Highlights to Heaven

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “So he imports specimens as well.”

  “Yeah, and I don’t think they’re all legal, either.”

  Their soup arrived, and they paused to dig in. “What does Evan’s business have to do with Cutter?” Tally continued between spoonsful of clam chowder.

  “I have no idea, but they mentioned Yani’s name and some friend they were tracking. I wonder if they meant Goat.”

  “If so, that means they don’t know where he is.”

  Marla waved her fork. “I’ll bet he’s afraid of them, and that’s why he’s hiding. Goat didn’t kill Yani, but he knows who did.”

  “Cutter or his cousin? Or are you being blinded by your friendship for Goat, as Vail believes? Maybe Goat murdered Yani, and that’s why Cutter and Evan are after him.”

  Marla shook her head. “Goat wouldn’t harm anyone.” Her gut feeling might be irrational, but she’d learned to listen to it.

  Tally leveled her gaze on Marla. “You said Goat looked up information on Martha Matilda Harper. Tell me more about her.”

  Marla leaned forward, warming to the subject. “I wrote a paper about her for a college history class, so I can tell you more than you want to know. Harper started out in Canada as a servant in the late 1800s. She worked as a housekeeper for a doctor who taught her about hair growth. He shared his secret formula for a hair tonic. When she moved to Rochester, New York, she worked for a childless couple who encouraged her to produce the tonic in their tool-shed.”

  “Is that all? What made her so special?”

  “Her enterprising spirit.” Marla wagged a finger. “In those days, hairdressers attended clients in their homes. Harper saw this as another form of servitude, so she opened her own salon. It wasn’t easy finding a location. She approached a landlord who believed cosmetics were inappropriate for ladies. He was afraid her shop would attract undesirables. She had to get a lawyer in order to rent a room.”

  “How did she get customers?”

  Marla grinned. “Next door was a music teacher. While the mothers waited for their kids, Harper offered her salon as a waiting room. The women were impressed by the professionalism of her staff. Harper promoted healthful hair treatments instead of styling and products like we do today. She cared more about her customers’ well-being than about how they looked. In her view, beauty came from good health, not from services that enhanced your image from the outside.”

  Tally’s eyes twinkled. “Is that why your new shampoo girl gives clients such a good scalp massage?”

  She nodded. “People want to relax when they come into a salon. Massaging the scalp helps to relieve tension.”

  “So Harper was your model for customer service.”

  “That’s not all. She helped women open their own salons and provided training. By expanding her range, she began the first business franchise system in the country. Harper ended up with over five hundred salons worldwide. We owe her big-time.”

  Marla leaned back while the waitress delivered their entrees. She ate several bites of grilled salmon before resuming her train of thought. “I’m not clear about how any of this relates to what’s going on at Evan’s ranch. Or why Goat needed those articles about Harper’s followers.”

  “You said two stylists from your class were dead, and you were attacked.”

  “It may be coincidental, or not. I’ll talk to my classmates who still live around here. They may know more.”

  Sunday afternoon, Marla found two of the stylists at home, neither of whom remembered much about their school. Not yet discouraged, she tracked down Tina Yarborough at the chain salon franchise where she worked.

  “I really like it here,” Tina said, brushing cut hairs off her chair.

  “The benefits are good, and I can just go home and relax. I don’t want the responsibility of my own place. We get a brisk business, especially on weekends.” The salon was open seven days a week.

  Tina still maintained a petite figure, Marla noted enviously, glancing at the younger girl’s miniskirt and open-necked blouse. She switched her attention to the modular units. This type of cookie-cutter design plan didn’t appeal to her. A hair salon should reflect the personality of its owner. “I have a place in Palm Haven,” she said. “You should come visit sometime. Remember our instructor, Mr. Corrigan? He has a fabulous place on Las Olas.”

  “I don’t like Cutter. I saw him at a show and said hello, but he ignored me.” Tina tossed back a strand of bleached blond hair that framed her face in a pixie cut.

  “You ever hear any dirt on him?”

  “Not really, why?”

  “A couple of gals from our class had fatal accidents within the last few months, and I was attacked the other day. The incidents might be unrelated, but I’m still worried.”

  Tina’s mouth dropped open. “Like, you think there’s a Jack the Clipper doing in hairstylists?”

  “I don’t know. I wanted to touch base with the people in our class, see if everyone’s okay.”

  “So why are you asking about Cutter?” Tina popped a piece of gum into her mouth.

  “He taught our group, that’s all. A few people from our class have dropped out of sight.” She mentioned their names.

  “Man, I haven’t kept track of anyone. How about that bunch you used to hang out with? You were a tight group. I’m surprised you didn’t keep in touch.”

  Marla shrugged. “Everyone went their separate ways.”

  “Go see Darcy King. She’s working at some little place in Lauderhill on University Drive. It’s next to a Mongolian barbecue restaurant. I’ll bet she can give you the scoop.”

  A smile lifted Marla’s lips. “You’re right; Darcy always kept on top of things. Thanks for your help.”

  She found the salon where Darcy worked without much trouble, but it was closed until Tuesday. Recalling her other urgent business, she spent the rest of the afternoon driving to toy stores looking for wooden chess sets. None of the pieces she saw matched the one Spooks had destroyed. Neither did hobby shops nor department stores possess the item she sought. Maybe she could find it in a gift catalog at home.

  Speaking of gifts, she still had to get Brianna something special for her thirteenth birthday, so she ended up at Macy’s jewelry sale. After purchasing a sterling silver and marcasite bracelet, she wandered toward the clothing section. By the time she exited the Fashion Mall, her stomach was growling for dinner.

  That’s the trouble with you, Marla. You get distracted too easily. How would she locate Goat if she spent her time shopping? Putting the bags in her Toyota, she remembered Brianna’s plea to come along. Guilt pulled her heartstrings. Just because she was mad at Vail didn’t mean she should ignore his daughter. The girl needed her advice.

  Upon calling Vail’s house, she heard Carmen’s voice answer. “This is Marla. Is Brianna home?”

  “Sorry, she is over a friend’s house. You want to speak to Senor Vail?”

  “No thanks. Could you leave Brie a message for me? I’d promised to take her shopping, and we should go before her party next week. Please have her call me.”

  “Si”

  “You’ll write her a note?”

  “I tell her before I leave. She’ll be home soon.”

  “Please don’t forget. It’s important.” A glimmer of an idea had hit, and she couldn’t wait to share it with the soon-to-be teen. Vail didn’t have to know what she had planned.

  Tuesday rolled around fast, but unfortunately Marla wasn’t able to get away from work to track down Darcy. She mentioned her research to Giorgio while waiting for her customer’s perm to set.

  “I looked up the girl who drowned last month. She was in my class at Sunrise Academy of Beauty. So was Louise Cunningham, who you’d mentioned was killed in that hit-and-run accident. Then I was attacked in my neighborhood. Your warning hit home.”

  The handsome Italian thrust a hand over his heart. “Were you hurt?”

  “No, just scared. But I’m beginning to wonder if it’s coincidence or not.”
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  His dark eyes studied her. “Have you found your missing friend?”

  “Not yet, but I’m following some clues.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “You should take a vacation, leave town. This is not a safe place for you. Leave the police work to your boyfriend.”

  Nicole edged into their conversation. “Yeah, how is the hunk? I haven’t seen him around lately. He usually pretends he’s passing by and stops in.”

  “Huh! I’m sure he’s too busy.”

  “Come on, I thought you’d be over your argument by now.”

  Joanne, the new shampoo assistant, saved Marla from having to answer by calling for her to come over. As Marla responded to her summons, she thought how lucky she’d been when the girl and her sister had walked in for interviews. They’d fit the bill perfectly for what she had been looking for in replacement staff members. She nodded at Jennifer, a small-framed blond stylist, on her way to the rear. After answering Joanne’s question about which conditioner to use on a client, Marla returned to her station. She finished her last customer at five-thirty, then tore out of the salon.

  Darcy was just getting ready to depart when Marla arrived at her beauty parlor. “Marla Shore, what are you doing here?” she called in an overly loud voice. A dyed blonde with a frumpy figure, Darcy looked as though she had gained considerable weight in the interim since beauty school. She wore a bright red turban, flowing caftan, and frayed sandals.

  “You look great,” Marla lied, thinking she appeared more like a fortune-teller than a hairdresser. “How’s it going? I’m looking up members of our class. You weren’t updated on the roster, but Tina knew where to find you.”

  “Tina’s a pip. I run into her at Sally’s Beauty Supply all the time.”

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I need some information, and I was hoping you could help.” Darcy had been the class yenta, and Marla didn’t think the woman would pass up a chance to gossip.

  “You don’t mind if we get something to eat, do you? I’m absolutely starved.”

  If a free meal would loosen her tongue, so be it. After they were seated in a deli at Lincoln Park West, Marla stated her case. “Two girls from our class are dead,” she began, forced to pause while Darcy ordered a bowl of beef barley soup, salad, and a roast turkey platter. Don’t forget dessert. Hopefully, she had enough cash to pay for this unexpected repast.

  “I read the news,” Darcy snapped.

  At least Marla didn’t have to give her the details. “I’m wondering if these accidents were related. Have you kept in touch with anyone from school?”

  “Only Harriet and Julie.”

  Marla couldn’t suppress her disappointment. “How about Cutter?”

  Darcy slurped her Miller Lite. “What about him?”

  “Heard anything about who he’s hanging with these days?”

  The woman grimaced. “How should I know? Probably some cute guy.”

  “I figured he’s gay.”

  “No kidding. I could tell when he hit on Wyeth.”

  “Oh my, I’d forgotten about him. He’s not on the roster.” Grabbing her purse, she withdrew the sheet of paper Virginia had provided. How peculiar. She scanned the chart but didn’t see Wyeth listed.

  “What was his last name?” Maybe a typo accounted for the omission.

  “Wyeth Holmes. How can you forget after what your gang did to him?”

  Marla stared at her. “You know about that?”

  “He whined about it for days. I’d be worried if I were you. Maybe he’s out for revenge.”

  “After so many years? Give me a break.”

  Their conversation left her with a sinking feeling. Perhaps there was more to Darcy’s theory than she’d thought. The so-called gang was her group of friends in class. They’d eaten lunch together, endured the lectures, shared the same lab assignment, and performed a prank that had slipped her memory until now. Eliminating the rest of her classmates, that presented two more names to check. Five of them had completed the circle: Marla, Lori Webber, Kenya Dobson, Louise Cunningham, and Eileen Joyce McFee. The latter two were dead. How could that incident have eluded her memory?

  Lori Webber Snow and her husband were out of town on vacation when Marla called later in the week, using the roster from the beauty school. Lori’s mother answered; she was baby-sitting for their kids. Marla left a brief message and promised to call back the following week. She had better luck when she looked up Kenya Dobson. Kenya worked at a salon in Lauderdale Lakes.

  Marla drove over during a break on Friday when a client scheduled for a highlights canceled. She caught Kenya teasing a woman’s hair into a beehive style. Her critical eye scanned rows of domed hair dryers opposite shampoo sinks that belonged in antiquity. The clientele, mostly white-haired, suited the old-fashioned environment. “Can I have a few minutes of your time when you’re through?” she asked after they greeted each other. Kenya still appeared youthful, her rich mahogany skin stretched smooth over a face contoured with high cheekbones and full wine-glossed lips. She moved with the grace of a jungle cat, her royal blue smock covering a pair of tight black jeans.

  “I don’t think anyone knows what happened to Wyeth,” Kenya said after her customer departed. Marla stood by while the stylist cleaned her counter. “Maybe his hair never grew back.”

  Flushing hotly, Marla regarded her. “He’d achieved a short fuzz by the time we graduated. We all thought the stuff worked, but it wasn’t a miracle like we’d expected.”

  Kenya gave her a frank stare. “We were dumb to try it on him. New drugs are usually tested on animals first.”

  “The formula wasn’t new, nor was it a drug.” Kenya’s words nagged at something in her memory that troubled her, but it wasn’t as bad as the disgraceful reminder of what they’d done.

  During her research for the paper on Martha Matilda Harper, Marla had unearthed a diary written by a chemist from Harper Laboratories in Rochester, New York. The man, John Kagan, mentioned a nourishing tonic that rejuvenated hair. Presumably this was the formula Harper had acquired from the doctor whose household she’d served.

  Kagan opened his own lab and continued to refine the tonic. He’d actually created a compound to grow new hair, but the formula was flawed. His diary contained the mixture of components. He’d died before he could complete his work.

  As a prank, Marla and her classmates had prepared the solution and applied it to Wyeth during a session on hair coloring. They figured it should make his hair grow thicker. It didn’t work that way. Wyeth Holmes, who prided himself on his virile looks, went bald. The formula caused hair loss, not growth. At least on a first trial, that’s what happened.

  Had Wyeth’s hair grown in after that episode? She hadn’t seen him since graduation, when a short fuzz covered his head. Maybe the formula was effective, but it needed to be applied on a regular basis. Or maybe that’s all the hair growth it produced. Considering that Wyeth’s baldness was due to their intervention, would the compound work with age-related hair loss? If someone in her group had developed it in that regard, the tonic might have become extremely valuable.

  Her thoughts returned to Cutter Corrigan. As their instructor, he’d had access to everyone’s notes. What if this was something he had decided to pursue? Holy highlights, what an idea! But it didn’t explain how Goat was involved, why Yani was killed, or if the deaths of the two stylists were related.

  She presented her theory to Kenya, who appeared to regard the whole notion with mirth. “Better watch your back, girlfriend,” Kenya said, chuckling. “Wyeth’s ghost is coming back after all these years to haunt us.”

  “You may not be far from the truth. Why is his name gone from the class roster, and where is he now?”

  “Find your missing friend, and you might find him.”

  Marla shook her head. “I have the feeling everything is connected, but I don’t understand how. Maybe Detective Vail has more information.”

  She’d probe him for answers tomorrow at Brianna�
�s party. In the meantime, finding a new chess piece became her priority. Otherwise, she’d be in more hot water. Having a possible killer after her was bad enough; having Vail as an enemy would be worse.

  Chapter Eight

  Marla was nearly late for Brianna’s party. She arrived at Dave and Buster’s at ten minutes past seven, rushing into the dinner theater where several tables were reserved. Vail’s daughter, surrounded by friends, looked grown-up in a black sheath dress. Her dark brown hair curled softly onto her bared shoulders. Spotting Marla, she smiled, giving a thumbs-up signal.

  Dalton wore a flustered air as she approached. “It’s about time,” he told her. “I was hoping you weren’t going to abandon me to this troop of teenagers. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “You could try to relax and enjoy yourself.” He looked spiffy in a polo shirt and Dockers, she thought. He must’ve taken pains to blow-dry his hair, because the texture was soft and fluffy. His part could be a tad straighter, though.

  “You took Brie shopping today,” he said after she’d put down her gift-wrapped packages. She didn’t miss his accusatory tone.

  “She picked out that dress, along with some other necessities. Didn’t Brianna give you the charge slips?”

  His mouth tightened. “I’ll need to limit her spending. I didn’t expect to get a bill for over a hundred dollars.”

  Marla grinned. “Things are expensive, and teenagers like to go shopping. Get used to it.”

  “You did something to her hair.”

  “We stopped off at the salon. Her ends needed trimming, and I curled her hair a bit. Those waves give her a softer look, don’t you think?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Brie’s eyebrows look different.”

  “They’re just more defined.” My, aren’t we observant.