Murder by Manicure

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Aware that it was past six and that he might be in the middle of dinner, Marla dialed Vail's home number first.

  "Hello,” Brianna responded.

  "Hi, this is Marla. Is your father there?"

  "Nope, he's still at work.” Chewing sounds emanated from the phone receiver.

  "Oh. I guess I'll give him a call at the office, then."

  "Is it about the case he's working on? Because if not, you shouldn't bother Dad at his job."

  Marla wondered if those were his actual instructions to his daughter. “I don't think he'll mind. Am I taking you to dance class tomorrow night, or will your father be free?"

  "I dunno. Guess you'll have to drive me again, unless you're busy."

  "I'm never too busy for you, honey.” Lord save me, where did those words come from? “I'll pick you up the same time as last week, okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Are you home alone? Because if you want company, I can—"

  "No. I don't need anyone else."

  Stung by the abrupt refusal, Marla stuttered. “W-well, I won't disturb you further."

  A pause. “Lucky is here. He's my friend."

  "Of course. I'll see you Tuesday evening, then. Bye.” Gritting her teeth, Marla hung up. That girl persisted in getting on her nerves, but Marla felt sorry for her. She had no mother to guide her, nor any close relatives in the area, a father who was away from home more than half the time, and only a golden retriever for company. Approaching the harrowing years of puberty, how would the child cope?

  It's not your business, girl. No, it wasn't, but she couldn't help her feelings of empathy. After Tammy's drowning, she'd been vulnerable herself and had only survived thanks to a strong support system. It would grieve her to see Brianna going down the wrong path because no one was available to advise her. Dalton knew he needed help as a parent. That scared her as much as it drew her closer to him. Mothering was a role she'd avoided intentionally, because she couldn't stand the pain if something bad happened to someone she loved. If getting more involved with Dalton meant accepting his daughter as part of the package, was she really interested? And did he want her for herself, or because he needed a mother for his child?

  God, it was so complicated. All she knew was that her blood surged whenever he looked at her. His smoky gaze melted her resistance so that none of this mattered in his presence. Maybe she should just go with the flow and see where it led. She was only taking the girl to dance class, for heaven's sake. That didn't warrant a commitment on her part, although Dalton preferred she didn't go out with anyone else. He'd made his feelings clear on that score. She was afraid the detective would lose patience and find someone else who'd give him her full attention. Someone like Hortense, perhaps.

  Schlemiel, you mean Jillian Barlow.

  Deciding to call him later, she stalked into the kitchen to prepare dinner. She was savoring a meal of eggplant parmesan and garlic bread when the phone rang. Now what? Couldn't she eat in peace?

  "Where have you been all day?” Tally demanded. “That guy came into my boutique again."

  "What guy?"

  "The man who buys clothes for his girlfriend but tries them on first.” Her voice lowered. “I think he's weird."

  "You mean he's gay?"

  "No, but I can't explain it. I wish you could see him."

  "So call me next time he comes into your store. If I'm free, I'll rush over while he's still in the dressing room."

  "You've got a deal. So what's up?"

  Marla discussed the morning's events but skimmed over her afternoon session. “I've got a few leads about Jolene's activities at work, but I'll wait to see how they pan out. Are you doing anything tonight? I want to follow up on Tesla, the massage lady from the club whom neither of us have met. I'd like to see what she has to say about her fellow staff members. Then there's another task I've been meaning to do."

  "I'll join you. Ken is glued to the TV set watching a Heat game tonight, so he won't mind if I go out."

  "Great, I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. Oh, and one more thing: wear something dark,” she ended mysteriously.

  * * * *

  "Why are we sitting in front of Slate's house?” Tally asked later, when they were parked a few doors down from 501 Fairlawn Court in Davie. Taking Marla's advice, she'd worn a black Spandex jumpsuit that made her look like a cat burglar. Wavy blond hair spilled down her back, negating the anonymous image Marla wanted them to project.

  "Betsy implied Tesla lived here, and that's her dark-green Buick in the driveway.” Her own outfit consisted of black pants and a matching zippered tunic top in stretch nylon. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too conspicuous if Tally covered her hair. It wasn't necessary now, but it would be in a short while if Marla carried out her other plan.

  Tally's azure eyes glowed in the dim light of a street lamp. “So Tesla and Slate are having an affair?"

  "I'm not sure. When I called the club earlier, Sharon told me that neither one of them is on duty tonight. So let's see what happens."

  "Why don't we just knock on the door?"

  Marla shook her head, causing a length of bobbed hair to fall across her eyes. Shoving the strands away, she replied, “I don't want to tip them off. There's got to be a reason why Tess is so elusive."

  "Speak of the devil; is that her coming from the house?” Tally pointed excitedly at the large-boned woman striding toward the Buick.

  Marla's pulse accelerated. “Yes, I recognize her. She likes to wear those flowing garments. Funny, you wouldn't think Slate would be attracted to a big lady like her. He wanted Jolene, and she was slim compared to Tess."

  "Maybe he doesn't like Amy because she's too petite. Should we wait until she leaves, then see if Slate's home alone?"

  "Let's follow Tess. She might have more answers if we can talk to her.” Turning on the ignition, Marla shifted gears, leaving the headlights off until they approached an intersection.

  "Holy smokes, where is she going?” Tally wondered aloud as they cruised east on I-595 and then veered north on I-95.

  Traffic on Monday evening was still fairly heavy, but since this was tourist season, Marla wasn't surprised. “I hope Tess isn't headed for Orlando!” she joked.

  "You don't know anything about her except that she works part-time as a masseuse at the club. She could be going to night classes at BCC North Campus."

  Education appeared to be the farthest thing from Tess's mind when they finally pulled into a parking lot at Pelican's on South Ocean Boulevard in Delray Beach. Inside, reggae music vibrated from a stage where the Stingrays performed live. A lounge held a dance floor filled with jiving guests, a karaoke platform, and an old-fashioned mahogany bar with glistening glassware. An adjoining barroom housed billiards, video games, and another seating area. At least a no-smoking policy provided clean air, Marla thought gratefully as the loud thrumming and noisy chatter assailed her ears.

  Their arrival produced energetic male whistles and several offers to dance. Fending off their admirers, Marla gestured to a dark corner table. “Let's sit there,” she suggested to Tally, hoping the dim illumination hadn't exposed them to Tess's view. Their target had taken a position at the bar, and Marla couldn't shake the feeling that her firm-jawed profile was somehow familiar.

  "You know, I've seen that woman before,” Tally hissed as they shouldered their way through the crowd.

  "Yeah, I got the impression I'd seen her somewhere else besides Betsy's,” Marla agreed. “Look who else is at the bar!"

  "Why, it's Amy from the sports club! What's she doing here?"

  "Taking a break from her job at the refreshment stand, I imagine.” Marla led the way toward a corner table. When the waiter slouched his way over, she ordered a bushwacker, her favorite coffee-laced liquor drink. Tally requested a glass of chardonnay.

  While waiting for their orders, Marla helped herself to a handful of salted peanuts from a dish on the table. “Amy told me Tess came here sometimes, but they're not really friends,” she sai
d, crunching on the nuts. “See how Tess is sitting at the other end of the bar?"

  "Amy has quite a collection of guys hanging on. I thought you said she had the hots for Slate."

  "Yeah, but he doesn't return her ardor. Maybe this is how Amy consoles herself, by picking up dates here."

  "Tess appears to be watching Amy.” Tally's shrewd gaze assessed the two women. “Look, that hunk just came up to Tess, and she's not interested in him. Why don't you go talk to her?"

  Marla gave her friend an astonished glance. “Amy is too close. She'll see me and think I followed her."

  "Tell her you came here to meet Tess.” Tally's eyes twinkled playfully. “I should make an appointment for a massage with Slate. It would tickle my ego if he propositioned me!"

  An hour passed while they nursed their drinks, tapped their feet to the music, and observed Tess keeping tabs on Amy. Finally, the Smoothie King attendant left on the arm of a blond, muscled surfer. Tess rose as though to follow, but Marla intercepted her.

  "Hi, I'm Marla Shore, a member of the Perfect Fit Sports Club. You're one of the massage therapists, aren't you?” From the corner of her eye, she noted Tally paying their bill. She'd settle the tab with her later.

  "Oh, hello, dear,” Tess trilled, her heavily made-up eyes looking less than pleased.

  Marla took a moment to size up the woman. Tall and broad-shouldered, Tesla Parr carried herself with an awkward stiffness. She seemed uncomfortable in high heels, wobbling slightly as she walked but holding her head high. Her dress displayed an ample bosom but slim hips, an almost incongruous match. After scanning her hairdo, Marla's gaze narrowed. Tess's luxurious ebony layers had a suspiciously vague hairline. Bless my bones, it's a wig, she realized with sudden insight. Tess's crimson lips parted as Marla's eyes inadvertently widened, and the woman's chalky white skin blushed. Her skin tone was due to a heavy application of light foundation and powder, Marla determined, openly curious about the woman's odd appearance.

  "I wonder why I've never run into you at the club,” Marla commented. “I was hoping to make an appointment for a massage."

  "We have several other therapists, darlin',” Tess said with a strong Southern accent. “Ah'm sure you could see one of my colleagues."

  "I've already had an hour with Slate.” Interesting how Tess's nostrils flared at the mention of his name. “I gather Amy Gerard likes him. Quite a coincidence that you and Amy chill at the same club."

  "Isn't it,” Tess crooned in a voice that reminded Marla of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.” “Just as much of a coincidence as you bein’ here tonight."

  "I'm with a friend,” Marla explained, nodding to Tally, who was walking in their direction.

  Tess paled. “Ah have to go."

  "Wait, I want to talk to you about Jolene Myers."

  "What about her?” Tess back-stepped toward the door.

  "I heard Slate was angry with her because he'd asked her out and she refused. Do you think Slate's anger extended to violence?"

  The woman's face clouded with fury. “You have no business askin’ questions,” she said, stopping to confront Marla.

  "Why? Because Slate is your boyfriend? Where were you the night Jolene died? Or maybe Amy's jealousy led her to commit the dire deed. Is that why you're watching her, because you and Slate suspect she murdered Jolene?"

  Tess's face purpled with rage. “Ah wouldn't go around town makin’ accusations like that, darlin'. Y'all could land yourself in a heap of trouble."

  "Oh, yeah?” Marla said evenly. “So could you, if I tell Detective Vail you're following one of his suspects."

  The amber eyes cooled to a topaz hardness. “You do, Miz Shore, and you'll find your fuckin’ ass sucked down a whirlpool worse than that Myers broad."

  Her ominous words hanging in the air, Tesla Parr spun around and teetered toward the exit.

  "Whew,” Tally said, pretending to fan herself. “The temperature's risen in this place."

  "Let's get out of here. I'm definitely going to tell Dalton about her. She's very strange. Did you notice her hair? It's fake, and she wears a ton of makeup, so you can't tell what she really looks like. Her eyes, though..."

  "What about them?"

  Outside, Marla glanced uneasily around the parking lot. It wasn't well lit at night, and she remembered the other incident at the athletic club. Could Slate have been the one who'd attacked her?

  "Her eye color is uncommon. I know I've seen that woman somewhere else."

  "Me, too. She must have left already. I don't see her car."

  "She made a fast getaway.” Retrieving her keys, Marla led the way to the Camry. Inside the car, she locked the doors before starting the engine. Belatedly, she thought of checking for telltale signs of tampering. Oh, well. If a bomb were going to explode, most likely it would have happened when she turned on the ignition.

  According to the clock, it was nearly eleven by the time they reached Palm Haven. Perfect Fit Sports Club would be closing its doors in the next few minutes. Marla had doubts her plan would succeed, but she intended to give it a try.

  "Do you have to go home yet?” she asked Tally, who'd been relatively quiet during the drive. She supposed her friend was reviewing events in her mind just as she was. “I know it's late. We both have to get up for work in the morning, but there's one more thing I need to do."

  "Which is?” Tally grinned encouragingly, and Marla felt a surge of gratitude for her support.

  "I have to get into Gloria's office. She has client records and may have personnel files as well. But if the club is locked, we'll try another time."

  "Excuse me, did you say we?"

  "You heard me. Are you game, or not?"

  Tally shrugged. “I must be crazy to tag along with you, but it sure as hell beats staying home and watching TV. Let's go."

  Thirty minutes later, Marla dropped Tally off at home. Their effort had been in vain. The sports club had been locked tight as a newly permed curl.

  "We'll do it on Wednesday,” Tally suggested before taking her leave. “I'll distract Gloria while you rummage through her office. It'll be easy if I pretend to be interested in a full membership."

  Marla frowned. “How will that work? She'll want to do the paperwork in her office."

  Her friend smiled wickedly. “Don't worry. I have a plan. We'll meet in the locker room same time as last week, okay?"

  "You got it. Thanks for coming tonight, pal."

  * * * *

  Weariness weighted her bones as she pulled into the garage of her town house. Erasing all concerns from her mind, Marla performed the routine of letting Spooks outside and back in again, checking her answering machine, and locking up for the night. After a refreshing shower, she pulled on a cotton nightshirt and collapsed into bed to review the day.

  First stop, the real estate office. Eloise Zelman hadn't shown up for work, but her colleague Judy firmly believed the woman would reappear when ready. Vail had no luck tracing her, either. Was her disappearance related to Sam's mysterious dealings, as Judy had implied, and if so, how did that relate to Jolene's death?

  Both Cookie and Eloise knew that Sam had been meeting secretly with Jolene. Had they shared an illicit love relationship, or were they conspiring together? If they were lovers, Eloise had a motive for doing away with both of them. But if not, was Eloise afraid that she would be the next victim?

  If only Eloise would return, Marla thought as she twisted restlessly. That would solve a couple of problems.

  Next came Hortense's revelation that the woman she'd met through Arnie was really Jillian Barlow, an actress and public relations specialist. She hoped Jill had learned something about Jolene from her coworkers. In the meantime, Marla had to keep quiet about the girl's identity so as not to tip off the killer. As for Arnie, Marla would protect him from being hurt, by having a private conversation with Jill to assess her intent. Arnie was a dear friend who needed a mate, but he didn't deserve a relationship built on lies.

  Thro
wing off her covers, Marla got up and padded into the kitchen. Her mind was too active. She'd never fall asleep at this rate. Fixing herself a cup of cocoa, she sat at the kitchen table and sipped the hot drink slowly.

  Dr. Crone's documents proved that Jolene had been falsifying lab test results—obtaining favorable data elsewhere and passing it off as her own. Jill might be able to trace the source—another reason to let the actress play her part.

  And speaking of playing a part, her false engagement to Arnie still had to be resolved. They were deceiving Jill, so the deception went both ways. If Jill was truly fond of Arnie, how would she react when the truth came to light?

  Don't tell her, Marla reasoned, scratching Spooks behind the ear when he nudged her ankle. Stage the breakup with Arnie, and the matter will be settled.

  Personal issues aside, what about tonight's episode? Tess was clearly following Amy, but for what purpose? Tess and Slate appeared to have an ongoing relationship. Could Slate have been using Tess to trail Amy, and if so, why? Amy's behavior generated further questions. If the snack bar attendant was mooning over Slate, why did she pick up guys in a lounge?

  Add Keith into the equation. He'd been talking to Slate about Amy. It was a tight-knit group, she concluded. If only she could get one of them to talk, secrets might unravel.

  She rinsed out her empty cup, put it in the dish drainer, and headed back to bed. Feeling chilled, she pulled the covers up to her chin and turned on her side. A new moon provided no illumination through the drapes, leaving her bedroom in inky darkness. She felt the comforting weight of the dog's warm body when he jumped on the bed.

  Letting her mind drift, she succumbed to a heavy drowsiness that enveloped her like a cocoon. Her eyelids drooped, and she floated into a sleep cycle, where strange dreams hovered in the wings.

  Barking roused her as Spooks leapt off the bed and charged into the hallway. A crash of splintering glass was followed by utter silence, and then she smelled smoke. Bolting upright, she felt her heart race in panic.

  "Spooks! Where are you? What's happened?” Tossing off the covers, she reached for a terrycloth robe and threw it on. Dare she go after the poodle? Breaking glass could mean someone had broken into her house. Or maybe it was a gunshot, and Jolene's killer was outside waiting for her to appear by a window. She reached for the phone, prudence taking precedence over her need to investigate.