Facials Can Be Fatal

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Don’t worry, there could be any number of reasons why she’s delayed. The new boyfriend might have been late to pick her up. They’re probably on their way.”

  She checked the steamer trays in the oven. Tonight had called for Italian food, and she’d shamelessly ordered it from her favorite restaurant. Dinner would be buffet style with casual seating. Everyone was still tired from last night.

  It had been a fun evening, even though Marla missed spending it with Tally and Ken. This had been the first year in forever that they hadn’t clinked champagne glasses together at midnight. A pang of hurt gnawed at her that her best friend wouldn’t even stop by today with the baby to say hello.

  She plastered a smile on her face, picked up a tray of hot mini-quiches, and took them into the adjacent room where people stood chatting. Besides family members, they’d invited friends and neighbors. Dalton’s mom dogged her heels as she headed toward the refrigerator to replenish the ice bucket. Marla’s mother-in-law wore a sweater with fashion jewelry and belted pants. Comfort was the dress code for this informal gathering.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Kate asked.

  “No, but thanks for offering. Go sit and relax. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m good, thank you. Will you be coming to the art fair next month? John has a booth to display his stained glass designs.”

  “I know. We’ve reserved the date. I’m excited for him.”

  Kate glanced toward the front window. “Where’s your mother?”

  The doorbell rang. “Maybe that’s her.” Marla put down the ice scoop in her hand and hastened to the foyer. From somewhere out back, the dogs barked. They were secured in the fenced yard, out of harm’s way. She didn’t want them inside with food lying around, and they’d bother the company with their demand for attention.

  Anita stood on the stoop along with a handsome fellow with graying reddish hair and a trim beard. “Marla, this is Renfield Westmore. Reed, this is my daughter, Marla Vail.”

  They shook hands. Marla appreciated his firm handshake and friendly smile. Lines crinkled beside his eyes as though he smiled often, and he had a pleasant quirk to his lips. She couldn’t help her quick glance at his lean torso as she stood aside for them to enter. He dressed well, wearing a tweed sport coat and pressed pants.

  She introduced him around and was grateful when Dalton led the man to a quiet corner and engaged him in conversation.

  The two mothers greeted each other and proceeded with their usual annoying behavior of one-upmanship.

  “We’ve nearly finished decorating our condo,” Kate said to Anita, while Marla checked the food in the oven again. “Our designer did a superb job of finding the exact couch I wanted.”

  “How lovely. It must feel good to be settled in. Me, I could never live in an apartment with other people all around. I like my house.”

  “You’ve never considered downsizing?”

  “What for?” Anita spread her hands. “I need the room when my grandkids come to stay.” She sniffed the air. “Yum, garlic and basil. My mouth is watering.”

  “The food will be done soon, Ma. Have some appetizers,” Marla suggested to get them out of her way.

  Kate cast a glance at Marla. “A three-bedroom unit is spacious enough for us. Brie has her own room when she comes to stay. Now, if there were two or three more grandchildren, that would be a different story.”

  Marla felt her face redden. “Don’t look at me. I’m busy enough with my salon.”

  “You’d have more time if you gave up your crime-solving escapades.” Anita wagged a finger at her. “It’s time for you to settle down. Kate and I aren’t getting any younger.”

  Marla enjoyed the look of affront on her mother-in-law’s face at that pronouncement. She finished scooping ice cubes into the bucket and turned away from the fridge. The other two trailed her into the family room, where she put her load down on the drinks table.

  “Did I hear you mention crime-solving?” Dalton said, looking glad for the distraction. He turned away from Reed, whose face held a supercilious expression.

  What, did the former literature professor consider a cop beneath his class? Usually Dalton could give as good as he got. Maybe he’d appeared to be more dimwitted than usual, in order to coax confidences. Marla didn’t care for the idea of her mother going on a cruise with a man she’d barely met, so she had asked Dalton to subtly interrogate him. Doubtless the guy would be impressed once Dalton gave him the full force of his sharp mind.

  “Marla needs to give up chasing crooks and focus on family,” Anita told Dalton in an admonishing tone.

  Robyn shouldered her way through the crowd. “I’m glad she discovered who killed Val. Now we can put that sadness behind us at the salon.”

  Brianna approached, holding a glass of ginger ale. “Tell them who did it, Daddy. You know they want to hear the sordid details.”

  “Let’s go into the living room,” Marla said. This wasn’t for the children’s ears. She double-checked to make sure the patio door was secured with its childproof lock. With small kids visiting, she’d taken extra precautions. She smiled at the dogs’ antics as they dashed after a squirrel across the backyard.

  “Did Marla tell you how she and Dalton nailed the building developer at an abandoned theme park in Hollywood?” Nicole prompted.

  “It was called Pirate’s Playground.” Marla related the tourist attraction’s history. “Rick Rodriguez meant to buy the land and erect condos there. It’s a prime piece of property on the east side of town.”

  “So how did Val figure into his schemes?” Brianna asked, her face eager.

  “She fought the redevelopment. Val had powerful friends, and he figured with her out of the way, his path would be clear. Rick bribed Andrew Fine, the publicist for FOFL, to write articles in his favor. They weren’t all about that strip of historic structures on Hollywood Beach. Fine lobbied to local politicians on his behalf.”

  Nicole spoke up. “So it was never about the journal?”

  “Well, partially.” Marla glanced at Dalton in case he wanted to explain. He gave her a nod, so she carried on. “Howard was the one interested in hunting for any remaining pirate loot. Rick knew Howard wouldn’t condone razing Pirate’s Playground to the ground to make way for condos, so he tricked him. He led Howard on with promises of funding his hobby.”

  “Howard had been stealing from Val’s accounts for years,” Dalton cut in. “Not only did the group’s treasurer need the money to remodel the theater that was his other passion besides pirate loot, but he’d been secretly funding expeditions to locate Red Ted’s hoard. Unfortunately, when Rick tried to persuade Howard this last time to support his project, Howard vowed to oppose him. So Rick killed him.”

  “But what about Jason and Nadia? Are you saying Rick was the culprit there, too?” Nicole persisted.

  Marla gazed at her with fondness. The other stylist loved reading mystery novels. She’d follow this trail until all loose ends were tied off.

  “Jason wasn’t only a talented photographer. He had ambitions to become a true journalist. In researching the region’s history, he discovered an article about a mysterious drowning. He tracked the boys’ descendants and realized Howard and Sam knew each other. Howard, along with Dr. Needles who’s a diver and Sam who is a salvage expert, worked together to search for the rest of Red Ted’s treasure. They planned to keep it for themselves if they ever found it and not turn it over to the government. From his work at the bank, Howard knew collectors who would pay handsomely for any find.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Nicole said, shaking her head. “Jason took those two pictures at the ball. You’re saying Yolanda’s husband wasn’t involved in any of these murders?”

  “Correct.” Dalton directed his intense gaze at her. “Henutt Soe Dum may be involved in the so-called black gold trade of human hair, deriving some of it from corpses along with the help of a local funeral director, but he didn’t kill Val.”
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br />   “Even though her paintings and Jason’s were exhibited next store to Yolanda’s boutique?”

  “That’s right. I suspect that was just coincidence. Or maybe Yolanda recommended the gallery to Val. I spoke to the proprietor of the place. Val wasn’t happy with the pricing on her paintings. She thought her sales might be better with a lower price tag. The owner disagreed, feeling she’d be devaluing her work that way. But it doesn’t matter now. Neither Henutt nor the art gallery director were at fault in this case.”

  “So who killed Jason? It must be the other photo that ticked someone off?” Nicole took a handful of honey-roasted peanuts from a bowl on the cocktail table and popped some into her mouth.

  “It was Howard,” Marla pointed out. She explained again how Howard Cohn had been embezzling money from Val’s accounts to fund his search for more treasure and lately, to renovate the theater that supported his passion as an actor. “The man was obsessed with pirates, and I suspect he half-fancied himself a modern-day version. He stabbed Jason because of the photo Jason took of him and Sam together. And he killed Nadia because he feared she’d read the journal and might expose his soiled family history, causing too much scrutiny to fall on him.”

  “And then Rodriguez killed him when Cohn wouldn’t support his plans to redevelop Pirate’s Playground,” Dalton added, with a scowl at the memory of their recent encounter with the fellow, now in custody.

  “Everyone had secrets,” Marla said, thinking about Val’s relationship to Nadia that went beyond friendship, Lora’s erotic secret identity, and Sue Ellen’s inflation of the catering bill.

  “How sad.” Kate hung her head. “It only goes to show that many families, even the wealthiest ones, hide skeletons in their closets.”

  Marla raised an eyebrow at her. Was Kate speaking about herself?

  Staring at a flickering candle on the cocktail table, she thought about the Hanukkah menorah she’d just put away. The discovery of that travel journal could be viewed as the true miracle of the season. It had brought to light a past injustice and pointed the way to the truth. Val and her father could now rest in peace, and so could Ralph’s spirit from so long ago.

  The phone rang, and Dalton excused himself to go into the den to answer. He must have picked up the mobile phone and walked down the hallway because she couldn’t hear him under the sudden silence that fell. She hoped it wasn’t another case, not so soon after this last one.

  “Marla, is that burnt food I smell?” Anita said, rising.

  She gave her mother a startled glance. “Omigosh, I forgot all about the lasagna.”

  Fortunately, the dish was crisp around the edges but still okay. She reheated the garlic rolls in the microwave and mixed the Caesar salad. Dalton needed to uncork another bottle of wine. She shot an annoyed gaze at the doorway into the kitchen. What was keeping him so long?

  Heck, she shouldn’t complain. Their lives might always be disrupted by his job, but at least they had each other. No matter what came around the next corner, they’d be together.

  She smiled fondly at Brianna, who helped her place the food on the kitchen table for the buffet. She’d already laid out the utensils, plates, and napkins.

  What more could she want? She had a loving husband and stepdaughter, and they were surrounded by friends and family. Life couldn’t be more complete.

  “Kinehora,” she said aloud, remembering to say the superstitious phrase to avert the evil eye. Otherwise, just when you thought all was perfect, calamity would fall.

  The universe sought balance and would find ways to achieve it. She’d learned not to tempt fate. Just in case, she knocked on wood as well.

  “Come on, everybody. Let’s eat,” she called to her company.

  As guests filed in to get their dinner plates, Marla smiled with satisfaction. Some people might complain about hosting so many holidays, but she considered it a privilege. You never knew when things might change. Better to enjoy being with your loved ones while you had the chance.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The journal in this story, Florida Escapade, is based on a 1935 travel memoir written by my father, Harry I. Heller. In Florida Escape, you can read the real exploits of three intrepid explorers during their adventurous trip to the Sunshine State. Some of these passages are excerpted in Facials Can Be Fatal. For more details, please visit my website at http://nancyjcohen.com.

  The theme park, Pirate’s Playground, is modeled after a defunct attraction in Dania, Florida called Pirates World. It was built in 1967 and lasted until its doors closed in the 1970s. The land was rezoned for residential use, and today condominiums inhabit the site.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nancy J. Cohen writes the humorous Bad Hair Day Mysteries featuring hairstylist Marla Vail, who solves crimes with wit and style under the sultry Florida sun. Titles in this series have made the IMBA bestseller list and been selected by Suspense Magazine as best cozy mystery. The author of over twenty published works, Nancy has also written the instructional guide, Writing the Cozy Mystery, an easy-to-follow reference on how to write a winning whodunit. Nancy’s imaginative romances, including the Drift Lords series, have proven popular with fans as well. These books have won the HOLT Medallion and Best Book in Romantic SciFi/Fantasy at The Romance Reviews.

  A featured speaker at libraries, conferences, and community events, Nancy is listed in Contemporary Authors, Poets & Writers, and Who’s Who in U.S.Writers, Editors, & Poets. When not busy writing, she enjoys fine dining, cruising, visiting Disney World, and outlet shopping, plus frequent trips to the salon for research.

  Nancy loves to hear from readers. Contact her at nancy@nancyjcohen.com or sign up for her newsletter at http://nancyjcohen.com/newsletter/.