Dyed and Gone

by Beth Yarnall

  I grinned. “You’ll see.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we emerged from the updo class. I thought Platt would have nodded off or made fun of the presenter, who made Juan Carlos look butch, but he sat there watching like he’d take what he’d learned and use it.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked. “You looked like you might have enjoyed it at least a little.”

  “My daughter’s into that hair stuff.”

  I whipped my head toward him so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “You have a daughter?”

  He gave me a look, daring me to make a crack so he could use his gun.

  “How old is she?”

  “Nine. Her mom passed a year ago.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and fixed his eyes to the floor.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  We entered the main Expo floor. The noise level here must have been about a million decibels, but it had a fun, circus-type atmosphere. I couldn’t wait to do some shopping!

  “Let’s see if we can’t find her some pretty barrettes,” I said to get him out of his funk. “Oh, I know. I bet she’d love some clip-in hair extensions. I got some for my niece. What’s her favorite color?”

  “Pink.”

  Like my flower, I thought, then quickly pushed it out of my head.

  “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  “Phoebe.”

  “What a pretty name.”

  “Her mom picked it out.”

  Ugh. Okay. Note to self: Don’t bring up anything having to do with the mother. I couldn’t take the way Platt’s jaw firmed, like he was fighting emotion. It made me think of his poor motherless daughter and another less-than-fortunate girl who’d died with my flower in her hand.

  “Hey, look. This is what I was talking about.” I dragged him over to a booth with clip-in extensions.

  Half an hour later, Platt had a bag full of pink clip-in hair, pink nail polish, and pink barrettes. I had even trimmed him up enough so that he almost looked attractive. Well, maybe attractive was a stretch, but at least I didn’t have to watch his ear hair move with the breeze anymore.

  “Come over here,” I told Platt. “My friend Devin was looking for hair-color models the other day. I bet he’d fix your color right up.”

  Sure enough, faster than you could say midlife crisis, Platt was sitting in a styling chair with Devin applying color to his hair while he pitched the product to the crowd. Platt was a very good sport, even allowing Devin to put in a few foiled highlights.

  I watched for a while, but then I got bored and my gaze wandered. The Hjálmar booth was just a row over. I thought for a moment about going to see if Juan Carlos’s friend Mateo was still there, until I remembered all of my promising and swearing to not investigate anymore.

  I stood on my tiptoes but couldn’t see over the crowd. Taking a reverse step, I arched my back to see if I could look up the row. Nothing. There were too many people in the aisle. I took another step. Then another. Before I knew it I was in the aisle. The booth wasn’t far. If I could see it from here, then I could see Devin’s booth from the Hjálmar booth, right? I’d just be a second. I’d be right back.

  I reasoned my way up the row until I stood at the Hjálmar counter. It was packed. They must have somehow shipped more product overnight and it was flying off the shelves. I spotted Mateo.

  I jumped with my hand in the air. “Mateo! Mateo!”

  He saw me and made his way over. “What’s up, Azalea? Crazy, huh?” he said, indicating the counter.

  “Insane. I can’t believe you guys restocked so quickly. I thought you would have been cleaned out by now.”

  “Nah. The corporate office is in Washington, but we have a distribution center here in Vegas.”

  Washington?

  “Is that where Dhane lived?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Is that where research and development is, too?”

  “Yeah. I gotta go before I get in trouble. See you around?”

  “Sure. Thanks, Mateo.”

  Kennedy had scolded Alex for calling Kansas, but he had also mentioned Washington. Had Alex called Washington and not told me? And if so, what did he find out? What other information did Alex have that he hadn’t shared with me?

  I turned away from the counter, so deep in thought I went the wrong direction and ended up two rows over from where I was supposed to be. I hustled double time back to Platt, panic clawing at my throat.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to find the last person I expected standing in front of me, face flushed and mad as hell. My heart leaped into my throat, making it hard to breathe.

  “Oh, crap,” I croaked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Where’s Platt?” Alex asked, scanning the area around us with a scowl. He huffed a little, as though he’d run laps around the convention floor. I could almost see little puffs of smoke wafting from his ears.

  I pointed up the aisle. “He’s over there, getting his hair done. What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

  “Getting his what?” He shook his head. “Never mind. If he’s over there, why are you over here?”

  “Well, see, I was just gone a second, checking out the Hjálmar booth and saying hi to Juan Carlos’s friend Mateo…”

  “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t stop. All that promising.”

  “It’s not like that.” But it kind of was exactly like that.

  “You were just saying hello.” I could tell he didn’t believe me for a second. He knew exactly what I’d been doing and why.

  I nodded, mentally chastising myself for giving in to my overactive curiosity gland. If only there were a pill I could take to control it, or have it surgically removed or lasered or something.

  Blowing out a breath, he moved closer. Some of his mad melted into relief or exasperation. It was hard to tell with him. “What am I going to do?” He framed my face in his hands, pressing his forehead to mine, his tone softening. “It’s crazy. You’re crazy. Or maybe I am, but I swear to God the only time I feel calm is when I’m at the center of your tornado.”

  I closed my eyes against the sensations his whispered words sent crashing through me. Fisting my hands in his shirt, I brought him closer. His heart beat strong and steady and maybe a little too fast under my hands. I wanted to tell him not so say those things to me. They were just the words I wanted to hear, and yet they scared me right down to my manicured toes. I so badly wanted to believe him.

  He raised his head to look at me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” He seemed as baffled as I was at his feelings toward me. His cool blue eyes told me more about his intentions than his words had. And suddenly I did more than want his words to be true. I started to believe them.

  “Azalea!” Platt lumbered over to us, foils flapping. The color cape was wrapped over his shoulder, fluttering out behind him. He stopped when he reached us and bent over, gripping his knees. He wheezed like an asthmatic grizzly bear, his face flushed. “You…dis…appeared… Couldn’t…find…” He lifted a hand off his knee, greeting Alex. “Hey…”

  “Are you all right?” I asked, leaning over to see his face.

  Keeping his head down, Platt nodded.

  Alex lifted one of the foils in Platt’s hair with a finger. A corner of his mouth twitched. “You weren’t kidding.”

  I pushed Alex’s hand away. “Leave him alone. Can’t you see he’s having trouble breathing?” I returned my attention to Platt. “Are you going to be okay? Should we call an ambulance or something?”

  Platt waved a hand at me. “No…no…I’m fine. I’ll…be fine.”

  “Do you want some water?” Alex asked.

  Platt waved away Alex’s question without answering. After another couple of minutes where Alex and I exchanged shrugs and what-should-we-do? glances, Platt stood up. His face was redder than an Englishman on vacation. I was seriously concerned for his welfare. His daughter had alrea
dy lost her mother—it would be awful if she lost her father, too.

  “You should really take better care of yourself,” I told him. “Think of Phoebe.”

  “You sound like…my doctor.”

  “Who’s Phoebe?” Alex asked.

  “Never mind,” I said to Alex. “Not to be a nag, but your doctor’s right, Roy.”

  Alex got a funny look on his face. “I’ve been gone barely two hours and there’s a whole new cast of characters. Who’s Roy?”

  I gestured to Platt. “He’s Roy.”

  “You’re on a first-name basis? I thought you hated each other.”

  Platt gave me a meh look. “She’s all right when she keeps her yap shut.”

  “He’s not so bad when he’s not being a raging jackass.” I winked at Platt and he winked back.

  Alex looked back and forth between Platt and me. “I’ve dropped into an alternate universe.”

  “I thought you left,” Platt said to Alex.

  “I was just about to board the plane when I had a sudden vision of Azalea up to her pretty little neck in trouble.”

  Platt snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “Don’t you two go ganging up on me.” I spotted Devin waving at us from his booth. “Oh, shoot. Let me check your foils, Roy.” Platt bent over a little. I opened one of the foils and scraped away some of the color with a fingernail. “Yep, you’re done.” I wiped my finger on his color cape. “Let’s go get you rinsed.”

  As soon as we got back to Devin’s booth, Platt was whisked away to have his color washed out.

  I looked up to find Alex grinning down at me. “Azalea March, making friends and making over enemies.”

  “Yeah, well, he needed it.”

  Alex kept smiling at me in that goofy way. It made the space between my shoulder blades itch.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “You.”

  “Stop.”

  “Come here and give me a proper hello.” Alex drew me into his arms and hugged me.

  “I thought you had to get back to work.”

  “I called in sick.”

  “Cops can do that?”

  He pulled back to look at me, keeping me in his arms. “We get sick.”

  “Huh, I guess so. I never thought of it before.”

  “Hairstylists get sick.”

  “Yeah, but we work through it. Have you ever tried rescheduling a woman’s hair appointment? She’d rather put up with you heaving in a waste basket than wait a day to have her roots touched up.”

  “Tough business,” he teased, stealing little kisses.

  “Speaking of business…”

  He nibbled at my ear, sending fine shivers through me. “Hmm?”

  “What did you find out when you called the Hjálmar corporate offices in Washington?”

  He stopped nibbling and gave me a fierce, disapproving frown. “What makes you think I called the corporate offices? And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re. Not. Involved.” He tapped my nose with each word. “Remember?”

  “I’m not involving myself. What you found out isn’t new information. You called before we went to the police station so there’s no harm in telling me what you found out because it predated my promise. See?”

  He shook his head. “Your logic somehow makes a circular kind of sense.”

  “Thank you.” I plastered on my most serious face, the one I used to bargain with our vendors at the salon. The one that said I’m a professional, take me seriously. “So? What did you find out?”

  Alex’s brow lowered. I could tell I was having some kind of effect on him. I just hoped it was the one I wanted. He grabbed my hand and towed me to an out-of-the-way corner without a word. I took it as a good sign.

  “I didn’t call Washington State,” he said. “I called a friend in the State Department in Washington, DC.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Something seemed off to me from the start so I decided to follow up on my hunch.”

  “And?”

  He got that determined look in his eyes again. “And nothing.”

  “Nothing as in your friend told you nothing, or you’re telling me nothing?”

  “I shouldn’t have told you that much.”

  “So what’s a little more?”

  “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled to himself. “I expect you to keep your promise.” At my eager nod, he continued, “He wouldn’t tell me why, but Dhane and his company were under investigation. They were about to file charges when Dhane was killed. His death may put an end to the investigation.”

  “Why?”

  “Their informant on the inside isn’t cooperating anymore.”

  “Interesting.” So Dhane’s death might end the investigation. Huh. That may have been exactly what the killer was after when he or she murdered Dhane. Who was the inside informant and what was being tattled about? I wished I could talk to Alex’s friend in DC. I had so many questions…

  “Not that look again. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

  “Just because my wheels are spinning doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. I made a promise. I intend to keep it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Skepticism is very unattractive. Come on.” I waved for Alex to follow me. “Let’s go see if Roy’s done. I’m hungry.” I swiveled my head up at him. “You’re buying me lunch to make up for your lack of faith in me.”

  He caught my hand in his. “Okay, but this doesn’t count as the date you owe me for getting you in to see Vivian.”

  “Fine. Do you think the restaurant here serves lobster and caviar? Mmm, maybe they’ll have some champagne, too.”

  We found Platt sitting in Devin’s styling chair getting his hair blow-dried. He looked curious and uncomfortable, like a caveman being exposed to modern technology for the first time. I couldn’t believe the transformation in him. The new hair color made his eyes look more green than hazel and gave him a healthier-looking complexion. Devin handed Platt a mirror. He looked at himself so long I got twitchy.

  “Do you think he likes it?” I asked Alex.

  “I think he doesn’t recognize himself. I don’t and I know it’s him.”

  Platt thanked Devin and climbed down from the small dais. He walked over to us and grabbed me in a hug, trapping my arms at my sides. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” I murmured against his chest.

  Platt released me and looked away, coughing into his hand. I could have sworn his eyes were a little misty. I pretended not to see, giving my attention to the other side of the convention floor.

  “Alex is buying us lunch. Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat,” Platt replied with a shrug.

  On our way to the little café where I’d met with Kennedy after Dhane’s memorial, I kept sneaking looks at Platt. I got that special little tummy flutter I get when I’m proud of my work. I wanted to pat myself on the back, and him, too, for letting me make him over.

  Just as we got in line to order, Platt’s phone rang. “Excuse me.”

  I watched Platt walk away, thinking maybe I’d take a crack at his wardrobe next. “Where do you get your clothes?” I asked Alex.

  “What?”

  “Your clothes. You always dress nicely. I just thought maybe I could help Roy with his clothing.”

  “Leave the guy alone.” Alex scanned the menu board above the cash register. He shook his head and turned to me. “On second thought, that’s a very good idea. You should concentrate on making Platt over. Head to toe.”

  “You’re not very tricky, you know that?”

  My phone beeped. I pulled it out of my purse and read a text from Jun. He wanted me to meet him, but I knew if I did, Alex would think I was investigating again. Which I would be. If I met Jun and if I told Alex about it.

  I shouldn’t meet Jun. Even though I wanted to. Badly. I tucked my phone back in my purse without replying to the text. My restraint truly bordered on miraculous.


  We were next in line when Platt came back. “I have to go. I told Kennedy you decided to stay,” he said to Alex. “You can watch her, right?”

  Alex nodded. “Like a hawk.”

  “Or a two-year-old,” I grumbled.

  “Okay. Thanks,” Platt said, looking like he wanted to hug me again. Instead he gave me a half wave and jerk of his head before he lumbered off.

  Darned if I didn’t miss the big lug already.

  We ordered and ate, talking about nothing in particular. My phone beeped three more times, all Jun. His incessant texting made it hard to concentrate.

  His last text had been sad and pouty. He didn’t understand why I was ignoring him. I could hear the hiccupping and sniffling in his messages and that pitiful, plaintive tone in his voice when he’d talked about Trinity. I felt bad. He’d lost two friends in a matter of days. And now here I was ignoring him. He might think something bad had happened to me, too. Maybe I should text him back to let him know I was okay.

  Alex didn’t say anything as I pulled out my phone for the fifth time and punched out a quick text: Having lunch. There—that should calm Jun down. But it didn’t. My phone rang. I looked at Alex, but he only smiled back, making me feel like a jerk.

  “Hello?”

  “Azalea! Where are you? Why didn’t you answer my texts?” he half sobbed, half yelled. I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “I thought you were dead!”

  “No, Jun, I’m fine.”

  Alex’s brows jumped up. I guessed he heard Jun.

  “I’m at the police station. They made me come here, then left me all alone. Why did they make me come here? I don’t know anything. I’m all alone, Azalea. What am I going to do?”

  “Calm down. You’re fine. They just want your help finding out who killed Dhane and Trinity. I told them what you told me—that’s probably why they want to talk to you.”

  “You told them? Everything?” His voice reached a pitch only bats or dolphins could hear.

  “It’s okay, Jun. You’re going to be okay.”

  He started babbling, spouting gibberish mixed in with an occasional coherent word. I tried to calm him down, but all my efforts seemed to make him worse. Then I heard Kennedy shouting at Jun. There were some scuffling noises and more shouting, then the line went dead.