“Marina, what’s the matter?” Lizzie’s voice rose in alarm. She put her hands on Marina’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” Lizzie asked, frowning with concern. “You’re freezing.”
Marina let out a large breath. “Lizzie, I had a bad feeling about Adele’s date. I told her not to go. That poor girl. She was so excited about meeting this man. The paper is making her look like a desperate old maid, but she wasn’t dumb. She was lonely.”
Lizzie looked at her hard. Within seconds, she gave Marina’s shoulder a squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You couldn’t stop Adele going. Any dating is risky at first until you get to know the person. They don’t have ‘nut case’ written across their forehead.”
“Or ‘looks great but is a pornography addict,’” Marina added.
“Or ‘cross-dresser who specializes in bridal gowns,’” Lizzie said.
Marina was glad for the comfort of Lizzie’s arm around her shoulder. Her touch made the horrible images go away. “Actually, he loved lace. Oh, leave Tony out of this,” she said. “His was a harmless habit that I couldn’t cope with.”
“So send him a David Jones dress voucher,” Lizzie said.
“Lizzie!” She turned back to the Herald. She frowned and pulled at her lower lip thoughtfully. “Do you think I should go to the police? Tell them she was online dating?”
Lizzie shrugged. “The paper said Adele’s flatmate’s already told them that. I mean, what else are you going to tell them? Did she describe who she was meeting? Did she give you a name?”
Marina tried to think back. She shook her head. “No. No name. I just remember her excitement at finally meeting someone she liked the sound of. She said she was meeting him at Pier One, then she wanted to go dancing afterward.”
“She can’t have made dancing seeing as they found her in the Harbour.” Lizzie paused, her eyes narrowed. “She told you she was meeting him at Pier One?” she repeated slowly.
Marina nodded. “You know, the night we were there with Fabio, I heard a scream. I know that Pier One is noisy, but Adele had that distinctive scream.”
“Yeah, but how could someone get murdered in a crowded place like Pier One? Surely someone saw something,” Lizzie said.
He wanted to make a statement. Marina pushed the unwanted thought away. She shook her head vigorously, determined to clear it. It was like her mind wasn’t her own. She had no idea where the horrible thoughts were coming from.
“I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. Her throat was dry and constricted again. Her shoulders ached from tension. There was a biting pain in her stomach.
She didn’t want to be psychic. But what if she was? If she’d listened to herself, could she have made a bigger effort to stop Adele going? Her stomach rolled and she clutched at it. She thought she was going to be sick. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Careful not to touch Adele’s photograph, she folded the newspaper into quarters and shoved it into the waste paper basket. “Have you heard from Fabio?”
Lizzie raised her finely plucked eyebrows. “He’s sent me five emails and two text messages telling me he loves me.” She gave a small smile. “He’s bombarding me with love messages.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
Lizzie shrugged. “I’m playing it cool.” She clearly tried to look like she didn’t care, but failed when her mouth turned down and her blue eyes glittered. She twisted her nose piercing. “The trouble is I really like Fabio. I can’t stop thinking about him, but there doesn’t seem to be even a short-term future there. I can’t stand the way he looks at those awful magazines.” She peered down at her small breasts. “Anyway, I’ll never measure up to what he wants.”
“You don’t have to,” Marina said. “Forget him. You are beautiful as you are.” Lizzie had once told her that her academic father had told her she was stupid. Would Lizzie ever gain some self-esteem? No matter how many times she complimented her friend, her words ran off Lizzie like rain off a raincoat.
“I’m so glad I have you as a friend. Gosh, you’re cold. Go put a jacket on.”
“I’m glad I have you.” She hugged her back, grateful for the comfort of Lizzie's touch. Marina looked at her watch. “I’d better get downstairs and see if my next client has arrived. We’ll talk later.”
She went downstairs to greet her client, passing Natalia’s husband, Michael, who was sponging yellow paint onto a wall. “Hi, Michael. The foyer looks nice.”
He nodded. “I’m done here now.”
Marina had scarcely heard Michael speak more than a few words at any given time, but a pleased expression crossed his chunky face at her comment. She smiled. Michael had yellow paint splattered on his bald head, which made him look like a cracked semi-boiled egg. Although Marina didn’t find his sturdy-workman look attractive, Michael was a hard worker and his wife clearly adored him.
“It looks vell,” Natalia said. “He do such a good job, my husband. Such a hard vorker.” Natalia shot him a loving look. “Vot you think of colour, Marina?”
“Lovely,” Marina agreed.
“Ve hang mirror now,” Natalia said.
Marina saw that over the shelves that displayed the Thalgo product range, Michael had hung a large gilt mirror which complimented the yellow wash, giving the salon a stately old-world look. The foyer wasn’t large. There was just enough room for the reception desk, shelving and the two gilded chairs in the far corner where her next client, Mrs. Saxon sat.
“Hello, Mrs. Saxon. Would you like to come upstairs?” Marina asked.
Mrs. Saxon, a wealthy blonde merchant banker’s wife in her forties, stood and adjusted her pink designer suit, which looked too tight for her. Mrs. Saxon was a difficult client, not because of her wealth which was enough to allow her to live on Woolloomooloo Wharf, an upmarket development on Sydney Harbour where movie stars bought apartments, but because most of her lower body was peppered with coarse pubic-like hair.
“I really need this waxing. You’ll never guess what’s happening now,” Mrs. Saxon said the moment she entered Marina’s cubicle.
Marina had a good idea, but she didn’t say anything. Poor Mrs. Saxon had married a cheater, a bastard who didn’t care that he was tearing out her heart. She shot Mrs. Saxon a sympathetic look, and left the room momentarily so her client could change.
The moment she returned, Mrs. Saxon, who lay gowned on the table, started detailing her problem. “He’s at it again.”
Marina stirred the wax and placed her strips on the bench.
“Mr. Saxon?” Marina filled in the blanks. Lizzie reckoned beauticians were therapists with a waxing implement.
As Mrs. Saxon talked, Marina cast her professional eye over her. Despite her tight suit, Mrs. Saxon looked well put together when clothed, with faultless make-up and beautifully highlighted blond hair, which was cut into a layered bob. But when she undressed, she needed a lot of waxing done.
“This time he’s saved an online dating site in favorites. You have no idea the pain I feel that he’s so blatant about his infidelity. And the thing is, he doesn’t think looking up these sites is being unfaithful. But it is, I tell you. It is! It breaks my heart. He’s at it every night after I’ve gone to bed. Do you online date?”
Marina thought of Adele lying dead in the city morgue and shook her head. Her stomach rolled again. “No. I don’t think it’s for me.”
“Watch the ones who email you after midnight,” continued Mrs. Saxon as if Marina hadn’t answered. “They’re the married men looking for sex on the side. I’m sure that’s what my husband is doing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marina said, making a mental note to tell Lizzie. She prepped Mrs. Saxon with tea-tree oil, then sprinkled some powder onto her pelvic region.
“The man’s a sex addict,” Mrs. Saxon continued. “First it started with pornography. I looked up history on the net to see what sites he’s been visiting. You should see them. There should be a law banning this sort of thing. Lewd. Horrible. Women
peeing. Women with enormous breasts doing things together. Disgusting! I hope the children never discover him doing this stuff. My girls adore him.”
Marina’s ears pricked up. This was what Lizzie had complained to her about. Only Lizzie was still free to dump Fabio whereas poor Mrs. Saxon had a wedding ring that had become golden handcuffs.
“One knee up.” She started work on Mrs. Saxon’s inner thighs where the hair was no different from her pubic region. She liked it that she could make Mrs. Saxon look beautiful on the outside, but hated that no one could mend her inner pain.
“Now he’s moved over to the online dating services,” continued Mrs. Saxon. “He’s on the internet every night. He doesn’t even try to say it’s about business anymore. I don’t know where to turn. This is going to destroy our marriage.”
“Can’t you talk to your husband?” Marina asked. She smoothed the strip of wax on Mrs. Saxon’s thigh, pressed the cloth over the wax and ripped. Mrs. Saxon didn’t flinch. Her emotional pain went far deeper than any waxing.
“What am I going to say? That I’m spying on him? Checking up on him? No. I’m trying to seduce him all over again.” Mrs. Saxon raised her head and looked down. Her eyes were large and sad. “I had my breasts enlarged and he doesn’t even seem to have noticed. All that pain for nothing. When you get to my privates take the lot off. Don’t leave the Clitler like you normally do.”
“The Full Brazilian?” Marina said.
“I’m desperate. I’m trying to be a new woman to keep my husband, but the trouble is I don’t have a twenty-year-old’s body. Not after two children. I’ve lost some weight, and I can just squeeze into my suits again, but after forty you have to choose between your face or your butt.”
“True.” Marina smiled at Mrs. Saxon’s words. She’d seen clients diet to the point where their butts were small, but they needed a truckload of collagen to fix the lines in their faces.
She finished waxing Mrs. Saxon’s thighs and started the Brazilian. Most clients were silent when she got near their frilly bits. Some would grit their teeth in pain, others like Adele screamed, but Mrs. Saxon kept talking.
“I checked that online dating service. I mean, a woman might as well be dead after forty. I looked at what the men want. It doesn’t matter how old they are. They all want a woman around twenty-five. I’m sure that’s what my husband is going for.”
Marina wrinkled her nose. “That’s a big age difference.”
“Ha! Men don’t care. They never think they’re getting old.”
Marina shook her head. She worked quickly, applying the hot wax and pulling off Mrs. Saxon’s pubic hair. Because it was the first time she removed the runway of pubic hair, she made the strips smaller so it would be less painful, but Mrs. Saxon remained oblivious.
“Why can’t he just love me? I gave up my career. I stayed at home to look after him and the kids. I never look at other men. Sometimes I feel like giving up on him. Maybe I should start going online myself.”
A shiver passed through Marina. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she said, trying to remain calm. “There’s a murderer out there.” Waiting. Just waiting. She sensed it in her bones. Marina bit her lip not wanting to think about it. If only she could stop the terrible thoughts that plagued her. She wondered if the stress of running out on her wedding was driving her mad. But Adele’s murder had happened, and Marina knew it wouldn’t be the last.
* * * *
Marina and Lizzie left the salon on Darlinghurst Road at five to walk home. Traffic blocked the street. Horns blared. The footpath was busy with people dressed in grunge black but Marina didn’t pay them any attention. She was used to the frenetic pace and the mixed smell of car fumes, coffee and people once she stepped out of the salon. Instead, she stopped as she always did to talk to the cat lady who sat in a wheel chair a few shops down from the salon. She patted the kitten on the lady’s lap and searched her bag for coins to donate to the woman’s cause of finding homes for orphan cats.
“Wait here, Marina,” said Lizzie, and then did something Marina had never seen her do—she walked into Forever After Books, a bookshop that specialized in used and obscure books on spirituality, psychology and the like.
Marina frowned, wondering what she was up to until a tiny movement caught her attention.
“You’ve got a new kitten,” Marina said, reaching to pat a gray, furry bundle. She always wondered how the woman managed to sit there all day with the kittens on her lap. The kittens weren’t constrained in any way, but they never seemed to run off into the busy street.
“Yes,” the cat lady said. “Someone dumped a litter on my doorstep. I’ve found homes for three of them. This is the last one.” The woman held the kitten out to Marina to cuddle.
“He’s a darling,” Marina said, tickling the kitten under his neck. “I wish my flatmate James wasn’t allergic to cats, otherwise I’d take him home immediately. I’ve missed having a cat since mine died. I like the way they’re so independent but affectionate at the same time.”
“You’d take them all home and put this lady out of a job,” said Lizzie, who returned with a book in a paper bag.
Marina gave one last pat to the kitten and returned him to the lady with a few dollars. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
The lady nodded and smiled.
Marina eyed the bag Lizzie was carrying. “You taking up reading books?”
Lizzie gave her a look. “No. I hate reading.”
“But you bought a book.”
“Yep.” Lizzie gave her a mysterious smile. “I’ll explain after you get your coffee.”
The girls turned the corner from Darlinghurst Road into Oxford Street, past the busy Victorian cafes and people wearing hip black. Marina loved this section of Oxford Street where Darlinghurst became the trendy suburb of Paddington, a Mecca for shoppers and food lovers. She breathed in the smell of roasted coffee beans as they passed her favorite coffee shop, The Unicorn Café. She ducked in to buy a cappucino from the cute guy who served in the shop wearing his black bowler hat.
“I’m doing some research,” Lizzie said, when she returned.
“Research?” Marina looked in her canvas bag, which had a large picture of Marilyn Monroe on the side. She found her keys as they neared their apartment. Being tidier than Lizzie, she always found her key first, so Lizzie no longer bothered.
The girls walked upstairs to their apartment and Lizzie waited as Marina unlocked the door. Marina stepped aside to let Lizzie walk through. “You never know, you might enjoy taking up reading,” Marina said. “I’m not sure a psychology book is a good place to start.”
Once Marina was inside, Lizzie closed the door firmly. “Psychology? I haven’t bought a book on psychology,” Lizzie said. She opened the paper bag and handed her book to Marina. “Look. I’ve bought a book on witchcraft. Wicca actually. The study of white witchcraft. I’ve read all about it in Street Cred magazine.”
“I wondered what you’d be up to next.”
“I’ve decided to try scrying,” Lizzie said. “You shouldn’t underestimate the power of the universe sending you answers you seek.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff,” Marina said with a grin. In the short time she’d lived with Lizzie, her roommate had already Feng Shuied the apartment and made her a Talisman. She insisted Marina keep it near her bed at night in order to induce sweet dreams.
“I’ve kept my love Talisman in my pocket for three weeks and I haven’t found anyone yet,” Marina continued, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a green silk pouch with a rose quartz love stone inside. “I don’t think it’s working.” James’s handsome face came to mind but she shoved the image aside. James liked her. Respected her. He’d be horrified if she came onto him. God knows, she’d lost the respect of everyone back home. She didn’t want to lose James’s.
“You’re supposed to wear it around your neck,” Lizzie said. “It should be touching your skin. This stuff doesn’t work at once. You have to
be patient. I meditated a long time to charge that Talisman. At least five minutes. It’s a battery for cosmic energies. It’s supposed to increase your telepathic capabilities—”
“Pass,” Marina said.
“And protect you from evil and get rid of ghosts.”
“Oh. Great. I can see it’s going to be very handy then.”
“Ha! I’ve found just what I’m looking for,” Lizzie said, ignoring her response. “And I’m going to need your help.”
“Do I have a choice here?”
“We need a skull.” Lizzie looked at her expectantly.
“You’re not getting mine.”
Chapter 3
“I need a crystal skull.” Lizzie flicked a glance at Marina who placed her Marilyn Monroe bag on the telephone table in the hallway. “So I’m afraid yours won’t do.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m rather attached to mine. Since when did crystal balls go out of fashion?”
“Skulls are used in magic ceremonies. Don’t you know anything?”
“I’m not interested in magic.” Marina walked down the corridor into the kitchen and started rummaging in the refrigerator. She already had enough problems with strange stuff happening to her. “I think we should have a vegetable stir-fry tonight. There are enough bits and pieces here.”
Lizzie settled down on a stool in the kitchen and continued studying her book. “Seeing as we don’t have a crystal skull handy, the book says I can use a mirror or even someone’s eyes.”
Marina pulled her head out of the refrigerator and blinked. “Forget it. I’m attached to them, too.”
“Don’t be silly.” Lizzie twiddled with her nose ring, twisting it around as she read. “Divination. Seeing into the future.”
“Don’t.” Marina tensed, resisting a sudden urge to slap Lizzie’s hand away from her nose. She knew next week Lizzie would be out sighting UFOs or whatever was coming up next in the magazines she read. The whole thing was harmless. “I don’t want to know the future.”
Dirty Sexy Murder Page 3