by Diane Morlan
He listened without interrupting although his facial expressions, from quizzical to glaring, showed me exactly how he was receiving the information. When I told him about Pete’s brown boots, he frowned. And when I told him about asking Pete why he was at the library, he couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “What were you thinking? If he killed Whitney, you’re in danger.”
“I know, I know. But I’ve been thinking about that. Pete was at the dollar store with a van full of residents. He couldn’t have killed Whitney.”
“Was he the only staff person with the residents?”
“I don’t know. I just saw when they came back and he was the only staff person in the van with them.”
“He needs to be checked out. I’ll call Jacobs later and tell him all about it.”
We didn’t talk much while we ate our burgers. I was trying to sort through all the information I had gleaned from our investigation.
“We know that Charlie’s alibi doesn’t hold water, so he’s back on the list. He’s about the same height and weight as Pete and with the hoodie it would have been hard for Pam to recognize the person. Charlie often wears cowboy boots and western shirts.”
I must have looked perplexed because Decker said, “Hey, are you here? You look so serious.”
“I’m just frustrated. I have all this information and I don’t know what to do with it.”
“What else are you thinking? Tell me about it.”
“Pete admitted that he’d been at the library. But maybe he wasn’t the one who attacked Pam. He wasn’t wearing a hoodie when I just saw him. But he could have taken it off when he got to the group home. It was warm in the house. It could have been him, or Charlie or someone else. See why I’m so frustrated?”
“Yeah, that happens a lot during an investigation.” Decker said. “We’ll sort it all out eventually. We just have to find a couple missing pieces and everything will fall into place.”
“You think so?” I asked. “I feel like we don’t know anything. Every lead goes nowhere.”
“The thing is, Jennifer, we know more than we think we do. We just haven’t realized that some of the info we have is important.”
“I just hope it wasn’t Charlie,” I said. “Megan would be devastated and his mother would really hate me then.”
Decker chuckled. “Don’t feel too bad. Yvonne Jackson doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t think her son is the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
Suddenly I felt exhausted. I guess the adrenalin had worn off. “I need to go home, Jerry. I’m bushed.”
“I’ll follow you home. Do you want me to stay or go home?”
I should just tell him to go home, I thought. But, I wasn’t angry any longer and it would be nice to cuddle in his arms.
“Follow me, big guy,” I said winking at him.
When I pulled onto the highway, I was glad Decker was behind me. It was a very dark autumn night. No harvest moon tonight.
23
When my alarm went off Friday morning, I reached over to poke Decker to turn it off. I was alone in bed. I sat up and sniffed. No coffee brewing. I got up and put on my robe. Then I saw the note on the night stand next to my side of the bed.
“Forgot I had court this morning. I’ll call you later,” the note read.
Shoot! I was looking forward to one of Decker’s delicious omelets. I had stopped for eggs, cheese and fresh mushrooms yesterday. I put the coffee on and opened the loaf of bread on the counter. Toast and blackberry jam would have to do. St. Theresa’s had a farmer’s market the second Saturday of the month. I had driven by last month and decided to stop and check it out, since it was the last one of the season. I found a vendor selling homemade jams and jellies. I stocked up on blackberry, raspberry and peach preserves. I also found a beekeeper and bought several jars of honey.
The bread was a little stale but would be okay toasted. Since my divorce I rarely cooked. When I did, I seemed to make too much and ended up eating the same dish for several days.
While munching on my toast, I made a list of things to do. Besides my usual coffee roasting and deliveries, I had to check with Sally Baumgartner, my part-time employee. Since Megan had become so involved with Charlie and his campaign, she no longer took care of the website. Now three times a week, Sally took the orders and packed them to be shipped out. I picked them up and ran them to the post office to be sent by priority mail so the coffee would be fresh when my customers received them.
I burrowed in my purse for my notebook to make a list of things I wanted to do after my business duties were completed. When I pulled out my little notebook a folded scrap of paper was tucked into it. Opening it, I saw it was the coupon for a haircut. I put that first on my list. Since I’d started wearing my hair shorter, I found that it was time for a haircut when my arms got tired while blowing my hair dry.
I also needed to call Megan to see if she’d come with me to talk to Bobbette Murphy. I wanted to find out if Bobby knew anything helpful about Whitney’s friends that Whitney could use to blackmail them.
I put on my jacket and grabbed my purse. When I opened the back door, I almost got blown over. It was cold and windy. I made a mental note to get my winter coat, hat, and mittens out of the closet in the spare room.
It only took a few minutes for me to travel the five blocks to the strip mall on South Broadway where Head’s Up Hair Salon was located. A sign in the window said, “Walk-ins welcomed.”
The bell on the door jingled when I pulled it open. I was barely through the door when a woman’s voice greeted me. “Hello. I’ll be right there.” Her head popped out from a door in the back of the shop. “Sorry,” she said, “I was putting away supplies. How can I help you?”
She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place her. “I need a haircut,” I said, “and I have a coupon.”
She sat me down in a chair and fluffed my hair. “Do you know what style you want?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I thought something short would be easier to deal with. I’m not very good with my hair.”
“Why don’t I give you a cut that’s short and only requires a quick blow-dry?”
“That sounds good to me.”
We moved over to the sink so she could wash my hair. She was massaging my scalp while I was thinking that this was the best part of going to a beauty salon.
Back in the chair in front of a large mirror, the beautician asked me if I wanted her to give me a razor cut.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Your hair is very fine if I use a razor, instead of a scissors, your hair will have more volume.”
“That sounds good to me.”
We chatted about the weather and other local events. I looked at her license taped to the mirror. It said “Gina Cooper.” Whoa! No wonder she looked familiar. She was about 30 pounds heavier than she was in high school, but she was still glamorous—her hair fashionable and about three shade lighter than it was in high school.
I looked at her through the mirror while she snipped away at my hair. Her make-up was understated and gave her a somewhat youthful look. Her black smock hid her figure but added to her professional look.
I still had a niggling feeling in the back of my mind that I had seen her somewhere besides pictures in the yearbook. “Have we met? You look so familiar.”
“We might have. I’m not very good with faces, but I don’t think I’ve cut your hair before.”
“We both laughed while I thought fast. How could I get her talking about Whitney? I didn’t want to interrogate her or let her think I came there just get information. She was doing a nice job on the haircut and I wanted to be able to come back the next time I needed my hair styled.
“Did you hear about that woman who got killed in Itzig?” I asked. Of course she did; everyone in town had heard about it by now.
“Wasn’t that awful?” she said. “I actually knew her, Whitney I mean. We went to high school together.”
“Really? What was she lik
e? Do they know who killed her?” I asked faking ignorance.
“She wasn’t a very good friend,” Gina said. “She’d be your best buddy one day and stab you in the back the next. My mother used to say that she was a ‘fair-weather friend.’ She probably made someone really mad at her.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I commiserated, hoping I didn’t sound condescending. After all the information I had, I could imagine what being a friend of Whitney’s was like. “Did you keep in touch after high school?”
“More or less,” Gina said, stepping back to look at her work on my hair. She fluffed it up a bit, and then pulled down the sides to see if they were even.
While she continued cutting my hair, she said, “I used to see her a lot. But, you know, you can only take so much. She was such a diva and it was always all about her. I quit hanging out with her when I opened this shop. I have too many responsibilities to spend my evenings in a bar acting like a teenager. Oh, that wasn’t very nice, was it? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“It’s okay. Sometime it helps to get it all out. I heard somewhere that she was gay.”
“Whitney? No way! Well, maybe, if she could get something out of it. She was pretty greedy, especially since her father died. I don’t think she was attracted to women though. But who knows?”
“Did she come to you for haircuts when you opened the shop?” I decided to get off that subject.
“Oh, heck no,” she said shaking her head. “My little shop wasn’t good enough for her. She went to some fancy salon in the Cities. Her stylist was Mr. Somebody. He probably charged five times what I do and my cuts are every bit as good as his. Do you want me to blow it dry and style it?”
It took a few moments to realize she had shifted to asking about my hair. “Oh, sure, I’ll take the works. It looks great so far. How long have you been a stylist?” I asked.
“I’ve been cutting hair since I was in Middle School. But I got my license about four years ago. I worked in a couple different shops in town but I realized that if I wanted to make any money and have control of my life, I needed to open my own shop.”
“You have three stations here. Do you have employees?”
Gina laughed. “No, I can’t afford that. I lease these stations to two women who used to work with me.”
“I’m impressed. You’re not only pretty, you’re smart too.” She started blow drying my hair so the conversation ended. When she was done, I said, “I think I’m going to like this haircut. It’s was really short but, I have to admit it looks better than ever.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you like it. You look good in short hair. Not everyone can pull off a cut that short.”
“You’re probably right, but it suits me. I’ll be coming back here again.”
I paid the bill and gave her a generous tip. She deserved it, for the haircut and the information.
When I left the shop, the sharp autumn air hit my newly bared neck. Maybe I should have waited until spring to cut my hair this short. Too late now. I promised myself to dig out a knitted scarf too keep my neck warm.
I was sitting in my car, buckling my seatbelt when an older lady driving a late-model Buick pulled into the space next to mine. She sat so low on the driver’s seat she could barely see over the steering wheel. The passenger door opened and out jumped a little girl with long black hair.
I recognized her. She had been at one of Charlie’s events. She was the little Coca-Loca girl. When the two of them entered into the beauty shop, things clicked into place. Gina had been with her at the rally. I had barely noticed her then and only then because her little girl was so precocious. No wonder I didn’t put her with the pictures of the girl in the yearbook.
I thought that Decker had been right last night when he said that sometimes all the facts just click into place. I hoped that would happen with all the information I was gathering about Whitney. I felt like I was getting to know Whitney better than her friends and family.
I called Megan to see if she could help me get a hold of her cousin, Bobby. “I want to talk to Bobby about Whitney and her friends. Do you think she can help?”
“Bad timing, Jennifer. I’m in St. Paul at a fund-raising luncheon for Charlie. I’ll call you back in two minutes.”
The phone rang about five minutes later. “I’m sorry but I had to excuse myself. I’m in the bathroom of the Riverfront Hotel. It’s a pretty snazzy hotel. I try to find the nicest places for these fundraisers. People with money want more than a rubber chicken for the price of theses tickets.”
“Meg, I’m glad Charlie is doing so well. I’m sure he’ll make a great Governor.” I didn’t really believed that but it seemed that a lot of Minnesotans did. “I found out that Bobbette was the English teacher for Whitney and her friends when they were at Hermann High. Will you help me get together with her so I can find if she knows anything that might be useful?”
“I’d love to help,” Megan said, “but Bobby started grad school a few weeks ago for a Master’s in Special Education. She’s at Perdue University in Indiana. I can probably find a phone number for her if you want.”
“No, never mind,” I said, my disappointment obvious in the tone of my voice. “It was just an idea.”
“Is there something specific you want to know?” Megan asked. “I can probably find another teacher who knew the girls.”
“No, I doubt if anyone could have gotten as close to those girls as Bobbette did. I just wanted to pick her brain, you know get her talking about those girls and see what she comes up with. She has a way of rambling and sometimes she has some great info that she’s not even aware of.”
“Oh, that’s so true. She sure loves to talk and sometimes she even says something.” I could hear Megan laughing. “I need to get back to the luncheon, Jennifer. We can talk more later, okay?”
I thanked her and hung up; trying to convince myself that Bobbie wouldn’t have had anything useful to tell me anyway.
I was tucking my phone into my pocket when it rang. A glance showed me it was Decker calling.
“Hi, what are you up to?”
“I just got my hair cut. How did court go for you?” I asked.
“Just the usual DUI case. That guy won’t be driving for awhile. He’s lucky he didn’t get thrown in jail for a couple months. Have you had lunch?”
“Gee, is it that time already? Where did the morning go?” I asked, looking at my watch. It was twelve-thirty.
“Meet you at the Dixie Diner?” Decker asked.
“I’m on my way,” I replied, breaking the connection, putting my phone in my purse and backing out of the parking space all in one fluid motion. I can work fast when food is on the schedule.
When I pulled into the Dixie Diner, I saw Decker’s truck in the first row. Unfortunately, I didn’t find a space that close. A few rain drops hit my windshield as I parked my SUV. I hurried across the parking lot hoping I’d get inside before the rain got worse. I opened the door just as lightening slashed across the sky and thunder boomed.
I spotted Decker in the corner booth where he usually sat, coffee cup to his lips. I slid in across from him and asked if he had ordered yet.
“No, darlin’, I was waiting for you. I like your hair-do.”
“Do you? I was afraid it might be too short.”
“Nope; looks sexy.” Decker winked at me.
“Oh. Well, that’s a good look.” I loved it when he flirted with me.
“Sure is, Jen. I’ll show you how much later,” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. He really thought that was a cute come-on. I thought it made him look lecherous. Sometimes I found him just adorable.
Pam walked over to take our order. “Hi, guys. Ready to order?”
“Just about. How are you feeling today, Pam?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m fine, Jennifer. Thanks for helping me the other day. Guess I really shook up Maureen.”
“You shook me up, too. I’m surprised that you’re at work today.”
“I can’t afford to take off work here. I didn’t even tell my boss what happened at the library. Mort called me last night. He said that he would understand if I didn’t want to work at the library anymore. I told him there was no way I would let someone else decide what I’ll do. Besides, they rely on us volunteers.”
“You must really like volunteering at the library. You sure you feel okay?” Decker asked.
“I love being around books and the library really needs the help,” Pam said. “Last year they had budget cuts, just like everyone else and when two of the staff retired last year, they decided to use volunteers instead of hiring more clerks so they could stay open evenings and Saturdays. They used to be open on Sundays, but they had to stop doing that. It’s a shame. Listen to me rambling on. I’ll go put in your orders.”
After she scooted away to the kitchen for our club sandwiches and fries, I said to Decker, “I’m going to see if I can meet with her here when she gets off work, before she goes over to the library. I’m sure she has some information we can use. She’s so smart and she’s very observant.”
“Not so observant that she noticed who bonked her on the head,” he replied.
When Pam brought our orders, I convinced her to meet with me for a few minutes after her shift, before she went to the library.
“I promise I won’t take more than a few minutes of your time, Pam. I know how busy you are.”
“Okay, but I really can’t stay long. They depend on me at the library.”
“I understand that,” I assured her. “I think you might have some information about Whitney that you’re not even aware of and that could be very helpful to our investigation.”
“Well, I’m not so sure about that, but I can give you a couple minutes. I get off at three-thirty. If you’re not here, I can’t wait for you.”
Decker chuckled at Pam’s remark. “Someone must have told her about your lack of punctuality lately.”
“Oh, shush. I’m only late when I’ve been working at one of Charlie’s campaign events. Megan always finds other things to do when it’s time for cleaning up.”