Hair Raiser

by Nancy J. Cohen

Her thoughtful gaze fell upon him. The man exuded appeal with his thick ebony hair streaked with silver, intelligent gray eyes, and commanding jaw structure. His wide shoulders stretched the fabric of his charcoal sport jacket in a manner that suggested musculature beneath the fine wool cloth, and his confident air proclaimed self-assurance. All in all, the guy presented a damned sexy package.

  He must have sensed her change of attitude because his gaze smoldered back at her as if throwing a challenge. Let’s see what happens if we get closer, she interpreted his message.

  No thanks, she responded mentally, needing more space. I’m not ready just yet. And neither is your daughter.

  They didn’t get a chance to resume their discussion until later at the Broward Center for Performing Arts where Rent was playing. Their center seats were adequate even in the rear orchestra section. Marla glanced at a control console situated in the middle of the high-ceiling room. It boasted enough lights and switches to qualify as an airplane cockpit. People filtered in, chattering loudly. Senior citizens wearing formal black and white attire served as ushers.

  While waiting for the music to begin, Marla scanned the hair styles of the people in front of them. Look at that guy, the one who is bald on top. He’d combed his mat of hair from the nape to his forehead. It looked ridiculous with a tuft sticking straight up. What some guys would do to preserve their masculine image. Didn’t they know bald men could be sexy, especially if they looked like Patrick Stewart? She could always tell if a man had implants, too. You could see the plugs. They weren’t fooling anyone but themselves.

  Vail sat between her and his daughter. His arm leaned against Marla’s, making her acutely conscious of his nearness and the rock-solid hardness of his biceps. Her nerves were so attuned to his touch that she quivered inwardly from the contact.

  “Brianna mentioned alibis,” she said, hoping to coax him into revealing more information. “Did you have a chance to investigate each of the board members?”

  He shifted away from her, leaving in his wake the fragrance of spice cologne. “I’ve checked out anyone who might be involved.”

  “Of course, you’re very thorough. It makes me wonder how you determined the murder weapon belonged to Darren Shapiro.” Crossing her legs, she swung her foot back and forth.

  Snorting in exasperation, Vail glared at her. “You’re not going to give me any peace, are you? Stop moving your leg like that. It’s giving me ideas.”

  “Really? What kind?”

  “You know.”

  “I know a few things, but I’d like to learn more. For example, what time was Ben killed? I seemed to have forgotten what you told me before.”

  His eyes narrowed. “For your information, Ben’s murder occurred at eight o’clock or so on Monday evening after your board meeting. He died from a blow to his head by a blunt instrument, a special type of curved knife used in Samoan ceremonies. His legal assistant said Darren Shapiro had given the knife to Ben as a gift in return for a favor. Ben displayed it on his wall.”

  “So you’re saying the murderer grabbed this weapon off the wall and bonked Ben on the head? Whoever did it must have been angry and wanted to strike out. He snatched whatever was handy and hit Ben, perhaps not intending to kill him.”

  “It would appear this was a crime of opportunity,” Vail agreed, scratching his jaw. “The weapon was put back on the wall, the area partly cleaned up, but not enough to conceal all the trace evidence. We’ve got some good samples and a set of prints for which we have no match. They don’t belong to Shapiro, although he admitted the knife came from his collection.”

  “So you’ve eliminated him as a suspect?”

  “Not necessarily, but I am inclined to believe it was someone else. Motive is what I can’t figure out. So many people had grudges against Ben.”

  “Any alibis not hold up?”

  “Babs Winrow was home with her husband, Walter. Digby Raines was the guest of honor at a campaign dinner. David Newberg was at the movies; he showed me his ticket stub. Stefano Barletti went bowling with friends. Darren claimed he was visiting an acquaintance, but he wouldn’t reveal his name. Dr. Taylor attended Digby’s dinner. And then there is your cousin.”

  Marla stiffened. “Cynthia? Surely you don’t count her as one of the murder suspects?”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “I wouldn’t discount any possibilities, including the fact that you were at that meeting. Regarding your cousin, she was home alone that night. Or so she said.”

  Marla’s stomach knotted. “But Cynthia has no motive. She had nothing against Ben.”

  “Oh yes, she certainly did.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As the orchestra began its overture, Marla sizzled with curiosity. She bit her lip to keep from firing questions about her cousin during the blaring musical introduction to Rent. The decibel level made conversation difficult anyway, so she suppressed her concerns and watched the curtain rise.

  Her attention was diverted to the show which she found difficult to comprehend. Her ears couldn’t distinguish the lyrics, although she understood most songs bemoaned the sad lives of the unfortunate characters. Either the acoustics were faulty, or the generation gap left her in the dark. Between the loud music and youth-oriented theme, she was ready for a drink by the time intermission rolled around.

  “Isn’t it awesome?” Brianna gushed, grinning happily on their way to the lobby.

  “Oh yeah, it’s wonderful,” Marla muttered. “I think my ears are still ringing.”

  “Me, too,” Vail said, a bemused expression on his face. “What happened to musicals with melody and romance? This one is a bummer. I’d just evict those people and be done with it.”

  They stood in line at the refreshment stand. “You don’t get it, Daddy,” Brianna chided, her ponytail swinging as she bounced on her heels. Scorn crossed her features. “Just face it, you’re a dork.”

  “Perhaps his taste in music is different from yours,” Marla said soothingly.

  “My taste in everything is different from hers,” Vail grated, the creases around his eyes deepening.

  It couldn’t be easy for him to understand a girl on the verge of puberty, Marla thought with a swell of compassion. Or had his daughter already reached that milestone? Not being a maven on adolescence, she didn’t presume to offer advice, although sometimes her insights were useful. Many of her clients described their troubles with teenaged children, and she’d learned a lot from acting as listening post. But Brianna had problems that stemmed from deeper roots, and Marla didn’t feel experienced enough to deal with them.

  Hoping to steer the conversation away from personal issues, she returned to an earlier topic, blurting out the question that plagued her. “What about Cynthia? You didn’t finish telling me about her. What did she have against Ben?”

  Vail quirked an eyebrow. “I think that’s something you’ll have to ask Cynthia for yourself.”

  “Is her motive strong enough that you believe she could have committed murder over it?”

  “You and I don’t think the same way as a murderer, Marla. What we regard as insignificant, a killer embellishes in his mind. Or else he’s just after something in particular, like money. Explain to me how Popeye’s trust works again. If Ocean Guard fails to meet its obligations, who inherits the property?”

  “No one knows. Cynthia’s husband was supposed to ask the trustee, Morton Riley, but he’s out of town. Ben’s firm originally drew up the trust. Maybe Ben was murdered to hide the identity of Popeye’s heir. This might be the person responsible for sabotaging our fund-raiser and dumping medical waste on the mangrove preserve.”

  “That doesn’t work for me,” Brianna proclaimed merrily. “Because if the heir gets the goods, everyone will know who it is. The heir can’t be the murderer.”

  Marla was surprised by the girl’s astuteness. “That’s a good point, but this person might still be desperate enough to commit a crime, especially if rational thought doesn’t enter the equation like you sugges
ted,” she added to Dalton.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” he promised. They reached the front of the line. “What would you like to order?”

  She scanned the menu items. “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay, thanks. I’m still full from dinner.”

  “And I’ll have a Coke. Man, I wish some of my friends were here,” Brianna whined, looking bored.

  Marla realized she was neglecting her duty in getting to know the girl, so the rest of intermission she spent querying Brianna about her interests while carefully keeping away from painful topics like parents. She figured they were both glad when the show started again.

  When he brought her home, Vail left his daughter in the car to walk Marla to her door. “Listen, if I need your help with this investigation, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, please steer clear of trouble, so I don’t have to worry about you.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she hedged. “Thanks for a delightful evening. I’m glad I had the chance to meet Brianna. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “Yeah, when she isn’t mouthing off. Look, I’m not sure about my schedule right now, but I’ll call you.” He hesitated, wavering as though he wanted to say something else.

  Marla felt the heat from his powerful frame even from where she stood. And she felt something more, vibes emanating from him that struck a chord within herself. In the lamplight, ribbons of silver gleamed in his hair. His intense gaze snagged hers, stealing the breath from her lungs.

  “Brianna is watching,” he said huskily.

  “Yes.”

  “You know what I want to do.”

  “Yes.”

  “Next time.”

  “Is that a promise?” Her lips curved in a wistful smile.

  “You bet.” His jawline tightened. “Do as I say, Marla, and don’t interfere with my case. I’m looking after your welfare.”

  “I know.” Although she appreciated his concern, those words rankled. After living with Stan, she’d vowed to make her own decisions. No man would direct her path ever again.

  Thus when Cynthia called to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse, Marla felt no guilt in accepting. It was her life, and she’d do whatever she damn well pleased.

  “Bruce has tracked Morton Riley to the Bahamas,” Cynthia told her on the phone Sunday afternoon. “Ocean Guard has authorized the expense of sending you and David after him. David is stopping by to pick up the tickets, and he’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning at eight for the flight to Nassau.”

  Marla’s mouth gaped. A free trip to the Bahamas? “W-Why me?” she stuttered.

  “I have to get the house ready for Thanksgiving,” Cynthia explained in a coaxing tone. “You’re the most logical person to go. Besides, this will be a great opportunity for you and David to get closer.”

  “Just how close do you mean? And whose idea was this, yours or my mother’s?” Marla regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  “Actually, it was his idea. David is quite enamored with you, darling. I’m so thrilled for you. He’s a brilliant catch.”

  Marla had mixed feelings. She wasn’t that much of a fool to let a good man get away if he had potential. Not that matrimony was on her mind. Companionship was the key word here, that’s all.

  “When are the flights? I have to go back to work Tuesday.”

  “Get someone to cover for you. Your plane leaves Fort Lauderdale airport tomorrow at nine a.m. It’s a half hour nonstop flight on Bahamasair, so you’ll get in quite early. You may be able to finish your business in one day, but I’ve made a hotel reservation at the Marriott on Cable Beach just in case you have trouble locating Morton Riley. Your return flight is Wednesday evening.”

  “That’s three days from now.” She’d have to call Nicole to cover for her. The stylist wouldn’t be pleased, but this was important. “Don’t you want me to come over and do Annie’s hair today?” she asked, remembering Cynthia’s request.

  “Annie isn’t home,” Cynthia snapped. “She went off with Shark again. I swear that boy is a bad influence, but the stupid girl won’t listen to me. Her eyes are blinded where he’s concerned.” Her cousin’s voice lowered. “Now I’m noticing things missing from the house, Marla. Small objects, but expensive ones like a Lladro figurine and some Hummels. I’ve put my staff on alert, but no one’s seen anything.”

  “Are you getting a background check on him?”

  “I hired someone, but the report isn’t ready yet. Oh, before I forget, I’m giving David spending money, so let him pay for all the meals.”

  Lord save me, this should be an interesting vacation. Doubtless Cynthia would expect to hear the intimate details of their relationship when she returned.

  She didn’t dare consider what Vail would think about her going on a jaunt with one of his suspects. But if David were the heir, he wouldn’t be chasing after the trustee who could finger him on sight. David’s integrity impressed her as being of paramount importance to him. Marla felt certain he was every bit as eager to locate Popeye’s beneficiary as were she and her cousin. Ocean Guard’s future viability was at stake, and so was Marla’s continued regard in her relative’s eyes. If she and David had the power to blow this case wide open, it was worth a try.

  Opening her calendar, she confirmed that her appointment with Dr. Taylor wasn’t until Thursday. Maybe she wouldn’t need to keep it if Morton Riley pinpointed the heir.

  ****

  Her hopes soaring, Marla waited for David at the check-in counter inside terminal three at Fort Lauderdale international airport. It was just past eight on Monday morning, and already the concourse was crowded.

  She’d left her car in the economy parking lot for five dollars a day, bringing a wheeled piece of carryon luggage as her only piece of baggage.

  A hand on her shoulder made her whip around. “David!” she exclaimed, a flush of pleasure lighting her features as she regarded him. His twinkling cobalt eyes were accentuated by a blue dress shirt tucked into a pair of navy pants. A sport coat was flung over his arm. He’d combed his fawn hair into a side part so a lock of it hung appealingly across his forehead. His freshly shaven jaw smelled like lime as he gave her a quick embrace.

  “You look lovely this morning,” he said in a low, sensual tone. His gaze roamed from her clean, blow-dried hair to her scoop neck ivory shell with the cinnamon blazer and dark tobacco slacks. A pair of sturdy flats supported her feet.

  “It’s a little early for flattery, isn’t it?” she joked. “Let’s get in line.” It didn’t appear as though many people would be on their flight until they went to the gate. Mostly older passengers were present, presumably gamblers eager to try their luck at the casinos before the weekend crowd arrived.

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” David asked as they took seats facing a wall of windows.

  “No, thanks, I’ll wait until we get to our hotel. It’s such a short flight.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m already wired. I had two cups earlier.”

  “Have you been to Nassau before?”

  “No, I haven’t. I’d like to travel more often, but it’s hard for me to get away from work, and I have to worry about Spooks. I put him in the kennel while we’re gone this time, but I’d hate to do it for a longer period.”

  David nodded. “I take my vacation in the summer, after tax season is over. Usually, I’ll combine business and pleasure in Europe, where I have some multinational accounts.” He grinned broadly, showing two small dimples in his cheeks. “It’s a minimal amount of work time that I put in, I assure you. Maybe if we’re... you might like to go with me next year.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “In what capacity?”

  “That depends. We’ll have the chance to get to know each other better on this trip. I can’t wait until we’re alone.”

  Uh-oh. She’d neglected to ask Cynthia about the hotel arrangements. They’d better not be booked together in the same room. Swallowing, she regarded him warily.

  “Our purpose is to interview Morton Riley, re
member? It’s possible we might finish our business there today.”

  “Our return flight isn’t until Wednesday,” he pointed out. “There wasn’t anything available before then.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her hopes of leaving earlier flew out the door. Nicole wasn’t too happy about covering for her again, and she had to take time out on Thursday to see Dr. Taylor. Ocean Guard’s affairs were monopolizing her life.

  Her excitement swelled as the time neared for boarding. At eight-thirty, a mint green and yellow twin-engine jet taxied to the gate. She grasped her bag as flight personnel pronounced the plane available for boarding a short time later. It wasn’t a big jet, with rows of three seats each on either side of a center aisle. After settling in, she leafed through a copy of Island Scene magazine. Too wound up to concentrate, she put the issue away and twisted her hands in her lap until their plane taxied onto the runway.

  Her ears clogged as the cabin pressurized, and the engine noise once they took off made hearing difficult. They climbed above a cloud bank and veered away from the coastline within minutes.

  “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” David asked, cocking his head in her direction.

  “Sure,” Marla replied, staring out the window. He’d kindly offered her the window seat, so she watched, fascinated by the sea below.

  His warm hand clasped one of hers. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

  Her laughter sounded shallow. “About what?”

  “About us being together.”

  She glanced at his serious expression. “Of course not,” she lied. “I’m just anxious to find Morton Riley. Aren’t you?”

  For a moment, a look of hostility marred his features, but then he smiled, a bit too brightly. “Certainly, but I’m not going to let business distract from our pleasure. This is a rare opportunity for us to be together, away from everyone we know.”

  A shiver wormed up her spine. What if he was the killer? She shouldn’t discount the possibility that he was Popeye’s heir because he was rich and didn’t need money.