Marla paused to swallow a forkful of eggplant covered in rich marinara sauce. “How long your hair grows is genetically predetermined. That’s why some women come in for cuts every month, while other people I don’t see for ages.”
Tally grimaced. “It took forever for my hair to grow long. I still looked like a boy when I was five years old.”
“No one would make that mistake now!” Marla said, chuckling. “Anyway, a lot of scams claim to make your hair grow thicker and longer. Look at this ad I just pulled out of a magazine.” She withdrew a folded paper from her purse. “See this? It offers to send you a bottle of some rapid-growth formula. The ad uses faulty rationale by saying your scalp lacks the proper nutrition for your hair roots to grow normally. This formula will free clogged roots and provide a miraculous growth molecule to nourish them. As a result, your hair may grow to your waist! Nowhere do you see a list of ingredients. It also claims to contain protein which will make your hair silkier and fuller. That’s a lot of baloney. Proteins are too large to penetrate to the hair’s inner medulla. Conditioners can make your hair silky and fuller, but nothing is going to make your hair grow real long if it isn’t in your genetic makeup.”
Tally smiled. “Sounds like those medicinal concoctions that claim cures for every ailment.”
“You still get a lot of schmucks who believe this stuff.”
“What’s the second stage of growth after the hair pushes through the scalp?”
Marla swallowed another bite. “In the transition stage, your hair is dormant while the root moves up to the surface. Finally, the root separates from the base of the follicle. A new hair starts growing and pushes the old one out of the way. This is why you find loose hairs in your hairbrush. You shed about twenty-five to one hundred hairs a day.”
“What do the true growth formulas do? Retard this process?”
Marla held up a hand while she took a drink of water. “You can’t grow new follicles, but you can affect hair growth in other ways. Improving blood flow through the follicles is a valid point. As you age, the blood vessels feeding your follicles deteriorate. Weakened follicles produce hair that is fine and thin. The growth cycle shortens, so when your hair sheds, there is diminishing regrowth to replace it. Theoretically, preventing the blood vessels from breaking down should rejuvenate the failing hair follicles.”
Tally glanced at her thoughtfully. “How did you learn all this? Was it included in your curriculum at beauty school?”
She shook her head. “It was part of my research for the history paper on Martha Matilda Harper. What was the scientific basis for her nourishing hair tonic? How could an errant scientist transmute that into a revitalizing formula? Increasing circulation to the follicles is one possibility.”
“Huh. You’d think a scalp massage would do the same trick.”
“Right. Here’s another idea: a hormonal by-product of testosterone is called DHT. As we get older, more DHT is found in our blood. Because of their rich blood supply, hair follicles have a higher concentration. So maybe it’s the higher DHT content that inhibits hair growth and causes your hair follicles to shrink. The only problem here is that hair on the rest of your body increases as you get older.”
Tally tilted her head. “How does this relate to women?”
Marla didn’t intend to bore her friend, but the topic fascinated her. She’d done enough studying and still wasn’t clear on how a truly effective formula might work.
“Testosterone is a type of androgen,” she went on. “After menopause, our estrogen levels no longer counteract the androgens in our bodies. So we’ll have a similar hair-loss pattern to men. Aside from estrogen replacement therapy, reducing the amount of DHT may help retain hair. There is a product on the market, Propecia, that prevents testosterone from making DHT. So far, it appears to be effective.”
“Is that how Rogaine works?”
“No one is sure. It may convert tiny follicles into larger ones so you get more regular-size hairs. You have to start treatment early to get the best results, and keep using it indefinitely.”
“Terrific.” Anxiety clouded her friend’s eyes, as though she was daunted by visions of aging.
“Who’s to say how Yani Verkovich modified my original formula?” Marla said. “Why would testing the solution on dogs or cats have any relevance to human hair?”
Tally gave her a curious glance. “How does this relate to those stylists in your class having accidents?”
Marla hung her head. “I have no idea. I meant to visit Kenya today, but I had no time. I’ll have to see her tomorrow. She’s the only one of my gang left, other than Wyeth Holmes, and he’s vanished off the face of the earth.”
“How does Dalton feel about your ideas?”
Food caught in her throat, and she choked. After a coughing fit in which her eyes watered, she regained control. “He’s willing to listen,” she spit out between ragged breaths, “b-but I think he believes Goat stumbled into a smuggling ring. That may be true, but it doesn’t explain Goat’s notes on Martha Matilda Harper or how my former classmates and I are involved. Dalton is worried about me. He wants me to move into his house.”
Tally raised an arched eyebrow. “For safety reasons?”
She took a deep, settling intake of air. “We’ve talked about it in terms of getting closer. You know what I mean.”
“Holy smokes, Marla. That’s a serious step.”
“Ma wouldn’t be thrilled. She respects Dalton, but she’s still hoping I’ll hook up with Roger’s son. I’m not sure if I want to accept responsibility for Brianna, either. On the other hand, I feel for the girl. She’s at the prime age for needing a mother.”
“Do I see a sign around your neck advertising maternal abilities? The last thing you ever wanted was to be burdened with kids.”
Marla examined a speck on the table. “It’s not so much the burden. It’s the caring. So many bad things can happen. I don’t want to suffer the pain and anguish.”
“What about the good side?”
She returned Tally’s frank gaze. “You and Ken aren’t rushing to raise a family. You always wanted to keep your independence along with your figure.”
“Touché. But my reasons are different than yours. You’ve been through a tragedy and saw how it affects a child’s parents. It’s a risk you decide to take when you have children. You’re risking the same thing if you get more involved with Detective Vail. He could get shot chasing after suspects.”
“That scares the hell out of me.”
“Well, you should go into a relationship with your eyes wide open.”
“I’m not a total schlemiel, you know.”
“So what are you planning to do? Take him up on his offer?”
“I haven’t decided. Right now, my main concern is bringing Goat home and finding out who’s threatening me and my friends.”
True to her words, Marla phoned Kenya when she got home that night. She only had a phone number for Kenya’s salon, so she left a message on the answering machine. Then she didn’t think anymore about it while she prepared the sweet potatoes for the next night’s dinner at Arnie’s house and got ready for bed. She was watching the news on TV, cuddling Spooks, when the phone rang. Her Caller ID read PRIVATE CALL. Marla’s heart lurched. Maybe it was Goat calling her back.
“Hello?” she said, clutching the receiver to her ear.
Heavy breathing sounded at the other end.
“Who is this?”
No answer.
Rattled, Marla hung up. Her hand hovered over the cradle while she debated whether or not to call Vail. Am I getting in the habit of calling him every time I get scared? Compressing her lips, she grabbed for Spook’s warm, comforting body and held him close.
Marla found time to run over to Kenya’s salon on Wednesday. She needn’t have wasted the effort.
“Kenya isn’t here,” said the receptionist, a perky middle-aged woman who wore her auburn hair in a blunt cut.
Have you looked in a mirr
or lately? Your white roots are a mile long. “It’s urgent that I speak to her. Can you phone her at home? My name is Marla Shore.”
“I’m sorry; we’ve tried calling her, but she hasn’t shown up. I can give her a message when she comes in.”
Marla hunched her shoulders. “What do you mean, Kenya hasn’t shown up? Did she have clients scheduled for today?”
“She was supposed to come in yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I’ve had to cancel her appointments, and Angie is real mad that we’re losing business.”
“Is it possible for you to give me her home address? Maybe she’s ill. I’d like to check on her.” Alarm frissoned down her spine. This couldn’t be happening, although there still might be a logical explanation. A sick family member, or a simple misunderstanding about her schedule. Or an accident…
“I can’t give out that information.” The receptionist’s voice was firm.
“I’m really worried. Is she usually reliable about being here? Won’t Angie send someone to her place to see if she’s all right?”
The receptionist signaled her boss. “Hey, Angie, this lady wants to know about Kenya.”
Marla strode over to a woman straightening supplies on a display shelf. “I’m Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye Salon. Kenya and I went to school together. It’s urgent that I see her. I think she may be in danger, and I’m concerned about her absence.”
“Really?” The attractive dark-skinned woman regarded her with the same enthusiasm she would have shown for a fungus infection under a fingernail.
Marla realized she sounded dramatic, but how to convince the manager she was for real? “Some of our classmates have met with fatal accidents recently. It’s being investigated by the police. I’ll have to notify Detective Vail that Kenya is missing unless you cooperate.”
Angie’s nut brown eyes widened. “I don’t see any harm in giving you her address. You let me know if she’s okay, hear?”
Fear gripping her heart, Marla raced to Kenya’s street, which thankfully was only five minutes away. Her gaze drifted to the clock before she shut off the ignition on her Camry. Only ten more minutes before her next customer arrived. She’d have to make this quick.
Kenya lived in a rental complex by the Palm Haven post office. No one answered at her apartment number, so Marla rapped at several of the neighbors’ doors. “Excuse me,” she said to a mother who opened the door while holding a squirming toddler under her arm. “I’m trying to locate Kenya Dobson. She didn’t come into work today, and I’m worried about her.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, honey. I haven’t seen her car in its space since Saturday. Maybe she went on vacation.”
“Is there anyone here who is close to her? You know, a friend she might confide in?”
The mom struggled with her unruly child. “I haven’t a clue. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
Marla turned away after having the door shut in her face. She sniffed around Kenya’s doorway but didn’t smell anything bad to arouse suspicions. Might the landlord have a key? She tried the apartment building office, but they refused to invade the privacy of Kenya’s apartment on Marla’s word alone. That left her with only one option: Dalton Vail.
She used her cell phone to call him at the station on her way back to the salon. After she explained her mission, she got the desired response. He promised to check it out.
“I’ll get a warrant,” he said in his deep, commanding tone. “It shouldn’t be a problem, considering what happened to the other gals in your group. I’ve assigned one of my detectives to reexamine those accidents. Meanwhile, I’m following leads on that Chang fellow.”
Marla kept her hands on the wheel, speaking to the telephone on its cradle. “Did you figure out what Goat meant by warning me away from the white house? Maybe we should revisit Evan’s ranch. If we go when they’re not expecting us, we might find the lab. Showing them your warrant the last time got you the official tour. I’ll bet we could snoop out the real goods.”
Vail laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that stirred her feminine nerve endings into heightened awareness. “Working in the salon isn’t enough for you, is it? Don’t you have customers waiting?”
“Yeah, I do.” She pulled into the parking lot at the shopping strip where her salon was located. “I have to get back to work. Heck, that’s where Carolyn Sutton just opened. She’s calling her place Hairstyle Heaven.” A thoughtful frown creased her brow. Cutter’s establishment was Heavenly Hair Salon. Hadn’t he mentioned developing a franchise out west? Could this be where Carolyn got her financial backing? The similarity in names struck her as being a little too coincidental. But maybe she was making a connection where none existed.
“It’s unfortunate that she moved into the same location,” Vail said. “I hope it doesn’t make things more difficult for you.”
“Tell me about it. If you think I’m bad, that woman is trouble with a capital T.”
“You have enough to worry about right now-I’ll call you later to discuss making another visit to the ranch.”
“Tonight is Passover. I won’t be home. Arnie invited me for the first night at his house.”
A pause. “I’ll miss you.”
“If I know you, you’ll be buried in paperwork.”
“Don’t forget to reserve Saturday night for me. I get too restless when we’re apart. Know what I mean?” His suggestive tone told her clearly what he meant.
Sitting in her parked car, she felt her body stir. “Me too,” she replied in a husky tone. Get over this hormonal surge every time you speak to him. It distracts you from thinking rationally. “Please notify me when Kenya turns up,” she added. “Until later, then. Bye.” First Goat vanished, now her classmate. At least Goat was still alive. Grasping her purse, she detached the cell phone and lifted it from its cradle. Time to fulfill her other obligations.
“Marla, where have you been? You shouldn’t run out on us like that.” Giorgio’s voice assaulted her as soon as she entered the salon. “Out to lunch with your handsome detective?”
“No, I had an errand to run,” she said with a preoccupied air. “Hi, Mrs. Fagelson. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she told her gray-haired client. “You can go back and get washed.”
She was midway through the blow-out when power cut off. No juice playing the background music, no noise from the dryers, no heat to the curling irons. Nada. Stunned silence swept through the salon, but it didn’t last long.
“Flicker, Power, and Light,” Nicole sneered from the next station where she was applying highlights. “What now? Some car hit a pole? It isn’t storm season yet.”
Marla plunked her hair dryer on the counter. “I’ll go next door and see who else is affected.”
A few minutes later, she returned. “We’re it, guys. The lights work on either side of us. I’ll check the circuits.” They were turned to the ON position. She switched off the air-conditioning, in case of a power surge when the electricity came back online.
“I’ll call FPL,” she told her waiting staff. “I can’t imagine what’s happened. Sorry, Mrs. Fagelson. I hope we can fix this fast, or we’re dead in the water.”
Where had she put the electric company’s phone number? Marla couldn’t find it anywhere, not on the front desk, in her Rolodex, or in her files. She’d have to look it up in the Yellow Pages.
Crouching down behind the reception desk, she slid open a cupboard. As she reached for the thick directory, a black object scurried away from the natural light into darker recesses.
“Ahh!” Marla shrieked, jerking backward and banging her hip on the opposite counter. Springing to her feet, she lurched into Giorgio’s outstretched arms.
“What is it?”
“A palmetto bug.”
“Pah! You’re afraid of the little creature?”
“It’s not little. The thing is bigger than my thumb. You get it. I’ll give you a bonus.”
“No kidding. How much?”
“Giorgio!”
While she knew he was teasing, for a moment something odd flashed behind his expression. “Go on. You’re just ribbing me.”
His face eased into a smile. “Don’t worry, your hero will get the big bad bug.”
“Excuse me,” said an unfamiliar male voice. A silver-haired man stood by the reception counter, looking slightly bewildered.
Marla searched for the receptionist, but the girl hadn’t yet returned from the bank where Marla had sent her. “Yes?” She edged out of Giorgio’s way, hoping the man wouldn’t think their actions peculiar.
“I was wondering if anyone had time to give me a haircut this afternoon.”
She opened the appointment book. Everyone else was fully occupied. Marla had the only available slot, having purposefully not filled it in so she could leave early. “I can take you after I finish Mrs. Fagelson, but we’re having a problem with the power right now.”
The man gave a shy smile. “You can come get me when you’re ready. I’m Sam Levy. I work down at the hardware store.”
She knew the place. It was a privately owned store, one of a rare breed left in these days of chain stores that outgunned the independents. “I’m Marla Shore, and this is my salon. You’re only a few doors down. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
His eyes crinkled. “You’re mighty kind, miss. I should be retired, you know, but after my wife passed on, I couldn’t stay home alone. I used to be in the building business, so the hardware store is the perfect place for me.”
Marla grinned. “My neighbor Moss is supposedly retired, too. He still does carpentry work.” A loud whack from behind made her jump.
“Got it,” Giorgio exclaimed. “Here are your Yellow Pages.”
Marla waved at Sam as he left the salon, and signaled to her customer that she’d be right back. She dialed the number for FPL and got connected to the service department.
“Well, Miss Shore,” the lady on the other end said after she’d explained her problem, “we have here a request you made earlier. You told us to shut off the electricity and to cancel your account.”
Highlights to Heaven Page 18