Mel glanced up as Christine glided down the short staircase behind the desk that led into the salon area. Christine was tall and thin and her thick black hair was styled in the same bun as her staff. She also wore the same plum-colored lipstick and long eyelashes, only her wrap dress was different. Christine was in a hot shade of red. Just like a bride stood out from her bridesmaids, Christine was apart from her staff.
“There is nothing to talk about,” Christine said. She looked Mel and Angie over in her usual ice queen way. “You’re late. I do not work with clients who are late.”
“I know,” Mel said. “And we are so very sorry. Listen, it’s my fault. Angie was depending upon me for a ride and I was late. Can you at least take care of her while I go sit in the corner of shame? It’s her wedding day.”
“No, that’s not true,” Angie said. “I overslept. It’s my fault.”
Christine’s impossibly arched brows rose even higher, and she looked at Mel. “You lied to me?”
Mel swallowed. There weren’t many people who scared the snot out of her, but Christine was one of them.
Christine moved across the floor. It couldn’t really be described as walking since she moved with an eerie grace that made it seem as if she were floating.
She stopped in front of Mel. Being on the tall side, Mel was unaccustomed to looking up at people. Christine, also tall, was wearing the same shoes as her staff, stiletto pumps that added five inches to her already impressive height. Mel craned her neck to look up at her.
“Fibbed, maybe,” Mel said.
Christine was so close Mel could see the individual hairs of her eyebrows, the tiny pores on the end of her nose, and the teeny tiny crack of a wrinkle on her upper lip. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her face. If Christine tossed them to the curb, she had no idea where she was going to take Angie to have her hair and makeup done. Panic began to thrum inside of her like the beat of a drum.
To her surprise, Christine tipped her head back and laughed. Mel blew out a breath. She was laughing. That had to be good, right?
She and Angie exchanged a panicked look. Mel would have relaxed except Christine’s staff looked equally nervous at her laughter.
“Fibbed. You’re funny, Melanie Cooper,” Christine said. “Good thing I have an excellent sense of humor.”
Yeah, that was the first thing a person thought of with Christine. Not.
“Come on back,” Christine said. “Your wedding party is already here.” She frowned at Mel. “But you owe me two dozen forgiveness cupcakes.”
“Done.” Mel sagged a little in relief.
“Angie!” Kaylee, her niece, called out to her and waved from the pedicure station. “Good thing you’re here. Mom started to freak out.”
Kaylee gestured to her mother, Angie’s sister-in-law, who was under an industrial hairdryer. Angie waved to her and the other bridesmaids, who were in various stages of maintenance, as Christine led them to the changing rooms in back.
“There are robes for you to change into,” Christine said. She gestured towards the little closets built into the wall. “Then we’ll start by managing those lashes and brows.”
“What does she mean ‘manage’?” Angie whispered to Mel. “I didn’t realize they were having a rebellion.”
Mel smiled. “You’re fine. You know how Christine is. When she’s done, your hair won’t have any fight left in it.”
“Which is why I love her,” Angie said. “I’m just worried the same will be said of me.”
They changed and found Christine and the redheaded assistant waiting for them. Mel and Angie sat in the two reclining chairs and Mel had the feeling she always got when she put herself in a beautician’s hands: The result was out of her hands and all she could do was hope for the best.
While Samantha, the redhead, stripped the stray hairs from her face, Mel scarcely breathed. She was afraid a brow might go missing if she made any false moves. Then it was time to glue on the false eyelashes, and Mel tried really hard not to blink or pull them off. She didn’t think beauty should be this much work.
Once their eyes were done, Mel and Angie moved to the hair portion. Mel’s short hair required very little work. It was puffed up and shellacked into place. The one whimsical touch Samantha added was fastening tiny sparkly flower-shaped hair clips randomly on Mel’s head, making it look as if the flowers had just drifted down on the breeze to nestle into her hair.
While Samantha began to work on Mel’s makeup, Christine was taming Angie’s thick dark hair with an intricate series of loose braids across the top of her head that trailed into waves of thick bouncy curls that ended halfway down her back. Angie had opted not to wear a veil and instead had sparkly flowers like Mel’s woven into her braids.
While Christine had a mouthful of hairpins, Mel figured it was as good a time as any to talk about Elise’s murder and see if the hairdresser knew any of the players. Christine’s was a favorite salon to many of the residents in the Palms. She might have heard a rumor or two worth knowing about.
“Angie, did you hear that the county prosecutor is planning to charge Cassie Leighton with Elise Penworthy’s murder?” Mel asked.
Angie glanced at her and Mel knew she was thinking that of course she knew, because Mel had told her. Mel darted her eyes in Christine’s direction and Angie gave a slight nod.
Christine spat out the hairpins. “What? That’s ridiculous!”
“Really?” Mel played dumb. “What makes you say that?”
“Because everyone knows who killed Elise Penworthy,” Christine said.
Seventeen
“They do?” Mel asked.
Christine gave her a look that said she was not buying what Mel was selling. Mel made her eyes big, and not just because Samantha was coming at her with eyeliner.
“I thought it was her ex-husband,” Samantha said.
“See? Me, too,” Angie said. “It’s always the spouse, and given what she wrote about him in the book, I’m betting Hair Plugs was full of rage, and stabbing her in the back with a pen had to be a fitting end in his mind.”
“It’s too obvious,” Christine and Mel said together.
They looked at each other and Mel felt as if Christine was looking at her with heightened respect.
“It was pretty cold-blooded to stab her with her own pen,” Mel said.
“Agreed,” Christine said.
“But don’t forget the other victims,” Angie said. “Hair Plugs could be a stone-cold killer who was out for revenge on anyone who told Elise details about his life with the Child Bride. That’s the only reason I can think that he’d kill her caterer, driver, and photographer.”
“If it was him,” Mel said. “Whoever it was, they must have believed that those people gave Elise material for her book.” She glanced at Christine, who had fished more hairpins out of the container on the counter. “Did you ever talk to Elise about the residents of the Palms?”
“God, no,” Christine said. “If word got around that I was talking about clients, I’d lose my business. People confide in their stylists—it’s a sacred trust.”
Mel and Angie exchanged a glance in the mirror and then Angie asked, “Did Elise ever confide anything of interest to you? I only ask because she is deceased now, which would make your vow of silence obsolete and you could tell us who everyone thinks the murderer is.”
Christine blew out her lower lip, sending her precisely cut bags up into the air. She met Angie’s gaze and then glanced at Mel. She shook her head as if she didn’t know what to do with them.
“Aren’t you getting married today?” she asked Angie. “Shouldn’t you be consumed with that?”
“Nah.” Angie waved a hand under the big apron Christine had thrown over her. “If I think about the wedding, I get throw-uppy. I mean, what if I say the wrong name, or catch on fire during the lighting of the
unity candle, or trip coming down the aisle?” She shifted the apron and held up her hands, which were shaking. “Murder is much more soothing to my nerves.”
“You two are so weird,” Samantha said.
Christine gave her a look and Mel suspected Samantha was about to get chastised. She was wrong.
“They are weird, aren’t they?” Christine asked.
When Mel and Angie both looked at her, she laughed. “What? It’s true.”
Mel shrugged. She couldn’t really argue it.
“Look up,” Samantha ordered.
Mel did and Samantha worked on her makeup with a gentle touch.
“Okay, close your eyes,” Samantha said.
Not being much of a makeup girl, it was weird to feel all of this stuff on her face. Even though Samantha was keeping it light, Mel felt as if her skin was unhappy. She decided to think of something else.
“So, did Elise tell you anything of interest?” she persisted.
With her eyes shut, she couldn’t see Christine, but she heard her huff out a sigh.
“Even if she did, she wrote the book ages ago,” Christine said. “It’s not like I can remember. Besides, anyone too close to Elise even in a professional way appears to wind up dead.”
“Aw, come on,” Angie said. “Consider it a wedding present to me.”
“I thought doing a spectacular job with your hair was the present,” Christine said.
“No, because you would do a spectacular job even if you hated me,” Angie said. “It’s just the kind of hair sorceress you are.”
“Sorceress, huh?”
If she could see her, Mel would have high-fived Angie so hard. Praise was always an excellent way to get to Christine.
“Let me think about it,” Christine mumbled. She sounded as if her mouth was full of pins.
“Okay, lips next,” Samantha said to Mel.
She opened her eyes and glanced over at Angie. Her hair looked amazing. Christine was anchoring the fat braids down with pins and her delicate hands were moving swiftly through Angie’s hair, tucking and pinning in a pattern that was feminine and flattering.
“Open your mouth wide,” Samantha instructed. Mel did, feeling a bit like a baby bird while Samantha slathered color on her.
“Frankly, Elise liked to talk—or more accurately, complain—so I tuned her out quite a bit,” Christine said.
She took the last pin out of her mouth and tucked it into the braid. She then took up the hair curler and began refining the thick curls that cascaded down Angie’s back.
“There was this one time that she came in for highlights,” Christine said. “She was fuming, talking about Hair Plugs and the Child Bride and how she was going to ruin them with her book. This was right after it became common knowledge that she’d sold the book to Leighton Press.”
Mel moved forward and Samantha sighed as the lipstick went sideways.
“Sorry,” she said, and leaned back. Samantha bent closer to repair the damage and Mel sat frozen.
“So there’s motivation for Hair Plugs,” Angie said. “She was intent on ruining him.”
“Yes, but on that day, she also went off about this person who was stalking her,” Christine said.
“Who was it?” Mel asked.
Christine frowned and her arching brows drew together in their own punctuation mark of concentration. “I can’t remember if she named them.”
“Anything she said may be of help,” Mel said. “Was it someone she was dating, or maybe a friend?”
“Like her friend Shanna, who was married to some guy named Carl, who stroked out over the contents of Elise’s book because it outed his wife’s affair?” Angie asked.
“Exactly,” Mel said. “Maybe Shanna wasn’t as happy as she pretended to be at the signing.”
“Shanna Mathews?” Christine asked. “No, she’s happy, believe me—to the tune of three-billion-dollars happy.”
“It’s not fair,” Samantha said. “How does a woman like that—she’s not even nice—bag a shriveled-up old billionaire?”
Samantha moved over to Angie to start on her makeup while Christine finished her hair.
“Do you want a rich old prune?” Christine asked her.
“No,” Samantha admitted. “But I wouldn’t mind one in younger packaging.”
“Those are rare, like Yeti,” Mel said. “It takes their entire life to make their fortune. That’s why they marry women a quarter of their age when they finally make it.”
“Maybe you could downsize to a nice millionaire,” Angie suggested.
She looked up while Samantha did her eyes. Then down. Mel watched the transformation, thinking her already-beautiful friend was going to be stunning. Tate would lose it when he saw her. The thought made Mel smile.
“At this point, I’d be happy if I met a guy who was employed,” Samantha said.
Christine fluffed Angie’s big curls. They were holding well, but she hit them with a mist of fixative spray.
“Angie! Oh, you look beautiful!” Kaylee popped her head around the corner of the doorway. “Mom says we’re leaving and we’ll meet you back at the house to get dressed.”
“Okay, see you in a few,” Angie said. A look of raw nerves flashed across her face, and Mel knew from Angie’s trembling lips that she was about to panic.
Oblivious, Samantha started in on Angie’s lip color. She’d chosen a deep red that complemented Angie’s skin tone and made her teeth sparkle when she smiled.
Angie was the whole package: beautiful, funny, smart, kind. And she’d found the same thing in Tate. They were two of the lucky ones.
Mel wondered what sort of person Elise had gotten involved with if they were stalking her. And why were they stalking her? Love? Friendship? Fame? A cut of the book profit?
“You look very serious all of a sudden,” Angie said. “What are you thinking?”
“A stalker is usually someone who wants a relationship with a person who doesn’t want one with them, right?” Mel asked.
“Yes, it’s like unrequited love gone really, really bad,” Christine said.
“What if the murderer isn’t someone who’s angry with Elise and her book, but rather this stalker who wanted a piece of Elise’s newfound fame and fortune?” Mel asked.
“That’s a big what-if,” Samantha said. “But it might explain why they killed anyone they perceived being closer to Elise and her book than they were, like the driver, the caterer, and the photographer. So, perhaps the stalker was someone who wanted a closer professional relationship with Elise.”
“Which disproves my theory on who killed Elise Penworthy,” Christine said.
“Finally going to share, are you?” Mel asked. She leaned forward in her seat, crowding Angie and the others, getting her a frown from Samantha.
“Yes, but it’s what everyone is saying,” Christine said. “I was sure the killer was Mallory Cavendish.”
“No, she has an alibi,” Mel said. She was so disappointed. She’d been hoping for so much more from Christine.
“What?” Christine cried. “What alibi?”
Mel hesitated, then figured she had nothing to lose if she didn’t name names. “She was with her ‘tennis pro.’” She used air quotes so that everyone understood the relationship.
“Well, shoot, then it has to be Cassie Leighton,” Christine said.
“No, I refuse to believe that,” Mel argued.
“Ask yourself this: Who had the most to gain by Elise’s death?” Christine asked. “As the publisher of her book and her lone heir, it has to be Cassie.”
“How do you know she’s her lone heir?” Mel asked.
“Everyone knows that,” Samantha said. “Elise didn’t keep it a secret.”
“I hate to say it,” Angie said. She gave Mel an uncomfortable look. “But I think Christine may
have a point.”
“Of course I do. And I think you need to get out of my salon and go get married,” Christine said. She put her hands on Angie’s shoulders and leaned down so that she could meet Angie’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re ready, Angie.”
* * *
• • •
“I am so not ready,” Angie said as they arrived back at her parents’ house to find it full to bursting with DeLauras.
Joe was there, and he grinned when he caught sight of Mel. “You look amazing, but then, you always do.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Is it wrong that I’m counting the minutes until I can wash my face?”
He grinned. Then he very carefully kissed her, being sure not to smudge her lipstick.
“I’m off to Tate’s to make sure he doesn’t pull a runner,” he said.
Mel laughed. “As if he would. Hey, have you been in touch with Uncle Stan today?”
“No.” Joe tipped his head to the side as he studied her with a concerned look. “Any reason I should be?”
“Nope. Just wondering about the case.”
“Cupcake, our best friends are getting married,” he said. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in so that they were almost forehead to forehead. “Maybe we could shelve the murder and mayhem for a day.”
Mel shook her head as if trying to dislodge the thoughts that were bubbling up in there. “You’re right. You’re totally right. It’s just that we were all talking at the salon and Angie said the murder talk helped her to not think about the wedding, which made her nervous.”
“You two are so weird,” he said.
“So we’ve been told.”
“Tell me, on the day we get married, are you going to be thinking about murder?”
Mel laughed. She looped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. “Only if someone actually stands up when they ask if anyone knows of a reason why these two cannot be joined. Then, oh yeah, I won’t be thinking it, I’ll be doing it.”
Joe grinned. “And I’d help you.”
He hugged her tight and planted a solid kiss on her. Mel wiped the lipstick off of his mouth with her thumb.
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