Trimmed to Death

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “Dalton did a lot of things in those days, as did we when younger. Right, John?”

  He averted his gaze. Clearly, his youthful days weren’t available for discussion.

  Their conversation segued into more mundane topics until Marla took her leave. She got into her car, realizing she’d forgotten Pam’s presence in Dalton’s dream. So the part about Kate fearing loss was true, but hadn’t her husband known this on a subliminal level?

  What mattered to her lived on the physical plane. She glanced at her watch. It was already three o’clock. Would she have enough time to drive to Boca to visit Francine’s office?

  She’d just put her car in gear when Dalton rang on the car’s Bluetooth system. “Marla, where are you? I have bad news. Alyce Greene is dead in a hit-and-run accident.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What happened?” Marla asked beyond a suddenly thick tongue. Alyce was dead? How was this possible? No, it couldn’t be true. But even as Marla half-heard Dalton’s reply on the preliminary details, she accepted his report.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have any witnesses,” he concluded.

  “I can’t believe it. Where did this happen?”

  “Near where she lives. She’d been out jogging.”

  “Did her neighbors report any strangers in the community?” she asked as her sense of pragmatism returned. She’d deal with the horror later.

  Unable to drive and concentrate on their conversation at the same time, she pulled the car over to the curb on a side street and idled the engine.

  “You’re thinking someone was watching her place?” Dalton replied. “I haven’t had a chance to canvass the neighborhood yet, but that’s a good point. It would mean this wasn’t an accident.”

  “Do you have any evidence on the make or model of the vehicle that hit her?”

  “It’s too early, Marla. I won’t be home until later tonight. Don’t wait on dinner for me.”

  “Will you let me know if you learn anything important?” Her mind drifted to the field where she had found Francine, and she gasped. “Oh, my. Do you think her death is related to Francine’s? Francine was wearing Alyce’s jacket, and she’d been struck from behind. Is this the killer completing the job he’d meant to do that day?”

  “Or, Alyce uncovered the same dirt on somebody as Francine, and that got her killed,” Dalton replied in his wry tone. “I’m aware of the possibilities, thanks. What are your plans for the afternoon?”

  “I met your parents for coffee earlier. They were in the area, and your mom called me. We had a nice chat. I’d been planning to visit Francine’s office, but it’s getting late. I think I’ll go home instead. I can’t face a bunch of strangers right now.”

  “Watch your back. This could be a terrible accident or not. Alyce might have riled one of the folks we’ve interviewed.”

  She let his remark pass, more concerned about the deceased woman’s family. “Her poor husband. He’ll be devastated, along with their two kids. Oh, gosh.” Marla put a hand to her stomach, not feeling too well.

  “I’ve sent Sergeant Langley over there to speak to Jon Greene. Go home, Marla. We’ll deal with this. I need to know that you’re safe.”

  “All right. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” She rang off and put the car into Drive. A pall hung over her as she drove home.

  Thank goodness Dalton hadn’t suffered any ill effects from his mind-altering episode last night. Or at least, none that showed. He seemed back to his normally logical self. She wouldn’t want the drug-induced experience to change his outlook. He was good at what he did, but his attention needed to stay focused. It would hinder him to ponder the meaning of life while on a case. If he had any more thoughts about his spiritual journey, he’d kept them to himself.

  The rest of the day loomed in front of her like a malevolent specter. She didn’t have the heart to do household chores, so she answered email until Brianna came home from school.

  “Hey, Marla, what’s wrong?” the teen asked after she’d plopped her backpack down on the kitchen counter. She had foresworn her ponytail to wear her hair down, using the curling iron to twist the ends. It made her look more grown-up and gave Marla a pang that she’d be leaving for college soon.

  “You can tell, huh? Your dad called with bad news. Another woman in his case was found dead.”

  “Oh, no. You can talk to me about it if it’ll make you feel better,” Brianna offered. The dogs bounced at her heels. She stooped to scratch them behind their ears.

  “Maybe later. Why don’t you get comfortable? I have to start preparing dinner. Your dad won’t be home until after dark, so he can reheat his portion then.”

  Fifteen minutes passed before Brianna ensconced herself at the kitchen table. She opened a school book in front of her and frowned at the pages. Marla stood by the sink, in the midst of gathering ingredients for chicken cacciatore.

  “How was your day?” she asked with a glance at the teen. Brianna had changed into distressed black jeans and a blousy top.

  “Boring. I don’t see the relevance of learning the periodic table.”

  “I didn’t like chemistry either, but I had to take it again when I went to cosmetology school. We have to mix chemicals often in the salon business. Chemistry helps us at home, too. For example, when you get rid of stains on clothing, knowing which ones are acidic or not can point you toward the right solution. It’s relevant in baking and other everyday tasks you wouldn’t expect. So while these subjects may seem unimportant to you now, they’ll become relevant later.”

  Brianna pushed her book away. “You sound like my teacher. So tell me about this person who died.”

  “It’s Alyce Greene, the food blogger.”

  “No way. How did it happen?”

  “Hit-and-run accident. She was out jogging in her neighborhood.”

  “An accident seems too coincidental with her involvement in Francine’s case. Didn’t you say the two of them had similar haircuts and body builds?”

  Marla selected bottles of dried oregano and dried basil from the pantry and placed them on the counter next to the extra virgin olive oil. “Yes, and don’t forget the issue of the jacket. Francine had borrowed Alyce’s outerwear at the farm festival. She’d been hit from behind. The killer might have mistaken her for Alyce.”

  Brianna studied Marla with serious dark eyes. “Dad believes Francine must have been followed out into the fields. How else would the killer have known she was there? Otherwise, this person would have trailed the food blogger instead.”

  “That’s true.” Marla pulled packages of pre-chopped fresh peppers and onions from the refrigerator. She opened the lids and set them next to a twenty-eight ounce can of diced tomatoes. “Teri the chocolatier told me she’d seen Alyce chatting at the festival with Lynette Wilde, the features editor from Francine’s magazine. I hadn’t realized any of the publisher’s colleagues had been there, or that Alyce had been acquainted with this woman.”

  “How do you know Alyce didn’t whack Francine, and then somebody offed her in revenge? Didn’t you say Francine had a boyfriend?”

  “Yes, and we never told you what happened with him.” Marla related their adventures at the fall ritual.

  “Holy crap,” Brianna said. “I hope Dad’s all right.”

  “I hate to say it, but this new murder—if it proves to be a homicide—may have set him straight.”

  “The boyfriend’s claim of spiritual peace could be a ruse to deflect suspicion. Maybe it’s a bunch of hogwash and he’s your killer,” Brianna suggested with a thoughtful expression.

  “The effects of that drug were real enough.” Marla opened the can of tomatoes, tossing the lid into the trash. Then she retrieved her electric skillet from the pantry floor. As she stood, a wave of dizziness struck her. “I should let your dad solve the case. I’m getting too old to chase after suspects.”

  “Are you all right?” Brianna half-rose from her chair.

  Marla waved her back as her equil
ibrium returned. “I must have gotten up too fast. I’m okay.” She clonked the frypan onto the kitchen counter and plugged the wire into the outlet. Then she got herself a drink of water and took a few gulps. “Maybe I’m dehydrated. I’ve been running around all day.”

  “Or maybe you’re still not over your weird stomach ailment. You should see a doctor,” Brianna said with a look of concern.

  “I’ve no time. My schedule is fully booked this week. I’d been hoping to interview Francine’s co-workers, but I doubt I’ll have the chance.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Dad will solve both cases like he always does.”

  Yes, he would, but Marla wanted them solved sooner rather than later as she regarded his empty seat at the dinner table an hour later. She chewed on a piece of chicken cacciatore, sniffing the aroma of sautéed peppers and onions in the air. Brianna worked at her homework in silence, while Marla mulled over their conversation. Too many loose ends about these cases nagged at her. Could she leave well enough alone and let Dalton do his job?

  She thought so, at least until Janet Winters strolled into her salon on Wednesday afternoon to report on the progress of their fundraiser. The socialite looked attractive in a black dress with a diamond pendant necklace. She’d swept her blond hair into a twist and wore a set of silver hoop earrings.

  “Hi, Marla,” Janet greeted her when she had a free moment in between clients. “I was in the area at a charity luncheon and figured I’d stop by. I need to tell you what I’ve been doing in terms of publicity for our upcoming event.”

  “Of course. Would you like a tour of the place first? You should see our facilities so you know what you’re advertising.” Without waiting for a response, Marla took her by the elbow and steered her toward the rear. She proceeded to give the society matron a full tour including the day spa next door. Back at the salon, Marla introduced her to Robyn Piper, their receptionist.

  “I’ve been working on our email newsletter,” Robyn said, her brown eyes sharp behind a pair of black-framed eyeglasses. “Our first mail-out should be ready next week. I’ll also be designing some ads for the fundraiser.”

  “That sounds great,” Janet replied with a grin. “I’ve created a mailing list of my friends who might be interested in coming to the event, plus a separate list of media resources. Here’s a printout for you.” Janet pulled a sheaf of papers from her large purse. “Also, I’d contacted some local merchants. We have offers for gift cards donations and baskets for a silent auction.”

  “I love that idea. I’ll bet Becky could finagle some free passes to the museum for prizes. Can you send me a copy of these files via email?” Robyn asked, accepting the documents. “Or better yet, I’ll set up a shared folder for us online.”

  “Where will we display the auction items?” Marla asked, hoping they weren’t going overboard on activities.

  “We can use the day spa lounge,” Robyn suggested. “I’ll add the auction to our flyers and to the window posters we’re having printed. But what’s this, Janet? I see you’ve put Eat Well Now magazine from Boca on your list. Why would they be interested in our fundraiser?”

  Janet spread her hands. “It’s where Francine worked. We have a connection to her.”

  “They don’t know that,” Marla inserted. “Who’s taken over her position?”

  “I called and got the name Lynette Wilde from the woman on the phone. Why, do you know her?” Janet asked Marla. “You look surprised.”

  “Lynette was at the harvest festival. Teri from the chocolate factory saw Alyce speaking to her there.”

  “Really? I haven’t met the woman. Did Francine ever have a memorial service? I assume her colleagues, including this person, would have attended.”

  “Good question. I’ve been meaning to visit their office. If I ever get there, I’ll ask about Francine’s funeral and also if they’d like to send a reporter to cover our event.”

  “We should approach Alyce, too. She might like to write a piece for her blog,” Janet said.

  “Dear Lord, you haven’t heard the news? Let’s go sit on the bench outside so we can have more privacy.” Outdoors in the mild October air, Marla took a seat beside Janet. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Alyce was killed in a hit-and-run accident.”

  Janet slapped a hand to her mouth. “What? Oh my God. I don’t believe it.”

  “I had the same reaction. Her death is suspicious when you consider Francine had been wearing Alyce’s jacket at the farm when someone whacked her from behind.”

  “You believe Alyce was the intended target, and not Francine?”

  “Not necessarily.” Marla paused to collect her thoughts. “I think Alyce found out why Francine was murdered. That put her on top of the killer’s list.”

  “Marla, that’s even worse. Are all of us in danger? The madman could assume Francine had confided in the rest of us.”

  Marla’s heart lurched at the notion. “It’s possible, but I’d rather choose to believe something specific triggered the attack on Alyce, if her accident was intentional.”

  “Do you know what model car was involved?”

  “Not yet. Dalton is working on the case. Please don’t mention our conversation to anyone,” Marla cautioned the other woman.

  She stared at the vehicles in the parking lot, wondering what kind of car or truck had mowed Alyce down. Dalton would be tracking the woman’s movements and checking out her recent contacts. They could be the same people he and Marla had been interviewing lately, including Janet’s husband. She viewed the circling cars with narrowed eyes. Would one of them attempt to charge her as she crossed the asphalt later to her Camry?

  Noting her companion’s hushed silence, she regarded her with concern. Janet’s face had gone pale. The socialite clutched her entwined fingers in her lap.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Janet shook her head. “I can’t get over the shock of this news. It’s horrible. Alyce’s family must be devastated.”

  “It’ll be hard on them,” Marla agreed. She’d rather not think about the sad repercussions right now. “As long as you’re here, I have one more question regarding the family farm. Are you aware if a deed exists naming your family as owners?”

  Janet gave her a questioning glance. “I imagine Zach has secured the papers somewhere. He’s in charge of family documents. I can ask him for a copy if that will help. I’ve never actually seen the deed myself.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure your brother has the family’s best interests at heart.”

  “True, although he has been acting strange lately. Something is bothering him, but he won’t say what it is.”

  “I heard about the silo accident in the past,” Marla said in a casual tone. “Have there been any recent incidents like that one, which might have upset him?”

  “That was just a rumor. How did you hear about it?” Janet asked, her gaze chilling.

  “Alyce mentioned a worker had disappeared, and it’s possible he’d fallen into a silo. I’d imagine another such incident would generate bad publicity for the farm if word got out.”

  “Farms have occupational hazards, like tractor injuries. They have safety rules for a reason.”

  “That’s assuming the farm hands are familiar with them. Where do your seasonal laborers come from? Are they hired for a limited time only? And do they speak English well enough to understand the instructions?” Marla remembered another case she and Dalton had solved involving illegal migrant labor.

  “My brothers manage the work force, plus they do a lot of the labor themselves. You’ll have to ask them these questions. I’m involved in the marketing end of things.”

  Marla rose and smoothed down her pants. “Your husband sells his products at the farm’s marketplace. What kind of relationship does he have with Zach?”

  “They get along fine, although I wouldn’t say they’re friends otherwise. They come from different worlds. I don’t broadcast my origins to my society friends, Marla. Maybe I grew up
on a farm, but I couldn’t go back there now.”

  “When we spoke to Rory, he indicated you don’t like to talk about your home life. Are you more of a private person, or do you have concerns about your husband that you’re reluctant to share?”

  Janet leapt up. “I’ve told you already. Tony is nervous about a visit from his relatives. They’re not the sort of people you want to annoy.”

  “Yes, I remember you said he’d mentioned Francine’s name on the phone to them. They made plans to come right after that conversation. You also suggested the possibility of being an events planner in case you ever needed to fend for yourself. Why are you so afraid, Janet?”

  Janet glared at her. “Wouldn’t you be scared if two of your acquaintances ended up dead? I don’t want to be next.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marla told Dalton about her conversation with Janet when he returned home later that night. He looked haggard, and she didn’t care to bother him about it, but she had to get things off her mind. She waited until he’d showered and crawled into bed before speaking in a soft voice. Brianna had already gone to sleep in her room down the hallway.

  “You won’t care if I visit Francine’s offices, will you? That’s one avenue I’ve been neglecting, and yet those people must know something.”

  He rolled sideways in bed and leaned on an elbow to regard her. A lock of silver-streaked black hair, still damp, flopped onto his forehead. “We haven’t recovered any information about the article she’d been working on before she died. You’re welcome to have a go at it.”

  “Did you interview Lynette Wilde? She seems to be a key figure.”

  “Yes, she’s editorial director now that Francine is gone. She’d seemed happy regarding the promotion but sad by the way it occurred. I wouldn’t say she considered Francine a rival. Francine’s colleagues respected her and appear to genuinely miss her presence.”

  “I can visit them tomorrow morning. It’ll be Thursday, my late day at work. I can’t believe how fast this week is going. Did you ever hear who claimed Francine’s body? No one’s mentioned a memorial service.”