doesn’t want our event to succeed. One of our board members was murdered last week.”

  “Go on.” He gaped at her. “You could ask our new neighbor if he knows anything about that car. You met him yet?”

  “No, who’s that?”

  “Name’s Goat.” Moss pointed three doors down. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” On the way, he pulled a paper from his pocket. “I’ve been saving this to show you.”

  “What is it, your latest limerick? Let me see.” With a smile on her lips, she read his latest verse:

  Computers, calculators, and gizmos galore;

  Makes your head spin, your eyes red and sore;

  These inventions are supposed to make life easy;