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give him more working room and picked Nic's folder of
paperwork off the front seat. He would have to investigate
without letting anyone know he was investigating. Pretty
tricky when he had to ask questions.
A number Nicolette marked as unfamiliar popped up
frequently in the months preceding Rudy's death. Heath
dialed the number.
A male voice answered, "Salarber's Cut and Style, Ted
speaking."
A barbershop? Heath didn't know what else to do other
than make an appointment. Damned sure could use a cut
anyway. "Yeah. Can I get an appointment? Today if possible."
"Let me see. Hmmm. Yeah. We have some openings
today, it being Wednesday and all we're not that busy.
Haircut only?"
"Yeah."
"Anyone specific you want to see?"
Preferably the person who is blackmailing Nicolette, or the
one who did drugs with my best friend. Definitely the one who
made twenty-seven phone calls in two weeks to a guy who is
now mysteriously dead.
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"No. Not really. I've never been there. How many barbers
do you have?"
"Barbers. I like that. Don't hear it much anymore. Now
we're stylists." He infused the word with disdain. "We have
seven stylists. If you don't have a preference, I'll just put
down your time and whoever is free can get you. When you
wanna come in?"
Heath looked at his watch. It was just now after ten.
"Around eleven too soon?"
A pause. "Will eleven-thirty work?"
"Sure." Heath gave his name and took down the address,
then called Nicolette at Renewed Hope.
After going through an automated maze, which eventually
allowed him to punch in the first three letters of her last
name, Nic's voice came on the line. "Nicolette Morgan. May I
help you?"
"Hey, Nic. It's me."
"Heath—what's up?"
She sounded happy to hear from him, and for a moment,
he let the pleasure of that thought wash over him. Then he
took a reality check and reminded himself she was anxious to
find out who was wrecking her life, not just pleased that he
called.
"Listen, did Rudy get his hair cut at Salarber's Cut and
Style?"
"Yes. Why?"
"There were a lot of calls from the shop on Rudy's cell
phone records. I can't imagine he'd need that many consults
on a haircut. Do you know which of the barbers he used?"
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"No, I don't recall him ever mentioning a name. Before he
started going there, he'd had the same barber for years, Don
Valeska."
"Yeah. I used to go to him, too. He retired."
"Right. After that, about a year and a half ago, Rudy ended
up going to Salarber's. He never mentioned who cut his hair.
Do you think the blackmailer works there?"
"Even if those calls are from the blackmailer, he could be
anyone in the shop. Hell, even a customer who used the
shop's phone."
"You wouldn't think the blackmailer would take a chance
on being overheard in a public place like that."
"True. But you never know how these people think. Of
course, it could have nothing to do with that. Maybe whoever
called him from the shop had to do with the drugs and not the
blackmail."
"You mean like his dealer?"
"Maybe. Either way, I'm going to check it out. I'll stop by
and see you at work when I'm done. I should have some kind
of update for you then."
"Great. I'll see you a bit later, then."
Was there a note of more-than-businesslike anticipation in
her voice? Then again, given the jumble of his thoughts, it
could just be a projection of his own desires.
Salarber's Cut & Style was located in North Kansas City,
just a few miles from Nicolette's house. Before going in,
Heath studied the cars in the parking lot. Most likely the ones
in back were employees, and the ones near the front door
were customers. He jotted down the make, model and license
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plates of all of them, just in case. The person he was looking
for could be a customer or an employee. Or no one to do with
Salarber's at all.
The place was larger than Heath expected, especially when
he went inside and saw the rows of chairs at either end of the
long room beyond the lobby. The distasteful smell of perm
solution hung in the air. Don would have been horrified at the
thought of giving perms in his shop. His had been a two-
seater that only catered to men and still had a barber pole
outside.
Heath remembered the first time his father had taken him
there when he was eight. Heath had been thrilled when the
men included him in their conversation, and his dad showed
off Heath's knowledge of major league baseball by quizzing
him endlessly for the audience; the other barber, and two
customers, one getting a shave, the other waiting for a cut.
After that, Heath and his dad and his brothers made regular
visits, every four weeks to Don's shop. The guy talk and cigar
smoking made the King boys feel grown up, and it was a
highlight of Heath's childhood. Some of the men swore like
there weren't even kids in the room, although once in a while
they would mutter, "'Scuse my language." When he and Rudy
were twelve, Rudy started coming along too.
Heath cleared his throat and looked around for someone to
help him, before he got all misty about memories that were
as false as the breasts on the girl who approached, a friendly
smile on her too-pink lips. Her hair was multi-colored, pinks
and purples, and her shirt rose up, showing a belly button
ring. "Can I help you?"
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"I have an appointment at eleven-thirty."
"With?"
Heath shrugged. "No one in particular."
"First time, huh?" She smiled and touched her bottom lip
with her tongue, exposing a piercing. Heath cringed. Tongue
piercings always looked more painful than sexy to him,
although he'd heard how much better oral sex was when—
For God's sake. He reigned in his thoughts. Too long
without sex. Too much time around Nicolette. Bad
combination.
"First time here, yeah."
She frowned as she ran her long pink fingernail down a
sheet. While she was trying to perform a task that appeared
as difficult as unraveling the mysteries of life, a largely built
man with a protruding gut and frizzy, receding hair entered
the lobby area. "You the fella who said barber on the phone?"
Heath grinned. "Yes. That would be me."
"I'm Ted Welling, the owner." He looked at the girl. "I'll
take him, Gertrude."
Gertrude. Heath would not have guessed that.
Heath
followed Ted past rows of chairs, half of them filled,
and a few empty, with bored-looking stylists, some men,
some women, standing near them. One fussed with the items
that lay on a shelf beneath the mirror. Fussing wasn't a word
that usually came to Heath's mind, but with this particular
guy, that was the only word that fit. He was slender and
dressed all in bright blue shiny stuff with heavy Adam
Lambert makeup. His white-blonde hair lay to one side and
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hung over his ear, while the other ear—one with a dangling
silver earring—was left exposed.
Ted led Heath to a chair toward the back, and when he
was seated, Ted shook out a cape and secured it around
Heath's shoulders.
"How much you want off?" He grinned. "Or you just want
me to style it nice and purty?"
Heath grinned back. "I want it fairly short, but not
shaved."
"Got ya."
Ted picked up a pair of shears and got to work at the back
of Heath's head. As he did, he kept a running conversation
about everything from the shitty weather, to politics, to the
Chief's lousy franchise, to how bad it sucked to have to run a
business this way to make a living. "You know, it's all that
metro-sexual stuff. Guys these days want to look feminine.
Crazy thing. Young women seem to like it, though."
"Yeah. Guy who cut my hair most of my life ran a man's
man shop." Did that sound sexist? Maybe, but he needed to
segue into asking about Rudy, and no one who would care
was within hearing distance. No harm. No foul. "You know it?
Don's Barber Shop over on Barry Road?"
"Yeah. He retired, right?"
Heath nodded. "About a year and a half ago. I'd moved out
of state, but my buddy was still going to him. You might know
my friend. He started getting his hair cut here after Don
closed his shop. But he passed away back in January. His wife
recommended you."
"What's his name?"
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"Rudy Morgan. You know him?"
In the mirror, Heath saw Ted squint at the side of Heath's
head as he moved around to start on the hair there.
"Everyone around here knew him. In the news a lot. Big
philanthropist. I knew him because he sent a few people my
way. Mostly clients, but I hired a couple of his guys."
"Recovered drug addicts?"
"Yep. I figured if a guy like Rudy believed in them, who
was I not to give 'em a chance, you know?"
"How'd they work out? Any of them still with you?"
"Yeah. One was a gal. She's a real sweet thing. Does a
great job, too."
"So, are they here now? Which ones are they?"
Ted's hands stilled and he scowled. "Don't think I should
tell you that. Why you asking so many questions, anyway,
pal?"
Heath considered deceiving him but didn't see the point of
withholding the truth, at least not all of it. "I guess you heard
that Rudy's death is being investigated as a homicide?"
"Yeah. Cops have been in here a few times."
They would have gone over the phone records, too. Not
likely they'd come in to interrogate a victim's barber without
good reason. He wondered if they'd learned anything.
Whether they had or hadn't, it didn't mean Heath would.
Worth a shot, though.
"I was his best friend," Heath said. "I'm not a cop, but I
run a security firm in Oklahoma City. I'm here visiting family
for the holidays, and when I heard Rudy's death was
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suspicious I thought I'd do a little digging myself. I'd like to
find out what happened to my friend."
Ted continued to scowl but had paused in the process of
cutting Heath's hair. Heath could picture being thrown out
and having to hunt a place to finish the job, looking like a
freak with his half-cut hair. Finally, the shears started again,
and so did Ted's mouth.
"I don't know anything about how he was killed, and I'd
swear on a stack of Bibles no one here had anything to do
with it. I've got some oddballs around here but no killers."
Heath held his response when a young guy, wearing a
smock and listening to an iPod, came into earshot. At the
places where Heath usually got his hair cut, the barbers
always swept up their own hair. Business must be pretty good
if Ted was able to keep someone on just to clean up after the
stylists. Heath waited until the man and his broom moved
away.
"Not saying anyone here killed him. Just trying to learn as
much about him as I can. Hoping it leads me to some facts I
can share with the police that might solve his murder."
Ted nodded and the scowl disappeared. "My cousin was
killed when I was a kid. They never found her killer. She was
only sixteen. Hard thing to live with." He moved to the other
side of Heath's head, efficiently snipping as he spoke. "Don't
think you're going to find anything here, but I'll do whatever I
can to help."
"Even give me the names of the people you hired from
Renewed Hope?" As soon as he asked, he realized he could
get that info from Nic. Better to make a friend of Ted and not
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ask for more than he was willing to give. "Never mind. Tell
you what, how about you just tell me who Rudy's barber was.
If he had a regular."
Ted smiled. "There's that word again. Barber. Did you
figure out what the deal was with the shop's name?"
"The shop's name?"
"Yeah," Ted said. "Salarber's. Think about it."
Heath thought about it for a few seconds, then grinned.
"It's a combination of salon and barber?"
"That's right." Ted laughed. "Sort of my little inside joke.
You're pretty sharp to figure it out that quick. I think you'll
figure out what happened to your friend, too." He
straightened and pointed over Heath's shoulder. Heath
twisted and found Ted was indicating the shiny blue guy.
"Noah cut Rudy's hair."
"The guy with the white hair and blue clothes?"
Noah twisted a lock of hair in his fingers and stared at
himself coquettishly in the mirror.
"Yeah." Ted shook his head and sighed. "Doesn't look like
he's too busy. Soon as I'm done with your hair, you can talk
to him."
After Ted took Heath back up front so he could pay for his
haircut, Ted motioned for Noah, and the guy sauntered to the
lobby.
"This here's Heath King," Ted said. "He wants to talk to
you about Rudy Morgan."
Something fearful flashed in Noah's silver-blue eyes before
they grew wet with tears. "You're a friend of Rudy's?" Noah
asked as he shook hands with Heath.
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The guy's palm was damp. Nerv
ous? What reason did he
have to be nervous? Unless he had something to do with
blackmail, or maybe murder?
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Nine
Noah and Heath sat in the cushioned chairs of the lobby.
Heath studied the guy, who crossed and uncrossed his legs
repeatedly, then fiddled nervously with his hair.
Could he be a murderer? The guy just didn't seem the
type. But then, if there was a definite 'type' for all criminals,
solving crimes would be easy.
"I have a few questions, if you don't mind," Heath said.
"No. I don't mind." Noah's gaze darted nervously around
the lobby, and he checked his watch. "I hope this won't take
long. It's almost my lunch, and I'm meeting my girlfriend at
Cracker Barrel."
"Girlfriend?" Maybe he meant 'girlfriend' the same way a
girl meant girlfriend. Because if this guy wasn't gay, neither
was Elton John.
"Yes." He sat up straighter, seeming offended. "My
girlfriend. Ugh." He rolled his long-lashed eyes. "You thought
I was gay, didn't you?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that..." Heath held out a hand then let
it drop in his lap, at a loss for words.
Noah shrugged. "I get that all the time. I just like to
express my moods with my ensemble. Tomorrow, you might
come in and find me dressed like a construction worker."
Or under a construction worker. Heath cringed at his
stereotyping and lack of political correctness. He didn't give a
damn about this guy's sexual orientation or his wardrobe.
Time to get back on track.
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"How well did you know Rudy Morgan?"
Again, the eye-dart thing. A dubious suspicion came over
Heath. If this guy were bisexual—and Heath had a hard time
believing he was totally straight—did that mean that he and
Rudy...
Nah. No way. Heath was beginning to learn that his
lifelong friend had some secrets, but sex with men was
definitely not one of them. Heath needed to look at this in a
totally unbiased manner and not get tripped up in
appearances. Deal with the facts, only the facts.
"I've done his hair for, oh, I don't know..." Noah crossed
his legs and clamped his hands around his knees, then