Died Blonde (12 page)

Marla blinked. The landlord was a married man. Could he and Carolyn have been fooling around? Was that why she could afford the rent, because he made a special allowance in her case? Maybe Carolyn hadn’t needed to subsidize her payments through a benefactor, although that wouldn’t account for those foreign students at the academy. Unless someone else had brought them in for other purposes.

“Jeanine,” yelled Bunny from inside. “There is a person named Zelda Reiss asking for you on the phone. Can you take it? I’ve put her on hold.”

A scowl lit Jeanine’s face. “If that woman doesn’t leave me alone, I will sue her myself.” Scurrying inside, she threw her next comments over her shoulder at Marla who followed. “This customer rejoiced that poor Carolyn was gone.”

“Oh my. Why was that?”

“She tried to default on her bill. Carolyn filed a charge in small claims court against her. Wait here.”

Jeanine picked up the receiver. “I am sorry, madame, but just because Carolyn is absent does not mean your debt is erased. You still owe me for services rendered, and I doubt your appeal will overturn the judge’s verdict. If we do not receive your check as ordered, I will call her myself to report your noncompliance.”

Slamming down the phone, Jeanine turned to Marla to explain, but a delivery from Ace Beauty Company distracted her attention.

“Maybe I can smooth things over,” Marla offered, using the diversion to coax Bunny into giving her the customer’s contact information.

That accomplished, she reversed direction, intending to leave the shop, and collided into the solid chest of a large man whose slicked-back black hair sparked recognition.
Omigod, it’s Grease Man from the hardware store
, she realized, swinging back to note his European tailored suit and stern expression.

“Monsieur Boyd,” Claudia called, putting down her implements and rushing over.

“You’re Atlas Boyd?” Marla gazed at him in astonishment.

His dark eyes scoured her. “And you are?”

“Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye salon.”

“
Mais oui
, Carolyn’s competitor. Why are you here?”

Marla guessed he was French—from across the Atlantic, not Canada. “The girls asked for my help.”

Claudia, her face twisted with alarm, said quickly, “We just needed some guidance until Madame Cleaver took over. Everything is under control now, monsieur. Please come with me. All our records are in order as you requested.”

“He’s an investor in foreign properties,” Bunny told Marla as the pair strolled away. She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully. Having tweezed them into oblivion, they were drawn on her face like a caricature. “A good man to know, if you get my drift. Like, I hear he’s loaded.”

“Really?” Marla’s answering grin quickly shut down. What authority did Boyd possess that he could demand to see the accounting records? Had he provided Carolyn with the funds she needed to set up operation in Palm Haven?

“Excuse me,” she said, hurrying after him. “I’m sure you know there’s an investigation under way into Carolyn’s untimely demise. Have you spoken to Detective Vail?”

He turned slowly to face her. “I fail to see how that is any concern of yours.” From the set lines by his mouth, the man looked as though he’d never smiled in his life.

“Even though Carolyn was not my friend, I was upset by her death,” Marla said. “I’d like to see her case resolved.”

“So would I.”

When he said nothing else, continuing to scrutinize her as a manicurist might examine a hangnail, she blurted, “Her stylists came to me for assistance.”

Claudia’s eyes rounded. “Only because you were nearby and we felt lost without our patron. Now that Monsieur Boyd is—”

“I will be with you in a moment, Claudia,” Boyd snapped.

Getting the hint, the stylist retreated to her station.

“Are you a hairdresser?” Marla asked him, unable to comprehend his connection.

“
Moi
?” His startled reaction was almost comical.

“Why else would the girls want your help?”

His expression clouded. “They know I have their best interests at heart.”

“Why is that? How come they’re willing to show you the books? Aside from your friendship with Carolyn, just what is your interest in this salon, Mr. Boyd?”

His fists clenched. “I do not believe you have any right to question me, mademoiselle. Come in here again and I will bring charges for obstruction of business.”

“I doubt such a thing exists. Anyway, I thought Wilda Cleaver inherited this salon. Does she know you are here ordering her girls around?”

He stepped closer until they were face-to-face. She could smell his aftershave; it had a scent similar to expensive French perfume. “If I were you, I would be more concerned about those dear to me.”

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

He waved a well-groomed hand. A large diamond solitaire flashed on his pinky finger. “Consider this a friendly warning. I’ve heard from a reliable source that a person close to you may require medical attention, perhaps even yourself. Carolyn displeased someone enough to get herself killed. Be careful, or your employees may be the next ones mourning their boss lady.”

Too stunned by Atlas Boyd’s words to respond, Marla stalked out of Hairstyle Heaven while muttering under her breath. The audacity of the man! He’d made a veiled threat against her, and it implied he’d been in communication with Wilda. How else would he know about the psychic’s prediction?

She told Nicole about it while trimming her next customer’s hair. “The man obviously has some hold over those girls. I’ll have to tell Dalton about our conversation, but I don’t want to bother him now. He’s busy with a new case.”

Nicole smiled knowingly. “He relies on your insights.”

“I’d like to contact that customer Carolyn met in small claims court to see what she knows. A return visit to Mr. Thomson is also on order. Jeanine said he’d been seeing a lot of Carolyn lately. That could be how she was able to afford the rent.”

Nicole’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

“Exactly.” Releasing another section of her customer’s hair, Marla cut the ends at an angle.

“Have you listened to the weather report lately?” the customer piped in. The auburn-haired society matron had a charity luncheon the following day. “They say that storm is headed in our direction, and it’s predicted to pick up speed as well as reach hurricane force by tonight.”

“It’s still too early to forecast landfall,” Marla replied. “A high pressure ridge may yet turn it out to sea. Anyway, they say it may only get to be a Category One.”

“Bottled water is already disappearing from the shelves. You’d better stock up on supplies before we have a storm watch.”

“I’m not worried.”

“You should be,” Nicole interrupted. “We don’t want to have any more power outages.”

Marla gave her a shrewd glance. “Notice how the lights haven’t gone out since Carolyn died?”

“Uh huh. Have you reviewed our hurricane plan with Jennifer and Luis? They may not know where you keep the batteries and such. Just in case.”

“I should do that,” Marla said, lifting another shank of hair and snipping with practiced skill. Like many Floridians, she had lived through many storms, but most of them caused little damage. She’d been too far north to be affected by Hurricane Andrew, the first really major storm to hit southeast Florida since she’d moved there. Getting too complacent was the greater danger. What would Aunt Polly do? Did programs exist for the frail elderly? She’d have to ask Anita.

Meanwhile, she made an appointment with Carolyn’s former client, Zelda Reiss, who agreed to see her after work. They met at the Borders cafe on West Sunrise Boulevard near Sawgrass Mills Mall.

Nursing a mug of coffee, Marla regarded the woman seated across from her at the small table. Zelda’s shoulder-length mahogany hair, with a healthy sheen that showed careful grooming, hung straight to her back. The ends were neatly trimmed, unlike her thick eyebrows. In need of shaping, they perched over entrancing eyes with brown irises blending into gray. The dichotomy in color seemed reflected in her clothing style. While she wore a wrinkled blue shorts set, her selection of jewelry showed particular attention. Marla especially liked the gold tiger with emerald eyes sparkling on a pendant around her neck.

“I appreciate your meeting with me,” Marla began. “I’m from the other salon in the same shopping center as Carolyn Sutton’s establishment. The girls in there have asked for my help regarding management details, and I couldn’t help overhear something about a problem you were having with Jeanine. I thought I might be able to help.”

Zelda sipped her hot chocolate, then speared Marla with a glance. “I suppose Jeanine told you I didn’t pay her for the extensions and hair weave that cost several hundred dollars. I was going to a party and wanted to do something different. She worked on me for hours but neglected the finishing touches.”

After blowing on her steaming beverage, Marla drank carefully. She’d already burned her tongue once. “Why did you leave if Jeanine wasn’t done?”

“You don’t understand.” Zelda grimaced. “I worked there, but I wasn’t an employee.”

“You’re a hairdresser?”

“That’s right. I rented my chair, but I left because Carolyn gave me no respect. She acted as though I owed her my life and said bad things about me to my customers. When I decided to move on, she claimed I deserted her. Like she came in one day, and my stuff was gone. What obligation did I have to her?”

“Did you tell her you were unhappy? I can imagine why she’d be upset if you left suddenly without giving her any inclination of how you felt.” One of Marla’s manicurists had departed abruptly, and she couldn’t help feeling a sense of betrayal. It just wasn’t professional to run away from an unpleasant situation without trying to resolve things first. Then again, she’d been miserably unhappy working for Carolyn herself, and nothing she’d done had changed the situation. Perhaps Zelda had run up against the same wall.

“I meant to work at my sister’s place,” Zelda continued, staring at ink marks scarring the table surface. “When my sister relocated, I asked Carolyn if I could come back and do some clients there. This was before she returned to Palm Haven, you understand. Carolyn wrongly assumed I planned to stay.”

“So what led to your disagreement with Jeanine?”

“I asked for extensions for an upcoming holiday party. Jeanine said she’d do it, and it would cost six hundred fifty dollars. But Carolyn said they’d only charge me ninety dollars for the cost of the hair if I would advertise the salon. You know, go around and let people admire my hair and hand out her business cards.”

“But you said Jeanine never finished the job.”

Zelda nodded vigorously. “She did my extensions almost to the crown but left out the cover layer. I needed more hair on the top of my head.”

“And how long did this take?”

“Several hours. Carolyn accused me of not keeping to my part of the bargain. I said I’d act as her model, but she expected me to continue working in the salon, and that was never my intention. So she charged me for the labor. I stopped payment on my credit card, and Carolyn filed suit to get the money she said I owed her.”

“What did the judge say?”

“She awarded four hundred fifty dollars to Carolyn as fair cost of the services rendered. It’s not fair; my hairdo wasn’t finished. She has no right to that money.”

“Doesn’t Jeanine get it now? She’s the one who did your hair. Or does she work on a commission basis?”

“I don’t know what Carolyn’s arrangement was with those other girls.” Zelda leaned forward, elbow on the table. “If you ask me, something strange is going on there. I can’t believe Carolyn left her salon to that voodoo lady. She was very superstitious, you know. Followed the woman’s instructions to a tee. My attorney agreed there was something peculiar about Carolyn’s financial affairs.”

“Oh?”

“At first, I wondered if that guru had loaned Carolyn money to open the new salon, but when my lawyer checked into things, he learned Carolyn had some unexplained sources of income.”

“Like a silent partner other than Wilda?”

“Not quite. Carolyn was the sole proprietor. I think she used the money to supplement her payments, you know, for rent and overhead expenses.”

“She subsidized students at the Sunrise beauty academy.”

Zelda jabbed a finger in the air. “Then she employed them when they graduated. I never understood why, but maybe it was her obligation in return for the funding.”

“Hmm, you may have a point. Did you ever encounter Atlas Boyd? He speaks with an accent and seems to lord it over those French girls. I met him at Hairstyle Heaven this morning.”

“I’d seen him once or twice, but not as frequently as Dennis Thomson, the landlord.”

“I heard he came by her place often. Were Mr. Thomson and Carolyn having an affair?” Marla asked bluntly.

Zelda shrugged, returning her attention to the cup of hot chocolate. “If they were, it didn’t affect me any. All I wanted was my hair done that day, and I got scalped. Four hundred fifty dollars, and Jeanine didn’t even complete the job. Carolyn was a real bitch to work for, but then I don’t have to tell you that, do I? She hated your guts, and I joined her blacklist when I left. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of her affairs. Someone wanted her dead. Maybe it was another customer unhappy about her hair like me!”

“Do you really think that?”

Zelda gave a harsh laugh. “Talk to her sister. I met Linda Hall at a women’s club meeting, and she recommended me to Carolyn. I don’t know why, when there was no love lost between them. Two more diverse personalities, you’ve never seen. Linda’s more the quiet sort, while Carolyn could talk up a storm.”

“Linda told me Carolyn was jealous of her because she stayed home and raised a family, but Carolyn’s friend Rosemary said it was the other way around. Linda was jealous of Carolyn, who owned a salon and had an independent career.”

Zelda tilted her head. “I’d be more inclined to believe the friend. Linda seemed to be riding on Carolyn’s coattails when she recommended her sister as a hairdresser. She must’ve been really pissed off when Carolyn connected with that psychic.”

“Sometimes siblings don’t get along as well as friends,” Marla said, thinking of Anita and Polly.

“Yeah, well, I guess Carolyn pissed off a lot of people. That detective must have his hands full trying to determine who killed her.”

Wondering if Vail or his deputies were making any progress on Carolyn’s case, Marla swung by his house on the way home. He greeted her at the door with a welcoming smile and a hug.

“We’re just starting dinner,” he said, reluctant to disengage their embrace. She warmed to the affection in his eyes as he stood holding her. “Join us; we’re having my famous lasagne.”

“I was going to call but decided to stop over,” she explained. She rubbed up against him, enjoying his spicy scent. Lifting her mouth, she invited a kiss. “How did Brianna do today at school?” she asked after he obliged in a manner that left her breathless.

“She’s already complaining about having homework.”

“I heard that,” Brie snapped as they entered the kitchen arm-in-arm. “Hi, Marla. Whassup?”

“I have some news. I spoke to Zelda Reiss, one of Carolyn’s clients. They had a disagreement that ended up in court.”

Vail took a plate from a cabinet and ladled out a portion of lasagne dripping with tomato sauce. “I interviewed her,” he commented. “She didn’t tell me much I hadn’t already found out. You?”

“I would agree that she didn’t bear a grudge enough to commit murder,” Marla commented. “I was hoping to learn something else from her that would shed new light on the investigation.” She repeated the gist of their conversation, refusing his offer of beer but accepting a glass of merlot.

“Listen,” Brianna said, pointing to the television while they claimed seats at the table.

“September is the most active month for tropical storms to form,” the meteorologist on the news was saying. He pointed to a colorful map of the Atlantic and Caribbean basins. “On the average, we have three named storms in this month alone.”

Marla’s mind wandered. She’d heard this recitation every year and knew the categories by heart. Who wouldn’t when even the supermarkets pushed hurricane guides every summer? Weather systems became tropical depressions when they rotated with wind speeds up to 39 mph. They got named as tropical storms when the circulation became more distinct, with wind speeds up to 74 mph. From experience, she understood these systems could bring heavy rains and gusty winds with local flooding. Once the wind speed reached 74 mph, the storm became a hurricane. Arlene looked as if she might surprise everyone. The circular clouds appeared to be aiming for Florida’s east coast, and there was another disturbance right behind the first hurricane of the season.

“Arlene dropped several inches of rain on Barbados, where it uprooted trees and blew roofs off homes,” the weatherman said. “It downed power lines in St. Vincent and will probably gain strength as it crosses open water.”

Rattling off the latitude and longitude, the meteorologist segued into a recitation of hurricane preparedness. Marla always thought the newscasters loved hurricane season because it gave them something exciting to report. You heard talks of how to stock up on supplies ad nauseum. She’d rather think about all the questions to ask Vail regarding Carolyn’s case.

“So tell me how your classes went today,” she said to Brianna.

The girl gave her a pained look. “School sucks. I mean, it’s good to see my friends again, but having all this work to do? Maybe there will be a hurricane warning so we can get a few days off. This is September first. It’s the height of the monsoon season. Kids up north get snow days. We deserve storm days.”

“No way; I don’t need to lose the business at my salon. Besides, you were getting bored. Once your dance classes resume after Labor Day, you’ll have plenty to keep you occupied. So, Dalton, what’s new?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m working with immigration to check into a few irregularities. There’s some funny business going on between McGraw and those French girls, but that’s not my sphere of expertise. I’m not sure what role Carolyn played, either.”

“How about Atlas Boyd? He stormed into her salon this morning and demanded to see the bookkeeping records. It appears he’s a foreign investor. Claudia couldn’t move fast enough to oblige him. I wondered if he might have been Carolyn’s silent partner, but Zelda assured me that Carolyn was sole proprietor of Hairstyle Heaven. Still, Zelda said Carolyn got income from somewhere. I understand she’d been seeing a lot of the landlord, if that means anything.”

“Thomson showed me his invoices and receipts for rentals,” Vail replied. “Sutton made her payments on time; he didn’t give her any breaks from what I could tell.”

Marla swallowed a mouthful of pasta with tangy sauce. “There goes my theory about them having an affair.”

“Not necessarily. It’s possible he keeps a second set of books, but I haven’t been able to unearth anything yet.”

“You mean he claimed to receive the full amount for her monthly rental, but maybe he didn’t?”

“It happens. How many corporations keep crooked records? Why not a property manager who doesn’t want his favoritism exposed?”