by Gina LaManna
Billie Jo answered the door two seconds after I knocked, and I wondered if she’d been appointed as the official greeter. Or, maybe she’d given the title to herself because she was the only one familiar with the locals. Frankly, after a murder on the premises, I wouldn’t want to be the first line of defense between the outside world and the Beauty Cottage, but I didn’t say that to her.
“Hey there, Billie,” I said. “I have a question for you. Is there any chance you have a list of the vendors who were supposed to be here yesterday morning?”
“Oh, um, sure,” she said. “Why? Did you see something you wanted to buy?”
“Something like that,” I said, and inched my way into the house as Billie Jo spun on her heel and marched toward the dining room. “Let’s see, I think Edwin left something around here — or sent an itinerary over. Someone coordinates these things, but not me.”
“Don’t rush, I don’t mind waiting. Maybe one of the other girls knows where it might be?”
“Sure, sure,” she said distractedly. “Let me go ask Sandy. She even folds her underwear, sweet thing. She’s the most organized of all of us.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I waited in the dining area where she’d left me, but after five minutes had passed I wondered if Billie Jo had forgotten all about me. I strolled through the kitchen and found a surprising hodge-podge of liquids. There was an odd dichotomy that divided the kitchen between healthy beverages and alcohol. On one counter sat all the fixings for green smoothies: protein powder, fresh fruit, vegetables, spinach (super gross) and kale (even worse). The other half of the room had been taken over by a mixture of liquor and wine bottles. After a quick glimpse, I found the refrigerator nearly empty. Apparently these girls survived on fruit smoothies for breakfast and cosmopolitans for dinner.
“Oh, sorry.” Tarryn, Mary’s former competition, strolled into the kitchen and stopped short. “I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll come back.”
“Just ignore me! I’m waiting for Billie Jo.” I waved a hand and gestured for her to take over. “Guess I’m just a bit nosy.”
“Guess you are,” she said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking around about Mary so much.”
I was surprised by the barbed comment because she’d seemed so sweet in our previous interview. Sure, I’d detected a hint of strength to her and a layer of sass hidden behind the soft, southern exterior, but I hadn’t suspected her to be confrontational.
“I’m just trying to figure out what happened to Mary,” I said. “I found the body, and —.”
“So what?” Tarryn asked, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a gallon of chocolate milk. She didn’t offer me any as she poured herself a glass. “You found her body. Big deal — she wasn’t a friend to you like she was to us. You were in the right place at the right time.”
“I’d call it the wrong place at the wrong time,” I said. “I wasn’t exactly excited to find a woman’s body on my way to work. Sort of a day dampener, don’t you think?”
My attempt at humor didn’t work on Tarryn. She scowled. “You think it’s funny?”
“No, it’s, like, you know, cops and their black humor. It’s meant to help deal with the situation.”
“But you’re not a cop.”
“No, but ... .” I hesitated. “Look, Tarryn, I’m really sorry for your loss. I’m only trying to help Mary.”
“She’s dead. How does this help her?”
“She deserves justice! She was killed — murdered,” I said. “Hopefully this will help with closure for her family. They’ll want to know who is responsible for their friend, sister, daughter’s death. Mary was all of those things.”
“Yeah, and you’re a pretty good actress.” Tarryn leaned against the counter. “Normally I’d believe you, but I think you’re trying to get ratings for your show.”
My cheeks flamed. There was some truth to her accusations, but that wasn’t the only reason I was running myself through the wringer in the hunt for Mary’s killer. I knew it, but Tarryn didn’t. “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s not true. Look, I invited you onto the show before Mary died. It’s just part of the business — the pageant is a big deal. The offer is still open if you want to come on the air.”
Tarryn paused, halfway through her glass of milk. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” I asked. “Okay you’ll come on?”
“Fine,” she said. “But only to talk about Mary and pay respects. It’s not about you or your stupid ratings. And you can’t ask any questions about the pageant.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “I won’t ask a thing you don’t want to talk about. Just give me a list of topics to avoid.”
“No. It won’t be a long interview — it’s not about me; it’s about Mary. She’s gone, but she has friends left behind, and we haven’t forgotten her.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
“Not all of us think the show should go on,” she said with a snap, and I wondered if she’d had a glass of wine before the chocolate milk. She seemed almost a different person than the one I’d interviewed the day before. “A senseless murder and here we all are, prancing around in our bathing suits and singing and dancing despite it all. Seems disrespectful, doesn’t it?”
“Is it what Mary would have wanted?”
“I don’t know!” Tarryn slammed her glass down on the counter. “Nobody does. Because she’s dead.”
“Here you ... oh, sorry.” Billie Jo flounced into the room, stopping when she saw Tarryn glaring at me. “I’ll come back.”
“No. Stay,” Tarryn said. “I’m leaving.”
Billie Jo raised her eyebrows as Tarryn stormed out of the room. “She’s taking Mary’s death really hard. I swear she’s a sweet girl — this isn’t like her.”
“I understand. Were they friends?”
Billie Jo shrugged. “Who knows? I suppose they were, but it wasn’t as if they were the best of friends. At least not that I knew of. Like I told you before, we’re pretty much all friendly with one another.”
“Is that the list?” I extended a hand and reached for the paper Billie Jo had begun to hand me. “May I see it?”
“Yeah, of course.” She pushed it forward and stood by my shoulder. “The three that are highlighted in yellow are the vendors who showed up and were sent away the morning of Mary’s ... well, the morning she died.”
“Thank you so much. This is really helpful,” I said, and wondered if I’d finally stumbled across something that Skye hadn’t. “Do you know if any of them are still in town?”
Billie Jo shrugged. “Maybe Edwin will know, but I doubt it. He doesn’t pay attention except for the big stuff. Actually, Carl might know — he paid attention to all of that beauty stuff for Mary.”
“Are you familiar with any of them?” I glanced over the names listed there. LOREEN, ELEMENTAL BEAUTY and NATURAL INSTINCTS all printed in big block letters. “Have you used their products before? Or met with the reps?”
“Loreen is fancy and too expensive,” Billie Jo said, “which is why all the girls love their samples. It’s about the only thing we can afford from them. Except for Mary — I think she got free stuff from them all the time because she won, of course.”
I filed that away and pointed at the next one.
“Elemental Beauty is middle of the road,” she said with a shrug. “We all buy plenty of their stuff. I think they’re starting a line of fancy products and had given Mary some as a trial package, but I don’t know for sure. I know she had a horrible reaction to something — face cream, I think — but I don’t know whose it was. Natural Instincts is basically the hippie line. You know, plant and organic and gluten free and whatever.” She shrugged. “I might buy it, but again ... costly.”
“Thank you so much for this,” I said. “I really appreciate —.”
Billie Jo stiffened. “Do you hear the music? We’re all going to practice our waves. You can stay if you want, but you’ll probably be bored. Sh
all I show you out?”
Before I could answer, I found myself edged onto the front steps as the door lock clicked shut behind me.
“Appreciate it,” I said. “Bye.”
The sound of music filled the house. I turned toward the main road and began a leisurely stroll home. The night was cool but not cold, the breeze refreshing and crisp. As I tugged my sweater closer to me, I happened to glance over my shoulder.
I halted, my heart pounding as I caught sight of a face in the upstairs window of the cottage. A bedroom, no doubt, with the glow illuminating a figure from behind.
Tarryn.
She waited a second longer, watching me, before she turned and disappeared from the window. It wasn’t exactly threatening, but for the rest of the walk home I felt the creepy sensation of eyes burning holes in my back.
It wasn’t until I finally climbed into bed dressed in fresh pajamas and warm from my shower that I realized I wasn’t sure if she’d ever confirmed our interview for the next morning. She’d agreed, then stormed off. I guess it would be an on-air surprise for everyone.
Thirteen
“What do you mean you think you might have an interview?” Leonard said, fumbling with the schedule. “You either have one or you don’t.”
“It’s complicated!” I’d shuffled into the studio a few minutes before the show was scheduled to begin. “If she shows up, send her in here. That’s all I’m saying.”
I’d waited until the last possible second to tell Leonard about the potential interview with Tarryn. A part of me had hoped she’d show up early and I wouldn’t have to come up with an awkward explanation for what had happened last night, but that hadn’t panned out.
“I have programming that needs following,” Leonard shouted. “You can’t just maybe disrupt the schedule for the day. I mean sure, if you’d secured an actual interview we could slot her in. But this isn’t amateur hour, we’re Hex 66.6!”
“Yeah, and how many people tune in daily?” I raised my eyebrows and stared at Leonard. “I’m sure if Tarryn shows up it’ll be great for ratings. And nobody will miss the weather update that we’re skipping to fit her in. Anyway, it’s no use getting our undies in a bunch over something that might not ... Tarryn!”
“My name’s Leonard,” he said. “And you shouldn’t talk to your employees like that. If you want to —.”
“Leonard.” I coughed as Tarryn entered the room behind him, looking tentative, as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d arrived in the right place. “Our guest is here.”
“Oh, Tarryn!” Leonard put a huge, cheesy grin on his face as he turned around and reached for her hand. His smile faded as he realized a more somber note was in order. “I am so sorry for your loss. From all I’ve heard, Mary was an amazing woman.”
“She was.” Tarryn looked demure in a slim black dress that swished just above her knees. The lace sleeves and high neckline gave off a slight Breakfast at Tiffany’s vibe. “Thanks for having me on today.”
I was so shaken by the switch in personality from last night that I couldn’t find the proper response.
Finally, Leonard stepped in for me. “Of course — we appreciate you coming down to the station to chat with us. It must be hard with everyone expecting you to act as if all is normal and go on with the pageant.”
Both Tarryn and I gave him a look of surprise. I hadn’t known Leonard could display normal human emotions, let alone a sense of sympathy — everything he said seemed to hover around increasing ratings. Either I’d underestimated him or he was very good at faking sympathy.
“It is hard,” she said. “And it’s frustrating. The world thinks we should just move on when many of us are dealing with the death of a close friend.”
“Now, let’s get you seated so we can get some of this on air,” Leonard said, returning to his usual self. “The public needs to hear your message.”
While Leonard closed the room and entered the booth next to us, I sat in front of the microphone and helped Tarryn get situated with hers.
“I’m sorry if I upset you last night,” I said. “I shouldn’t have come around asking questions.”
“No, I’m sorry I reacted like I did. It’s an emotional time,” she said flatly. “I hope you understand.”
Though I understood her words, I couldn’t quite figure out Tarryn Southland. Sometimes she seemed overwhelmed with emotion — anger and sadness and frustration — and other times she seemed borderline emotionless.
“When the light blinks, it means we’re on air,” I quickly explained. “I won’t ask you any hard-hitting questions, but if anything makes you uncomfortable just give me the signal and we’ll move onto something else.”
She gave a nod. That was followed shortly by a few hand gestures from Leonard and then the light flicked on.
“Good morning, Eternal Springs,” I said. “Here with your break from calypso music this is Evian Brooks with a special guest. Unfortunately, her visit is tinged with tragedy. Most of you will know her name, so without further ado, let us welcome Tarryn Southland to Hex 66.6!”
“Hi, Evian,” Tarryn spoke into the mic with a velvety voice. “Thank you for having me here today.”
“Of course. I’m sorry the circumstances couldn’t be better,” I said, refraining to add that she’d turned me down flat for an interview before Mary had been murdered. “Welcome to the show. Can you start by telling us a little about yourself and your friendship with Mary?”
“Well, I’d prefer not to talk about myself,” she said and, though her voice was smooth, her eyes shot daggers at me. “But Mary, certainly. I knew her first as Marilyn from New Jersey,” she said with a soft laugh. “We were polar opposites in the beauty pageant circuit. I was the rural southern gal while she was the blond jersey girl with a bit of sass to her — but not too much. She was the sweetest thing.”
“From what I hear, none of the contestants have a bad word to say about her.”
“No, I can’t think of anyone who might have anything negative to say. And that’s rare for a girl who won fifty-nine pageants.” Tarryn looked into the distance and gave a sad smile. “But that’s the type of person she was. She truly had a heart of gold.”
“Can you share any memories of the times the two of you were on pageant tours?”
Tarryn gave a slight nod. “Well, one time, we were in the middle of nowhere Minnesota, competing at some pageant in the dead cold of winter. Around three in the morning we were so starved because our takeout had never arrived that we decided to borrow the coordinator’s car without him knowing.”
“Uh-oh,” I said with a grin. “He can’t have been happy about that.”
She laughed. “Not at all. It was icy and snowy, and I’ll let you figure out how that ended up. Neither of us knew how to drive well in those conditions, and we landed halfway into a snowbank. The whole time we were waiting for the tow truck to pull us out we huddled together for warmth. From then on out, no matter who won which pageant, we didn’t care. We were in it together, you know?”
“Of course. Thanks for sharing that memory,” I said, and then threw her another softball question.
So far, so good.
We chatted for a good ten-minute segment and reminisced over Mary’s finest moments, her greatest wins and the loss that her death brought the community.
Finally, I hit the button to pause, and the stupid calypso tune completely ruined the tender moment we’d ended on. “Sorry about that,” I said, flinching at the music. “Something is up with the station, and it’s stuck on this track. It’s not fitting for the moment, I know.”
She stretched. “I have to be heading out after this, so maybe we can say our goodbyes on air?”
“Absolutely. Say, Tarryn ... .” I moved the mic so it was just the two of us talking. “I have a question for you — I know you don’t think I should be looking into the murder, but I swear I’m doing it to help Mary. I haven’t even reported on the story save for interviewing you! Not to mention, Skye, the newspa
per reporter, has a full spread by now. More news will leak out every day — it’s going to be impossible to keep things quiet.”
“That doesn’t make the problem any better,” she said. “I really dislike when people use horrific things to promote themselves.”
I sighed. “Maybe you can tell me a bit about the vendors who were at the cottage that morning. Billie Jo gave me a list, and I wanted to ask if they’d seen anything.”
Tarryn bit her lip, debating. “I don’t know much about them. I don’t visit the vendors much because I get most of their products free anyway. The top three or so girls in each pageant have enough makeup to last a lifetime with all the freebie packs we receive.”
I pushed the list toward her. “Anything suspicious about any of these?”
She frowned. “Loreen is just ridiculously expensive. Natural Instincts is all-natural stuff. I like their products, but I think they’re also selling a load of crock with their marketing. This one ... .” she tapped on Elemental Beauty. “Mary was furious with them.”
“Why?”
“Well, they are trying to make this new line of high-end skin care and they sent her a sample to try out,” she said. “It gave her hives. The stuff is horrible — I wouldn’t have blamed her if she gave them a terrible review. Mary had hundreds of thousands of followers on social media. None of them would’ve bought the product after a scathing review from her. She never says anything bad about anyone.”
I blinked, unwilling to believe my luck. “Did she tell them that?”
“Of course not.”
“But that didn’t mean someone couldn’t have found out,” I said. “Surely Carl knew of her experience, or some of the girls.”
“Maybe, but ... they wouldn’t have killed her over it.”
“Carl and the girls — no. But what about someone from Elemental Beauty? It might have crippled their business. Plus, a representative was scheduled to be at the Beauty Cottage during the time Mary died. Motive and opportunity are both there.”