by Amy Andersen
“What can I do to get more people in here?” she wondered. “Honestly, just to see an old client’s face again would mean everything to me.” Today, literally no one had come in, not even for a trim. She looked out into the chilly afternoon and pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her. The trees around her shivered with a sharp breeze and a crow cawed from a roof across the street. It’s shriek made Marion turn her head and as she did, a body fell through the air and landed right outside her salon.
The huge, limp form came straight down to the sidewalk, making a horrible sound as it hit the concrete. A cell phone jumped out of the man’s hand, skittering across the pavement and shattering along the way.
“Oh my god!” Marion jumped back and ran into her salon. She was so shocked she lost her footing and fell to the floor, having to crab walk back to the far wall and sit there for a moment. She stared at the mangled form outside her door, and the blood slowly seeping into the concrete; she already knew he was dead. Another corpse. What next?
Crawling slowly, she moved across the salon, focusing on the body in front of her. Was it real? Could this be some horrible prank, someone trying to give her a heart attack for some stupid Internet video? No, she didn’t think so. If this was a dummy or someone acting, it was too good. She knew before she made it back across the room that the person who had been flung at her feet was the victim of something awful. She looked up at the hotel windows above her, but there was no one.
Back at the doorway, she was able to take a closer look at the body. It was a man, an adult, probably in his early thirties. He had nice full auburn hair, had recently shaved and was wearing a really nice tuxedo. Hating that she had to face another cadaver, she slowly approached the corpse, her breath coming in short, shuddering bursts.
When she got close enough, she could see blood trickling from the corner of the person’s mouth. She leaned down and looked closer; it was a man, young, dressed for an event. The wheels in her head kept turning, her heart sped up and then she ran back into the salon again—she knew him! It was Fred, a former client and a nice guy who had come in at least once a month until recently. She looked at his hand and suddenly realized why he looked so nice. Today had been his wedding day.
Chapter 2
“Look! What is that?”
“It’s a body! The haunted salon strikes again!”
“Wait, is that the same salon? The one where that woman was killed?”
“It can’t be.”
“Yes! I know it is. I used to get my haircuts there. Back before the murder.”
“Whoa.”
All around Marion, people were pulling out their phones to photograph the body, the doorway of the salon and the desperate owner on the phone with the police.
Marion quickly put her hand up in front of her face. “Please, leave!” She had tears running down her face. How could this be happening to her again? How? She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed. “Carter, I need you here now. A dead man just fell to the sidewalk right outside Silver Shears,” she explained. “There’s a huge crowd gathering. You need to come and see this. Okay. Okay, I’ll get rid of them.”
She stepped out to her doorway and faced the crowd, trying to keep calm. “Everyone,” she said loudly, “the police are on their way and have reminded us not to touch anything. Every part of this crime scene is a clue. By standing around you are getting in the way of an investigation. Please, go home. Really, have some respect,” she concluded.
Grumbling, the crowd moved across the street, but no one left. Marion pulled a chair up to the doorway and sat to keep vigil over the dead body. She could look at him now, but it made her heart twist to see him mangled on the ground. The poor guy. She remembered him well and she had always liked him. He had always had a big smile for everyone; he had been very personable. She could even remember one day she’d seen him walking with his fiancée, Julie, and kissing her hand as they went. He had always seemed like a hopeless romantic, someone she could relate to.
Her brother, Carter Fox, arrived shortly and Glenn Steele, the medical examiner, was right behind him. She gave Carter a big hug and got a quick squeeze hello from Glenn.
“Jesus,” Carter said, squatting by the body. “What happened to this guy?”
“He fell,” Marion answered. “Honestly, it was like he came from sky. I think he was dead before he hit the ground.” Glenn kneeled down to get a closer look, snapping his surgical gloves on as he did so. His blue hands gingerly touched the body, careful not to change his position. “You didn’t move him, did you?”
“No. I didn’t touch him.”
Carter looked up. “Do you know him?”
She nodded. “He’s a former client of mine, Fred Hendrickson. And Carter,” she took a deep breath, “his wedding was supposed to be today.”
Cater took a deep breath and looked down at the dead man, shaking his head. Under his breath, he whispered a soft, “Damn.” Then, he shrugged off the emotion and went into action.
Moving fast, Carter’s fellow officers put up yellow tape around the spot where the body had fallen, making Marion’s salon a crime scene yet again. Now no one could come in, even if they wanted to. A chalk outline was drawn around the body to record its position. Glenn pronounced the man dead and put the body in a body bag to be transported to the hospital. Marion watched all of this from her chair, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. It was all just awful.
“Officer Fox?” Carter turned to see a young man in a nice suit standing behind him. With a somber face, he reached for Carter’s hand.
“I’m Sam Bradley, the Director of Reception at the hotel here. I,” he gulped and then started to cry. “I think I was the last one to see him alive. He came early this morning and I saw him alone, asking for the key to his room.”
“Did you notice something weird?” asked Carter.
“Not at all. He was acting normal, polite as always.”
Carter nodded and escorted him away from the scene to take his full statement. While they spoke, an older gentleman joined them and Carter scribbled quickly to take down everything he had to say. A few other people wandered up, all of them looking pale and shaken, as if they had just fallen themselves, and Carter talked to each of them.
Marion watched the hotel guests gather around her brother. They were all well-dressed, moneyed individuals who enjoyed the old-fashioned, overly-wrought style of their downtown hotel. It was the kind of place that still had elevator boys in jackets and hats, and cocktails in the lobby. Everyone who had come for the wedding had expected to be at a pre-ceremony party filled with champagne and canapes by now, not giving a statement to a cop.
When he returned, Carter looked very forlorn. He took Marion’s hand and helped her out of the salon so that she wouldn’t step on the outline or rip the tape. Together, they locked the place up and Marion looked back over her shoulder at the door as she walked away, wondering if she would ever be in business again. They walked to the corner together, both anxious to talk.
Carter spoke first. “Marion, he killed himself.”
“No.” Marion shook her head. “That’s not what happened.”
Carter closed his eyes and let out a big sigh. His little sister had gotten lucky and cracked one case, sure, but she was no detective. However, once a civilian got a taste of crime solving, it was often impossible to convince them that it had been a lucky break, not a testament to their skills.
He tried again. “Glenn agrees with me; he said it had all the signs of a jumper as soon as he finished the preliminary exam. And,” Cater stopped and put his hands on Marion’s shoulders, “I went to his hotel room. There was no sign of a struggle nothing was broken. Besides that, it was locked from the inside; the only way out was through the window. And we are talking about a fourth plant.”
“You’re wrong.” Marion shrugged off his hands. “He was a happy guy who loved life. He wasn’t depressed at all. And besides,” she stepped back, sizing
Carter up, “who kills themselves on their wedding day? Think about it, Carter.”
Her brother’s hands rose and then fell helplessly by his sides. “Marion, I know it’s unusual, but it’s the only explanation.”
“Then explain the phone,” she countered. “No one who jumps to their death does it with their phone in their hand. But his was right next to him on the sidewalk. It wasn’t suicide. It was murder.”
Chapter 3
The phone rang while Marion was out in her garden, snipping back her herbs and roses before they went to seed. Her gardening shears were starting to rust and she had to hack at her plants a little before they would surrender to the blades. The phone was a welcome break.
“Hello?”
“Marion! How are you? I’m just worried to death about you.”
Her ear ringing, Marion pulled the phone back from her head and then, once the caller calmed down, braved moving it closer once more.
“Dory, great to hear from you.” Silently, Marion mouthed, oh shoot. If Dory Bantry was calling, it could only mean one thing; she was digging up some gossip and Marion was her target.
“Dear,” Dory continued, her voice as full of honey as she could make it, “I am just desperate for a cut. You know and I know that no one else does it the way I like. And besides,” the phone shifted a bit as Dory went into a whisper, “I don’t trust that Michael Browne. I think he has his eyes on my son. And my boy is going to land himself a doctor, nothing less.”
Marion slapped her forehead. “Dory, Michael is straight. He’s married!”
“So was David Bowie.”
“But David Bowie wasn’t ...”
“Anyway,” Dory broke in, “I am looking just atrocious. Any chance you could see me today? We could catch up, I can tell you what’s going on with me, you can let me know what the latest scandal is in your life. It will be wonderful!”
Marion thought for a moment. She really needed the work.
“Actually,” Marion said, her spirits up for the first time in a while, “I can. It would be great to see you again.”
Dory let out an appreciative squeal. “Sounds lovely, darling! See you in an hour.” She hung up before Marion could say anything, but of course, she was free. The whole town knew about the dead body that had fallen in front of her place and subsequently the fact that the salon was almost always empty. Marion jumped up to get to work, excited to have something to do.
When Dory arrived, Marion guided her under the police tape and opened the door for her. She settled into a chair and asked Marion all kinds of questions about the day Fred’s body had fallen onto the sidewalk. Marion obliged while she played with Dory’s hair, running it through her fingers and letting it fall.
After a quick consultation and a shampoo, Marion started trimming Dory’s hair starting with the bottom layer. She sprayed Dory’s brown hair and then smoothed it out with a comb down to the end where she cut it in a nice, straight line. The sound of her scissors set her at ease; she truly loved her profession.
“So tell me about this handsome doctor that’s keeping an eye on you, dear.” Dory spoke facing the wall, but her face was so expressive Marion could already see her wiggling eyebrows and that signature sparkle in her eyes.
“I don’t know that there’s much to tell. We went out to the boardwalk once. It was nice. Actually,” Marion drifted off for a moment as she remembered how much she had enjoyed her date with Glenn. It had been a great time. “It was really great. I’m not exactly sure why he hasn’t called.”
“I’ll tell you why,” Dory jumped in. “The man is a snob, through and through. That’s what happens when you send a nice boy off to some private, hoity-toity school. It ruins him! He was nothing like our poor Fred, the one who died yesterday? You remember.”
Marion rolled her eyes. “The dead corpse that fell out of the sky and right in front of my salon? Yes, I remember.”
“Such a sweet man. And what a lovely bride he’d found for himself. Julie is absolutely charming. Do you know her?”
“I don’t. What’s she like?”
“For starters, gorgeous. Every man in town was heartbroken when she got engaged. You could see it in their faces; the town’s most beautiful, adored young woman was off the market and headed down the aisle. They took it hard. None so much as Daniel.”
Marion moved to Dory’s side and continued trimming, getting her bangs nice and straight. “Daniel who?”
“A man named Daniel Taylor.” Dory pushed Marion’s hand down and out of the way so that she could look directly at her stylist’s eyes. “From what I hear,” she said softly, “he would have done anything to get Julie. He was positively besotted with her.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?”
“Well,” Dory continued, squirming with happiness at all the attention, “a friend of mine owns the little flower shop on Third Street. She tells me he ordered flowers for her every weekend for ages. He’d agonize over what kind to send, what the note should say, you name it. But, it was to no avail; Julie gave her heart to Fred. Daniel eventually gave up, but I don’t know if he ever got over her.”
Dory changed the subject to some of her favorite recipes as Marion moved to the other side and finished up her cut. She let everything Dory had told her sink in as the sound of metal on metal floated up from Dory’s head. She wanted to cut away all the extra, misleading information in this case and get to the heart of it. Making sharp, decisive cuts with determination, Marion was now more certain than ever that the man who’d fallen at her feet had been a victim, not a suicidal groom. All she had to do now was prove it.
Chapter 4
Wanting to express her condolences, Marion decided to go and visit the dead man’s bride, Julie. It wasn’t hard to find her house, she’d had a steady stream of visitors since he’d passed away. Marion headed inside the large, white cottage with a group of casserole-bearing friends, neighbors and family and realized she was the only one who was empty-handed. She been so frazzled by everything that had happened to her she hadn’t even thought to bring something for the family.
Inside, the would-be bride was as distraught, as any girl could be in her situation. She wore a nice little black dress with a cardigan and had her blonde hair in a pretty side braid. She sat on one side of the room and right away Marion noticed that Dory had not been exaggerating when she’d said the bride was a true beauty. Even as she gulped back her sobs, Julie was a vision with her blonde hair, her tiny nose and big, soft eyes. Marion stood back and took in the whole scene for a moment. It was at that moment that Glenn walked in.
She hung back and looked at Glenn, really looked at him. His taste and self-presentation was impeccable; he never went out unless he was showered, shaved and had on a nice shirt. He preferred the east coast style of long sleeves rolled up in what was meant to be a casual manner but in reality was carefully coordinated to give the illusion of not caring. His posture was on point and he had an ease about him that came with an understanding of good manners. He held the hand of a new acquaintance for just the right amount of time and left to talk to someone else without making anyone feel rejected.
How could she ever hope to be with this man? He was so educated, so refined. Who was she? A hairdresser with awful luck. A devoted fan of romantic comedies, particularly when they featured Jennifer Aniston, an actress she’d always related to. She could cook a bit, garden a little, but other than that, what was there to say?
“Did you know Fred?”
Marion jumped a little as an older woman materialized in front of her. “Unfortunately, no. I was there when he was, um …”
The little woman waved the unspoken description away. “Of course, now I recognize you. You’re Marion Fox, the owner of that sweet little salon.” She offered her hand. “I’m Gina, Fred’s grandmother.”