She knocked after a few minutes had passed.
“Come in, dear.”
Her client was already lying down with her knees up waiting. She noticed that Cynthia had taken off all her clothes, even her bra so that her breasts flopped to either side under the gown.
She put a cotton blanket over Cynthia. Although she knew she should be used to nudity, when it was blatant like this it disturbed her. “How would you like your Brazilian today?”
“I’d like you to shape a love heart today, dear. I want my love-muffin pretty because I’m going to a party tonight.”
Marina didn’t laugh at Cynthia’s quaint term for her vulva, though she knew Lizzie would. She guessed that Cynthia was in her late fifties and thought it was great that she took good care of herself.
“A party. That sounds fun.” Marina lifted the client’s gown noticing that Cynthia had sparse, graying pubic hair. She surveyed the top of her client’s vulva with an experienced eye working out if there was enough pubic hair there to form the heart shape.
Marina took a deep breath to clear her foggy mind.
Her breath stopped in her throat and she quickly turned to reach for the tea-tree oil before she gagged. Gross. Cynthia Nelson hadn’t showered for some time. Marina slipped on her protective gloves and wished it were permissible to wear a nosepeg. Marina was very fussy about her personal hygiene and found it disturbing when a client turned up for a Brazilian without showering.
After wiping her client with tea-tree oil, she patted some powder onto the area with a towel. Taking a wooden spatula she smoothed the hot wax onto Cynthia’s inner thigh and her upper bikini line. Working on two places at once was quicker and she used the technique when she wanted the job done quickly. She wasn’t sure whether Cynthia was a bathe-once-a-week person but she certainly smelled like it.
“So do you have something nice to wear to this special party?” Marina asked, knowing it made the client feel comfortable if she made conversation while she worked. She started pulling off the hot wax and reapplying it to the area until all the hair came off cleanly.
“Oh no, dear. This is a naked party.”
“Right.” She paused for thought. Marina had boasted to Lizzie that nothing shocked her but she was coming close to shock here. “Are you a nudist?” Cynthia Nelson didn’t have the rugged tan that older people kept from years of walking naked in the sunshine. In fact, she looked more suited to working in a library. Marina smoothed more hot wax onto her client, careful to leave enough hair to shape the love heart though it would be a bit sparse.
“No, dear. This is a swingers’ party.”
She wasn’t going to touch that one. Marina fervently searched her mind for a change of conversation except her brain was in slow gear. Still, at least she wasn’t having any weird psychic feelings other than wanting to finish this appointment ASAP—and there was nothing psychic about that!
“My husband and I run the Swinging Sixties club.”
Wrinklies playing sex games. Marina bit her lower lip, trying not to smile. Lizzie would think that was gross.
“We’re always looking for new members,” continued Cynthia matter-of-factly.
Marina groaned inside. Please, no.
Cynthia raised her head and peered at Marina as if she were a bit short-sighted.
Marina knew she was checking her out as a prospective swinger. “I’m too young,” she blurted, feeling like an insect on a pin board.
“A bit of fresh, young blood always makes things interesting. The boys would love you.”
How old were the ‘boys’? As old as Cynthia? It was time for Marina to move to doing facials. There was something about waxing that made clients talk about their private lives, and while she was usually quite happy with comments about boyfriends and husbands being appreciative of her skills, Cynthia had crossed the invisible line of what she could cope with. She could adjust to the idea of online dating even though she hadn’t actually done it herself. But swinging? No way! Marina widened the wax strips and kept ripping. “I don’t think so.”
“You can always access our website if you change your mind. Search swinging sixties on the Net. My husband’s posted some lovely photos on the site.”
Like no way! Marina looked down at Cynthia’s unwashed love-muffin and her stomach contracted. Too much information. That was one site she wouldn’t be looking up.
Marina kept applying the hot wax and pulling it off. It was early, but she could tell that it was going to be one hell of a day.
* * * *
Later that morning one of Marina’s first-time clients called and cancelled, unable to face her appointment. Every month she lost one or two appointments due to fear, but this time she didn’t mind. Marina was happy to have an extended lunch hour so she could go outside to breathe some fresh air. The air conditioning didn’t seem to be working. Once back inside, she pushed aside her drapes. Her cubicle window, which looked onto busy Darlinghurst Road, was stuck and she couldn’t open it.
Perhaps she could find Michael and see if he could adjust it for her. She walked along the corridor, past Lizzie’s cubicle to the end of the corridor where there was a set of stairs leading up to the attic, where Michael was putting in two extra cubicles. When she stood at the foot of the stairs, she sniffed with appreciation at the new odors. The steps smelled like wood shavings and paint as Michael had just put in a banister. The walls of the corridor leading up to the attic weren’t painted yet, but she could hear a sloshing noise coming from one of the attic rooms. Natalia adored the colour yellow, so the whole salon was done in a yellow wash.
“Michael,” she called. “Are you up there?”
“Is that you, Marina?” he answered.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Wait a minute. I’ll come down.”
She could hear a ladder creak as well as the slippery, crunching sounds his work boots made as he came down the narrow stairs toward her. “Hi, Marina. What’s up?”
She smiled. He had yellow paint splotches on his bald head and speckles on his face.
He grinned back and wiped his head with his hand, which only served to smear the paint. “Natalia wants these rooms painted ASAP. She doesn’t like to keep clients waiting too long to get appointments. Says we’ll lose business.” Michael raised one arm and massaged his neck. He even had tattoos along the insides of his arms, which she hadn’t noticed before. Pictures of skulls and serpents intertwined with roses.
Her throat tightened with distaste. She gave herself a mental kick, determined to shift from her conservative small-town thinking and stop being so narrow minded.
“She’s probably right,” she said. “I’ve noticed clients don’t like to wait more than a few days for appointments.” Especially when they had to sit on a prickly Brazilian.
“Heard you had the cops visit last night,” he said. “What did they want to talk to you about?”
Marina nodded. “They’re investigating the latest murder. The client was one of mine. I couldn’t help them much.” She didn’t want to talk about it. If Michael knew she was a suspect she might as well quit work now.
Michael screwed up his face. “Nasty business.” He shook his head. “Saw the ultrasound of the baby last night,” he said excitedly, changing the subject. “It’s a boy.” His eyes sparkled with joy until he slapped his hand over his mouth leaving a yellow thumbprint. “I’m not s’posed to say the sex. Damn! Don’t mention it to Natalia. She’ll have me for this.”
He looked so contrite, Marina laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention I spoke to you. I just wanted to know if you can do something about the air conditioning. My room seems stuffy.”
“Sorry Marina. My fault. I turned it down because I’m painting and I didn’t want the smell to go through the salon. Do you wanna open your window?”
“I think it’s painted shut.”
“I’ll get my jimmy and open it.”
Marina watched him march up the stairs. She liked the way he always r
eferred to Natalia and cared about what she wanted. Underneath he seemed sweet despite his rough appearance.
When she went back to her cubicle she noticed Lizzie had finished with a client and was tidying her cubicle.
“Hi, Marina,” she called happily. “It worked. I had a terrific night last night.” She put her hands on her hips and wiggled them.
Marina rolled her eyes. “As Peta would say, at least one of us isn’t a ‘loser.’”
Lizzie giggled but her laughter died in her throat and her eyes narrowed as she stared past Marina. Marina turned and saw Michael. He had his tool belt strapped around his waist.
“Hello, Lizzie.” He nodded pleasantly to Lizzie who grunted back.
Marina felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment at Lizzie’s attitude. If she didn’t watch out, Michael might say something to Natalia and she’d lose her job.
“How did the training go last night?” Michael asked with a grin.
“Fine,” Marina said.
“Suppose you want to know the details?” Lizzie said.
Lizzie’s nasty tone worked like insect repellent on a fly and Michael looked as if she’d sprayed him. His grin dropped. He vigorously pulled the knuckles of his left hand. Several of them cracked.
“Lizzie! Don’t be so rude.” Lizzie was out of order this time and Marina scowled at her.
“I don’t wanna know what you girls did,” Michael protested. “I just wanna pay you for the extra time.”
“Oh,” Lizzie said, but she didn’t apologize. Instead she twisted her nose ring around and looked away.
“We did an hour,” Marina said, glaring at her. She’d never seen Lizzie so surly and she didn’t like it.
Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and Marina noticed he had a picture of Natalia inside. She’d bet, in six months’ time, he’d have a picture of his baby as well. The trouble with Lizzie was that when she made up her mind about someone, rightly or wrongly, she refused to budge on her opinion. She thought Fabio was terrific despite what he did to her. Come to think of it, James was like that about Fabio. He couldn’t stand the sight of him and wouldn’t budge from that position. Maybe stubbornness was a family trait.
Michael pulled out two fifty-dollar notes and handed one to each girl.
“That’s too much!” Marina exclaimed.
Even Lizzie looked pleased. “Thanks Michael,” she said, quickly pocketing the money.
Michael shrugged and looked embarrassed at their enthusiasm. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “You girls turn up to work, you never take sick days like some of the staff here. We’ve never had one complaint about you.”
“We like our job,” Lizzie said smiling.
Marina noticed somewhat sourly that Lizzie’s attitude to Michael seemed to have changed with the money.
“Natalia says we need to look after our best staff because when the baby comes, we’re going to depend on you girls. She’ll need time off, see?”
Lizzie nodded. “I’m happy to help out Natalia,” she said somewhat pointedly.
“Thanks Michael,” Marina said. Extra money was always appreciated, but what excited Marina was Michael’s praise of her work. She prided herself on her professionalism. When she could afford it, she wanted to open her own salon again. Knowing she could do it in the city meant she’d never have to return home to the mess she’d left behind.
The city was good for her. She was learning to be more broad-minded. Perhaps if she’d been that way in the first place, she would have been kinder to Tony about his cross-dressing and worked with him to prevent the domino wedding disaster. The guilt Marina felt pricked at her conscience. Lizzie nudged her with her elbow.
She was hopping from stiletto to stiletto like an impatient imp. “Fifty dollars. Cool.”
Michael gave her a cautious smile. “No problem. I’ll go unstick your window,” he said to Marina. He waved their enthusiasm away with a flick of his hand as if he didn’t like girly fuss and went into Marina’s cubicle.
Lizzie squeezed Marina’s hand. “Littles has a sale on. Let’s go look. I’ll grab my handbag.”
“Sure.” Marina reckoned that Lizzie’s fifty dollars would last ten minutes once she hit the shops, but then everything looked good on Lizzie’s size six frame.
The girls walked along Darlinghurst Road, toward Oxford Street which was lined with shops selling the latest fashions, alternative clothing and gourmet food. Lizzie loved Littles, a boutique stuffed with funky clothes. Lycra minis weren’t Marina’s look so she knew she wouldn’t be tempted, though she had noticed a cute A-line skirt with a suede cat on it when she’d looked in there last week. She preferred Porters, a more conservative brand, which suited her budget better.
“I also need to stock up on my magazines. I haven’t bought this month’s Street Cred Magazine or Fashion. I also want to see what’s on sale in the other boutiques.”
“Don’t think your fifty dollars is going to go very far,” Marina said.
“Don’t care. I have to have them.”
While Lizzie rushed into the local news stand to buy her magazines, Marina stopped to say hello to the cat lady who sat in her wheel chair with her kittens on her lap. Mostly she sat opposite the salon but this time she was in front of the newsstand on Oxford Street. “Hello,” Marina said, taking her wallet out of her purse so she could donate her tip money. “You’ve placed your little gray kitten.”
“Yes. I found him a good home.”
Marina put some coins in the lady’s cup while waiting for Lizzie. The cat lady had two marmalade kittens sitting on her lap. “Can I cuddle one?”
The cat lady nodded and Marina picked one up, holding it close. “Aren’t you sweet?” She tickled the kitten.
“Did you have a burglary last night?”
Marina looked at the cat lady surprised. “Did you see the police visit?”
The cat lady nodded. She reached over and put her hand on Marina’s arm. Her skin felt dry and papery. “I saw a man climb the salon fire escape stairs last night before the police came.”
“But the fire escape stairs aren’t visible from the street.”
The lady tilted her head upwards. “I live above the store opposite the salon, so I can see the upstairs of the salon from my lounge, though my night eyes aren’t good. The lights were on in the front room and they aren’t usually.”
“Lizzie and I worked late last night. No one came in except the police.” An icy shiver passed up Marina’s spine. “This man. What was he like? What did he do?” The malevolent feeling that had haunted her last night lodged in her spine, a haunting recurrent sensation.
The cat lady shook her head. “I don’t know. He was dressed in black. Even his head was covered. My precious girls wanted their dinner and I don’t like to keep them waiting. When I looked again, he was gone.” The cat lady put her hand on Marina’s arm. Marina could feel her concern spread like a gentle warmth up her arm. She was used now to feeling people’s emotions through their touch and she no longer questioned it.
“Watch your back, won’t you, dear. My cats would miss you if anything happened.”
Marina swallowed and nodded. “Y...yes,” she said, though her words came out in a stutter because her throat had gone dry.
“Come on, Marina.” Lizzie swept past her, her magazines tucked under her arms. She stopped and nodded briefly to the cat lady before turning back to Marina. “Look at this,” she said, flashing a magazine in front of Marina’s face. “It says, ‘Undress for Success.’ They should have interviewed me.”
Marina shook her head and followed Lizzie into Littles. She flicked through racks searching for the cat skirt hoping she’d find it in a twelve. Popular sizes went first which meant she was never successful like Lizzie in finding a bargain.
Lizzie whirled shirts, tops and skirts aside Marina had never seen her look so focused. “I saw some striped high-waisted jeans with a bootleg here last week. Ah, here they are and twenty
percent off. Bargain!” She flicked the pants over the crook of her elbow and kept searching.
Unable to find the skirt she was searching for, she stood back and watched Lizzie.
“Can’t you find anything?”
Marina shook her head.
“Never mind. You might get something in the other shops. Hold my handbag, will you?” Lizzie said, passing it to her. “It’s getting in my way. I won’t be long.” She paused from her task and a small smile creased her lips. “Have a look in my bag. Fabs found a photo on the internet you have to see. It’s real weird.”
Marina wasn’t sure that she wanted to see anything Fabio found on the internet. Still, she opened the clasp of Lizzie’s pink beaded bag, pulled out a piece of folded paper and unfolded it.
“What!” At first glance the printout was a naked picture of her. She strode over to Lizzie and hissed in her ear. “Where did you get this?”
Lizzie stopped searching for bargains. Her blue eyes twinkled and her mouth curved further into a cheeky smile. “The likeness is amazing, isn’t it? Look again.”
“What do you mean likeness?” insisted Marina. “Did that sick boyfriend of yours do this? Did you give him a photo of me to play with?”
“Look closer. This is a photo from the eighties. You were little then.”
Marina stared at the photocopy of the naked woman. She noted the website address on the bottom of the page. Fog swirled in her mind so that she wobbled on her feet. The same malevolent feeling that had been stalking her closed in. Her heart started thumping. Her hand holding the paper began to tremble and she stared at it as if the hand barely belonged to her. Something was wrong. Her psychic instinct raised like hackles on a dog. “But how? Where? How can she be so like me?”
Lizzie ran a hand through her gelled blond spikes. “Seems like something interesting came out of Fabs’s you-know-what addiction. I reckon he spends hours on the porn sites when he’s not training or with me.” She moved closer so she could study the photo. “Look how the woman has bigger hair.”
Dirty Sexy Murder Page 13