Facials Can Be Fatal

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Could he have offed Val because she posed a threat to his lucrative business?”

  “Adding murder to his charges? Unlikely, but always possible.”

  “So who’s left?”

  “Three more board members. They consist of a nautical archaeologist, a prehistoric archaeologist, and a historian. I’ve written them off the list.” Dalton turned into the parking lot for Marla’s salon. He pulled up to the curb in front of her establishment. “Go to work and forget about this stuff. I’ll pick you up tonight at eight.”

  She gathered her purse. “What about my car?”

  “If it’s been cleared, we can get it then or in the morning.”

  Marla leaned over to kiss him. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Stay safe.”

  She entered the salon, wishing she knew more about Lora’s activities. That woman had to be involved somehow. First Val and then Nadia had died, and all three of them were connected through the same athletic club. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Plus, Nadia had written herself a reminder to call Marla and mentioned Pilates.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t get a chance to process more from her conversation with Dalton. This was one of her busiest weeks of the year, and she found comfort in routine. She kept her lips sealed about why Dalton had dropped her off, saying her car needed repairs. It still concerned her that Patty had so readily entered the salon and riffled through her drawers. How would the shampoo girl have known when Robyn left to pick up their order at Arnie’s deli unless she’d kept watch outside?

  Marla’s blood chilled. She paused with shears in hand, about to snip a customer’s hair. What if someone kept track of her movements on a closer basis? She’d already suspected a microphone might be hidden nearby, but what about a video monitor? Going into automatic mode, she cut and combed while half her mind flitted elsewhere.

  As soon as she was free, Marla shoved aside the irons in her bottom roundabout drawer searching for an item she had received as a holiday gift last year. She loved receiving presents from clients at the holidays, but she’d run out of counter space and had shoved this in here. There it was, buried at the bottom and still in its gift bag. A client had visited the Spy Museum in Washington, D.C., and gifted Marla with a bug detector. It was still in its wrapping.

  After glancing at the front desk to see if her next client had arrived, Marla used her scissors to cut the plastic surrounding the device. It was a palm-sized rectangular scanner that could detect a wireless hidden camera or microphone. She read the directions. Pull out the antenna. Hold down the “A” button while panning the unit around the room. If it detects a signal, it will beep. Then hold down the “B” button and concentrate on that one area. When it beeps steadily, visually search for a hidden device. Interference could come from radio signals such as cell phones, televisions, or computers.

  Oh, great. The instructions said a wireless camera could be smaller than a dime and needed merely a pinhole to view the entire room. It could be embedded anywhere and would broadcast up to seven hundred feet away.

  She waited until everyone left at the end of the day before deploying the device. It beeped in a couple of places, once at her station and across the room where Jen worked. Was the day spa bugged, too? And who should she call about it? Dalton was due to pick her up any minute. Did she really want to add to his burdens, or should she notify her security company?

  “I had a hunch,” she told her husband during their drive home. “I was thinking about Patty and how she had known when to search my drawers. It was almost as though she had eyes on the place. And then I remembered this gift that a client gave me last year. It’s a bug detector from the Spy Museum in D.C. I panned it around, and it beeped.”

  He shot her a glance from the driver’s seat. “Meaning what?”

  “It found a signal. I didn’t locate a mic or hidden camera, but I’m not experienced at this sort of thing. Should I call my security company in the morning?”

  “Let me have my team inspect the premises. They know how to look for surveillance devices.”

  A camera would explain how someone knew she had the journal after watching her show it to Nicole. Marla’s skin crawled. She didn’t like the idea of being observed. “What’s happening with my car?”

  “A colleague dropped me off and I drove it home. Not to worry, it’s as good as new.”

  “How about the explosive device? Did you get any clues from it?”

  “The thing was homemade. Anybody could have gotten directions off the Internet on how to make one. There weren’t any prints or other identifying factors.”

  “So the bad guy is cautious to cover his tracks. That doesn’t help us.”

  That night, after they’d set their alarm and she huddled in bed, Marla brought out the journal again. She had to read more. Dalton, occupied in the bathroom, noted her movement in the mirror. “Hey, read it aloud, okay?”

  They had a few nights to themselves. Brie had gone to Disney World with Dalton’s parents. So Marla settled in with the journal on her lap and opened to where she’d left a bookmark.

  “Remember the last part was where the men had uncovered the treasure chest,” she reminded her husband, before reading aloud from that point onward.

  “ ‘I had read the tales of shipwrecks along the Florida coast. Pirates were prevalent, too, and my mind recalled the story of the infamous brigand known as Red Ted. Born Thaddeus Montoya, he was a nobleman’s son from Spain whose exploits with the ladies caused his hasty departure aboard a naval vessel. Because he could read and write, he rose to officer’s status and got himself appointed as a liaison to the court. But his old habits died hard, and he once again found himself fleeing Spanish authorities. He commandeered a ship and set sail, forcing the crew to either join him or be hanged. His nickname came from his fondness for bloodshed.

  “ ‘Wanting to get even with Spain, he set out for the next decade to raid helpless merchant ships. But his inflated ego eventually caused his demise just as he’d broken apart his lair in preparation for retirement. Unable to resist one last conquest, he’d aimed for a cargo vessel riding the waves. It turned out to be an American warship in disguise. Outgunned, he shot himself rather than be taken captive. When the sailors arrived at his lair, they discovered the treasure was gone along with any women or children.

  “ ‘I figured this chest of gold might be part of the pirate’s cache. George and I wanted to search the area for more loot. Ralph wanted to hand the chest over to the authorities and let them deal with the matter. The majority prevailed. We decided to dig up the chest, divide the coins, and mark the spot to return later for a broader search.

  “ ‘But once we had the chest unburied, an argument broke forth. Ralph, whose moral compass exceeded ours, insisted on donating the goods to a museum to be enjoyed by all. What right did he have to cut George and me out of our share? After we buried the skunk in a separate hole dug for that purpose, we debated the issue. The three of us agreed to sleep on it and decide what to do in the morning. We fashioned a makeshift sled out of driftwood and dragged the chest back to our hut.

  “ ‘In the morning, we went for a swim. Airing out the hut hadn’t eliminated the animal stink from the night before, and we craved a cleansing. Now please don’t think too badly of us from what happened next.’ ”

  Marla paused, glancing at Dalton who listened in bed beside her. She hadn’t even been aware of him joining her. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Go on. Why did you stop?” Lowering his brows, he thrust stiff fingers through his still-damp hair.

  “Pirate treasure? Is that really what this is all about?”

  “You won’t know until you read further.”

  “Okay, let’s see what happens.” Marla found her place and cleared her throat. “ ‘We were swimming in the ocean when I heard a cry. Ralph had gone out farther than George and me, and he appeared to be in distress. Waves were rocking us. I’m a pretty good swimmer, but the undertow was strong. I
f I swam out that far, I might have trouble coming back.

  “ ‘I shouted to Ralph to swim parallel to shore, knowing if you fought the current, it would be worse. Sometimes you could break free this way.

  “ ‘George bobbed in the distance and waved. Wait, why was he heading toward the beach? He gestured for me to follow him. Was he afraid I’d get sucked out to sea, too?

  “ ‘My heart pounding, I glanced between him and Ralph. Ralph’s head became increasingly difficult to discern among the crests. I treaded water, hesitating between saving my friend and saving my own skin. Somehow I think Fate made the choice for me. Without Ralph’s interference, George and I would be free to divide the treasure between ourselves. And while I was having these shameful thoughts, Ralph disappeared. I cried his name. I swam parallel, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but he was gone. With heavy hearts, George and I reported him missing and presumed drowned. They never found a trace of him. We split up our loot, hoarding it for years before we dared cash it in, claiming we’d inherited it from our granddads who were collectors. Luckily, the coin dealers didn’t question us. We returned to the site but never found anything else from Red Ted’s stash.’ ”

  “So what does this prove?” Dalton said with a weary yawn.

  Marla marked her place among the pages and set them on the nightstand. “It explains why three of them started on this trip and only two of them returned.”

  “So? It appears to be an accidental drowning.”

  “That they did nothing to prevent. Guilt must have weighed upon them.”

  “I don’t see how it would affect events today.”

  “Both Val and Howard’s fathers, assuming George is related to the banker, clearly were involved. They would have guarded their reputations. If their secret got out, they might have been viewed as greedy, or worse. For some men, that’s enough motive to commit murder.”

  “But George and Warren are dead,” Dalton pointed out.

  “Their children aren’t, at least not until Val died. Maybe Howard didn’t know about his father’s misdeeds until Val discovered the journal and told him.”

  “And he murdered her, so his dad’s guilt wouldn’t come out?” Dalton scoffed.

  “Why else would Jason have sent me a photo of Howard? He had a point to prove. Jason also sent me a photo of Henutt and a funeral director. Maybe he wasn’t sure which angle to pursue.”

  Dalton’s gaze darkened. “I’d like to know which secret got Jason killed. What had he been investigating?”

  “If it’s about the journal, this could be why someone tried to silence me. They know I have the book now and would have read the contents.” She felt her eyes widen. “Maybe this person believes the treasure still exists. There could be directions in here to the hut’s location.”

  “Or a map to the loot, but that’s a long shot.”

  “I wish we knew more about this pirate. It might tell us if we’re on the right track.” She tapped his arm. “Hold on. What if Nadia’s message spelled Pirates, not Pilates? We might have misinterpreted the middle letter.”

  “Hmm, that’s true. But there’s still that connection at the sports club between Nadia, Val, and Lora.”

  “And the connection at the art gallery between Jason and Val, plus possibly Henutt since his wife’s boutique is next door. Oh, my God. What if Jason is the third son?” Marla’s mind raced ahead. “Val was Warren’s daughter. Howard was George’s son, which you should be able to determine. It could be that Ralph had fathered a child, too, before he died. His friends might not have known about it. What if it’s Jason who’d researched his father’s history and turned up news articles that led him to question the truth of past events?”

  Dalton grimaced. “You’re making my head spin. Let’s sleep on it and continue this discussion in the morning.”

  “All right, but we need to look up how Ralph’s death was reported.”

  Marla turned out the light, but her dreams wouldn’t let her go as she drifted into sleep. She woke up the following day gasping and choking as though she were drowning in the ocean like poor Ralph. They should try to access historical archives about the tragic accident.

  But what if they were chasing down the wrong alley? What if the photo with Henutt and the other guy was the more significant one?

  A visit to Gabriel Stone at his Parkland funeral home was in order. This took priority on her to-do list.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dalton’s space in bed beside her was empty when Marla grabbed a robe to wrap around herself. The morning air chilled her skin. Another cold front must have come through during the night.

  From the tantalizing aroma of coffee in the air, she surmised Dalton had already gone into the kitchen and started the coffeemaker. She needed a boost of caffeine to awaken her senses and chase away the cobwebs of her dreams.

  In the kitchen, Dalton sat at the table and watched the morning news. Marla poured herself a mug of java and added cream.

  Once fully alert, she broached the subject on her mind. “Have you or Kat interviewed Gabriel Stone at his funeral home and shown him Jason’s photo? I’m wondering how he explains his relationship to Hunutt Soe Dum.” She smiled as she said the name. It sounded so ridiculous. However, the fellow himself was anything but a fool, especially if he had Asian mob connections.

  Dalton glanced at her. With a lock of hair fallen across his forehead, his heavy-lidded gaze, and his stubbled jaw, he looked rakishly handsome. “We’ve talked to him. He claimed to be an acquaintance of Henutt. They’d spoken at the fundraiser ball where Jason snapped the picture. As we expected, he denied any further relationship between them. But the guys in our other department have traced an exchange of goods between Stone and Henutt that occurred via their intermediaries.”

  “What kind of goods?” Marla sank into a seat at the table across from him.

  “We’re not sure. Henutt sends shipments home to China. I’m thinking illegal organ harvesting, but nothing has been proven.”

  “From dead people? What would be the purpose?” She shuddered at the thought.

  “Who knows? Medical experiments? Exotic food ingredients? Think of shark’s-fin soup.”

  A hunch hit her that made sense. It would explain what Henutt was buying from the funeral director and exporting overseas. “Would you mind if I had a chat with him? My schedule is busy today, but I have a two-hour break at lunchtime that I left open after a client cancelled. I could run over to Parkland then.”

  “Not if you go alone. Take someone with you.”

  Despite her efforts, Marla couldn’t get any friends to join her. Nicole and Robyn were busy at work. Tally couldn’t accompany her with the baby. And her other friends were tied up with their own affairs. That left her relatives, and Marla wasn’t about to involve her cousin or her mother. So Friday afternoon found her driving solo to the northwest quadrant of the county.

  Her plan was to provoke Gabriel Stone to see how much he’d reveal. Dalton knew her destination as she’d texted him upon her departure. So if anything bad happened, he would know where to look for her.

  The white-columned building was set back from the road by a long driveway amid a pleasant setting of pines. Beyond stretched the cemetery grounds. The property suited Parkland, an upscale community with gated neighborhoods and expensive housing. Marla had called ahead to make an appointment, saying she was a friend of Yolanda Whipp. The place appeared to be privately owned and not one of the chains. It did well, judging from the fresh paint and well-maintained trim.

  The interior looked polished and clean down to the grout edging the tile floor. A sweet citrus scent pervaded the air as Marla entered a short hallway. She found the administrative office and announced herself.

  Gabriel Stone hurried from an inner sanctum to greet her. He had white hair, a pleasant lined face, and a welcoming smile. As befitted the dignity of his establishment, he wore navy pants with a buttoned dress shirt and tie. In his office, she noticed a sport jacket draped over his
desk chair, where he took a seat. She sat opposite in a comfy leather armchair.

  “How may I help you?” he began. “Are you interested in a Pre-Need Plan?”

  Marla crossed her legs. “Not really. As I mentioned on the phone, I’m a friend of Yolanda’s. Her husband Henutt has an interesting background. Did you know he maintains his connection to China? Why, he sends packages home on a regular basis.”

  Stone picked up a ballpoint pen, clicking it on and off. “That’s generous of him.”

  “Yes, isn’t it? I can’t help wondering what he ships there. It couldn’t be money or electronics. You’d have to declare that to the government.” She gave a low chuckle. “And if it were anything perishable, it would require refrigeration.”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

  “I own a hair salon and day spa. One of our clients was murdered. You might know the lady’s name. Valerie Weston was a benefactress to Friends of Old Florida.”

  “Did we do her funeral? I don’t remember the names of all the people that come through here.”

  “No, her memorial service was elsewhere. Val was an artist who displayed her paintings at a gallery next door to Yolanda’s shop. A photographer also had his works for sale there. That same guy, Jason Faulks, snapped this picture of you and Henutt the night of FOFL’s gala fundraiser.” Marla showed him the photo on her cell phone.

  He gave an audible gasp. “How did you get this picture?”

  “Jason emailed it to me the night of the ball, just before he was murdered.”

  “What’s your point?” Stone’s eyes narrowed to twin slits.

  She put the phone back in her purse. “I wonder if Val caught onto you and Henutt. I’ve done some research. Are you aware China is one of three major global buyers of human hair? The international marketplace calls it black gold. It’s a trade worth nine hundred million dollars.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’ve come here.”

  “I’ve read that hair from corpses could be a source of revenue. Perhaps Val or Jason figured out what was going on and threatened to expose your operation.”