Died Blonde (18 page)

“Hey, this is interesting. Wilda wasn’t acting alone.” She glanced up. “Be careful with that brush or you’ll damage your ends.”

“Yes, madame hairdresser.” Tally set her brush down on the dresser. “Should we barricade the door?” she asked, her silk pajamas rustling as she pointed toward it. “Ghosts may pass through walls, but people use doors.”

“I don’t believe it’s necessary. People who come here are looking for spiritual fulfillment, not thievery. These mediums probably help folks just by listening and providing a sympathetic ear, don’t you think? Anyone who’s lost a loved one wants reassurance they’ll meet again some day, so the psychics help with grief counseling.”

“Not to mention healing. It’s really what you believe in that counts,” Tally said to Marla’s surprise.

“In that regard, you can interpret the medium’s advice any way you want. They don’t give clear details because it might influence your actions.” She folded her legs Indian-style on the bed. “Back to Wilda’s origins. A Fort Lauderdale company hired her, pursued collections in her name, financed TV spots and an Internet site. The Federal Trade Commission entered the picture after several thousand consumer complaints. They accused the firm of making false promises of free psychic readings, deceptive billing practices, and abusive telemarketing techniques.”

Tally’s gaze reflected puzzlement. “Did they sue Wilda, or just the company that used her as a front?”

“The FTC just went after Titan Resources. They reached a settlement with the company, which canceled any outstanding bills and paid a fine. Meanwhile the state attorney general’s office filed suit against the firm plus Wilda. She ended up getting the case dismissed against her, claiming she was a victim as well. She wasn’t aware of all the activities the company propagated in her name.”

“Bullshit. She probably knew everything that was going on.”

“I’ll bet.” Marla mused over the pages. “I wonder who defended her. I can probably look up newspaper archives on my computer when we get home. This must have all happened before she moved South. From what Dalton told me, Wilda appears to run a respected business now.”

By the time they returned home on Monday, Marla was so eager to share her news with Dalton that she stopped by the police station after dropping Tally off. At two o’clock, she’d expected to find him in his office, but the front-desk receptionist told her he was out. Dialing his cell phone number, she blurted her news as soon as he answered.

“Whoa, hold on,” he said, “I can’t talk now. Will you be free for dinner later?”

“Yes, that works for me. Is everything okay with Brianna? Shall I pick up something to eat?”

“We’re all right. Why don’t we come to your house? I’m sure you have enough to do. Chicken or Chinese food?”

His thoughtfulness made warmth coil through her. “How about a stir-fry from the Chicken Kitchen?”

“You got it. I’m glad you’re back safely. We’ll discuss what you’ve dug up when I see you.”

After Marla retrieved Spooks from the kennel, she drove home, unpacked, then called her mother. Briefly, she recounted her experience with the psychic, leaving out the parts about her brother and any upcoming family ailments. “Do you really think Daddy was communicating with me?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“So where does that leave me in Carolyn’s case? If Wilda is pulling my leg, I don’t have to be involved.”

Anita clicked her tongue. “Your father advised you to follow the path to justice. Perhaps there was a portion of truth in what Wilda said.”

Exasperated, Marla raised a hand. “I give up. I might as well chase this thing through to the end.”

“How did Tally make out? Are her problems with Ken smoothed over?”

“Not exactly.” Marla squirmed on her study chair. “Tally’s reading with a psychic told her that troubled waters are ahead. She’ll have to make some important decisions to go after what she really wants.”

“Seems like we all have decisions to make regarding relationships. I have a date with Sam this weekend.”

“You’re kidding. He asked you out?”

“He finally got up the nerve. I kind of like the guy. He’s a lot quieter than Roger, but he has a sort of boyish charm.”

Marla wouldn’t describe Sam Levy that way, but perhaps he showed a different side to her mother. “Well, let me know where you’re going so I can keep tabs on you.”

Anita laughed. “Don’t you have our roles reversed?”

“That happens when you get older.”

“Have you checked on Aunt Polly since you’ve been back?”

“No, I’ll visit her soon. She’s letting her bills slide, and I want to get my name on her checking account so I can help pay them.”

“See if you can convince her to get some decent clothes. With Dalton and his daughter coming for Rosh Hashanah, I’d hate to be shamed by my own sister.”

“I’ll try, but she’s stubborn. How are Michael’s kids? Are they doing okay?”

“You call him,
bubula
. He’s your brother.”

Marla agreed and signed off. Delaying the obligatory call until later, she phoned the chiropractor’s office to schedule an appointment. Then she finally took a break to refresh herself, stuff down some chopped liver on Ritz crackers, and consult the computer for background information on Wilda Cleaver.

By the time Dalton came with Brianna at six-thirty, she had more information on the Fort Lauderdale company that had hired Wilda to play the part of Sequina the Seer. Hopping back and forth with excitement, she greeted them at the door and ushered them into the kitchen. Vail gave her a quick kiss before depositing a large paper bag on the counter. Brianna bent over to pet Spooks, leaping at her ankles.

“Did you know Wilda Cleaver lived in Cassadaga, where she got involved in a telemarketing scheme?” Marla began.

Vail’s hot gaze passed over her while his mouth curved in a lazy grin. “She ripped off thousands of customers with a phony psychic hot line, calling herself Sequina the Seer and charging two-fifty a minute.”

“You rat. Why didn’t you tell me about her background?” Marla clamped a hand on her hip.

“I didn’t want to influence your impressions. Besides, she seems to have come clean. Her clients rave about her in a manner that suggests she has some real talent.”

Marla pointed to the copied articles scattered on the table. “A man who works in the post office gave me those. Wilda isn’t welcome at the spiritual camp.” She helped him unpack their meals, her mouth watering at the aroma of garlic and onions.

“I’d hoped you would find out something new,” Vail admitted.

“Titan Resources was the company that collected unpaid bills from Wilda’s unsuspecting customers. They sponsored Sequina the Seer’s television commercials and Web site.” Marla laid out silverware, then put a two-liter bottle of ginger ale on the table along with glasses filled with ice. “The word Titan reminded me of something I’d seen in Peter McGraw’s office. I forgot about it until now. On his desk was an envelope with
lapetus
written across it. The lawyer saw me looking at the note and snatched it away. Guess what lapetus means?”

With a bemused look, Dalton played along. “What?”

“lapetus was one of the titans in Greek mythology and the father of Atlas. Don’t you see? This could mean there’s a connection between Peter McGraw and the European, Atlas Boyd.”

Too buoyed to eat, Marla watched Vail dig into his chicken and vegetables. Brianna ignored them both, chatting on her dad’s cell phone while she picked at her food.

“An attorney from Peter McGraw’s firm defended Wilda against the state,” Vail remarked, chewing with gusto. “McGraw owned a stake in Titan Resources. Assuming he’s the link to Atlas Boyd, how did Carolyn get involved?”

“Through Wilda, dork-face,” Brianna chipped in. The girl must be adept at multitasking, Marla reflected, if she could listen to two conversations at once. “Let’s work this out,” she said. “When Wilda lived in Cassadaga, she was approached by Peter McGraw, who offered her the chance to make much more money than she could bring in as a genuine medium. The postal clerk told me she grew up in the Bronx. As a butcher’s daughter, Wilda may have craved a more affluent lifestyle. She might even have regarded McGraw’s opportunity as ordained by the spirits.”

“Why take her? He could’ve established someone else in that role.” Vail regarded her from under his heavy brows.

“You have to admit Wilda has a certain flamboyant style. Moreover, there may be a statement of truth in what she tells people.” Falling silent, Marla lifted a forkful of buttery brown rice to her mouth.

“Oh? I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

“In Cassadaga I consulted a psychic who told me a lot about myself. I’m not sure how to interpret her reading, or if her advice is valid, but she seemed to share Wilda’s premonition about one of my family members. Anyway, I have a theory.”

“Go on.”

Marla glanced between father and daughter. It brightened her kitchen to have them both present. “My guess is McGraw hooked Wilda, who later became friends with Carolyn. Maybe Wilda mentioned to him that Carolyn was looking for investors.”

“Enter Atlas Boyd, a financier with money to spend in this country. Carolyn begins sponsoring French students at the beauty academy, who are later employed in her salon. I’ve suspected that much,” Vail let on, “but I don’t see what’s in it for Boyd.”

“Couldn’t you get any more information on him?”

“I’m waiting to hear back from the guys in Immigration. Seeing as how Peter McGraw’s practice includes that aspect, I smell a skunk. Seems to me they may all be wrapped up in some scheme together.”

“I can ask Claudia. Jeanine told me Carolyn was about to fire her. I meant to get back to her last week, but things piled up on me. I’d also like to see if her absences coincide with our landlord’s business trips.”

“Sorry if I messed up your schedule,” Brianna mumbled.

Marla touched her arm. “Oh no, honey, I wasn’t complaining about you. You know you’re more important to me than any of this stuff.” That was true, she realized in surprise. Her glance caught Vail’s, and she felt her insides turn to mush. Nothing else mattered when a child’s well-being was threatened. “I’ll talk to Claudia tomorrow. Maybe she can tell me if Carolyn’s friend Rosemary ever showed up in the salon. Rosemary captured the killer’s attention somehow. For all her rambling, I think the bingo player knew what was going down.”

Marla slipped into Hairstyle Heaven on Wednesday afternoon, having found little spare time the day before between work, taking Spooks for a grooming, and stocking up on groceries under the threat of another tropical storm. Squalls erupted with frequency during September, but thankfully none of them had yet hit home with hurricane force.

“Yo, Marla,” said Bunny, chewing on a piece of gum. The vapid receptionist, rifling through a
Salon News
magazine, gave her a cursory glance.

Marla’s gaze flickered beyond the front desk to the stations lined up like tanks on parade. Claudia waved from where she was doing foils on a yuppie patron. Jeanine, shaving a man’s nape, offered an acknowledging nod. Other operators hovered around their occupied chairs, applying coloring agents, moussing and spraying, and curling with hot irons. An unwanted image burgeoned in her mind: Wilda signing over the place to her. She’d expand her business to offer spa services and turn this into a center for massages, facials, and more. Affluent clients were always asking Marla where they could get a good herbal wrap. Think of the possibilities for broadening her horizons.

Think of the rent. Extra electric bills. Staffing problems. Added bookkeeping
. Yikes. She’d stick to styling and sleuthing.

Leaning across the counter, Marla lowered her voice to speak to Bunny. “I need your help,” she said. “Do you have a record of Claudia’s schedule? I’d like to get a sense of her days off. In case she decides to move on, you know, I may offer her a job. But I don’t want to step on Wilda’s toes, so please don’t say anything yet.”

Bunny gave her a conspiratorial wink, especially when Marla slid her a twenty-dollar bill in her closed palm. “It’ll take me a few minutes. How far back do you want to go?”

“The past couple of months will work. I’ll say hello to the girls in the meantime.”

Inquiring about their well-being, Marla determined that things were running smoothly, and that Wilda had even begun taking care of inventory. A wave of disappointment washed over her. She had truly hoped Wilda might move the location for the establishment. Fear struck her that Wilda still might sell it to Atlas Boyd, but when she mentioned that possibility to Claudia, the stylist negated that idea.

“Madame does not trust Monsieur Boyd. She said something about his stars being out of alignment, whatever that means. I cannot say what her plans are for us.”

“I’ll talk to her and see what I can learn,” Marla promised.
I’ll also find out why she insisted I must find Carolyn’s killer. Is it to throw suspicion off herself? Could this have been a plot with her former employer to gain control over the salon
?

Armed with the list Bunny had given her, Marla hustled back to her own place. Before her three o’clock appointment arrived, she dialed Vail’s cell phone. “I’d like to see if Claudia’s days off correspond with our landlord’s out-of-town trips. I got her schedule. Would you be able to look into it? I doubt Mr. Thomson would give me that information, nor do I want to show up at his house and ask his wife. You could do it as part of your investigation if I fax it to you.”

“All right,” his gruff voice answered, “but I can’t promise I’ll get to it today.”

Frowning, Marla studied a clump of dust on the storeroom floor. She should talk to the cleaning staff about doing a better job in there.

Cleaning staff! Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

“I’ll send you a copy,” she told Vail before cutting him off. Her fingers shaking with excitement, she punched the number for a janitorial service that was used by most of the stores in the shopping strip and had taken over cleaning duties for Carolyn’s salon.

“Hello,” Julio answered with a heavy Hispanic accent.

“Hi, it’s Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye salon.” She hesitated, wondering how to phrase her query. “I was thinking about that poor woman who died from the other beauty shop and what I could do to help her staff. When you cleaned Hairstyle Heaven, maybe you found things that weren’t easy to identify. You know, since I’m from a salon and all, I could tell what’s still useful.”

She heard Julio’s thoughtful sigh. “Anything important would have gone to the cops or the woman’s sister, senorita.”

“What about unimportant stuff? I suppose you threw out the trash. And besides, the police probably examined it.”

“Just one moment. I will contact Perez. He does their place.”

Marla tapped her fingers on the counter while she waited. Finally, Julio’s voice came back on line.

“There is one bag left. I should call the authorities.”

“They probably looked through everything before letting you into the place,” Marla said quickly. “Can I pick it up?” Maybe Vail had overlooked something that hadn’t held significance at the time. Her heart thudded. Things were finally starting to gel. Once this case was behind them, she and Vail could focus on their relationship.

Marla finished her last customer in record time, but it was too late. Julio’s office had closed. No matter; she’d stop by his workplace in the morning. Fulfilling her family obligations by visiting Aunt Polly, Marla convinced the elderly woman to set aside a date when they could go to the bank together to add Marla’s name on her checking account. Then Marla helped Polly fill out the application form for hurricane evacuation. Satisfied that her aunt had enough food in the refrigerator and no more unpaid bills lying around, Marla left.

Storm reports gripped her attention on the news that evening. Another system was churning toward the northeast and was expected to gather strength over open water. Drat, Marla didn’t want any delays now that they were getting close. Vail hadn’t spoken much about the investigation into Rosemary’s death. Maybe he didn’t want to reveal his findings until he connected the evidence to Carolyn’s case. What about the fingerprints he’d hoped to gain from Sam’s glass at their barbecue? Nothing must have come of it, or he’d have told her. Nevertheless, Marla called her mother anyway to inquire about their date.

“We’re going to brunch on Sunday, and then Sam wants to show me his house on the lake,” Anita said in her soothing tone. “He invited you along, but I declined. You have enough to do on your days off, although it was thoughtful of him.”

“Yes, it was. Did he say where he lives?”

“Not exactly, just that it’s east, and he’s worried about the weather. He joked that I may have to help him put up storm shutters.”

“You’ll have to cancel if it gets that bad.” A cascade of thunder sounded, followed by the splatter of rainfall on the roof. “This isn’t a good time to be near the coast.”

“Stop worrying,
bubula
. That’s my job.”

Not anymore
. “By the way, did you ever ask your friends about Dr. Hennings?” Marla had contemplated the various reasons why Carolyn might have had a hold on him. Could she have caught the chiropractor at income tax evasion? Prescription fraud? Faulty billing practices? Or something more personal, like he didn’t want patients to learn he was gay?

“Well, yes, now that you mention it,” Anita replied. “Two people I know had gone to Dr. Hennings for back problems. Their Medicare statements listed treatments they’d never had.”

“That’s great, Ma. I’ll talk to you later.” Now she had a bit of leverage she could use as a bluff.

Thursday morning, she stopped by the janitorial service to pick up the bag from Julio and drove on to the doctor’s office, where she had an early appointment.

As she entered the waiting room, Marla considered what to say. After her gaze swept the empty seats, she zoomed in on the receptionist. Voices drifted from an examination room: Dr. Hennings and a patient. She might have only a few minutes to question the girl behind the front desk.

“Hi, I’m Marla Shore. I have a nine o’clock appointment. Gee, the doctor must come in early if he’s already seeing someone. You know, I couldn’t remember when I was here last. I believe I was here on…” She mentioned the date Carolyn died.

The clerk made pleasant small talk while shuffling through their appointment calendar. “Here we go.” Her finger ran down the entries. “I don’t see your name. Are you sure this is the right day?”

Marla peered at the upside-down writing. “It appears Dr. Hennings was fully booked that Tuesday. I guess he doesn’t get many breaks, huh?” she said, smiling encouragingly. “Does he even leave for lunch?”

The girl’s mouth set in a thin line. “Dr. Hennings won’t leave the clinic when our schedule is full. If I recall, that day was so busy with walk-ins that he didn’t have time for meals.” Her eyes glittered. “Is there a particular reason why you want to know?”

“I’m just such a ditz-brain; I don’t remember my own schedule half the time. It doesn’t matter.” Waving her hand airily, Marla paced the room until her name was called, about ten minutes later.

She trotted after Dr. Hennings into an examination room, where he nudged the door shut and turned to face her. “So. What brings you back, Marla?”

“My neck is bothering me again.”

“I see,” he said, although his tone expressed disbelief.

While he palpated her vertebrae, Marla spoke in a casual voice. “It’s so sad about Carolyn. Do you know she confided in her friend Rosemary, who told me about their conversation? And now poor Rosemary is dead.”

His hands held her head, then he twisted with a crack. Marla cried out at the jolt.

“I thought Carolyn wasn’t that close with her bingo pal.”

“Oh? How do you know they played bingo together?”

“Carolyn told me things, too. Like how much you aggravated her.” Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he jerked her spine with another loud pop.

Reeling, Marla tried to concentrate. “Rosemary indicated you felt the same about Carolyn,” she said, turning to face him. “Was it because she found out about your scheme?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ever heard of Medicare fraud? It’s rampant in South Florida with all the senior citizens. Probably many of them don’t even read their statements to see if Medicare paid for treatments they never got. Doctors pad bills for tests and procedures all the time and hope that patients will file claim forms without checking them.”

“No doubt that’s true, but so what?”

“I’ve met several of your former patients who’ve said your charges were unjustified. Carolyn had proof, didn’t she?”

“You’re guessing.” He scowled but didn’t move toward her.

“Carolyn took advantage of people. I’m figuring she wanted to get paid to keep quiet, but you should know she kept records of every payment.”

“Even if you’re right, her bank receipts won’t point to me; I pay certain debts in cash.”

Maybe you got tired of paying. Carolyn died from a broken neck. With your expertise, that method would be a snap for you
. Marla glanced toward the treatment-room door that had drifted partially open. She heard voices coming from the reception area. Stepping nearer the exit, she said, “The authorities are looking into the background of everyone who knew Carolyn.”

His jaw twitched. “What’s your point?”

“She was murdered. Don’t you want to see her killer brought to justice?”

“I didn’t do it. That’s all the cops care about.”

“Oh, so you’re not worried about what they might find?”

“You mean how Carolyn discovered my creative billing techniques?” He shrugged as though it were inconsequential. “I could afford to pay her off. She even started referring patients to me.”

“That sounds like something Carolyn would do. How did she catch on?” Marla’s voice held praise, as though she admired her rival’s chutzpah.

He glanced away. “I billed her insurer for certain extra procedures. Carolyn came to me instead of notifying her insurance company.”

“I see.” Marla remembered a case on the news involving an orthopedic surgeon who bilked insurers for services he didn’t perform. He gave massages that he reported as prescribed neuromuscular therapy. Some of the massages had an additional therapeutic benefit, mainly the doctor’s, who took advantage of his female patients.

Dr. Hennings gripped her arm. “While I was relieved by Carolyn’s death because she couldn’t threaten my practice any further, her loss saddened me. I wouldn’t have harmed her.”

The sincerity in his eyes convinced Marla. “Detective Vail isn’t interested in chasing down insurance fraud,” she said, shaking him off, “but he will want to hear about Carolyn’s activities. Can you think of anyone else she might have roped the same way?”

At his negative answer, she took her leave, feeling she had achieved closure in terms of the chiropractor’s relationship with Carolyn. If the police wanted to follow up on his illegal activities, that was their prerogative.

Reaching her car, Marla took a peek inside the trash bag in her trunk and gave a snort of dismay. Nothing but old
Modern Salon
magazines. No wonder the cops passed up on them. Climbing into the Toyota, she glanced at the clock. Another half hour remained before her first customer. Claudia was supposed to be back at work, and Mr. Thomson should be in his office. Figuring Vail hadn’t had a chance yet to look into the latter’s activities, she decided to swing by his office.

“Hello, Marla,” the landlord said, greeting her from behind his desk. His drawn eyebrows indicated he wasn’t happy to see her. “It’s too early for you to be bringing the October rent.”

“I’m not here about my salon.” Sinking into a seat, she spoke rapidly before he could chase her out. “I was wondering if you knew what’s going to happen with Carolyn’s place. I spoke to Wilda, and she was considering moving its location closer to Miami. One of the girls told me that Atlas Boyd made her an offer, but she turned him down.”

Thomson’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you ask Miz Cleaver yourself?”

“I just thought you might have heard something. Did you know Wilda had a previous business association with Peter McGraw? He’s the attorney who handled Carolyn’s estate, and I also gathered he helped bring in the French girls who staff her shop.”

“Funny you should mention that.” Folding his hands on the desk, Thomson leaned forward. “I just got a call from some officials who said those people extended their limits in this country. Something about their visas being fraudulently obtained. I said I didn’t know anything about it.” Sweat beaded his brow. “Is this your way of causing me trouble?”