Facials Can Be Fatal

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Do you want anything from Bagel Busters?” Marla asked Nicole. “I’m heading over there to get our order.”

  At Nicole’s negative shake of the head, Marla grabbed her purse and strode outside. Chilly air made her shiver. She hastened along the concrete toward the deli owned by Arnie Hartman. He’d been a friend for years. Aware he’d just returned from a vacation, she wondered if he’d heard about the commotion at her place.

  His mustached face broke into a grin as he spotted her. Wearing his usual apron, he rounded the corner from the cash register to embrace her.

  “Marla, what’s been going on around here? My staff said there was some emergency next door that I missed.”

  She gave him a quick rundown.

  “Oy, vey. It’s like Bertha Kravitz all over again.”

  “Tell me about it. Anyway, Dalton hasn’t actually said there’s foul play involved. I’m trying to stay calm, but it’s not easy.”

  “Let him handle it. He’s good at his job.”

  “I know. How are the kids? Is everyone okay?”

  He grinned at her, while the scent of garlic and onions drifted her way from a nearby table busy with patrons. Her mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten much that morning.

  “We’re fine, thanks. Isn’t this weekend your anniversary?”

  “That’s right. We’re going out to dinner to celebrate.”

  “How is Brianna doing?”

  “She wants to drive every chance she gets. Dalton isn’t too happy about it.”

  “I’ll bet. Here, your order is ready.” He handed her a paper bag.

  Back at the salon, Marla called the insurance agent about the case pending against her. He said he was still doing his research, but he didn’t believe the damage to the woman’s scalp was permanent. He would aim to get the case dismissed before it went further.

  Hoping the guy was right, she sat at the computer by the front desk while Robyn set out a platter of bagels and cream cheese for their customers. When she put liquid latex into the search feature, a list of resources popped up. As she read on, her eyebrows lifted.

  Latex was a natural milky substance derived from rubber trees. Liquid latex solutions were commonly used for special effects makeup and body paint. Flesh-colored liquid latex was applied in the entertainment industry to create scars, alien features, and other enhancements. When put on skin, the body cosmetic dried to a rubbery consistency and shrank about three percent. It was easy to apply and just as easy to peel off. Liquid latex came in different colors including metallic tints.

  Marla noted the product was sold in sizes ranging from two ounces to gallon jugs. Multiple outlets sold the stuff online. Or you could buy it at party stores. In other words, the substance was cheap and plentiful, meaning anyone could obtain it.

  But only one person might have acquired it in this case. It had to be someone who knew Valerie had a latex allergy and was coming in for a facial that particular morning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marla entered the funeral home in Hollywood, Florida, with trepidation. A large crowd milled in the assigned room where guests could express their condolences to family members prior to the service. Their attention focused on a man with two children. That must be Val’s recently widowed brother-in-law and his kids.

  Not being a personal friend, Marla didn’t care to intrude, so she took a seat in the chapel once the doors opened. Comfortably upholstered pews faced forward. A maple-colored coffin with brass trim rested up front among displays of fresh flowers. On a side table sat several framed photos of Val, smiling and happy. She had vibrant eyes framed by softly layered hair. Marla’s gaze rose to the electric candelabra mounted on a far wall. Its reverse V-shape pointed toward heaven.

  A sickly sweet scent drifted into her nose, bringing to mind the less desirable smells surrounding death. An air-conditioned flow whooshed into the room, while fans rotated lazily overhead. Fortunately, she’d chosen a location without a draft. Nonetheless, she tugged her black blazer a bit tighter as her mood sobered.

  Her thoughts drifted to her father’s funeral as everyone took seats before the family members entered. A minister began the service from behind a podium. Lost in her own memories, she didn’t hear much of what he said. However, her attention sharpened once people started coming forward to eulogize Valerie Weston. When the little boy got up to remark upon his aunt, and mentioned how she’d joined his mother, Marla reached for her tissues.

  She blinked away the moisture from her eyes as she followed the mourners outside and into the bright sun at the gravesite burial.

  When people lingered following the service, Marla approached Val’s brother-in-law. He was a square-jawed fellow with salty hair, even features, and sad eyes. A small scar marred his upper lip.

  “Hi, I’m Marla Vail from the Cut ’N Dye Salon and Spa. I’m sorry for your loss.” She peered down at the youngsters clutching his hands on either side. “I feel terrible about what happened, Mister . . . ?”

  “Sean Knight. I was married to Val’s sister.”

  “Yes, I gathered as much. I own the place where she . . . where it happened. Val’s death was a horrible tragedy. If there’s any way I can help—”

  “Thank you, I appreciate the offer.” He stared at the ground, a pensive expression on his face. “Val was extremely sensitive to latex. We’d known something like this could happen, but not so soon after Cathy died. It’s almost like the sisters couldn’t stand to be apart.”

  “Were they very close?”

  “The girls had their differences, but their parents were gone, and the only other relatives were some distant cousins in Colorado.”

  “Val never married?”

  He hesitated for a tad too long. “She was single. Val never had any children, so she doted on mine.” Sean ruffled his kids’ hair. The girl appeared younger than her brother. “Didn’t your aunt adore you?”

  “We’ll miss her, Dad,” his son said in a tearful tone.

  This couldn’t be easy on the children, having lost their mother not so long ago. “Val will be missed by a lot of people,” Marla added. “I didn’t know her personally, but she appeared to be a strong influence in the community. Did she spend all her time working for charitable groups?”

  Sean shot her a sharp glance. “Why do you care? I mean, other than the obvious. The woman died under your supervision.”

  She stiffened. “Val wasn’t my customer, but I feel responsible nonetheless. I’d just like to fill in the blanks. And I might add that we called 911 right away, but Val was gone in the blink of an eye.”

  His mouth tightened. “Look, I’d rather not talk about it now. In fact, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you at all.” With a curt nod, he moved off, the children at his sides.

  Oh, great. Now she’d blown it. Was he intending to sue for negligent death? Maybe he hadn’t given it a thought before she’d stuck her nose in. Would Dalton disapprove?

  She scoured the crowd, but her husband’s tall form wasn’t evident. Usually he attended a victim’s funeral. But he hadn’t publicly declared this case to be murder. Maybe he was waiting for all the reports to come in.

  The grounds were relatively quiet, except for their group. She didn’t see any other awnings or chairs set out across the vast property. A few concrete crypts arose among the plots of land, competing for height with shady oak trees. Here and there, benches sat facing gravesites, additional memorials to the beloved departed. The place wasn’t hilly and scenic like the cemeteries up north, where tall headstones stretched toward the sky. These stones were flat, needing maintenance so weeds didn’t cover them. We’re all covered over in the end, she thought.

  Her heart quickened as she spied a familiar face. Lora Larue stood in a circle of people, her ample figure encased in a black dress with an inappropriately low neckline. Her bosom nearly spilled out, while the short hem exposed thighs too thick for display. The sun glinted off bronze highlights in Lora’s hair, a swirl of curls framing her face. Her blue-
shadowed eyes swung in Marla’s direction as she approached. The woman’s splash of bright red lipstick provided contrast to her pale complexion.

  Marla plopped on a pair of sunglasses before greeting Lora. “Hello,” she said in a subdued tone. “I’m sorry to see you again under these circumstances. Marla Vail, remember?” She stuck out her hand. They’d met in person once before, when Lora had stopped by the salon to hire her staff for the fashion show.

  Lora turned away from her group of friends and accepted her handshake. “I got your phone message but haven’t had the chance to return your call.”

  “That’s all right. I wanted to express my condolences.”

  “Thank you. We’re all a bit shocked over Val’s death.”

  “I can imagine.” How could she tactfully ask if the fundraiser would go on? “This must be a blow to your organization.”

  “No kidding. Val’s contribution will be sorely missed.”

  Meaning what? Her contribution of money, or her volunteer work?

  “I’d been hoping to meet her at the charity ball.” Marla idly smiled at a passerby. People were starting to head to their cars. She hoped to gain more information before she had to leave. Swinging around to face the sun so Lora would be more comfortable, she waited for a response.

  Lora’s head lowered. “It won’t be the same without Val there.”

  A whoosh of relief escaped Marla’s lips. Thank goodness, they weren’t planning to cancel the event. “What was her role in the organization? I’m sorry, but you’re the only person from the group that I really know.”

  “Val was a major donor. She’s the one who recommended your salon to us. I thought you’d met her before this.”

  “She was a long-term customer of our aesthetician. Evidently, she followed Rosana from an establishment east of us.”

  “I see.” Lines creased the woman’s forehead as though she were having second thoughts about her hiring choice for the ball.

  Marla hastened to reassure her. “My staff is looking forward to the fashion show. We can’t wait to work with the models.”

  “This Rosana, will she be there?”

  “No, she does facials and waxing. Only our hairstylists will attend.”

  “People confide in their beauticians, don’t they? Rosana must have known Val pretty well.” Lora raised her penciled eyebrows.

  “Well, yes, I guess so. They’d been together for years.”

  “Is it likely Rosana forgot about Val’s allergy?”

  Both Lora and Sean were well informed about Val’s means of death. To her knowledge, Dalton had not made that information public. Had he interviewed them already?

  “Rosana knew about her client’s condition. I saw her customer survey form myself,” Marla said, hoping to provoke Lora.

  A sheen of sweat covered the woman’s face, and it couldn’t be due to the heat. A cool breeze swept the cemetery, making Marla glad she’d worn a long-sleeved jacket.

  “We’ll talk more later,” Lora promised, waving to someone in the distance. “I have to go. Sean has invited people over to his house.”

  Not wishing to press her luck, Marla nodded a farewell. She took her leave, grateful Lora hadn’t fired her from the gig and that the group still planned to carry on the event. That took away one worry.

  On the way to her car, she heard raised voices that gave her pause. Two people were speaking under a shady oak tree. One was a slender brunette; the other, a towering guy with silver hair, wore a dark suit.

  “What are you doing here?” the woman said, her tone hostile.

  “I came to pay my respects. Val was a formidable opponent, and I admired her tactics.”

  “Don’t think your development will go through now that she’s gone, Rick Rodriguez.” She emphasized his name as though it were distasteful. “Our group backs her efforts one hundred percent.”

  “I know that, Sue Ellen. She fought a good fight. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “You shouldn’t have come. You’ll upset her spirit.”

  “Maybe she’ll see my presence as a peace offering. Good day to you.”

  He stalked away, while Sue Ellen glared after him. Marla hastened along, wondering what that meant. Just another puzzle piece to add to Val’s personal life, she figured.

  Back at the salon, she grabbed her printed schedule from the counter where Robyn had left it and studied her client list. She had a few minutes to spare before her first customer. As she headed to a sink to scrub her hands, her stomach rumbled. It was nearly lunchtime.

  “Hey, Marla, how’s it going?” Nicole stopped by, a bowl in her grasp.

  “I went to Val’s funeral this morning. Her group still intends to put on their holiday event.” Finished washing her hands, she dried them with paper towels.

  “Thank goodness, right?” Nicole grinned at her.

  “I’m glad we’re still part of it. Val’s brother-in-law was there with his children. She didn’t have any other close family members.”

  “That’s sad. I’d like to hear more, but my highlights is waiting.”

  “Sure, go ahead.” Marla set about her own business with a heavy heart. Funerals left her depressed. They reminded her of her father’s passing.

  Her mood lifted as the day went on and she chatted with customers. They got talking about the holidays, making Marla ruminate about her own plans. First there was their anniversary dinner, then the charity ball, a work party, and the holiday celebrations at home. She had plenty to do. This should be a joyous time of year, not a sad one. And yet it must be sorrowful for anyone who’d lost a loved one.

  The way she saw it, it was her duty to make her clients feel better about things. As she cut, colored, and trimmed, she listened with a sympathetic ear to their inner thoughts and concerns. She was gratified when each person left the salon with a smile.

  By eight o’clock that evening, weariness assailed her. She arrived home to the mouth-watering aroma of homemade tomato sauce. It being Dalton’s turn to make dinner, he’d done spaghetti and meatballs.

  “How was your day?” He stood in the kitchen with a wooden spoon in his hand and wearing an apron.

  Her mouth curved upward. “It’s good now that I’m with you. Seriously? I attended Val’s funeral this morning. How come you didn’t go?”

  “It’s not officially a homicide. Besides,” he said with a sexy grin, “you’re my unofficial sidekick. I’m sure you worked the crowd. What did you learn?”

  “I spoke to Lora Larue, the board member who’d hired my salon staff for the charity event. They still intend to put on the ball, and she didn’t fire us.”

  “That’s a plus.” He stirred the sauce bubbling in a pot.

  “I also met the brother-in-law. His name is Sean Knight and he has two kids, a boy and a girl. He’s the one whose wife died recently from breast cancer.”

  “How did he appear to you?”

  “Saddened by Val’s passing. He said the two sisters were together now.”

  Marla, having put down her purse and washed her hands again, began setting the kitchen table with utensils. Brie wasn’t in sight. She must be doing homework in her room, or else she was chatting on her cell phone. Did kids even chat today or merely text?

  “I’ve touched base with both Knight and Larue,” Dalton said, preempting her next question. “I wanted to find out if they knew about Val’s latex allergy.”

  “You told them how she’d died?”

  “Not initially. They thought she must have had a cardiac arrest. I asked if she’d had any medical conditions that they’d known about. Both of them mentioned her allergic condition. So I told them how she’d died. The brother-in-law wasn’t surprised. He’d feared something like this might happen. Contact with latex can be hard to avoid.”

  “No, it isn’t. Many of my stylists buy gloves without latex in them.”

  “Knight assumed it must have been an error on the beautician’s part. I wouldn’t have him believe otherwise at this point.”
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br />   “That gives the brother-in-law grounds to sue us. I don’t need another lawsuit on my doorstep, thank you.”

  His head swung in her direction, his gaze laser-sharp. “Another lawsuit?”

  She kicked at a crumb on the tile floor. “Amber Connors is suing me for resultant damage from hair dye. She’d started on a new medication, and the bleach took too fast. I sent her to get shampooed as soon as she complained that her scalp burned.”

  Stepping forward, he placed his large palms on her shoulders. His gaze softened as he stared down at her. A lock of peppery hair fell across his forehead. “You should have told me.”

  “I know. I have too many things on my mind.”

  “Have you called a lawyer?”

  “I notified my insurance company. The agent is investigating to see if the woman’s claim is valid. He agrees it wasn’t my fault since I had no way of knowing about her meds.”

  “Let him do the worrying.” He nuzzled her hair. “You need to get out of those funeral clothes. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable while I make the salad?”

  “I love you.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him. He always made her feel better.

  Two days later, they celebrated their anniversary with dinner at a neighborhood bistro. The bustling atmosphere didn’t make for much quiet, but Marla liked the ambience and the food. Plus, this place was closer than a fancier restaurant on the east side of town.

  “We need to give Brie some driving practice again tomorrow,” she mentioned in between their salads and entrees. “Can you believe she’s going to be sixteen in March?”

  “Don’t remind me.” He gripped his wine glass and took a swig.

  “Two more years, and she leaves for college. She should do well; she’s a bright kid. I know we’ll miss her, though. So will your parents, especially when they’ve finally bought a condo in the area.” Dalton’s parents had found a place after a long search. They’d sent her and Dalton tickets to a show at the performing arts center as an anniversary gift.