Mitch told her not to leave town until the case was closed, but to stay away from Ralph. He didn’t want any more altercations to happen, especially while Winterfest was going on. Now we were sitting in his office, questioning Ray. Rather, Detective Grumpy Pants was questioning Ray. I was only tagging along because Mitch didn’t want me out of his sight, since apparently I couldn’t be trusted not to put myself in danger.
“Look, Gunther and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye,” Ray responded. “We’d had a disagreement with the way the Rebel Riders should be run.”
Mitch arched a shaggy eyebrow. “Yeah, like which business you were going to strong-arm next.”
“That was Gunther’s deal, not mine. I wanted to be legit, but Gunther was adamant he wanted to keep pressuring the businesses in Stillwater to pay for our protection.”
“With Officer Burrows looking the other way, I’m sure it was a pretty sweet setup, even with the cut you had to pay him.”
Ray’s hands stilled in his lap. “You knew about that?”
Mitch leaned forward. “I know about a lot of things, Simone. So, don’t even think about lying to me.”
“Hey, I’m being straight with you. I thought, when Officer Burrows put an end to our business because of the Internal Affairs investigation, the situation would end. But no, Gunther insisted on moving on to a new town and starting over.”
“Why Divinity?” Mitch flipped through his notes, then met Ray’s eyes. “We’re not a very big town. Your earning potential would be way less than in Stillwater, and I can tell you for a fact you won’t have an inside man in the police department. I’m surprised Gunther didn’t choose a neighboring town more the size of Stillwater.”
“Someone tipped us off that Cole West was living in Divinity. That was all Gunther needed to hear.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck, cracking it before he continued. “He was becoming unstable at the end. He was obsessed with getting revenge on Cole, and none of us could stop him. When Cole showed up at the Motorcycle Expo, I was out. I didn’t want anything to do with the situation, so I left. When I heard Gunther was murdered, I checked out of the hotel, but I didn’t leave town.”
Detective Stone made a note in his book. “Is that when Kristen Peters approached you for help?”
Ray nodded. “We found the cabin and, well, you know the rest.”
“We don’t know the rest,” I chimed in, earning a scowl from Grumpy Pants.
Ray focused on me for the first time, his eyes widening, then narrowing. His whole body tensed, and I could feel the anger flowing in waves off of him. If Mitch weren’t here, I had no doubt Ray would hurt me.
“That’s right,” I said, shaking off my nerves. “I saw you at the cabin with a woman, and she wasn’t Kristen Peters.”
“So?” He scowled. “I date a lot of women. It’s not anyone’s business but my own. Who cares anyway? I’m not the one who’s married.”
“I thought you said you were just friends,” Mitch chimed in.
“Friends with benefits. Whatever you want to call it.” Ray swiped his hand through the air. “I never claimed to be monogamous.”
Ewww. “In the same cabin?” I cringed, earning a reproachful look from the Grumpster. We weren’t here to judge. We were here to investigate. I knew that, but it was hard. I didn’t like Ray, and my gut told me he was hiding something.
“Look, lady.” His gaze ran over my disheveled appearance after coming straight from the snowmobile race. “I don’t judge you. And last I checked, what I’ve done isn’t a crime. Are we done here?” Ray began to rise from the chair.
“Sit down, we’re not done.” Mitch never looked up from his notes, adding, “We’re just getting started.” Ray dropped back into the chair, and Mitch leveled him with a hard look that would intimidate most. “Last I checked assaulting someone and destroying their property is a crime.”
“Hey, I didn’t destroy anything, man.” Ray waved his hands before him. “I was minding my own business, checking out the dude’s woodwork, when he starts hitting on Kristen. I get it. She’s a beautiful woman. But the dude started taking things too far. I could tell she was uncomfortable, so I told him to knock it off. The man lost it. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The dude started smashing his woodwork, acting like a crazy man. Then he came at me, so I defended myself.”
“By punching him in the face and breaking his nose? There’s not a mark on you,” I added. “Mr. Emerson might not be as tough as you, but he certainly looks like he could fight back at least a little.”
“Look, I can’t help it the dude didn’t even try to fight back. One minute he’s a crazy man, and the next he’s a wimp. Maybe he has mental health issues or maybe he’s on drugs? I don’t know. It’s the guy’s word against mine, with no cameras or witnesses to prove otherwise. You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t plan on ever going back to his booth again.”
“See that you don’t,” Mitch said.
“Now are we done?”
“Yeah, we’re done,” Mitch responded. “You’d better hope you’re telling the truth about your gang not being behind the break-ins. You and your girlfriends stay put for now. I’ll be in touch if I need to speak with any of you further.”
Ray saluted him as he stood, then he gave me a parting glare that said, You may have won the race, but this event isn’t over by a long shot, sweetheart.
The next morning, I was at Warm Beginnings and Cozy Endings sipping a cup of tea. We were out of tea at home, and yes, I was avoiding a certain grumpy detective fiancé. He was heading into the office to meet with Captain Walker anyway. Something about a new lead. I had a free morning with no clients, but he didn’t ask me to go with him. In fact, he was barely talking to me at all.
Natalie Kirsch came out of her office in the back and spotted me. She joined me at my table and sat down, nursing a mug of coffee. “Hi, Sunny. How are you? I saw you in the snowmobile race. That was some wild ride.”
“Oh, it was something, all right.”
“I didn’t know you were into sports, or whatever you call a race like that.”
I laughed. “Neither did I.”
She shook her head on a chuckle. “It sure made for an interesting event.”
If she only knew the half of it. “Have you heard anything more on the hair sample they found after your break-in?”
“That’s funny you should ask. I was actually meaning to call you. The report came back with an interesting bit of information.”
“Really?” I leaned in.
Natalie looked left, then right around her café before she set her mug on the table, leaning forward as well. “The hair sample was no ordinary hair. It came from a wig. Can you believe it?” She picked her mug back up and blew on it before taking a sip.
“Thank you, Natalie.” I finished my tea. “You just made my day.”
She scrunched up her face. “How so?”
“Now I have something to do.” I laid money on the table for my tea, then grabbed my fringed cross-body bag and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’d say I’m overdue for a haircut.”
Pump Up the Volume hair salon was packed. I made my way to the reception desk. “Any chance I can speak to Raoulle?”
“Not unless you have an appointment.” The young girl looked to be high school age, wearing her blond ponytail with pink tips high on her head. She blew out a huge puff of air. “I swear all the residents in the county are here for the festival, and none of them thought to get their hair styled before they arrived. It’s been a zoo since day one.” She snapped her gum.
“It’s okay, really. I’ll just wait until he’s free.”
She snorted. “Good luck.” Then she went back to answering the phones that had been ringing off the hook since I walked in.
I saw Raoulle across the room, finishing up with a client. I bit my bottom lip and bypassed the receptionist. It was worth a shot. I waved to him and caught his eyes. He held up his hands
in a I-need-ten-minutes signal. Ten minutes wasn’t bad. I gave him a thumbs up and took a seat in the waiting room. Nearly thirty minutes passed before he finally motioned me over to his chair.
“Oh, thank you so much, Raoulle. I really need to speak with you.”
“Honey, if I’m missing my break for you, then you’re paying me. Have a seat.” He pushed me down into his chair and slung a cape around me, tying it in the back.
“B-But I don’t need a haircut.” My eyes met his in the mirror.
“B-But you’re getting one.” He pulled out his comb and scissors and started clipping away.
Oh, Lord, my hair was short already. I wouldn’t have much left by the time he was done if I didn’t do something quick.
“Start talking, sugar. You’ve got fifteen minutes before my next client, and my stomach’s growling. Don’t make me regret this.”
“Okay, so you know all the break-ins that happened in town recently?” I started rambling, my thoughts a jumbled mess as I watched strand after pale blond strand fall to the floor.
“Oh, my word, yes. I knew about poor Gary and his hardware store getting trashed. Everyone in town was afraid of the Rebel Riders. Then after the murder, we all thought the gang had left town. But then Granny Gert told me about poor Jo. And then Natalie told me a couple days later when I was giving her highlights—which are the bomb and look amazing on her if I do say so myself—that she and Sam had break-ins at the café and bakery as well. I’m afraid every day when I show up for work at the salon what I might find.”
Good Lord, he rambled more than I did. “Well, I don’t know if this is public knowledge or not—probably not—so I need you to keep this between you and me.” I gave him a no-nonsense warning look straight from a page in Grumpy Pants’ book.
“My lips are sealed, honey.” Raoulle pretended to turn a key in his mouth and throw it away over his shoulder.
I rolled my eyes and refocused. “There was a blond sample of hair on the floor in the café after the break-in. We all know Natalie is a neat freak, so she definitely wouldn’t have closed up shop for the day with that on her floor. It had to have been left behind by whoever broke into her shop.”
Raoulle’s mouth unhinged, falling wide open. So much for the lock and key. “Now I’m going to look at everyone who has blond hair and shiver.”
“Except it wasn’t normal blond hair.” I lowered my voice. “It was from a wig.”
“Well, Balayage my bangs, you don’t say?”
“You’ve been hanging around Granny Gert far too much these days,” I said on a chuckle, then grew sober as I pointed at him. “Anyway, remember you’re my informant. Mum’s the word.”
“Oh, the word is mum, sugar. But how am I an informant?”
“Because I need to know who wears a wig in Divinity?”
“First off, informant or not, I will never spill my client’s personal secrets. Stylist client confidentiality and all that.” He tapped the top of my head with his comb. “Shame on you for even asking.” His fingers were flying as fast as his words, and my eyes widened as I saw my locks grow shorter and shorter in the mirror.
“Raoulle!” I reached up and grabbed his hand.
He met my horrified gaze in the mirror with an Oh forming on his silent lips. “My bad, but honey, you always look cute.”
Cute! Not exactly what I was going for in winning my fiancé over into wanting to have my babies. I sighed, pushing that thought from my mind. “No more cutting, please. Just style it. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Raoulle put some gel in it, then tried to brush it to the side, to the back… any direction at all. The uneven strands were so short, they bounced straight back up, making me look like a long lost relative of David Bowie.
I swallowed hard and stopped looking at the mess on my head in the mirror. Spinning my chair around, I faced him. “Can you at least tell me who makes wigs in Divinity?”
“Well, that’s easy. No one.”
I felt my forehead wrinkle.
“But,” he held up his finger for me to wait as he grabbed pen and paper and wrote a name and address down, “There’s a woman in Stillwater who does a fabulous job. As far as I know, her shop is the only place to get a wig in the entire county.”
I took the note and hopped out of my chair. “Thank you, Raoulle. I owe you.”
“Good, you can start by tipping me for the haircut.”
I looked in the mirror, reaching a hand up toward the chunky strands, then thought better of it as I cringed and met his gaze. “Here’s your tip. Don’t talk with your hands when cutting someone’s hair. I’m beginning to think you owe me.”
“Touché.”
“Remember, mum’s the word.”
“I will if you will. Don’t tell anyone I’m responsible for that.” He pointed to my head and shuddered, then motioned me away and signaled for his next client to take a seat.
Oh, I wasn’t saying a word to anyone. Good thing it was winter, because I had a sudden hankering for a new collection of hats.
15
I pulled my white knit beanie down over my ears and looked in the rear-view mirror of my VW Bug. Thank goodness for hats. It didn’t look half bad. In fact, it looked kind of cute, but Lord help me if I had to take it off.
An hour later, I arrived in Stillwater. At least this time the sun was shining bright, and the roads were free of snow. I’d plugged the address Raoulle had given me into my phone and followed the map. It took me to Styles by Renee, a cute little salon in the center of town. I parked by the curb and headed inside. Unlike Pump Up the Volume, this place wasn’t busy at all. There was a stylist working on one woman’s hair, but the rest of the chairs were vacant.
I walked up to the front desk and smiled at the receptionist. “Hi, I’m Sunny Meadows. I was wondering if Renee Jordan was in?”
Before she could answer, a woman emerged from the back room. She had the most glorious long, curly milk-chocolate brown hair and honey-colored eyes. “I’m Renee, the owner. How can I help you Ms. Meadows?”
“Please, call me Sunny. I heard you make wigs here.”
“Why yes we do. Let’s see what we’re looking at here.” Before I realized what she had in mind, she pulled off my beanie.
I gasped, and reflectively raised a hand to my hair.
“Oh. My. Goodness.” She looked at me in shock then with pity. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix you right up, hon.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Now, there’s no shame in losing your hair. Why, I have plenty of women with alopecia who come to me for help. There’s always something that can be done. Follow me, my dear.” She took my arm and led me to a back room.
My eyes widened. The room was filled with wigs of all colors and styles. A comfortable plush chair sat before a big mirror with lots of lights.
“Have a seat, honey, and we’ll get you measured.”
“I really don’t need a wig. I just wanted to…” My voice trailed off as her expression went from sympathetic and comforting to suspicious.
“Where did you say you were from?” she asked.
“You’re right, I do need a wig. I just didn’t want to admit I’m losing my hair.” I couldn’t believe I was mentally thanking Raoulle for giving me bald patches.
Renee relaxed and patted my shoulder. “It’s okay. All sorts of things cause hair loss. It doesn’t have to mean it’s permanent. Have you been under any stress lately?”
Had I ever. “Actually, yes. My fiancé isn’t sure he wants children, and I’m not sure if that’s a deal breaker or not.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it had been on my mind a lot. Sometimes it was easier to talk to a complete stranger.
“Oh, hon, I’m sorry about that.” She wrapped a tape measure around my head in several directions and wrote down the sizes. “I had an almost-fiancé once. I really thought he was the one, but then he dumped me for some floozy.” She pursed her lips before continuing, “The woman was married. What could possibly come of
that? Life is so unfair sometimes.” She headed over to the wall and searched through a section of wigs.
“Now I’m the one who’s sorry. That must have been awful.”
“It was. I tried to forget about him, but I couldn’t stop loving him. He was always such a take-charge kind of man. I admired that about him, but he hung around with another guy I didn’t particularly care for. I think his friend was a bad influence. But when we were together, he was his true self. And now I’ll never have the chance to show him how much I cared even after all of the bad things he did.” She came back with a short brown wig and tried it on my head. “How’s that?”
“But I have blond hair?”
She reached her hand up to her hairline then pulled her hair clean off. “So do I.” Her blond hair was a dirty blond color and pinned up so it wouldn’t show through. She slipped the glorious wig back on. “Sometimes it’s fun to mix things up a bit.”
“Hmmm, I never thought of that.” I turned my head from side to side, reveling in the difference a simple color change meant. I looked like a totally different person. Except I wasn’t here to switch things up. I was here to discover who in Divinity wore one of her blond wigs, or possibly, if she did. “Um, I think I’ll stick with my original color. At least for now. Baby steps and all that.” I smiled a little.
“Gotcha.” She went back to the wall of wigs.
“Do you get many requests for blond wigs?” I tried to sound casual.
She stopped what she was doing and looked off in the distance for a moment before continuing. “We get requests for all sorts of wigs. Drag queens, alopecia clients, cancer patients, or simply bored housewives. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m from Divinity, and—”
Renee tripped and dropped the wig she was holding. “Sorry, you were saying?” Her eyes had narrowed considerably as she walked back over behind me, her face looking suddenly flushed.
Hazard in the Horoscope Page 13