Died Blonde (19 page)

“Excuse me?” Marla sat up straight. “You’re the one who let Carolyn into the shopping strip, knowing the competition would hurt me. I don’t know why you dislike me so much. You almost ran me out of here by accepting Stan’s offer when he tried to outbid my lease. He’d aligned himself with Carolyn then, but when my former husband failed to derail me, you let Carolyn in anyway. How much did she bribe you?”

Thomson wouldn’t meet her penetrating gaze. “She didn’t have the money.”

“No? Then who did? Or were you seduced into agreement?”

He clenched his fists. “I knew this would get me in hot water. If only Alice would stop comparing me to her brother.”

“What?”

“My wife. All she does is tell me how great Eric looks because he dyes his hair and works out at a health club. Like she’s not happy with me the way I am.” He glared at her. “Why else do you think I started seeing Carolyn?”

“You tell me.” She’d never glimpsed this view of her landlord before. He rarely talked about his family.

Pointing to his white dress shirt, he said, “I have a dandruff problem. It’s embarrassing, and Carolyn was helping me with treatments. When Mr. Boyd offered me a generous down payment for her to occupy our vacant space, I couldn’t refuse. She was lucky to have found someone to back her. Carolyn wasn’t the ogre you make her out to be.”

“We had our personal differences, but that doesn’t get around the fact that you knew having two salons in the same location would be harmful to me. I run a good business, and I’ve always been on time with rental payments. Doesn’t customer loyalty mean anything to you?”

He shrugged. “Having a high occupancy rate means more to the developers.”

“All right, then,” Marla said spitefully. “What about Claudia?”

He gave her a startled look. “What about her?”

“If she’s one of those illegal visa holders, you’ll have to end your affair, won’t you?” When his mouth gaped, she added, “I asked Detective Vail to check the dates of your out-of-town business trips against Claudia’s days off. I thought there might be a correlation.”

His skin paled. “Alice can’t find out. You’ll tell the detective not to talk to her, won’t you?”

Marla smirked. “It might be too late, but I’ll try, especially if you make an effort to move Carolyn’s salon away from here.” Truthfully, she’d already gotten used to the place, and it no longer impacted her business. With Carolyn’s nasty pranks ended, Marla had become busier than ever.

Rising, she smoothed her skirt. “One more thing. Do you think Claudia had anything to do with Carolyn’s death? A little birdie told me Carolyn planned to fire her.”

Thomson stood, his full height not much above Marla’s five feet six inches. “Claudia’s guilty of many things, but not killing her boss.”

“Is that because you did it?”

“Huh?”

“Wilda told me you had combat experience in the Marines. You’d know how to get rid of someone silently.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Did you murder her because she discovered your affair with Claudia? Or were you afraid of being implicated regarding the immigrants she employed without proper documentation?”

“Maybe you should pose the same questions to Atlas Boyd.”

“That man certainly throws his weight around the salon. His influence over Carolyn must have been considerable.”

“Perhaps she intended to pull out from whatever agreement they had, and he didn’t like that idea,” Thomson suggested.

“You may have a point.” The European seemed the type who expected obedience from his underlings. How would he have felt if he financed Carolyn, then she turned her back on him?

Rounding his desk, Thomson stopped in front of her. “Look, I’m sorry we haven’t always gotten along. You’re right in that you’ve been a good tenant. You’ll keep quiet to Alice, and I’ll see what I can do for you in return, okay?”

“I don’t blackmail people, Mr. Thomson. I’ll share what I know with Detective Vail, but I can’t see any reason to involve your wife.”

Returning to her establishment, Marla got caught up in her duties until closing. As she was leaving, she spied Sam hurrying toward her along the pavement.

“Hey, Marla,” the wiry fellow said, ruffling his silvery hair with one hand. “I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hello. Your mom tells me you won’t be able to join us this weekend.”

“No, I’m sorry, I have too much to do.”

“How about Brianna? Would she like some relief from her homework?”

Marla gave him an odd look. What made him think the teenager would prefer the company of an older couple to her friends? “I’ll ask, but I wouldn’t count on it. Ma said you’re taking her to see your house. I don’t remember where you said you lived.”

Sam grinned, waving a hand. “It’s a private community.” He watched a pair of young women drive past. “Check with the kid, will you? She’d have a good time. I’ve a boat on the lake.”

“Sure. But where…?” Her skirt whipped about her legs. “It’s rather breezy, isn’t it?” she asked, distracted by the gusty weather.

“That hurricane is heading directly for the coast,” Sam warned, concern dimming his pale blue eyes. “Did you hear it’s been upgraded to a Category Two? They say it may get here early next week unless it picks up speed. Best keep an eye on the news.”

Marla hadn’t heard anything about the latest storm, having been preoccupied with the murder investigation. She preferred to keep an eye on Brianna, so she detoured to Vail’s house, realizing her anxiety over the girl bordered on paranoia. Either she was becoming too much like Dalton, or her latent psychic powers had awakened.

A sense of impending disaster twisted her gut, and it didn’t herald the approaching gale.

After performing her usual mundane chores at home, Marla sat eating a bowl of borscht and rye bread with butter in front of the television. Annoyed with all the commercials on the news station, she’d just switched to the weather channel when the phone rang.

“Thanks for checking on Brie,” Vail said on the other end, his deep, resonant voice curling her toes with pleasure. “You wouldn’t have to keep coming over if we were together.”

“I know. We need to talk about it.”

She’d already decided that she could never live in his house on a permanent basis. It just didn’t suit her personality, and it held too many memories from his past.

“Rosh Hashanah is coming up. Do you think we could discuss things before I meet your family?” he said. “I’d like to know where we stand before you introduce me.”

She heard the resolve in his voice and swallowed. “Of course. This weekend?”

“Can’t. I’ll be tied up working on these cases.”

“Oh.” Would their lives always be disrupted by his work? Her own job necessitated a regular schedule; she could count on the same days off each week. His erratic pattern meant Brianna couldn’t rely on him, either.
If it doesn’t bother Brie, it shouldn’t bother me
, Marla concluded. They’d find ways to get around his irregular work habits.

“Have you learned anything new?” she asked, diverting his attention from their personal differences.

“Nothing I can talk about, except the net is closing. What are your plans for the next few days?”

While his inquiry might have annoyed her early in their relationship, now she knew he asked out of concern for her welfare. “I’ll be working Friday and Saturday, but I kept my evenings free for you. Since you’re busy, I might call one of my girlfriends and make plans for tomorrow night.” She hesitated, hoping to avoid being tied down. “What about Brianna?”

“She has a skating party and a movie date. Her friend’s mother will be driving.”

“Ma has a date with Sam this weekend.”

“You might advise her to stay home.” A heavy silence. “You know, with the weather and all.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“I want to keep my women safe until this is over.”

His women. She weighed her response. “Unless you can be more specific, I don’t see any reason for us to hide in a cave. Oh, I almost forgot. I saw Dr. Hennings today. Are you aware he cheats Medicare by making false claims?”

“That’s someone else’s department, but, yes, he’s under investigation.”

“Instinct tells me he didn’t kill Carolyn. He was too forthright discussing his situation with me. So who does that leave?”

“Plenty of people,” Vail murmured.

“I spoke to my landlord. Mr. Thomson had a motive if Carolyn threatened to expose his affair to his wife, but he pointed the finger at Atlas Boyd.”

“I didn’t get a chance to check Thomson’s schedule against Claudia’s yet.”

“It may not be necessary. I’m interested in how Boyd’s name keeps popping up. He made an offer to Wilda for the salon. Have you found out anything more about him?”

“Yep. I’m finding out a lot about McGraw, Boyd, and the victim. I suspect Rosemary got killed because she knew too much. But then there’s—”

“Who?”

“Can’t say. Just watch the company you keep. I’ll be in touch.” He rang off, leaving her with the conclusion that he withheld important information.

Marla got a break on Saturday when Wilda phoned her at the salon. Dumping a pile of wet towels in the dryer, she hustled to the extension in the back storeroom.

“I heard from an old friend that you’ve been nosing around Cassadaga asking about me,” Wilda said in a high-pitched tone. “You’ll be sorry. You should be paying more attention to Carolyn’s business. Now that you’ve opened a door to the negative energy, it surrounds you. Trouble waits in the shadows.”

Staring at tubes of coloring agents lining the shelves, Marla gripped the receiver. “Is that a threat?”

“No dear, it’s a warning. I’m sensing bad vibes around you.”

“You ran a phony psychic hotline in Cassadaga. Why should I believe anything you say when you were stealing people’s money?”

“I paid the price, or the fine, I should say. And I learned a valuable lesson, too,” Wilda added. “My talents were exploited by nasty people. I was too young to know differently, and I got caught up with greed. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Yes, they do,” Marla replied quietly. The shame of her own past still haunted her.

“Despite the danger, you must carry on. Walking the path of truth can be dangerous, but stay your course. Just be careful.”

Forewarned was forearmed. What was Wilda trying in some oblique way to tell her? Did she suspect her former associate, the attorney? Was she too afraid to name him personally? Or did she still feel an inappropriate sense of loyalty?

All questions, no answers. Marla approached her next customer, a simple blow-out, with theories tumbling through her mind. Maybe she could work it out later. She hadn’t made any plans for that night, not with the weather threatening to deteriorate. She’d tried to get hold of Anita to advise her to postpone her date, but Ma didn’t answer the phone. Nor could Marla contact Sam; he had the weekend off. Hopefully, they’d be smart enough to watch the news and get in touch with each other.

Worry gnawed at her when she glanced outside. The afternoon sky appeared flat as a straightened strand of bleached hair. Rather than the usual summer blue with scattered clouds of fluff, the sky had a peculiar cloudless tint, as though the storm fermenting out to sea had sucked all the moisture from the air while it built up energy to become an avenging monster.

Meanwhile, another tropical depression had formed just east of the Lesser Antilles. If only the paths of these tempests weren’t so unpredictable. The one after Bret, forecast to hit the southeast coast, ended up being downgraded from a Category Four to a Category Two hurricane that struck Louisiana.

Similarly, Hurricane Dennis continued to gain strength on its northwest path straight for the Keys. Meteorologists expected a pattern that would keep it from turning away. The storm should be about two hundred miles off Florida by Monday, and although it barely made hurricane status now, Dennis could end up with winds in excess of ninety miles per hour. That still wouldn’t make it a Category Two, but it was enough to cause flooding and minimal damage. Marla worried about her mother visiting Sam’s house, in case he lived near the shore. The South Florida Water Management District had already lowered water levels in canals, and residents might be advised to evacuate low-lying areas. Why didn’t she know his address?

Television reports showed supermarket shelves going bare of bottled water, batteries, and canned goods. Marla checked her supplies, including dog food, then phoned Anita again. The phone kept ringing, ringing.

Should she go over there? Her mother could be anywhere, shopping, or out with a friend. She’d chastise Marla for getting alarmed over nothing.
And she’ll be right. I can always get hold of her in the morning
.

But when morning came, the news was even more sobering. The
Sun-Sentinel
front page showed an enormous circular orange swirl in the Atlantic Ocean with the headline, “Dennis Bears Down on Southeast Florida Coast.” Now the storm was predicted to hit on Monday with winds in excess of 110 mph. That would make it a Category Three; tonight would see blustery squalls as the first storms rolled in, then it would only get worse. Television news stations presented running commentary regarding hurricane preparedness.

Marla’s lip curled. It figured the monsoon season would bring one headed this way that shared her landlord’s given name.

Knowing Anita woke up early, Marla dialed her number at nine o’clock on Sunday. She hung onto the line, clutching the receiver while waiting for her mother to pick up.
Come on, answer the damn phone
.

Oh, heck. She’d have to drive by Anita’s place after all. Having dressed, eaten, and walked Spooks, she grabbed her purse and keys and rushed out the door. Hesitating, she remembered the trash bag in her trunk. At least she could remove that load.

Dumping the pile of magazines on her kitchen table, she noticed the issues weren’t too old. She kept her new ones in the salon; maybe she’d look at these later. Then again, maybe not. They’d belonged to Carolyn and might transmit the dead woman’s negative energy.
Be mindful of Wilda’s words
, she told herself.
Don’t tempt fate
.

A crumpled article fell out from between some pages, and she grasped it just as the telephone shrilled.

Her knees buckled when she heard her mother’s voice on the other end. “Ma? Where are you? I’ve been trying since yesterday to get hold of you.” Glancing at the Caller ID, she noted it wasn’t her mother’s name. The person listed was Sam Cleaver. Cleaver?

“I’m at Sam’s place,” Anita said in a strained tone. “It’s lovely here; he suggested I invite you and Brianna to join us.”

“Didn’t you hear the weather report? You need to come home.” A sense of urgency shook her. “I’ll get you. Give me the address.”

“Sam said he’ll meet you.”

Wind rattled the window panes. “What for? I can drive there.” Her ears picked up the sound of a gasp. “Ma, are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Sam replied. “We’re having some trouble with the phone line. I’ll call you back.”

Chewing her lower lip, Marla waited for his return call. When it didn’t come right away, she glanced at the paper in her hand. Good heavens, it was an old newspaper article describing a brutal murder up north. Some teenage girl had been abducted and killed in New Jersey. Marla recognized Carolyn’s handwritten scrawl across the top:
Ask Sam if this is near where he lived
.

Why Sam? And how had Carolyn obtained this piece?

Rifling through the other magazines, she failed to come across anything else exciting. Still, this was enough to make her scoot out the door in search of her mother. The White Pages had yielded an address for Samuel Cleaver. That didn’t mesh with Sam Levy, but Marla would ask him about it in person.

Lifting her cell phone, Marla intended to call Vail, but service was down. Must be the storm causing trouble already. To the east, a huge bank of angry gray clouds roiled forward. That pinkish tinge in the sky didn’t bode well. How did that proverb go?
Red sky in the morning is a sailors sure warning; red sky at night is the sailors delight
. She hoped to make it before the rain. Slapping the cellular device into its charger, Marla cursed herself for not having called Vail before she left the house. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Now she raced against time to reach Anita when he could have sent a squad car.

But why should he? Just because her breath caught with panic didn’t mean she was onto something. Vail still suspected Peter McGraw or Atlas Boyd of being involved in Carolyn’s murder. He had considered Sam at one point, but the detective hadn’t said another word about it. Anyway, why would Sam want to harm her mother? He wanted to date her. Unless it was a ruse to get Marla, and through Marla, to lure Brianna. If he had a predilection for such things. If he was the child killer described in that worn article.

Nah, she was letting her imagination run away again. Logic kicked in. Sam was just trying to impress her mother.

Thirty minutes later plus two wrong turns and a dirt road, Marla decided she’d better impress upon him the need to evacuate his location. South of Dania, his address presented a target too close to the shoreline. Her Camry bumped down a clamshell driveway flanked by live oaks and seagrape trees. At a circular swath in front of the address, she jolted to a halt behind a black Honda. Dead leaves glossy with moisture blanketed the hood.

Thunder pealed in the distance as she emerged. Heaviness hung in the air, not a leaf stirring, the plants respiring quietly as they waited. A spicy scent tickled her nose. It mingled with the earthy aroma of decay.

Her nape prickled at the isolation. Dark water glinted beyond a grove of gnarled mangroves at the far end of the yard where a lake bordered the lone cottage. Above, the harsh brightness of the sky had given way to a sickly yellow glow. Crickets sang at a louder pitch than normal, as though they knew something ominous blew on the breeze. The stillness pierced her, especially as she noted there weren’t any signs of her mother’s presence. Sam must have picked Anita up in his car, if she was here.

She turned toward the single-story house whose windows stared at her like vacant eyes. It appeared to be built from coral rock, with a shingle roof and step-up front porch. When her knock failed to summon a reply, she twisted the doorknob. It opened easily.

Having locked her purse in the Toyota, Marla dropped the car keys into one of her jeans pockets and gripped her Swiss Army knife in her right hand. It gave her a measure of comfort as she proceeded inside.

“Sam? Is anyone home?” she called out, a tremor in her voice. “Ma, are you here?”

She stepped into a small foyer, her heart beating alarmingly fast. A quick glance showed her a living room straight ahead, bedrooms to the right, and a kitchen forward to the left. There might be a family room in the back facing the lake. This was like no home she’d imagined Sam inhabiting, however. Her image of the nice old man included a neat abode with sentimental mementos from his past.

She found mementos, all right, but they weren’t the kind she’d expected.

Her stomach lurched as she stooped over the photographs strewn on the unmade bed in the master bedroom. They showed teenage girls in various poses mixed in with articles detailing gruesome murders. Her numbed mind made the connection that her startled gaze refused to acknowledge.

Souvenir locks of hair, carefully labeled in plastic bags, were stapled to the photographs. All of the girls were nudes, with an unfocused quality to their eyes.

Slapping a hand to her mouth to hold down the queasy contents of her stomach, Marla whirled around as a footfall sounded behind her.

Sam faced her, his lanky frame and silver hair no longer disarming her. Marla’s heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t speak. Even though she held the closed pocket knife in her fist, her body froze.