Trimmed to Death

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “I’m excited about this site,” Tally said a short while later upon hopping into Marla’s car. “There’s a restaurant on one corner that draws customers from the nearby mall and a couple of upscale gift shops in the strip. My dress boutique with a café at the other end will be a good fit. The landlord agrees and has offered me a discount on the deposit.”

  “Have you signed a contract already?” Marla asked, alarmed about her friend making hasty decisions.

  “No, just a letter of agreement. I’m having my lawyer look over the terms. You can examine the lease too, if you’d like. I would value your opinion.”

  “Have you found a chef who’s willing to partner with you on the café aspect?” Marla turned west on Sunrise Boulevard, heading toward the Sawgrass Mills complex.

  Tally grimaced. “Not yet. Maybe Teri knows somebody. I wish we had time to visit her place now.”

  “I could take a break at lunch tomorrow and run over there with you,” Marla offered.

  “All right, you’ve got a date. Did I tell you what Luke’s doing now?” Tally launched into a description of her fourteen-month-old son’s latest antics, while Marla’s heart squeezed. She missed seeing Luke on a daily basis.

  “Earth to Marla. Are you listening?” Tally’s face crumpled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know you miss Luke. You can come over anytime, Marla. He’d love for you to visit.”

  “I know. I’ve been busy talking to people involved in Dalton’s case.”

  “How is that coming? Any leads you can share?”

  Marla reflected back to the days when she would eagerly call Tally to discuss a case and review the various suspects. Now with child care as Tally’s priority and a career move to plan, Marla didn’t want to bother her. She had Robyn and Nicole at work who both took an interest in her sleuthing adventures.

  Then again, Tally was invested in this case since she’d been at the bake-off and knew the contestants. Plus, she was always good at seeing things from a new perspective. Maybe Marla had been too quick to dismiss her participation.

  “Here’s what I’ve learned so far,” she said, reviewing her findings to date.

  “You should ask Teri if she noticed anyone missing from the bake-off group before the contest winners were announced,” Tally remarked upon Marla’s conclusion. “What time will you be available to visit her shop?”

  “I’ll be free at noon. How about if I swing by your house and pick you up?”

  “Sounds good. I need to feed my chocolate addiction. It’ll hasten my recovery.”

  “Don’t let me buy anything. I don’t need the extra calories.”

  Nonetheless, when Marla entered the shop with Tally on Friday, the scent of chocolate overpowered her. Maybe she would get a treat for Dalton.

  They’d arrived just as Teri was wrapping up a tour. When the owner spied them, she signaled for her salesgirl to manage the café, which offered hot beverages and desserts. Teri moved behind the display counter where her artisan chocolates were available for purchase.

  “I didn’t play the Find Franny game,” Teri said after Marla explained their purpose.

  “So what did you do after you’d put away your supplies from the bake-off contest?” she asked, while Tally scrutinized the day’s specialties for sale.

  Teri straightened the white lab coat she wore over her street clothes. “I spoke to Zach Kinsdale about carrying my desserts in their marketplace in addition to my artisan pieces. They’d appeal to the upscale crowd he gets there.”

  “Did he agree?” Marla’s gaze rose to the back wall where wrappers from international chocolate bars made an impressive work of art.

  “He said he would try a few of them to start. If people bought the items, we could expand the order.”

  “Did he give any indication of how things were going for them? I’d like to see their farm succeed. We have so few places left in Broward County with U-pick fields.”

  “Francine’s death will put a pall on future events, that’s for sure.”

  “I’d observed her talking to Zach. Do you remember? You identified him for me.”

  Teri stared at her. “Yes, I recall. But you’re not implying Zach Kinsdale—”

  “Not at all. I’m hoping for a clearer picture of who was doing what that day.”

  A customer, wanting a selection of chocolates, interrupted their conversation. After Teri rang up the order, she turned back to Marla. Tally, meanwhile, had acquired a dish of chocolate mousse and was spooning it into her mouth with a heavenly expression on her face.

  Teri chuckled. “I did see Tristan almost make a fool of himself. The idiot wasn’t looking where he was going and walked into a wheelbarrow. A pile of dirt tumbled onto his boots. He staggered away, his face crimson as a red velvet cake.”

  “He was lucky it wasn’t a load of manure,” Marla added with a smile. “So that explains why he showed up with a limp on his way to the judging stand.” The pastry chef had lied, stating he’d twisted his ankle at a dip in the grass. Likely he didn’t care to admit his clumsiness.

  “Too bad none of us won the competition,” Teri said. “I’m trying to get an investor interested in my business plan. I still think a line of chocolate-based beauty products would have appeal.”

  “I’d buy them,” Tally inserted, sauntering over. She’d finished her treat and placed the empty dish on the counter. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would you know anybody who’d like to run the café at my dress boutique? I tried the culinary school, but none of their candidates are interested.”

  Teri nodded sagely. “You might have more luck once your place is established. Have you found a new location?”

  “Tally took me there yesterday,” Marla said. “The site is perfect. It’s close to the day care center where her son goes and is located in a busy shopping strip. The space is big enough for clothing racks and accessories on one side and a snack bar along the opposite wall.”

  “My goal is to encourage customers to linger,” Tally added.

  Teri pointed to the tables and chairs filled with guests. “I understand completely. It really does help to boost sales. Do you have a theme, like a coffee bar or tea shop?”

  “I’ve put a deposit on a lease agreement, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

  “Don’t worry. The right partner will come along. Florida draws chefs same as crooks and tourists. They’re looking for a place to get started.”

  Tally’s blue eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait to open my doors again. Marla has been so good about showcasing my collections at her day spa in the meantime. I haven’t lost too many customers in my absence.”

  “You’re fortunate to have such a good friend,” Teri said.

  “I need to decide if I should sell the same fashions or specialize in social occasions. It might be fun to try something different. The shop would be more of a destination that way.”

  “You mean, like prom dresses and mother-of-the-bride gowns? That could be fun, especially if you offered champagne like at bridal shops.”

  “Or your café could sell pastries and lunch items,” Marla suggested. “If you don’t get a chef, consider outsourcing the food instead.”

  “I have a lot to consider,” Tally agreed.

  Marla sought more questions to ask Teri about the harvest festival. “What else did you observe the day of the contest?” she finally asked the chocolatier. “Any detail might be important. I’d like my husband to solve this case so we can move on.”

  Tally strolled away while the other woman regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “Now that you mention it, I don’t know where Raquel went. I didn’t see her while I was working the crowd. Was she doing the scavenger hunt?”

  “I figured she was schmoozing like you. If you didn’t notice her, she could have been inside the marketplace.”

  “Or she might have been hanging out at the barbecue hut or vendor alley. I hope they do the spring festival next year. I love their corn maze.”

  “We’ll have to see
. Did you run into Alyce during this time?”

  “She was busy chatting up the lady from Francine’s magazine. You know, the features editor. I’d proposed an article to them once on the health benefits of dark chocolate, but Lynette turned me down. I didn’t have any scientific credentials. She was nice about it, though.”

  Marla hadn’t realized someone else from Francine’s publication had attended. “Was this woman still there when the winners were announced?”

  “I don’t recall seeing her around. She must have left. It’s Lynette Wilde if you want to look her up. Maybe Alyce was proposing an article for the magazine.”

  “That’s possible.” Surely Dalton had interviewed this person. He’d been to their offices and talked to Francine’s colleagues.

  Tally poked her in the ribs when she rejoined them. “You’re forgetting the other reason we came here, Marla.”

  Marla slapped a hand to her mouth. “Lord save me, I almost forgot.” She explained about her bad hair day clinic to benefit the historical museum. “Would you be interested in donating desserts? It would be great publicity for your chocolate factory.”

  Teri bounced on her heels. “I’d love to be included. You’re sweet for thinking of me.”

  “Your sweets are what made us consider you,” Tally said with a laugh. “I can’t resist wanting to try everything when I’m here.”

  Marla’s stomach knotted at the strong chocolate aroma in the shop. It hadn’t bothered her earlier, but now she needed some fresh air. “Come on, Tally. I have to get back to work.”

  “Sure. Aren’t you getting anything?” Tally wagged her eyebrows, as though indicating Marla should make a purchase to support their friend’s enterprise.

  “Oh, thanks for reminding me. Teri, I’ll take a half pound of the dark chocolate almond bark. That’s my husband’s favorite.” Marla waited by the cash register to pay for her item. “Our salon receptionist will be in touch with more details about the fundraiser,” she promised, taking her bagged item.

  Tally praised the chocolatier during their drive home. “Teri is an artist with her individual pieces. Her desserts will be a hit at your event. Will you be working on it this weekend or taking some time off?”

  Marla pulled into Tally’s driveway and put the car into Park. “I have a full schedule on Saturday, so I’ll let Robyn handle the details. Tomorrow night, Dalton and I are double-dating with Ma and her boyfriend.”

  Tally’s gaze scrutinized her. “That should be interesting. You like Reed, don’t you?”

  “I do, especially since Dalton’s background check on him came back clear. He’s a retired literature professor whose academic credentials are respected. And he makes Ma happy, which is all that counts. She misses seeing Luke.”

  Tally put her hand on the door handle. “Tell her I said hello and that she’s welcome to visit us anytime.”

  Back at the salon, Marla got busy with clients and didn’t have a break until that evening. Brianna had plans for Friday night, and Dalton decided to work late at the office, so she had some free time on her own. She spent it researching gastrointestinal ailments on the computer. Maybe she’d contracted a virus that took a long time to resolve. Or it could be she’d developed food allergies. It wasn’t unusual for people to have sudden sensitivities later in life.

  One other possibility reared its head. She could be pregnant. The idea both excited and alarmed her. But if this were the case, wouldn’t she have more symptoms than a sensitive stomach? She shoved this notion to the back of her mind, preferring to shift her focus to the murder investigation. Besides, she wouldn’t want to get her hopes up prematurely.

  Speaking of food problems, didn’t Dalton’s suspects relate to the industry in some manner? This seemed to be a connecting link between all of them. And yet, a vital part appeared to be missing.

  “I can’t figure it out,” Marla said to her mother and Reed the following evening. “No one appears to have a strong enough motive to do away with Francine.”

  “And yet, someone cracked her on the head at the fall festival,” Dalton pointed out between bites of garlic bread.

  They’d met at a local Italian restaurant and sat sipping Chianti while waiting for their salads. Anita looked radiant in a sunshine yellow ensemble, while Reed appeared his usual dignified self in a dress shirt and belted dark gray pants. Since their cruise together, they’d grown closer. But although they spent most of their free time in each other’s company, Anita still kept her modest two-bedroom home and Reed maintained his townhouse.

  Marla wondered how much longer her mother would be able to keep up the house once she turned seventy. Another decade? Or would she and Reed decide to merge their households and move into a senior community at some point?

  “Marla, why don’t you let your husband pursue the case?” Anita suggested in her singsong tone. “You need to focus on more important things.”

  “Like what? Brianna will be going to college soon. If we don’t have any children by then, I’d cut back my hours at the salon so we could travel. But Dalton won’t be able to retire for some time yet.”

  “What about the expansion plans for your salon? Didn’t you want to add a snack bar at the day spa?”

  “The space will be free once Tally opens her new shop and removes her stock from our lounge. She found a great location near Luke’s day care center. She’s planning to sell her house and move closer to her store’s site.”

  “How is Luke? I miss the little guy.” Anita’s gaze grew wistful.

  “That kid gets feistier every day. Tally has her hands full with him.”

  “You need a lot of energy to raise children. You’d better hurry up and have a baby before you hit forty.”

  “I’m trying, Ma. I don’t need the added pressure, thanks.”

  Reed cleared his throat. The retired literature professor’s hair had grayed more since she’d met him, but streaks of his boyish red still showed through. He aimed his piercing green eyes at her.

  “So you still don’t have a strong lead on the culprit in your case?” he asked, knowing talk of the crime would divert their attention.

  Marla broke apart a piece of garlic bread. Familiar Italian melodies played in the background. “I still mean to visit Francine’s magazine office and talk to her colleagues,” she replied.

  Dalton, seated on her right, tapped her arm. “Get this. Francine had a boyfriend. I only learned about him earlier today.”

  She gaped at him. “What? That’s news to me. How did you discover this gem of information?”

  “Francine’s cell phone records showed them texting each other. The man teaches Middle Eastern history at NSU.”

  Reed’s brows lifted. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

  “Colin Abubakar. It’s hard to forget that one.”

  “I think I’ve heard of the fellow, although I don’t know him personally. Would you like me to ask my former colleagues about the guy?”

  “Sure, it couldn’t hurt,” Dalton agreed.

  “So no one who knew Francine has mentioned this man?” Marla took a sip of water.

  “That’s correct. I’d like to track his movements to see if he was at the festival that day. We can triangulate his position from his cell phone records, but I would have to get a warrant to obtain them.”

  “Did you speak to him? Maybe he’ll be cooperative.”

  “When I asked where he was at the time of Francine’s death, he said he had to run to a meeting and we could discuss things later.”

  “Did he appear upset about losing his girlfriend?”

  “I’d say he was more agitated than grieving. I’m wondering how deep their relationship went if Francine didn’t mention him to her friends.”

  “Did he have any theories about who might have harmed her?” Reed asked, his intelligent eyes regarding Dalton.

  “He said her colleagues might have been jealous. But they indicated the article she’d been researching could be relevant to the case.”


  “I really have to get over there and talk to them,” Marla said.

  Their salads arrived, and they got busy eating. Conversation drifted to other mundane topics, while she mused over this new revelation. What was Francine’s connection to this alleged boyfriend, and why hadn’t she told anyone about him? Were they secret lovers, or was something else going on?

  On Sunday, Dalton took the morning off from work. With a hot case, he couldn’t stay away from the office for too long. After walking the dogs, he pulled the car from the garage. Marla and Brianna piled inside, and they headed to the local park for their usual Sunday walk.

  “Can I borrow a car?” Brianna asked as they strolled under a canopy of tall pine trees. “It’s Amy’s birthday today, and the restaurant where she’s having her party is over by the beach. I thought I’d hang out there afterward with the gang.”

  Marla noticed Dalton’s brow furrowing so she forestalled his retort. “You can use mine. I was planning to stay home and get caught up on things.”

  Brianna cast her a grateful glance. “Thanks, Marla. I should be back in time for dinner.”

  Glad to have some time alone that afternoon, Marla did the laundry, paid the bills, and took the dogs out again. She was back in the desk chair checking her emails when she noted a new message from Reed.

  “I spoke to my friends at the university,” he wrote. “They said this Abubakar fellow is always spouting off about Egyptian gods. Egyptology is his niche, so that doesn’t surprise me. But one of the people in his department believes the guy’s involvement goes deeper. He might be participating in ancient rituals. Perhaps that’s why his girlfriend kept quiet about their relationship.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “My hands are tied until I can get a warrant,” Dalton said later Sunday afternoon after he’d come home from work. She had forwarded Reed’s message to him earlier. “I think the judge will grant it since this guy isn’t being forthcoming about his movements that day.”