Facials Can Be Fatal

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Or not. How far are we from the theme park site? If it’s off Route One, we’d just have to drive south for a bit.”

  “I suppose we could check it out. I need to nail this guy.” Dalton yanked out his cell phone. “I’ll notify Kat for backup.”

  With all the traffic lights and fumbling around the territory trying to find the place without any signage, it was nearly eleven by the time they reached the place. Dalton pulled into a deserted parking lot filled with potholes and weeds. A lone street light provided dim illumination. After shutting the ignition, he withdrew a couple of sturdy flashlights from one of the interior compartments. But he hesitated before handing one to her.

  “You’d better stay in the car until I check things out.”

  “Why don’t you wait for Kat?”

  “I want to see if Cohn is here before I waste her time.”

  “Fine, then I’m coming with you.” Should she take her purse or leave it here locked up? Better to keep it, she thought, considering the mini can of hair spray and metal nail file she kept inside. They might come in handy. Nonetheless, she slung the strap diagonally across her chest so she’d be hands free.

  “If Cohn is here, we’ll wait for reinforcements.” Outside on the asphalt, Dalton moved forward. “I wish we had a map. This place is spooky at night.”

  “I snapped a picture of Howard’s diagram on my cell phone.” Her shoes crunching on gravel, Marla shivered at the sight of ghostly rides rising in the gloom.

  “That won’t help us. We don’t know which way he went.”

  “Look, two cars are parked at that end, in the shadows. One of them should belong to Howard. Maybe he left footprints we can follow.”

  They spoke in low tones so their voices wouldn’t carry. Over by the corner, Dalton shone his flashlight at the ground, revealing shoe imprints in the soft grass. But the trail ended when they reached a concrete path.

  “Here’s the old ticketing stand.” Dalton pointed to a tollbooth type structure beside a rotted wood fence. A gate swung in the breeze, making creaking noises.

  “It’s sad how these old places fall apart and are forgotten,” Marla said, kicking at a pebble.

  “This land would be worth something, though. Let’s go inside. Who could Cohn be meeting and why?”

  “Maybe the builder means to offer him a bribe if he halts his opposition to the redevelopment project.”

  “You could be right.”

  Inside the gate, they paused to survey the territory. A full moon came out from behind a cloud, providing enough illumination to discern shadowy forms looming in the dark. A huge replica of a pirate ship rose on their left, its ropes clanging in the wind. Cannons were aimed at the walkway. Marla guessed they had been loaded with water to shoot passersby.

  “There’s another ship somewhere on a fake waterway,” she said. “Pirates fired at the vessel while it sailed on the so-called river. The crew shot back to protect their passengers. I imagine it was like a variation of the jungle cruise at Disney World.”

  “This must have been a fun place when it was open.”

  Marla’s scalp prickled. Where could Howard have gone? As an actor who liked playing pirate, what would have been his favorite attraction?

  An observation tower drew her attention. It had cages suspended in the air. From what she’d read, people considered this a thrill ride back in the day.

  Up ahead to their left rose a twisting rollercoaster. A cool breeze lifted the hairs on her arms and brought with it the aroma of dry dirt. She shut off her flashlight to conserve power, letting Dalton lead with his turned on when the moon slipped behind a cloud.

  They passed the remains of a log flume and a water slide, skirted a funhouse called Pirate’s Den, and ended up beside an arcade. Marla studied the ring toss game. She’d never been good at that sort of thing.

  “It’s too quiet here,” Dalton said in a hushed tone. “I don’t like it.”

  “Of course it’s quiet. What did you expect?” Marla paused in front of a shooting gallery. She figured that was one game where Dalton would excel.

  Hey, was that man-sized target moving? The hanging figure was dressed as a pirate. He looked hauntingly similar to the character played by Howard Cohn onstage.

  She poked her husband. “Be subtle about it, but take a look at the target for that shooting game. Am I imagining things, or does he resemble Howard more than he should?”

  The moon emerged, allowing them to see more clearly.

  “Stay here,” Dalton told Marla before he strode around the corner.

  She saw him emerge and prod the target, but she couldn’t see much else beyond. “Well? Is it real or a dummy?”

  “It is Howard Cohn. He’s dead. And his body is still warm.”

  A loud crack sounded, and a whoosh of air zinged past Marla’s ear. “Somebody’s shooting at me!” She crouched down, wondering which way to run. She couldn’t tell the direction of their assailant.

  “Get over here,” Dalton called before disappearing out the exit.

  She scurried around to meet him. He hovered at the rear of the structure, waiting for her with his weapon drawn.

  “We’ll head toward the park entrance,” he said, his face grim. “Could you tell where the shooter was located?”

  “No idea, sorry. What’s he still doing here?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, unless this was a setup for all of us.”

  “I’d hoped you might be tailing Howard,” said a deep voice from behind.

  They whirled around. Rick Rodriguez aimed a gun at them. Or rather, he aimed it directly at Marla’s head.

  “Lower your weapon to the ground, Detective. If you fire, I can get off a shot before I drop. It’ll kill your wife.”

  Marla sensed Dalton’s hesitation. Then he bent slowly, placing his gun on the ground.

  “Kick it away out of reach.”

  Dalton complied but kicked it in her direction. He’d taken her to the firing range. If they could distract Rodriguez, she might be able to scoop the weapon up and use it.

  “Why would you want Howard dead?” she asked to get the developer talking. Dalton had called for backup. How long before Kat arrived?

  “The idiot played his pirate role too well. He’d been stealing money from Val Weston’s accounts, and she caught on to him. She interfered with my projects, too. So I got rid of her as a favor to us both. This site, when redeveloped, will be worth millions. I’d hoped to gain Howard’s support, but he had his own dreams to restore the theme park. The guy was nuts about pirates and the past. We couldn’t come to an agreement, so I shot him.”

  His matter-of-fact tone sent chills up Marla’s spine. “So this has nothing to do with the journal written by Val’s father, Warren?”

  Rodriguez gave a snort of laughter. “Not for me. Their parents did a bad thing together. Howard told me all about it and how Ralph’s son had entered the picture.”

  “Jason Faulks caught them on camera together at the ball. Did one of them kill Jason?” Marla asked, keeping her voice even.

  “Faulks had the notion he’d make a good journalist. He’d been researching articles about the region’s past and its history of shipwrecks. He might have exposed Howard’s secret expeditions, and that publicity would lead to closer scrutiny. Howard had been funding his treasure hunts with money from Val Weston’s accounts. So Howard took matters into his own hands. He killed Faulks and stole his camera.”

  Marla gasped. “Howard confessed to you?”

  “Yes, and he killed that other woman, too. Val’s friend. Once he heard about the journal, he tried to get his hands on it. All he cared about was finding that pirate stash. But looking for buried loot was never my goal. I want the gold in this ground, meaning the land development. I’m not about to let anyone get in my way, including you.”

  “Is that why you bribed Andrew Fine into slanting his articles in favor of your latest projects?” Marla said hastily, seeing his gun arm raise a notch.

&n
bsp; “That’s so.” He spared a glance around them. “Now let’s see. Where can I stage your death so it looks like a horrible accident?” His gaze halted on the observation tower. “I can use the manual lever to hoist you to the top. And when that cage comes crashing down, people will wonder why you were so foolish as to explore this site at night.”

  “You won’t get away with it,” Dalton said in a calm tone. “I’ve called for backup. They know we’re here.”

  “But your pals think you’re tracking Howard, right? No one will be looking for me.”

  No, but they’ll see your car in the parking lot if we can stall you long enough. Marla’s heart raced as she fixated on the gun pointed at her.

  “Head over to the tower,” Rodriguez said, his silver hair glinting in the moonlight. His hooked nose, determined eyes, and fighter’s physique would make him a worthy opponent in a fist-fight. Marla hoped they could subdue him another way.

  “Tell me one thing,” she replied, not moving. “How did you learn about Val’s allergy? That method of killing her was diabolical. I’d think you would have gone for a more direct approach, like a hit and run.”

  He grinned in pride. “That worked for Howard in getting rid of Nadia. I figured with the allergic reaction, either the beautician would be blamed for Val’s death or that stupid shampoo girl would take the fall. I paid her to sabotage the face cream and change Val’s appointment.”

  “So Howard didn’t supply you with the liquid latex? It wasn’t his idea?”

  “Hell, no. I bought the stuff on the Internet. It’s easy enough to obtain. As for who told me about Val’s allergy, that was Lora Larue. She’s the commercial real estate agent handling the sale of this property.”

  Marla sucked in a breath. “So she’s in on this with you?”

  “She agrees this site is ripe for redevelopment. Is she involved in anything else? Nope. The broad is too dumb to see beyond her nose. But I’m not, and I know you’re stalling. So move.”

  They hadn’t walked a few feet at gunpoint when a flight of geese took off with wild squawking in front of them. Dalton pushed Marla to the side.

  “Run! We’ll split up and meet at the lair.”

  Marla dashed away, her shoes kicking up dirt as Rodriguez cursed and fired wildly into the night. Her chest heaving, she ran until she had to pause to take a breath. And then she realized she had no idea where she was or what Dalton had meant by a lair.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Marla stood still to regard her surroundings and get her bearings. A large ship rose at a dock to her left, but it wasn’t the same one as the ship at the park entrance. This vessel rode on water, unlike the other replica. And it actually appeared sail-worthy. It must be the water ride she’d read about, where the crew fought pirates to protect their passengers and Indians pretended to shoot arrows from the shore.

  The rippling current sparkled in the moonlight. For a moment, she wondered if the waterways led to an outlet, or if they’d been constructed here for this purpose. It was tempting to look for a boat or raft and find out. But if it did have an outlet, the water might also harbor alligators. No, thanks. She’d better locate another escape route.

  But Dalton hadn’t asked her to leave. He’d wanted to lure Rodriguez somewhere. And the crooked developer might have the main exit blocked from access anyway, depending on where he was located.

  She patted her purse, still strapped to her shoulder, but didn’t dare retrieve her flashlight inside. She’d have to stumble around in the night. The wind had picked up, whistling through the park’s derelict rides and causing the ship’s wood to creak and its lines to clank against each other. The eerie sounds in the deserted park gave her the shivers. Is that where the pirate phrase, “Shiver me timbers” came from?

  Wait, could Nadia have meant this place when she scribbled that note? Perhaps she’d been attempting to write Pirate’s Playground, and not Pilates or Pirate? And how did she figure things out, anyway? She must have put the pieces together from what Val had told her.

  It didn’t matter now. Marla listened acutely for footsteps or heavy breathing but heard nothing indicating another human within range. Maybe she should text Dalton and ask him where he meant they should meet. But his phone might jangle and give away his position, so she discarded that option.

  He said to go to the lair. Where could he mean?

  One possibility took precedence. The Pirate’s Den attraction would fit that description.

  She’d lost all sense of direction. She stood immobile, afraid to move and yet desperate to make a run for it. If only she knew what her husband had in mind. It was unlike him to abandon her like this. Yet in doing so, it showed his trust that she would figure it out. She couldn’t let him down.

  Leaving the walkway, she trod on soft grass, attempting to use the moon for guidance. She could take out her cell phone but the glare might be too revealing. At the front entrance, the moon had been overhead at two o’clock. She pictured her map. The den was at a far left corner of the park. So the moon should be behind her, right?

  She got confused at the angles and moved forward. It wouldn’t accomplish anything to stand there. Maybe she’d make her way back to the car through an opening in the fence further along. It had to be in disrepair same as the attractions.

  Her glance fell upon the rollercoaster stretching toward the sky. Hey, she could use that structure plus the observation tower for landmarks. Those should help guide her toward the rear corner she sought.

  A loud honk made her jump with fright and her heart pound so fast she felt dizzy. A couple of geese picked at the grass ahead. Damn, they were noisy things. This must be a feeding ground for them.

  She sidestepped past and kept moving, her sixth sense alert for any unusual sounds. Her breath huffed in the cool air and cold chills racked her. She wriggled her fingertips, icy from fear. Momentarily distracted, she didn’t watch where she was walking and crunched on a big twig. Tree debris covered the grounds where the landscaping had overgrown.

  A cough sounded from behind. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, and she hastened forward. Judging from the tower, she must be headed in the right direction. She prayed Dalton would be there, otherwise she’d be lost.

  Think, girl. You’ve used your own wits before to defeat a killer.

  Why would Dalton choose this particular attraction? Pirate’s Den must be some sort of tunnel ride. Were there scenes depicting the brigands’ treasure and their captured slaves? Tableaux of debauchery after a raid in town? Skeleton figures popping out of nowhere to scare visitors? Images of similar rides at other theme parks came to mind.

  Those attractions had models of pirates wearing gun belts, knives, and axes.

  Yes, of course. Dalton could pick up a weapon there, assuming they weren’t all made of rubber.

  She stumbled upon the place by accident, roaming past the log flume that snaked through the park. Canals crisscrossed the property and served as fictional rivers for the play land.

  Light flickered from within the gaping maw of the den entrance. Constructed of fake boulders, it resembled a cave. Aware she’d be presenting herself as a target, she stepped across the threshold. Lit torches in wall sconces emitted smoke and provided enough illumination for her to see where the space narrowed ahead so guests would have to form a line. Faux calcite columns and stalactites contributed to the illusion of a cavern.

  She peered around but the edges remained shadowed. She couldn’t see what was beyond the torch light. Dalton must have gotten here first to light them.

  “Move inside,” he commanded in a low tone. “Stand in the center.”

  Unable to identify his position, she obeyed, her teeth chattering. One wrong move and Rodriguez would shoot her. Where was Dalton hiding? She turned in a circle, but her narrowed gaze couldn’t discern his tall figure anywhere.

  “Stop right there,” Rodriguez called from behind.

  She spun to face him, putting on a brave front. He stood silhouetted in the ride e
ntrance. Could she sling her purse far enough to strike him? Her breath came in short, labored bursts as she noticed his gun pointed her way. Could he hit her at that range?

  He stepped closer, allowing her to see the triumph on his face. His mouth widened in a sneer as he neared. “Where’s your husband?”

  “I don’t know. I lost him.”

  “Liar. He must be around somewhere. Who else lit these torches?”

  “Rick, please don’t do this. You might as well give up. The authorities will be searching for you. Dalton can make you a deal.”

  “I’m not going to rot in prison. Besides, you’ve been a pain. I’ll enjoy this.” He raised his gun arm.

  “Marla, duck!” Dalton yelled.

  She dove to her right, which was to Rodriguez’s left as he fired from his right hand. Then he cried out and fell to his knees as another shot cracked the air from behind him.

  Dalton sprinted forward, holding an axe backward, and brained him with the handle.

  Rodriguez crumpled to the ground.

  As Marla shakily rose to her feet, Dalton holstered his ankle gun and whipped out a pair of handcuffs that he kept in his pocket when off-duty. He proceeded to secure the suspect.

  His cell phone rang. “You take it and tell Kat where we are,” he ordered. When she’d hung up, his solemn gaze met hers. “Marla, I would never put you in danger. I had him the minute he stepped inside.”

  She looked in the direction where he was pointing. He’d been standing on a ledge to the side of the entrance. It was part of a narrow path for guests to follow toward the exit in case the power failed.

  A smile played about her mouth. “I know. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. You’re the best.”

  “I am, aren’t I? But we’re better as a team.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Ma is late. She should have called by now,” Marla told Dalton in the kitchen on New Year’s Day. Brianna was back home, and all of their other guests had arrived. Her mother was always on time, which is why Marla worried. “Maybe I should text her. She might have run into car trouble.”