He shot to his feet. “Are you implying I had something to do with their deaths? How dare you make false accusations. I didn’t harm either one of them. Besides, exporting hair isn’t illegal.”
Marla rose to stare him down. “No, but I’d bet the family members of the deceased might be interested to know what you’re doing without their permission.”
“What’s your point?”
“Perhaps you weren’t personally involved in Val’s murder, but Henutt might not care to have his scheme exposed. He wouldn’t even have to get his fingers dirty. He’d know who to call.”
Stone’s face darkened. “Why do you care about any of this?”
“Val died in my day spa, and a staff member is involved. I want to clear her name. My husband is the homicide detective on the case. It would be helpful if you cooperated with his investigation.” She tightened the purse strap across her shoulder. “Consider this a warning. You might want to be more careful about the company you keep, or you could end up in one of your own coffins.”
On the drive back to the salon, Marla’s gaze kept darting to the rear view mirror in case she’d been followed. No one appeared to be tailing her, but she didn’t let her guard down until she was safely at work. Then she gave Dalton a call to inform him of her results.
“I’d bet he’s guilty of engaging in the human hair trade. That would be what Henutt is exporting. Stone wouldn’t have permission from the families of the deceased to sell their hair cuttings.”
“It wasn’t smart of you to provoke Stone. I hope you don’t have any repercussions from your visit.”
She heard the dismay in his tone. At least Marla hadn’t told him she’d gone there alone. “He knows you’re a police detective. If he’s wise, he’ll start cooperating, unless he’s too afraid of Henutt’s reaction.”
“Or else he’ll tip Henutt off that you’re aware of their enterprise.”
“I’ll be careful.” Marla rang off and pocketed her cell phone. She’d spoken to him outside the salon, grateful his team had located and removed the hidden surveillance bugs inside.
So when Nicole asked her for the latest news on the case, Marla felt comfortable talking to her. They had a moment in between clients, and she wanted to share what she had learned.
“Ugh, that’s awful,” Nicole said, her nose scrunching. “He cuts hair from dead people and sells them for extensions?”
“I suspect Gabriel Stone sells the hair to Henutt who ships it to China. From what I’ve read online, the United States, Britain, and China are the three major world buyers. Forty percent of the hair sold is made into extensions.”
Nicole stuck a comb into the Barbicide jar. “So what’s done with the rest?”
Standing by her station, Marla looked up the notes she’d written on her smartphone. “Shorter hair from men is used by chemical companies. The amino acids in hair have multiple industrial uses, including food additives. It’s cheaper than synthetic sources.”
“Eww. How would I know I’m eating it?”
“Look for an ingredient labeled L-cysteine. It can be used to leaven bread, for example.” Marla read from her notes. “Human hair is first dissolved in acid. The L-cysteine, isolated by a chemical process, is packaged and shipped to commercial bread makers. Other sources of this amino acid include chicken or duck feathers and petroleum by-products.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Listen to this. Most of the hair used to make the L-cysteine comes from the floors of barbershops and hair salons in China. There’s also a temple in India where people donate their hair to their god as an act of humility. They shave your head, then women sweep it up and throw it into a giant steel vat. It gets sold at auction to the international market.”
Nicole stared at the strands of hair littering their floor, the remnants of haircuts that the assistant had yet to sweep up. “So you’re saying we’re standing on a gold mine.”
“So to speak. I’ve even read reports of Russian prisoners having their heads shaved against their will, and the harvesting of hair from corpses.”
“Gross. I don’t think I’ll buy baked goods anymore.”
“It’s also a flavor enhancer and may have other uses in the food industry.”
“So how can you tell where the L-cysteine ingredient comes from, whether it’s animal in origin or synthetic?”
“There isn’t any way to tell if it’s not on the label. If you’re concerned, I’d suggest trying kosher goods or vegan items. They’d be a safer bet. Hey, get this. Blonde is the most popular color for the human hair trade because it can be dyed more easily. Wavy hair has the best-selling texture.”
“I think I’ve learned more than I wanted to know, thanks.”
“Don’t you agree this all fits? Henutt is buying hair from Stone and shipping it to China.”
Nicole tilted her head. “So you think Valerie Weston somehow discovered their scheme and they killed her over it?”
“It’s a distinct possibility, at least where Henutt is concerned.”
They both got busy with clients, and Marla lost track of time. A notion struck her as she was preparing to leave for the day.
What if Lora Larue’s trips to various cities coincided with visits to funeral homes in those areas? Could she be acting as a liaison in this shady black gold business?
Excited by the idea, Marla presented it to Dalton over a late dinner. “Did you ever get a list of the cities Lora has visited on FOFL’s behalf?”
“Our focus has been more on the paper trail Lora Larue generates.”
“You could just ask Sue Ellen at the group’s main office. The secretary would file Lora’s trip receipts for reimbursement. And you’d said Lora made cash deposits after these trips. That indicates she’s getting paid, but for what? And how much of an amount is it?”
“Not enough to raise any red flags with the IRS. It’s under five thousand dollars each time. She says it’s a travel bonus but won’t reveal the source.”
“For all we know, Lora could be teaching real estate seminars in these locations. See if she’s visited sports clubs during her trips, too. Her club might have branches nationwide.” Marla grabbed his arm as another thought surfaced. “Does she go overseas? Maybe she visits hair salons instead of funeral homes on Henutt’s behalf, soliciting new sources of hair for him to trade.”
Dalton’s mouth thinned. “We need a list of the cities she’s visited and the dates. And I agree we should look more closely into her side activities on these trips.”
“Are you going into work tomorrow?”
“Kat’s on call this weekend, but I’d like to run with this while it’s on my mind.”
Saturday morning, Marla woke early and worked on salon bookkeeping at home while doing laundry. Her mother called in the midst of her folding a load of dry clothes.
“Reed and I made plans to go on a cruise,” she told Marla. “We’re leaving in three weeks.”
“What? You barely know the guy.”
“I know him well enough. We’re going on one of those Southern Caribbean ten-day trips. I’m so excited.”
Marla grimaced. What could she say? Her mother was a grown woman who had her own mind. “Have you done a background check on this man? How do you know he’s legit?” She’d heard of con men who preyed on widows.
“Oh, come on, cut me some slack. I’m not stupid. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“Of course I am. Did you invite him to join us for New Year’s Day?” I want to see who’s snowed my mother and if he’s right for her.
“Yes, Reed is excited to come and meet the family. Tell me, how does Brianna like Disney World? Have you heard from her?”
“She’s texted us. She is having a great time. They’ll be home tomorrow.”
“How does it feel to have an empty house? Soon she’ll be heading off to college, as you pointed out. You’re hoping to travel then, but Dalton will be tied to his job. You might think about feathering your nest now so you can hav
e another focus.”
“Yeah, Ma. I’ll think about it. Now I’ve gotta go. I’m in the middle of doing laundry.” She hung up, slamming the receiver harder than usual. How come she got annoyed every time she spoke to her mother?
Needing comfort, Marla dialed her friend, Tally. Having a baby meant Tally and Ken kept early hours.
Tally’s sullen voice answered. “Hi, Marla.”
“Hi, how is everything? I wanted to remind you that we’re having a low-key party on New Year’s Day, if you can make it. We’d love to have you, and you could bring Luke.”
“Thanks, I’ll talk to Ken about it.”
“Is the baby okay? Is he sitting up yet?” She didn’t expect that a few days would make a difference, but who knew? Kids developed rapidly during their first year.
Tally chuckled. “Not quite, but he’s getting there. I adore him so much, Marla. You’d be a good mother too, if you gave it a chance. I’m glad you’ll be there for Luke if he needs you.”
Marla’s heart skipped a beat. What was up with this?
“Of course I will, Tally. Why, is something going on that you’re not telling me?”
“No, I’m just a nervous new mom who needs reassurance. How is Dalton’s case coming along, by the way? I hope he won’t have to spend the holidays at work.”
“He’s narrowing the suspects. It won’t be long now before he pinpoints the culprit.”
“You’re probably one step ahead of everyone, like always. Don’t neglect the things in life that really matter, Marla. You’ll regret it one day. Now I have to go. Luke needs me. Bye.”
Marla stared at the mobile phone in her hand. Did Tally just dismiss her without saying anything of substance? Worry lines creased her brow. Something was wrong over there, and she’d bet it involved Tally’s husband.
Dalton’s call distracted her. “Hey, pack an overnight bag. We’re going to Key West.”
“What? Why?” Marla halted in the kitchen after bringing the dogs in from the backyard. What had Dalton learned that led to this trail?
“According to Kat’s research, Lora Larue has been there recently. And Kat found a news article in the archives that mentioned Ralph, the missing person in that journal.”
“In Key West? I thought their log cabin was east of here somewhere.”
“It was, but this article is more recent. It’s by a former salvage expert speculating about a Spanish galleon that had floundered in a storm. We should talk to him, and we can check out the hotel where Lora stayed while we’re there. What time can you get off work?”
Marla groaned. Saturday was her busiest day, and she was fully booked. But time was running out. They had to wrap this case quickly before anybody else got hurt. And this weekend was convenient with Brianna away from home.
“Pick me up at the salon at ten. Hopefully Robyn can switch my later appointments to next week. I’ll call the kennel to see if they can take the dogs.”
Key Largo was the first big island in the Keys after a long and boring stretch through swamp territory south of the mainland. They made their first stop at the inviting Chamber of Commerce Visitor Center to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, and inquire about recommended restaurants for lunch. Marla liked the sound of Fish House, Sundowners, or Snapper’s Waterfront Restaurant.
After a pleasant meal amid tropical breezes and a sunny ocean view, they moved on toward their goal. Marla made note of various restroom stops along the way. She’d been down to the Keys once before but it had been years ago, and she’d forgotten what facilities were available. Supermarkets, gas stations, and fast-food chains were good bets.
“Don’t tell me we have two more hours to go,” she said as they entered Islamorada. Numerous eateries advertised as they drove south on Route One toward the end of the line. It would be nice to stay at one of these resort hotels for a long weekend. Too bad they were in a rush.
“Look, there’s Crane Point Museum and Nature Center,” Dalton mentioned when they’d reached Marathon. “Many of these islands have marine attractions or research facilities for dolphins and turtles. We should bring Brie with us next time.”
“Did you notify your parents we were going to Key West in case we get back late for some reason?”
“Yes, I told them to keep Brie with them until we come by. We’ll pick her up on our way home tomorrow.”
Spectacular views captured her attention. The Atlantic Ocean sparkled to their left and the Gulf to their right as they sped down the Overseas Highway. She sank into the seat cushion as tension ebbed from her bones. They really should get away more often.
After checking into their hotel in Key West, they left their bags in the room and went outside. “What should we do first, trace Lora’s movements or talk to the salvage expert?” Marla asked, donning her sunglasses.
Dalton checked his watch. “It’s already after three, and this is Saturday. The salvager is on the staff for a community newspaper. He writes a weekly column featuring the area’s history. I called ahead to make sure he’d be there today, but it’s getting late.”
“Let’s start there, then. Here’s a map I picked up in the lobby. What’s the street address for the newspaper?”
They stood out front on the sidewalk. Their hotel had a prime downtown location near the Historic Seaport District. They were a few blocks from Duval Street, the main strip of shops, bars, and restaurants. The historic attractions were within walking distance, too. Marla would have liked to take the Conch Tour Train for its descriptive overview of the island, but she’d reserve that activity for their next visit.
They passed the train depot and gift shop as they headed up Front Street. Marla watched her footing, the sidewalk being strewn with plant debris. Palms and other tropical foliage shaded the area, providing needed respite from the blazing sun. It was hot at this southernmost tip of the United States, and she was glad she’d worn white capris with a turquoise top.
“Which way?” Dalton asked as they hit the intersection at Duval. It looked as though the pub crawlers had already started, judging by the number of people sitting outdoors at the saloons and cafés lining the street.
“Let’s keep going until we reach Whitehead Street. Then we need to turn left toward the post office.”
“I wish we had time to see Truman’s Little White House,” Dalton said in a wistful tone. He propped a pair of sunglasses on his nose as they walked along.
“I know. And I wish we had more time to go shopping.” They would have to make another trip to see the historic sites, parks, beaches, and other attractions.
Glad Dalton had the foresight to make a dinner reservation in advance, she strolled along, peering longingly at the shops displaying souvenirs, tee-shirts, island spices, aloe products, sandals, and more. Several shops selling homemade Key lime pies made her mouth water. She’d have to get that for dessert tonight.
The newspaper headquarters was nestled between a tattoo parlor and a ghost tour ticket office. Fortunately, the guy Dalton contacted earlier was waiting for them. Sam Flint looked like a sea captain with his peppery hair and beard, nautical cap, and gold-rimmed spectacles. His skin, tanned from years in the sun, had those dark spots people get in tropical climates.
“Have a seat.” Sam gestured to a couple of battered wood chairs facing his desk. “So what can I do for you folks? You’d mentioned an article of mine that interested you?”
Dalton nodded. “That’s right. You’d written about an unsolved mystery involving a man who disappeared off the coast of Broward County in 1934 and was presumed drowned. His name was Ralph Flint. Wait a minute. I just made the connection. You have the same last name.”
Sam sank into a desk chair. “Ralph was my father. He drove to Florida from up north searching for adventure that year and wound up dead. At least, that’s what I figured happened to him.”
Marla sat forward. “We’d wondered if he had a child.” So Sam, and not Jason, was Ralph’s son.
“Ralph was engaged to my mother. She was p
regnant when he left on vacation, but my dad didn’t know it at the time. I was born after he died.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Marla needed a moment to assimilate this information, which opened a new chapter in the story started by Val’s dad. All three men in the journal had descendants. How many of them had known about each other?
“Did your mother tell you anything about Ralph while you were growing up?” she asked.
Sam straightened his eyeglasses. “Mom ended up marrying another man who raised me as his own. It was only in my later years that Mom revealed I’d been adopted by my stepfather. She never really knew what had happened to Ralph. The authorities told her he’d drowned.”
“So you started looking for him?”
“I traced his movements to Miami, where he was last seen. A newspaper there had a small article about an incident involving Warren Brookstone and two friends. Warren had reported that he had last seen my father swimming too far out to sea. Ralph didn’t heed his warning to come in and vanished beneath the waves. The other guy, George Cohen, verified his story. A body was never found.”
“George Cohen? How do you spell his last name?”
“C-o-h-e-n. You’re thinking of his son, Howard?”
“Yes, he must have changed the spelling to C-o-h-n. So they are father and son.” That confirmed her theory. “And both George and Warren claimed your father was the victim of an accidental drowning?”
Dalton jabbed a finger in the air. “It’s not unusual in Florida. Drownings off our coast are a common occurrence, especially for tourists who don’t respect the undertow. We also have sharks that pose a hazard. They swim closer to the beach than people realize.”
Sam nodded. “That might be true, but I suspected more was going on once those coins surfaced.”
“Let me guess,” Dalton said, crossing one knee over the other. “They were Spanish in origin.”
“They showed up on a collector’s circuit. I didn’t recognize them from any of the known shipwrecks. It got me to thinking. Both George and Warren didn’t lack for financial means after their trip. What if those boys had made a discovery and disagreed on how to divide the loot? And what if my father was the odd man out?”
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