Perish By Pedicure

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Oh yes,” the young man stated with a smile. “In fact, I have a couple of packets for you.” He handed over a folder with her name on the front and gave Georgia a similar one. “If you check the schedule inside, you’ll see you have plenty of time to get settled in and have lunch before the photo shoot at two o’clock. You’re to meet with the photographer by Pirate’s Cove, where your group leader will give you further instructions.”

  Marla glanced at Georgia. “It’s a good thing I brought my portable curling iron and other tools. It’s breezy today, and that could wreak havoc on the models’ hair. I wonder where they’re staying.”

  Four of the girls had agreed to do the gig, and Marla hoped to locate them to ask about Heather. Meanwhile, she accepted her room key-card and wheeled her bag to the elevator. Smells of bacon and French toast wafted into her nostrils. There must be a restaurant off the lobby, but she’d rather eat later and explore the environs in her free time. Lunch was still an hour away, and she could accomplish a lot in that interval. Thankful that Justine and Larry had remained in Palm Haven, she determined to press her advantage to learn all she could about her Luxor colleagues.

  “Where should we go first?” Georgia said, claiming the bed nearest the bathroom.

  Their room held enough space for a dinette table and two chairs, plus a desk with a high-speed Internet connection, a television console that doubled as their wardrobe, and two queen-sized beds. Tropical-patterned bedspreads in peacock blue, ivory, and coral matched the wall prints and carpet. Marla appreciated the separate dressing area, where she spread her toiletries before freshening her makeup.

  “Let’s find Pirate’s Cove, and maybe we’ll run into someone we know along the way,” she replied.

  Looking into the mirror while scrunching her hair, Georgia made a face. “I hope we don’t meet that police detective. He seems too interested in me for my liking. Too bad your hunk isn’t along for this ride. He’d take the heat off us.”

  “Not off me—he’d raise my temperature,” Marla said with a grin. “I’m glad Dalton isn’t assigned to this case. He can get too single-minded, so it wouldn’t be much of a break. Besides, we already had our getaway. Our Thanksgiving family reunion took place at Sugar Crest Plantation Resort, and that trip raised more ghosts than resided there.” She shivered at the memory. “Remind me to tell you about Grandfather Andrew’s playful spirit pinching me in the elevator.”

  They headed outdoors fifteen minutes later, not wanting to waste time inside. The air smelled like chlorine and coconut oil as they neared a free-form pool in a grotto with a rocky waterfall. Georgia pointed at the sunbathers stretched out on lounge chairs. “Oh, man, I wish we could just lie here. I could so use a day off.”

  “Me too,” Marla replied, although she could think of other places that would be warmer in the winter. Shifting her purse, she considered the travel brochures she’d collected, with their photos of exotic beaches and lush tropical greenery. With all the events in her life, it seemed as though she’d never get to Bora Bora except in her imagination.

  Maybe she should reset her standards, she mused, adjusting the sunglasses on her nose. Great Heron Key offered a close second to Bora Bora. A waiter circulated among the chaise lounges, offering colorful drinks garnished with tiny tropical umbrellas and pineapple slices. Tempted to dally, she forced herself to focus on her mission. The sooner Christine’s murder was solved, the sooner the Luxor crew could leave. While she enjoyed Georgia’s company, having one less person in her house would simplify things.

  “Whoa, Marla, is that who I think it is?” Georgia stopped short, bumping into her.

  Marla glanced at the paunchy figure ranging toward them. No way that guy in the hip-hugging trunks could be Sampson York! Divested of his fanciful show garb, he appeared almost, well, ordinary.

  “Hello, my little nightingales. Isn’t this place stupendous?” Sampson waved his arm. “I couldn’t have chosen a better setting myself. Kudos to Chris for finding such a charming location for our shoot” His speech sounded slurred, as though he’d already sampled the tropical rum drinks on tap.

  “It’s a shame she can’t be here to enjoy the Keys with us,” Marla replied in a sympathetic tone, “but we’ll do a bang-up job in her honor.”

  “Damn right,” Georgia said, punching a fist in the air.

  Surreptitiously studying their artistic director, Marla adjusted her blazer. She’d worn a pants set with black slacks, an ivory shell, and a cranberry jacket. It made her feel more confident to wear business attire. Going a bit more casual, Georgia had settled for fudge pants and a raspberry tank top, but she always looked put together, with her bouncy hair and confident smile. In contrast, Sampson seemed to have taken a serious dive downhill. What had happened to make him foreswear his professionalism?

  “It’s rather windy,” Marla commented. “We’ll need to use extra holding spray on the models’ hair. Should I get my supplies? I left my bag in our hotel room until after lunch.”

  Sampson’s imperious expression told her what he thought of her concern. “A windswept look is perfect for the girls. Picture the advertisements: gorgeous women in bikinis strutting on the beach, a stiff breeze blowing from the ocean, the sun gleaming off the water. Seeing those images will make consumers want to rush to the seashore. And they’ll need to use our conditioners to avoid damage to their hair.”

  At least he sounded enthusiastic about their work. “How are we dividing our duties?” Marla persisted. “Do we each get to do one of the models?” By “each,” she meant herself, Sampson, Ron, and Liesl. They were the stylists; the others were ancillary personnel. She assumed Jan would be running the show.

  “Indeed. I hope you brought your makeup kit as well. The photographer will tell you if he needs anything special regarding cosmetic enhancement He’s there now checking his light meter.” Sampson glanced furtively over his shoulder, then leaned forward. “I wouldn’t go to Pirate’s Cove yet if I were you. That annoying detective is hanging around.”

  “Oh no,” Georgia moaned. “I really don’t feel like talking to him today.”

  “You and everyone else.” Sampson’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t listen to anything he tells you. Half of it is untrue. He’s just trying to get a rise from you so you’ll talk. I suppose you realize he’s aiming to pin Christine’s murder on one of us.”

  Marla observed him closely. What had Sergeant Masterson said to Sampson that the trainer believed to be false? Or had the detective hit too close to the mark where he was concerned?

  “Marla, tell him about the dermatologist,” Georgia said, squinting from the sun. Taking a sun visor from her bag, she plopped it on her head.

  Restless to move on, Marla shifted her weight to her other foot. “Apparently Chris was involved in a project with a local dermatologist supporting the American Melanoma Society. Would you know anything about it?”

  “Of course,” Sampson began but then stopped, his gaze hardening.

  “Yo, dudes, what’s going on?” drawled a familiar voice from behind. Marla whirled to see Tyler, Amy Jeanne, and Ron bearing down on them.

  “Did you say something about Chris?” Ron asked, frowning. “I’d hoped we could avoid rehashing unpleasant events while we’re here. With all due respect to our former leader, we could use a break, especially if we’re to do our best work.”

  With his spiked hair, metallic gray eyes, and trim frame, he could have stood in for a male model. His open-collared black shirt stretched across broad shoulders, its snug fit revealing his musculature beneath. Heather had slept with him, Marla reminded herself, before the long-legged model had ended up dead.

  “Unpleasant events?” she repeated. ‘That’s not what I would call the loss of two people we knew.”

  “Stew about it all you want,” Ron snapped at her, “but I’m not going to let some bad group karma stop me from doing my job.”

  “Chill out, dude,” Tyler told him. “We’ll be fine.” He wore a safari outfit, complete wi
th shorts, utility belt, and button-down shirt with bulging pockets. “Come on, I’m hungry. Who wants to chow down with me?”

  His words dispelled the tension that had sprung up among them. Sampson, Marla realized, had been distraught, perhaps by something the detective had said to him, and Ron’s temper was on a short leash.

  Georgia bustled forward to join Tyler while the master stylists marched off in opposite directions after curt parting remarks. Marla watched Ron, wondering again why he didn’t strike out on his own if he hated working with Sampson. Was it merely his loyalty to Luxor that kept him in their employ, or did he have another compelling reason to stay?

  “Marla, let me give you a word of advice,” Amy Jeanne said by her side. The salon coordinator was so quiet that Marla had almost forgotten she was there. Her warm brown skin glistened in the sun, reflecting the warmth in her eyes.

  “What about?” Marla fell into a slow pace beside the other woman. They headed down one of the paths away from the pool. The sound of splashing water receded into the distance, replaced by the gentle swish of ocean waves as they climbed a terrace.

  Amy Jeanne, her jaw moving with a wad of gum, waved her hand. Marla noted tiny angel appliqués on her violet-painted nails. “I know you’d like to do more of this work. Tell the photographer that you would appreciate referrals. We’re not the only company doing ads here. Miami is very hot right now for global marketing.”

  “No kidding. I read a news article recently that said New York designers are bringing runway fashion shows featuring swimsuits to Miami Beach. That makes sense to me. South Florida is the perfect locale, with our palm trees and sunny weather, plus we’re the gateway for Latin America and the Caribbean.”

  “You should schedule more photo sessions at your salon,” Amy Jeanne advised her. “Have your people do the hair, then submit the photos to different hairstyle magazines. If you go for special themes like weddings, makeovers, and holidays, you’ll broaden your market and increase your chance of acceptance. Add these pieces to your portfolio. Meanwhile, meet as many people as you can in the fashion industry, and spread the word that you’re looking for more opportunities.”

  Shading her eyes, Marla gazed out to sea. A freighter chugged the waters far out by the horizon. “I may have to put my plans on hold until I move the salon. That’s when I could really use the publicity. I want to get into more day spa services and raise awareness in the community. Plus, I’m supposed to get married, and that means taking on responsibility for a thirteen-year-old stepdaughter.”

  “Shut my mouth, girlfriend! How do you manage to keep on top of things? I’d be bowled over by all that baggage. I can’t even handle my sister’s whining.” Amy Jeanne’s lips twisted in a self-derogatory smile.

  Marla grinned. “I guess I thrive on challenges. Dalton is a widower, and his former in-laws are staying with me this week. Don’t ask—it’s just how things worked out,” she said upon noting Amy’s incredulous expression. “Anyway, I have my hands full right now. Escaping to the Keys was a welcome break.”

  “I’m impressed.” Amy Jeanne regarded her with new respect.

  Signaling for her companion to follow, Marla strode ahead. They reached a plateau that jutted over the sea wall. Halting, she viewed a school of fish swimming among strands of seaweed, the water pulsating as though alive. A light breeze stirred the hairs on her arms. Sniffing the briny air, she leaned against a painted wood rail. If only she were here for fun, not business.

  Not this time. Get to work. Mentally debating how to probe Amy Jeanne’s knowledge of Chris’s affairs, she searched for an opening remark.

  “At least I have a chance to direct my future,” she said mildly. “Chris’s ambitions are dust. It’s still hard to believe she’s gone and isn’t sharing this weekend with us.”

  Amy Jeanne avoided her gaze. “Sucks for her.”

  “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

  “I sent her sister a card, but that’s the extent of my sympathy. I don’t miss the bitch.”

  “What did she do to you?” Marla asked in a neutral tone.

  “Chris didn’t do anything to me personally. It’s what she did to Ellen.” The salon coordinator paused, her face revealing conflicting emotions. “My sister is a stylist, too. She and Chris used to work in the same salon; that’s how I got connected with Luxor. You know how Chris tried to control everyone? Well, that extended to our personal lives. She set Ellen up with a bad date.”

  Marla repressed the urge to shout in triumph. At last, she was getting someone to open up. “Go on,” she said.

  Amy Jeanne’s solemn brown eyes turned reflective. “Ellen didn’t listen to my warnings about men. She was a victim of date rape. After it happened, she started drinking, and that led down the road to drugs. She’s been in and out of rehab centers ever since. I can’t tell you how it broke my heart to see my baby sister destroyed, and it was all Chris’s fault”

  “Chris couldn’t have known what the guy intended.”

  “No, but she should have minded her own business.”

  “Someone else must be thinking that same way. Chris’s death wasn’t an accident.”

  Amy Jeanne stepped back. “Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Then do you have any idea who might have poisoned her?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, although…I wonder…”

  “Yes?”

  “I know there was some bad blood between Miguel and Chris over a problem she developed after consulting his brother, a surgeon. I didn’t want to get involved, so I never asked him about it.” Amy Jeanne rolled the piece of gum in her mouth.

  “Okay, thanks. Anyone else?” Marla closed her ears to the skywriting airplane droning overhead, advertising a beer joint on the mainland.

  Glancing at her watch, her colleague gestured that they should move on. “I don’t like to gossip. What goes around comes around, you know?”

  “Let me remind you that two people have died already. Don’t you want to help catch the killer? It could be one of us. Take Jan, for instance,” Marla said, hoping to provoke a response. “She’s been aiming for Christine’s position. Now she has a shot at being appointed director permanently.”

  Amy Jeanne stood stock-still. ‘Janice wouldn’t harm a hair on Christine’s head, not even after she lost all that money. She scrapes to pay her mother’s medical bills and doesn’t even complain that Chris gained from her loss. I hope you’re not going to start any rumors about her, Marla, because I’ll be the first to knock you down.”

  And having said that, Amy Jeanne stalked away, while Marla gazed after her with her jaw hanging open. Wow, she hadn’t expected that strong of a reaction! Interesting how Amy Jeanne seemed more defensive about Jan than about her own sister. How strongly had she wanted to see Janice Davidson move up the corporate ladder?

  Glancing about as she headed back toward the pool, Marla searched for Georgia to discuss these new leads with her friend. Georgia must have gone off with Tyler, because there was no sight of either one of them. Her stomach growled, making her realize lunch hour had arrived. If she wanted to eat before their photo shoot, she’d better grab something now.

  She caught Liesl stuffing down a hot dog at the poolside restaurant. The blonde wore a bikini top and sarong skirt. Mustard dotted the side of her mouth.

  “May I join you?” Marla asked, plopping herself into a chair at the outdoor table. Brushing a dead insect off the Formica tabletop, she reached for the single-page laminated menu.

  Liesl slurped her lemonade. “Sure, it’s a free country.”

  Marla didn’t like the coldness in her tone. “If you’d rather I go elsewhere—”

  “No, that’s okay,” Liesl reassured her quickly. “I’m sorry, I know I sound curt to you sometimes, and I’d like to explain.” She lowered her gaze. “I don’t often tell people about my background, because they can react badly. My grandfather, well, he was in the Gestapo.”

  “So?” Marla
gave the girl an appraising glance. “I don’t hold that against you.”

  “Really?” Liesl’s face eased into a smile. “I’ve wanted to regard you as a friend, but I wasn’t sure if you’d…if you…”

  Marla raised an eyebrow. “I’d be happy to consider you my friend, Liesl. What happened in the past is not between us. We can learn a lot from each other.”

  “Bang on, Iuv. Like, how do you keep your figure so slim? Liesl asked after Marla placed an order for a cheeseburger and fries. “You’re not a health food and exercise nut like Jan.”

  “I chase criminals with my fiancé.”

  “In between cutting and styling at the salon? When do you find time to do everything?” Liesl dabbed at her cheek with a napkin. Her mood seemed to have brightened considerably since their discussion. She had a lilt in her voice.

  “Funny, I was just discussing that very same topic with Amy Jeanne. Did you know her sister worked in the same salon as Chris? That’s how Amy hooked up with Luxor.”

  “I didn’t realize that, but, then, Amy Jeanne doesn’t talk much about herself.”

  Do any of you? Marla wasn’t about to betray a confidence if Amy Jeanne hadn’t told anyone else about her sister’s problems. “She’s very loyal to Janice.”

  “Clever of you to notice.” Liesl’s eyes flickered with amusement.

  “You don’t think Amy would do anything to, uh, get Jan bumped up a level? Or could Jan have a ruthless streak that makes her dangerous?”

  Liesl laughed, a pleasant sound like clinking glasses. “You’re way off base. Jan may be ambitious, but she isn’t stupid. She knew exactly why Chris promoted her to regional manager in the first place, but she’s willing to bide her time until she climbs the next rung on her own.”

  “I don’t understand.” Marla leaned back when the waitress delivered her Coke. Her throat parched, she took a long sip.