Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction (9 page)

“She showed me a newspaper from Marietta. The headline was about record attendance at some ancient burial site. It made no sense. I’m going with Pepper and the kids to Marietta on Friday, so I’m going to keep my eyes open.”

“It can’t hurt to look around while you’re there,” she said. “Make sure you take a picture of Ruby with you.”

“I will. Pepper and I are going to canvass nail salons tomorrow to see if we can find the person who did Ruby’s nails. Cross your fingers for us.”

“My fingers are crossed, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

We said our goodbyes, and I crashed back onto the sofa to resume my scrutiny of the detectives and the stray eyeball in New York City.

My heart was ready to explode. My lungs were devoid of oxygen. Cars raced by, and horns honked. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I died. Fear kept me running, but I continually looked over my shoulder for the tangerine-colored car. I knew it would be the one to kill me. An eighteen-wheeler narrowly missed me. I was thrown off balance and slammed to the road. Skin peeled from my arms and legs as I skidded wildly on the pavement.

I closed my eyes and waited for death. I heard a car screech to a stop. A car door opened then slammed shut. Pain and fear were intense. I refused to open my eyes. I didn’t want to see who stood beside me.

A kick to my gut brought more pain. My eyes instinctively flew open. The tangerine car was blocking both lanes of the highway. Standing over me was Paula herself. “Get up,” she commanded. “Quit wasting time. You need to hurry. Margie will help you.” She drew her foot back to deliver another blow to my body. I threw my arms over my head and screamed.

The lightweight blanket on my bed had wrapped itself around my body as if I had tussled with it. My hair and t-shirt were soaked with sweat.

I felt sick to my stomach from the dream and was barely able to lurch into the bathroom in time to bend over the toilet. It was only dry heaves, but the retching was intense. I finally slumped to the floor.

I held my stomach as I called out, “Paula. Please. No more dreams. I can’t do this. Tell me what happened to you or leave me alone. I don’t know what these dreams mean.”

I rested my head on my knees.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I stripped down for a shower. My legs felt weak and sore as if I really had been running down the highway. The thought frightened me, until I remembered using the machines at Figure Perfect the night before. The stupid shaking machines had actually worked my muscles.

By the time I showered and dressed, it was shortly after eight o’clock. I called the office to tell Barb I woke up vomiting and wouldn’t be in for the day. I didn’t feel guilty, because it was the truth.

After making coffee, I carried a cup to the murder room and sat in the desk chair to study the white board. The last time I had perused it was Tuesday morning. Now there was more information to add.

Using a red marker, I wrote:
Ruby was pregnant
. I underlined it three times for emphasis. If she was a prostitute, the baby’s father could be any of her johns or her pimp. If she wasn’t a prostitute, there was someone she was close enough with to become pregnant. Would he be looking for her? Did he kill her?

I grabbed the piece of business card from the desk and attached it to the board next to my drawing of the three mounds of dirt.

In the corner with the dream information, I wrote:
Margie will help me
.

Margie. Who was she? How could she help me if I didn’t have a clue who she was or where I could find her? And what was with Paula being so violent and telling me to hurry?

I glanced at my watch. It wasn’t even eight thirty yet. Pepper and Kelly weren’t expecting me until one o’clock. I grabbed a load of laundry and headed for the basement.

The basement was divided with a finished room on one side, laundry and storage on the other. Both rooms were bright and unthreatening. The basement at Mama’s house was one to give you nightmares. I used to cringe with fear when she would send me down to get canned tomatoes from the fruit cellar. I fell on the steps more than once while running out of the basement. I always felt the evil eyes of whatever lurked in the shadows boring into my back as I ran. Mama was never sympathetic and thought it was funny I was so frightened.

After starting the washing machine, I slipped outside to grab the newspaper. It was already hot, but the humidity was lower today. That would make for a much nicer excursion this afternoon. I opened the paper to check the headlines, but the entire front page was coverage of the Pioneer Festival over in Patterson.

I grabbed another cup of coffee and a bagel before heading to the living room to watch television. I had no idea what was on at this time of day, but I was soon bewitched by a woman making sandwiches in an electric sandwich maker. She made grilled cheese sandwiches, breakfast wedges, and pizza pockets. I was especially spellbound when she made apple pies out of bread and pie filling. I was ready to grab a credit card and order one when the red phone rang. I guessed it would be Pepper to confirm our time for the afternoon.

“Two Sisters and a Journalist,” I said cheerfully.

I heard a squeaking noise on the other end followed by a soft click. There was no heavy breathing. Nothing was said. It had to be a wrong number. Thankfully, the call broke the sandwich maker spell, and I no longer wanted to order one. A bread pie sounded terrible when Jackie’s flaky pies could be had for a simple
pretty please
.

I surfed channels until coming across an episode of
Criminal Minds
. I slumped down farther on the sofa and leaned my head back. I was only able to watch the profilers make their case against the man they thought was a serial killer for a few minutes before my eyes closed, and I drifted back to sleep.

The red phone ringing jarred me from sleep, and I felt disoriented. I knew it wasn’t the weekend. Why wasn’t I at work?

I staggered over to the phone and slurred into the handset, “Two Sisers and a Jurnist.”

Pepper laughed. “What’s wrong with you? Are you still sleeping?”

I struggled to shake the cobwebs. “I was up and doing laundry, but I fell back to sleep. What time is it?”

“It’s twelve thirty. We’re ready. Do you want to come over and go now?”

Had I really been asleep for over three hours? It felt like three minutes. The local noon news was just going over on the television. An advertisement for an upcoming soap opera came on.

“Sure. Now’s good. But give me a few minutes to use the bathroom and throw clothes into the dryer.”

I dashed downstairs to take care of the laundry, and I dashed upstairs to change my shirt and freshen up. For as miserable as I had been earlier, the extra sleep without dreams of Paula was welcome, and I felt more energetic.

Before going downstairs, I took one last look at the white board. I wanted to have all of the information fresh in my mind before talking to people in salons. I turned to leave the room, but the name Margie seemed to stand out on the board. I stared at it for a moment and then said aloud, “Who is Margie?”

It was suddenly so clear in my mind. It was almost as if I had heard the words spoken aloud.
She’s Ruby’s nail artist
.

I rushed to open my laptop and pull up a browser. I searched salons in Buxley again - Family Hair, Danny’s Hair Salon, Only Hair, George’s House of Style, and Cut Me Quick. There were a few smaller salons, but none advertising a nail technician. Toni’s Cuts, Maxwell’s Magnificent Cuts, Betty’s Beauty Salon, and Kidz Klips were out by the mall. I searched the salons in Patterson. There were some creative names - Lofty Hair, The Fringe Lunatic, and Choppers.

My heart quickened when I held the cursor over a small dot on the east side of town. Margaret’s Nail Confections. Margaret. This was it. I could feel it. I scribbled the address on a post-it.

I was practically jumping for joy as I ran across the cul-de-sac to Pepper’s. Kelly was waiting on the porch.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked.

“I know just where we’re going,” I said. “We’re all getting our nails done today, and I’m treating.”

Pepper stepped out and locked the door behind her. “Really? You’re treating? What’s the occasion?”

“I have a hunch that I think is going to pay off big time. We’re going to the same nail salon Ruby went to.”

“The dead girl?” Kelly asked.

“Your Aunt Jo is trying to find out who killed her. The police don’t have a clue, and since Aunt Jo wants to become a private investigator, she’s going to try to solve the murder. Jackie and I are helping.”

“Like you did with that guy in Kentucky who killed Aunt Jo’s boyfriend?”

Pepper nodded.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. It was a first date, and I never got a chance to meet him.”

“Ok,” Kelly said. “I want to help, too. What can I do?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “How about if when we get our nails done, you do some eavesdropping.”

Pepper flashed a dirty look my way and said emphatically, “Eavesdropping is not acceptable.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ok, I won’t use the word eavesdropping.” I turned back to Kelly. “When you’re getting your nails done, pay attention. If you hear anything or see anything you think might be important to us, try to remember it.” I looked at Pepper. “How was that?”

She shook her head, but I saw her smile before walking to the car.

Excitement coursed through my body as I programmed the address into Pepper’s dashboard GPS. There were times when my instincts were dead on, and this felt like one of those times. I knew we wouldn’t be going home empty-handed today.

Kelly had her own excitement brewing. “Can I get skulls on my nails? Jessica Beiber has black polish with white skulls and it looks sick.”

Pepper nearly twisted her head around exorcist style to frown at her. “No. Absolutely not. You can get a manicure with a light color of polish. No skulls.”

Kelly’s whine voice was quick to surface. “Why? Everyone else has cool nails, but mine are always plain.”

Before Pepper could explain her rationale for not wanting her daughter to have goth fingernails, I intervened. “Let’s discuss this when we get there. There will probably be a ton of designs to choose from, and we can decide when we see them.”

The tension cleared, and Pepper asked, “How do you know this is the place Ruby went to? I thought we were going to look in Buxley first.”

“She told me.”

Kelly squealed from the back seat. “What? You talked to the dead girl? Ew!”

Pepper frowned again. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve had a few dreams about Ruby, and she gives me information.” To keep Pepper from giving me a hard time for divulging too much in front of Kelly, I kept the details to a minimum. “I had one last night, and she said Margie would help me. That’s why we’re going to Margaret’s Nail Confections. I want to show her a picture of Ruby’s manicure and see if she recognizes it.”

“Awesome,” Kelly exclaimed. “Wait until I tell my friends about this. My aunt talks to dead people. Can you do readings for us?”

I laughed, but Pepper’s frown deepened.

“I’m not a psychic, Kelly, and the dreams might not mean anything other than that I have an overactive imagination.” I glanced at Pepper. She was trying to pay attention to the road while at the same time throwing incredulous looks my way. “But I have to find out if there really is a Margie and if she can help us find out who Ruby is.”

“When did you start dreaming about her?” Pepper asked.

“The first time was the night I found her. I saw her in a strip club. She said her name was Paula.”

“But the girl at the bar said her name was Charlotte. Which is it?”

“I don’t know. The information in my dreams doesn’t match up with the facts we’re finding out, but I’m not ready to throw them out yet.”

“This is so cool,” Kelly said. “You and mom can star in a reality television show. The cameras will film you while you solve crimes. We’ll all be famous.”

She pulled out her cell phone and started taking a video of Pepper and me in the front seat. I smiled and gave her the peace sign.

“Day one,” she said. “Mom and Aunt Jo are hot on the trail of Margie, the woman who did the nails of the dead prostitute named Ruby. Aunt Jo, show everyone the picture of her nails.”

I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo of her hand.

“From this photo alone, Aunt Jo and my mom are going to prove who murdered Ruby.” Kelly held the phone closer to my head. “Tell everyone how you’re going to do that, Aunt Jo.”

“Well, we’re going to ask the nail technician when she last saw her, what her real name is, who she was dating, and if she knows who the father of the baby is.”

“What?” Pepper exclaimed. “She was pregnant? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Jackie told me last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I forgot until just now. She was seventeen weeks, so she had to know she was pregnant. I bet she told the father, and he killed her.”

Kelly was still taping from the back seat. “Why do you think the nail person will tell you all those things?”

“Because when people get their hair and nails done, they have to run their mouths and tell every detail of their personal lives. It’s the law,” I said.

“Kelly, put your phone away,” Pepper said. She glanced over at me. “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of her.”

“Mom! You let me watch Jersey Shore. I know about pregnant girls and douchebag guys.”

Pepper did the exorcist thing again with her head. “Kelly, watch your mouth and put your phone away. That’s enough for now.”

I grimaced at Kelly, but my eyes were smiling.