Better Off Wed (8 page)

I stood inside the expansive marble foyer of the Pierce home and tried to stop myself from gaping. “I can't believe I'm saying this, Kate. For once, you're dressed appropriately.”

A woman wearing a tight suede pantsuit edged by us, followed by a tall redhead in a black halter dress cut down to her navel. Could anyone ever pass the cleavage test in that dress?

“Wakes sure have changed a lot.” Kate stepped out of the way of one of the many waiters bustling around the house.

“Welcome, ladies.” A statuesque blonde in a pink silk-shantung suit approached us, beaming from ear to ear. From her accent, I placed her firmly below the Mason-Dixon line. “I'm Bev Tripton. Clara's best friend in the whole wide world.”

So this was the best friend.

“Annabelle and Kate.” I extended my hand and she
gave me the tips of her fingers to shake. “We worked with Mrs. Pierce on Elizabeth's wedding.”

Bev grabbed me by the shoulders. “Wedding Belles, right? Precious name.”

“We don't mean to interrupt anything.” I noticed a string quartet playing in the corner. “We just stopped by to pay our condolences to Dr. Pierce.”

“Well, that's just about the sweetest thing I've ever heard.” Bev pulled me forward by the elbow. “You must join us, girls. We're celebrating Clara's life. No sense in getting bogged down in sadness, right?”

“I guess not.” I motioned for Kate to follow as Bev led me into the sunken living room. The house looked totally different from what I remembered. The pale peach couches had been removed and people sat at cocktail tables covered in red crushed velvet. A bar stood in the corner, and most of the men were gathered there. I spotted Dr. Pierce with a drink in one hand. He didn't seem distraught for a man whose wife had just died. The oversized green martini didn't help his case.

“Clara loved a good party, so I said to myself, ‘Bev, what better way to honor her memory than to have a huge blowout?'”

“I won't forget it anytime soon,” Kate said quietly enough so only I heard.

“Help yourself to the food stations.” Bev stepped away, still smiling. “But don't spoil your appetite. The cherries jubilee display gets wheeled out in twenty minutes.”

Kate linked her arm through mine. “So, what's our strategy? Should we hit the raw bar first or the risotto station?”

“We're not here to eat, Kate. We're supposed to be getting information.”

“We just got some valuable information. Her friends hated her even more than we did.”

“This is some party, isn't it?” I blinked twice as I spotted an ice sculpture of a mermaid rising like Venus out of the center of the raw bar. “Maybe Bev was being sincere and this really is a tribute to…Is that a contortionist?”

We craned our necks to see a leotard-clad performer hop through the room with one leg hooked around his neck.

“Did Bev rent the cast of Cirque du Soleil?” Kate took two glasses of champagne from a waiter and handed one to me. “She only sounds sincere because she's Southern. Believe me, this is no tribute.”

“After overhearing those people at Richard's party, I knew a lot of people didn't like her,” I said in shock. “But you'd think that at least her best friend and her husband would be a little more discreet with their feelings.”

“Speaking of being more discreet.” Kate nudged me hard and sloshed a bit of champagne on my sleeve. “Look over there.”

I followed Kate's gaze and watched Bev nuzzle up to Dr. Pierce, then whisper something in his ear. He laughed and slipped an arm low around her waist.

“The husband and the best friend.” I put my glass down on an end table. “So those women at the party were right.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “This isn't a new thing. They're way too comfortable with each other.”

“Are you sure?”

Kate crossed her arms and stared at me.

“Okay, I forgot.” I threw up my hands. “You're the expert.”

“I wonder how long they've been having an affair under Clara's nose.”

“This must be what the Pierces were fighting about. I find it hard to believe that Mrs. Pierce didn't put a stop to this.”

“Unless she died before she got the chance.” A look of panic crossed Kate's face. “Hurry, there's a mime heading our way.”

“I can't move.” I pointed to the wall of people blocking the path to the foyer. An opening began to appear. Too late. The mime materialized in front of us, and began furtive attempts to free himself from an imaginary box. I hated mimes. Kate elbowed her way through the crowd, and I followed close behind, escaping the silent performer still trapped in his box.

“Dr. Pierce had a pretty strong motive to kill his wife,” Kate said as we made our way to the door.

“It could've been Bev. A rich doctor is a good catch for her.”

“If Bev is twisted enough to throw a party like this when her best friend dies, she's twisted enough to commit murder,” Kate said. “Where there's smoke, there's a liar.”

I didn't correct her. In this case, it seemed to work.

“If we can find out more about the affair between Bev and Dr. Pierce, we'll be one step closer to figuring out who had motive enough to kill our client.” I ducked as a stilt-walker stepped over me. “And I know exactly who can give us the dirt.”

“Who?” Kate paused with one hand on the doorknob.

“Who's been doing the hair of every rich society lady for the past ten years, including Mrs. Pierce?”

“Why didn't I think of him first?” Kate exclaimed as she pulled open the front door. “I guess this means we aren't staying for the cherries jubilee?”

I rolled my eyes and gave Kate a push out the door. “Let's go talk to Fern.”

Fern stopped in midsnip as Kate and I walked into his Georgetown salon. “I don't believe my eyes.”

He must have been finishing up the last client of the day because the salon was otherwise empty. The narrow shop always reminded me of a palace rather than a beauty parlor. Instead of the usual wall of mirrors, each of the three stylists had an ornate, gold mirror in front of his chair with a towering, carved wooden credenza to hold their supplies. This is what the “Cut and Curl” at Versailles must have looked like.

“Girls! I wondered how long you would go between appointments.” He rushed over and embraced me, taking a handful of my hair and examining the split ends. He turned to hug Kate, and then pulled the top of her head to within an inch of his face. “I hope you don't tell people that I do your hair.”

I smiled to the client, who tapped her watch. “Fern, we're not here about our hair. We just wanted to talk.”

“Wait just a second.” He returned to his client, analyzed her haircut from all angles, then pulled off her smock with a flourish and tipped her out of his chair. I watched in amazement. Fern's ability to stay pristine while cutting and coloring has always baffled me. I've never seen him with a single hair on him. As usual, he wore his own dark hair smoothed back, with not a strand out of place. The only flash of color in his all-black ensemble came from an enormous topaz ring on his right hand.

After the customer had left, Fern patted the seats of two shampoo chairs. “Okay, let's fix these disasters.”

I brushed away a hair that had landed on my jacket. “Like I said, we're just here to catch up on our gossip.”

“Besides, we don't have appointments,” Kate said.

“We'll make a deal.” Fern pulled two fluffy beige towels down from a shelf. “You let me fix your hair and save my reputation, and I'll tell you anything you want to know. After all the brides you've sent me, a little trim is nothing.”

I looked at the clock on the wall. Five o'clock. Well, I didn't have any plans for the evening.

“Fine with me.” I shrugged, taking the black smock he handed me and surrendering my suit jacket. “How about you, Kate?”

She lowered herself into a chair and winked at Fern. “As long as I can be out by seven. Hot date.”

“When I'm done with you, your date won't be able to keep his hands off you.” Fern gave Kate a knowing look and motioned for me to sit in the chair next to her.

Kate rubbed her hands together. “Work your magic.”

“If you're good, I'll tell you a secret to drive your
date wild.” Fern winked. Getting some rather questionable advice on men came with all of Fern's haircuts.

“It's like gasoline to a flame.” I groaned as I sat down and let Fern push my head back into a black basin. He stood between Kate and me, and turned on the water for both of us.

“Too hot?”

I shook my head as he wrapped a towel around my neck and began massaging my scalp with his fingers. “Did you hear what happened to Mrs. Pierce, Fern?”

“Don't remind me.” He stopped massaging my head and shuddered.

“I'm not sure why you're upset,” Kate said. “I'm the one who fell on top of her dead body.”

“Who do you think has to do her hair for the funeral?” He turned away from me and started rubbing Kate's head vigorously.

“You're kidding.” I sat up halfway in my chair. Fern pushed me back down with one hand.

“Well, I did the woman's hair for almost ten years. They want to make sure she looks good for the viewing.”

I wiped some water out of my eye. “Is this something you normally do?”

“The older my clients get, the more time I spend at the funeral home working on dead heads.” Fern wasn't known for sugarcoating his words. “I should open a second salon there.”

“Who called you about doing her hair?” Kate asked.

“Her best friend, Beverly. They've both been coming to me for years.”

“Really?” I started to sit up again, but Fern had a
hand on my head. He pumped some shampoo onto my hair, and I heard him doing the same to Kate.

“They were in the salon just a few days before the wedding. This is the mango and chamomile blend to invigorate the scalp. They wanted me to hide their roots.”

“I guess they're not natural blondes?” Kate didn't sound surprised. We had watched the women who came out of Fern's salon get blonder by the year.

“Half the ‘natural' blondes in this town are my work. Now I'm putting on a coconut and papaya conditioner.”

“You're making me hungry. Annabelle wouldn't let me eat a thing today.”

I ignored Kate's whining. “So then Mrs. Pierce and Bev were getting along the last time you saw them together?”

“Of course.” Fern rinsed my hair with a burst of freezing cold water. “This will make your hair shine.”

“Had either one started acting strange recently?” I tried to dance around my real question.

Fern squeezed my hair and twisted it up into a towel. “Not that I noticed. Why all the questions?”

“For God's sake, Annabelle.” Kate sat up, holding her towel around her head. “She's wants to know if Clara knew that her husband and Bev were having an affair.”

“Oh, is that what you're asking?” He pushed us up with a finger on our backs and guided us to two plush red stylist chairs. “She knew about the affair for ages. I thought you were hinting at something big.”

“You don't call that big?” I stared at Fern as he towel-dried my hair with one hand and Kate's with the other.

“You have to understand these society tramps.” Fern held up a long, wet strand of my hair.

I tried not to let my mouth fall open. I had never gotten used to the way Fern referred so casually to his clients.

“I just tell it like it is,” Fern smiled at my surprised look. If I called my clients tramps, I'd be fired. Fern managed to insult people with a big smile on his face and get tips for it. “I think we should do soft layers around your face and get rid of this ridiculous blunt cut.”

I tried to sound nonchalant. “As long as I can still pull it up.”

“What's the point of having a fabulous haircut if you always wear it in the ponytail?” He started cutting. I closed one eye.

Kate swiveled her chair around to face Fern. “I don't get it. Didn't having an affair with Dr. Pierce give Bev the leg up on Clara?”

“So to speak?” Fern elbowed Kate. “That's not the way Clara saw it. See how these layers frame your face, Annabelle? I don't suppose you'll let me do highlights, too?”

“Don't push it.”

“Clara got bored with her husband.” Fern measured two sections of hair along my jawbone. “She only married him to get back at her ex, anyway.”

“This is getting juicy.” Kate rubbed her hands together.

“Dr. Pierce and Dr. Harriman were best friends about seven or eight years ago, girls. Clara found out her husband…”

“Dr. Harriman at the time, right?” I asked.

Fern bobbed his head up and down. “He cheated on Clara with one of his nurses. Huge scandal.”

“That must have burned her up.” I brushed a pile of wet hair clippings off my lap. “Especially since she's so into people's status in society.”

“She wanted revenge.” Fern ran a hand through my hair and gave an approving nod. He turned to Kate. “What's the best way to get even with a cheating husband? Have an affair with his best friend, Clara thought.”

“I hope you didn't give her that advice,” I said.

Fern put a hand on his hip. “I would never meddle in someone's personal life. Anyway, that's not the best way to punish a cheating man.”

I didn't wait to hear Fern's way. “She did more than have an affair with him, though. She married him.”

Fern shrugged. “Clara could overdo it sometimes.”

“You don't have to tell us about Mrs. Pierce going overboard.” I ran a hand through my hair. I'd have to remember to check the scale later. I'd probably lost at least a pound in hair weight.

“By the time Clara finished getting revenge, she'd married a nice doctor. But that was it.” Fern flipped Kate's head forward.

“What do you mean?” I took off my smock and shook the hairs into a gold trash can by my feet.

“Clara loved money, glamour, and power. Her new husband had money, but nothing else that mattered to her. After a while she got bored and just ignored him. I'm going to angle the sides to give you movement, Kate.”

“Poor Dr. Pierce.” Kate peeked out from under her long bangs. “No wonder he had an affair with Bev.”

“Who could blame him?” Fern held a section of Kate's hair up and measured it with a shining, gold comb.

“He certainly had a motive for murder,” I said.

“There are two things I know, girls. Hair and men. That man didn't have the guts to kill her.”

“What about Bev?” I sat back down in my chair and spun around. “Could she have killed her best friend?”

He brushed the back of Kate's neck with a fluffy brush. “I wouldn't put the murder past her, but why bother? Clara knew about the affair with her husband and didn't care.”

“I'm still not quite clear on why she didn't care.” Kate examined the back of her hair with the gilded hand mirror Fern handed her.

“Simple. She had her own little fling to distract her.”

I nearly fell off my chair. “Someone was willing to have an affair with that witch?”

“You didn't know?” Fern seemed gleeful. “With the president's top economic advisor.”

“Do you mean the one who's on the news a lot?” I could hear my voice begin to shake.

“She's the kind of woman who likes to trade up,” Fern nodded, and then pulled out a blow dryer with a long nozzle. “You know the one, right? He's got just enough gray at the temples to look honest. Boyd, I think.”

“William Boyd.” Kate met my eyes in the mirror. “Oh, we know him all right.”

I could feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “We were just hired a few weeks ago to plan his daughter's wedding.”