Died Blonde (13 page)

“Have you spoken to Thomson’s wife? She might be suspicious about any shenanigans going on.”

“She vouches for his fidelity, and I didn’t want to start trouble by suggesting otherwise. The women did say Thomson’s relationship with Carolyn went back to her first establishment.”

“That could explain why he let her into the shopping center despite my protests, unless he accommodated her for another reason.”

“Such as?”

“She had some kind of hold over him, like that chiropractor Rosemary mentioned. I should see Dr. Hennings again, find out what Carolyn discovered about him that he didn’t like.”

“Be careful. Snakes may hide under rocks you overturn.” A frown creased his face. “Mrs. Thomson mentioned that her husband takes a lot of trips out of town to assess properties for his management company. I don’t suppose Carolyn left her salon at those times, but I’ll check.”

“I can ask around if you let me know the dates.” Marla glanced at Brianna, who was listening with a resigned expression. The teen was accustomed to their discussing murder cases over meals. If Marla moved in, perhaps she should set rules for dinnertime. Family discussions only, no business. Besides, hadn’t Anita taught her not to disturb a man until he’d been fed? If she had
satchel
, she’d at least wait until Dalton finished eating before addressing sensitive topics. Speaking of her mother, they had to reschedule their barbecue.

“Next Monday is Labor Day. How about if we ask Anita and Sam for dinner then?” she said. “The holiday gives us a good excuse to have them over. My mother is dying to see your house.”
Especially after 1 told her how much I hate it
. Despite Marla’s intention of giving up the role of matchmaker, she had slipped into it again. But, she reasoned, having Sam present might mitigate Anita’s reaction to Dalton’s home. She could imagine her mother’s disapproval already, especially when she saw Pam’s angel figurines.

“That’ll work.” Reaching across the table, Vail patted her hand. “I wish you’d forget about fixing your mom with a date. She does well enough on her own.”

“Sam is such as sweet man, and I think he’s lonely. He hasn’t called her, so he’s probably too shy. If Ma likes him, she’ll take it from there, and Roger will be gone until after the Jewish holidays. We don’t have to worry about the competition at this point.”

Wearing a fond grin, Vail shook his head. “I should lock you up. Then you wouldn’t get into trouble.”

“What trouble? I got Arnie and Jill together, didn’t I? I’m just giving Ma alternate possibilities.”
Like Ma pushes Rogers son, Barry, on me. All right, so I’m getting even. She’II come around when she sees Dalton in his domestic role
.

She smiled as she regarded Vail’s food-splattered shirt. Poor guy; he needed a woman’s guidance. It warmed her to the core that he’d chosen her. That Brianna had come to rely on her advice as well was only the tip of the iceberg. Marla needed them just as much as they needed her, and she was finally beginning to accept that fact.

Dalton must’ve seen something in her expression because his eyes darkened to a sultry slate. Her pulse accelerated, and she held his gaze until Brianna coughed.

“Earth to Daddy. If you’re finished ogling Marla, you can help me with math.”

Raising his hands, he laughed. “Not me, muffin. I don’t do equations. Ask Marla. She does her own bookkeeping.”

Oh, joy
. Multitudes of evenings spent doing homework loomed in her future. But when she thought of the alternative, lonely nights where she could do what she pleased with no one to talk to except the dog, her answer came as a surprising affirmative.

“You get the dishes, and I’ll help with homework,” she told him. “Deal?”

“Did I ever tell you how you drive a hard bargain?” Shoving his chair back, he rose and crossed the room quickly to kiss her. Whistling, he grabbed their empty plates and proceeded to the dishwasher.

At home later that evening, Marla’s thoughts focused so exclusively on Vail that at first she missed the sealed envelope on her front stoop. After collecting her mail at the cluster box, parking in her garage, and walking around to the front lawn to remove a palm frond that had fallen in a recent thunderstorm, she noticed the item by her door. Shaking it off to remove wet leaves, she stared at the typewritten address. Her name and street number were correct, but the lack of a stamp and return address alarmed her.

Grasping the envelope by the corner, she took it inside and dropped it on her desk. She didn’t deal with it right away, instead letting Spooks into the backyard, removing the cell phone from her purse and plugging it into a charger, and plucking a sandwich bag from the pantry. Then she proceeded into the den, where she took a letter opener from her desk drawer, held the envelope with the plastic bag, and slit it open. A plain white paper fell onto her desk blotter. She stared at the stark typed words:

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

In the absence of clues as to who had sent the missive or why, Marla ventured a guess. Carolyn’s killer topped the list, although Marla realized she might have stirred more than one hornet’s nest. Certainly, return visits to most of the people she’d spoken to lately were in order to evaluate who might have perceived her inquiries as a threat, but time was getting short. The strengthening storm system could inhibit the investigation and disguise any number of foul deeds if it hit here. A fallen tree branch, or a blow to the head? A fire caused by downed power lines, or arson? Accident, or intent? Who, besides Dr. Hennings, had the knowledge or ability to kill a person by breaking their neck?

She hadn’t discussed the critical factors with Vail. In addition to considering the murder technique, who else could have gotten into the meter room with a key? Anyone from the shopping center plus the landlord. How about alibis? Where were Mr. Thomson, the sister, and the psychic? Did the chiropractor see patients that day? Was Mr. McGraw in his office? And don’t overlook disgruntled former employees or customers. Where were Zelda Reiss and Peg Krueger? Nor did she discount the mysterious Atlas Boyd. Vail hadn’t said much about him. In fact, he hadn’t told her nearly as much as she’d brought to the table. Next time she wouldn’t be so easily distracted by his charm. Not if she wanted answers before Hurricane Arlene charged for the coastline with savage fury.

Her glance fell on the typed note on her desk. What if the approaching storm represented an ominous portent? What if Wilda’s prediction hadn’t been meant for one of Marla’s friends or relatives?
What if it was meant for me
?

Work consumed Marla’s attention for the rest of the week to the extent she was unable to follow up on anything she’d promised Vail. With Hurricane Arlene bearing down on them, she’d moved their barbecue to Sunday. Newscasters predicted the storm would hit by Tuesday unless an eastward high-pressure ridge forced it out to sea. This saving grace was expected to dissipate, having no effect on tropical storm Bret churning in the first gale’s wake slowly toward the islands.

Tension mounted as hurricane supplies disappeared from the stores. Marla shopped early, making sure she had adequate bottled water, batteries, and canned foods. She decided she’d weather the storm at Vail’s house with Spooks if it became necessary. Meanwhile, they’d wait on bringing in his patio furniture until a hurricane warning was posted.

Friday she dropped off a bag of groceries at Aunt Polly’s apartment. The older lady scolded her for spending so much money and reassured Marla she’d be safe during a storm. At Anita’s urging, Marla offered to help her sign up for evacuation assistance through a program available to the elderly.

“I can take care of myself,” Polly snapped, flashing Marla a contemptuous look. “I’ll bet Anita put you up to this, didn’t she?” Polly shuffled into her living room wearing her customary ragged slippers and housecoat. “I don’t know why she hates me so much. She says I shame her, but I don’t do things when she orders me around. Is she that bossy to you?”

Marla swallowed. “My mother means well.” Hoping Polly wouldn’t notice, she advanced to the thermostat and turned on the cool air.

“I never see your father. Does he talk about me? Is he well?” Polly’s rheumy eyes snagged hers. “Your mother keeps him from me, I know it. She’s afraid he’ll agree with me.”

From the grave? I doubt it
. “I’ll take you to visit him. Our temple is holding a service at the cemetery next weekend.”

“What?” Polly peered at her intently, her wrinkled face marred with more crevices than an iceberg. “You’re going to serve me a cherry? I don’t eat cherries,
bubula
.”

Marla rolled her eyes. “I give up,” she muttered.

Accompanying Polly to the dining room table, she glanced at the papers strewn on its cloth-covered surface. Idly picking through them, she discovered empty envelopes from junk mail that Polly saved for recycling, expired grocery coupons, and an electric bill due two weeks ago. “Polly, have you paid this bill to FPL yet? And look, here’s a second notice from your homeowner’s insurance. You’ve missed the deadline for renewal.”

Polly waved an imperious hand. “I’ll get to them.”

Things are only going to get worse
. “I hope you’ll allow me to help you. Where’s your checkbook?”

Convincing Polly to accept her assistance took time, but Marla managed to fill out the checks and have her sign them. Then Marla readied them for the post office. “If we add my name to your checking account,” she said, “I can come in periodically to help you with the bills.” Not that she needed another chore, but Marla doubted Polly would accept aid from her mother. The alternative was to hire a caretaker, but they’d have to assess Polly’s assets to see what the older woman could afford.

She discussed the situation with her brother, Michael, on the telephone the following day. “Can’t you come down to keep watch on things?” Marla pleaded. “I have so little spare time.”

“I’m a half hour away in Boca. You’re closer,” his firm voice stated. “If you wouldn’t run around playing cops and robbers, you’d have more time for family.”

“Gee, thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“Leave the police work to your detective friend. Speaking of the fellow, it’s clear you’re stuck on him. When are you going to move forward in your relationship?”

Soon, bro, but you don’t have to know that yet
. “I’ve been burned before. I want to take things slowly this time.”

“Go any slower and you’ll have gray hair when you’re rolling down the aisle.”

“I thought of inviting him to our Rosh Hashanah dinner. Do you think the family would mind?”

“It’s a good opportunity to introduce him to the rest of our cousins, at least the South Florida contingent. Would it make him uncomfortable?”

“I already approached the subject, and he’s agreeable. If we’re to be together, we’ll have to respect each other’s traditions. Learning about them is the first step.”

“Ma would be horrified if you had a Christmas tree.”

I’ll deal with that when the time comes
. “We’ll work out some type of compromise. Anyway, Ma will be happy that I have someone to spend my life with.”

“So it’s that serious, huh? Have you made wedding plans? You could always honeymoon at our family reunion. Cynthia is planning a big bash in November for the entire extended family.”

“Oh? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to her? She’s looking into some hotel that Aunt Polly recommended.”

“Polly? What does she care? She can’t even understand what you say half the time.”

“She’s the one who put the bee in Cynthia’s bonnet.”

“Well, that’s interesting. I’ll talk to Ma about it. In the meantime, give my love to Charlene and the kids. See you soon.” Marla hung up, puzzled over Polly taking the initiative regarding a family reunion. It was true that she hadn’t seen their distant relatives in many years, but why now?

More pressing concerns drew Marla’s consideration on Sunday, when she had to prepare for the barbecue at Vail’s. Eager to get on with the day’s activities, she took her morning walk with Spooks outside her town house. The poodle tugged her along, stopping in front of Moss’s place. Their elderly neighbor stood in his driveway inspecting for damage from an earlier downpour. A few black olive tree branches lay on the sodden ground.

His face brightened at their approach. “Hey, mate, I’d been hoping to see you. Wanna read my latest poem?”

“Sure, Moss.” She smiled at him fondly. Spooks chewed on the grass while she waited for the retired carpenter to run inside his house and retrieve his work of art. Taking the paper he offered, she read the words aloud:

A storm came to a town named Arthur
,

Causing fright from floods and detours
.

Stay inside, said the advisories
,

Beware capricious winds and high seas
,

Ride it out with a stout while you’re indoors
.

“I sure hope it doesn’t come to this!” Marla replied, laughing. “How is your poetry class?”

“Doing well, thanks.” Moss shuffled his feet. “I submitted a few poems to a magazine.”

“That’s great. You may have a new career ahead of you.” After inquiring about his reclusive wife, Marla moved on.

Spooks had gotten his feet wet on the dewy grass, and she didn’t want him to track dirt into Vail’s house. She brought him inside to dry off. By the time she’d showered and changed, the poodle was ready for a quick brushing that restored his fluffy coat.

* * *

“Doesn’t he look cute,” Brianna said, letting Marla and Spooks into their house when they arrived at one o’clock. Her face freshly scrubbed, the teen had a towel wrapped around her wet hair. Inside, Marla released the dog’s leash, and he quickly bounded after Lucky, Vail’s golden retriever.

“Want me to do your hair?” Marla offered, putting down her purse on a foyer table. “You can help me unload my car first. I thought I’d make my barley casserole for a side dish.”

“Welcome, sweetcakes,” Vail said, approaching from the kitchen. “I thought you were coming earlier.” He’d tied an apron over his gunmetal gray shirt and black trousers. The colors brought out the silvery flecks in his eyes. His craggy face split into a grin as he surveyed her shorts outfit.

She warmed at his appreciative look. “I stopped at Macy’s. They had a sale, so I bought you a present for when you entertain on the patio.”

Vail cast his vote of approval for the French linen tablecloth and napkins, their vibrant colors contributing to a festive atmosphere along with citrus candles and blue-handled tableware. She grit her teeth when he brought out his late wife’s treasured plates. One of these days, they’d have to have a serious discussion about household possessions.

“Everything Pam owned was either depressing antiques or
tchotchkes
with flowers,” Marla complained to Anita when they found a moment alone, soon after her mother’s arrival. “I can’t stand it, especially those fruit pictures in the kitchen. You know what I think about still-life prints? If you’re still looking at them after a few minutes, you need to get a life.”

Ignoring Anita’s chuckle, Marla gave full vent to her resentment. “It’s not that I don’t respect the value of these things to Dalton, but I can’t live with them. They belong to another woman’s world.”

Anita tilted her head. “You’ll have to tell him how you feel, but only if you decide a permanent move is in order.”

“We’re talking about it.” She didn’t have time to say more because the doorbell rang, and Sam arrived.

Anita gave a cry of surprised pleasure, and Marla greeted him happily. Smiling shyly, Sam handed her a bottle of cabernet. “I-I appreciate the invitation,” he said. “It’s not often that I get out to socialize.”

“Come on, now,” Marla’s mother crooned, “I find that hard to believe. Surely a handsome gent like yourself can find plenty of ladies willing to show you the town.”

Sam grinned. “Maybe so, but not all of them display your zest for life.”

Taking the cue, Anita wrapped her arm in his and drew him toward the kitchen. Marla didn’t hear her response because they disappeared outside to the patio, while she remained in the kitchen to check on her casserole. She’d doubled the recipe for the barley, wild rice, and mushroom dish. It would go well with their steaks and asparagus. Checking the timer on the microwave, she saw it had about five more minutes to go.

“What do they want to drink?” Vail asked, putting the finishing touches on the salad.

Marla admired his tall form as he cut grape tomatoes in half before adding them to the wooden bowl. Stan had never liked to cook, regarding the kitchen as a woman’s domain. Nor had her ex-spouse helped with domestic chores the way Vail did. The detective almost seemed to find such tasks a release from the ugliness he viewed every day in his job.

“I didn’t: ask,” she replied. “Maybe I should bring out the lemonade.”

“Go ahead. I’m going to start the steaks.”

Carrying a pitcher frosty with condensation, Marla headed out to the patio. Without screening or a pool, it still would have been a pleasant backyard oasis if his orange trees hadn’t been destroyed. As she placed the lemonade on the outdoor counter, the germ of an idea sprang to mind. Maybe she could tempt him to move if she found an area where citrus trees still stood.

Anita appeared to be having an amiable conversation with Sam when she approached. “What can I get you to drink?” Marla offered. “We have wine, beer, or lemonade.”

“I’ll take the lemonade, thanks.” Anita took blood pressure medication that she didn’t like to mix with alcoholic beverages. Sam requested a beer. “Sam was just telling me about his business up North. Did you know he was in the garment industry? He lived in Brooklyn not far from where cousin Yakov moved.”

“I thought you had retired from the building business,” Marla said, certain that’s what he’d told her.

His face flushed. “I switched when there was a downswing and joined my brother, who was a builder.”

“And you built houses in New Jersey?” He’d given her the impression that he’d resided in the Garden State with his late wife.

“That’s right.”

“What was the name of your development company?”

“Oh, er, Brickman and Associates,” he said, staring at the ground. Marla followed his glance. Vail had replaced the original Chattahoochee surface with bricks. His orange trees would have provided shade, but now the flooring reflected the afternoon heat.

“I wonder if you put up any homes in Montclair. I love those mansions on Upper Mountain Avenue. We used to visit an uncle who lived in Caldwell, so we crossed through there on our way.” Marla watched for his reaction. From the way he shifted his gaze, she sensed his discomfort. Maybe he hadn’t done as well in his business as he liked people to believe.

“I-I’m not familiar with that area. We worked in a different section of the state,” he said. “But that’s water under the bridge now. I made myself a bundle so I could retire to Florida.”

“It’s too bad your wife couldn’t come with you,” Anita said sympathetically. “I understand how she’d want to stay up North to be near your son. And then she got sick. Such a shame.”

Son? Sam hadn’t said anything to Marla about having children. Before she could question him, he’d taken Anita’s hand. “What made you move to Florida?” he asked her mother in a gentle tone.

“Like everyone else, we couldn’t stand the cold winters anymore. Besides, I have a lot of relatives down here.”

“I’m sure they were glad to have you join them. Such a radiant flower would only wither in the snow.”

Give me a break
, Marla thought. She turned away, wondering where Sam’s shyness had gone. He didn’t seem to need any help getting into her mother’s good graces. In the kitchen, she got him a beer from the refrigerator. Pausing by the stove, she put the bottle down to stir the cooked mushrooms into her casserole. Dalton, having put the meat on the grill, returned to dish out their salads.

Marla considered telling him about the note she’d received at home earlier in the week, but she had decided to keep quiet about it. No sense in alarming him. He’d only warn her off the case, and she wanted to continue her interviews. So she bit back her confession and told him instead about her conversation with Sam. His alert expression piqued her interest, but then Brianna waltzed into the kitchen, interrupting them.

“When are we going to eat? I’m hungry.”

“Did you finish your homework?” Vail demanded.

Her ponytail swishing, the teen tugged on her tube top. “Not quite. Kathy and I were talking about what we’re going to wear tomorrow.”

“If you spent as much time on your schoolwork as you do on the telephone, you’d get straight As,” Vail said, looking to Marla for support.