Bad Hair 8 - Day Perish By Pedicure (19 page)

“Chris arranged for the donation to the society through Greenberg, and he let Heather manage the details. He said Chris had found some sort of irregularity in the bookkeeping.”

“From Luxor’s end, or the society’s?”

“He didn’t seem to know.” She stuck a botde of milk into the refrigerator. “Anyway, Chris may have offered the modeling job to Heather out of appreciation, and you have to admit the girl had a great figure. Or maybe Chris just wanted her close at hand, to question her about the discrepancy.”

“No kidding.” Georgia narrowed her eyes. “Something smells fishy about this whole arrangement, if you ask me.”

“Tell me about it. I need to learn more.”

Justine handed her a carton of eggs. The older woman wore a silk blouse, navy blue skirt, hosiery and matching heels. Her navy and gold button earrings complemented her attire. She’d made up her face and looked as though she merely needed to grab her purse to go out on the town.

“Thanks,” Marla said, feeling an ounce of warmth toward her guest for not sitting on her butt and letting Marla do all the work. Maybe Justine was just beginning to appreciate how many different hats Marla juggled while caring for others.

“What do you guys want to do this afternoon?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject. “How about the water taxi, Flamingo Gardens, Bonnet House, or Las Olas?”

Spooks barked for attention. She tossed the poodle a treat and watched him scurry from the room to enjoy it in private. Thankfully, he seemed to suffer no bad effects from the tick and had returned to his normal, playful self. Now if only her life would follow suit. While the others debated what they wanted to do for the day, she whipped up turkey sandwiches for lunch.

She had just swallowed her last bite when the phone rang. Taking the call in her study, she was surprised to hear Sergeant Masterson at the other end.

“I thought I’d share some information with you,” his gruff voice said, “since I am dismissing the suspects on Thursday. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on the case. I need more hard evidence, and you might be able to help.”

Marla broke in, excitedly telling him about her interview with Dr. Greenberg. “Isn’t it important that Chris found something wrong with the bookkeeping? Do you think the donations from Luxor aren’t being recorded properly?”

“I’ve already checked into the organization’s finances,” the detective replied. ‘The amount reported in the society’s books is less than what Luxor says is being donated.”

“Someone is diverting funds,” Marla deduced, her mind racing. “But at which end? If it’s Luxor, was Chris working the scheme by herself?”

“She’d need a partner, either the bookkeeper at her own company or somebody at the society.”

“Maybe she was in league with the dermatologist. He could have double-crossed her, after planting Heather as a model at the show and giving her the dangerous drug to put into Chris’s drink. But then, who murdered Heather?”

“Possibly Dr. Greenberg, if your line of thought rings true. To play devil’s advocate, why would he confess that Christine Parks had found something wrong with the accounts if he wanted to cover his own tracks?”

“Good point. And why would he kill Chris? Had she been about to turn the tables on him?”

“Personally, I don’t believe he’s our man. I’ve been consulting with the Miami Beach police, considering how both our victims were related. Either Heather was involved in embezzling money from the American Melanoma Society, or else she may have found out who is. But that could just be a smoke screen in this whole mess.” He paused. “Did you know Miguel Santiago’s brother is on the society’s board of directors? Parks had been suing him over a botched surgery.”

“I knew about the brother but not that he was involved with the charitable organization. How is his record otherwise? Could he be the one skimming the cream?”

“Santiago has a respected reputation, and he’s in a stable financial position. I was thinking more along the lines of Miguel wanting to protect his brother from a harmful lawsuit.”

“The brother, a surgeon, would have access to drugs.”

“I’ve thought of that. I feel like I have all the dots in place, but I just can’t see how to connect them. This case bugs me, Miss Shore. I don’t want to see these people go free when I know one of them is guilty. Be assured I’ll be watching the doctors like a hawk, but I’m hoping you might learn something in the meantime from your pals at Luxor.”

“I’ve invited them to my salon tomorrow. You’re welcome to come.”

“I have to check out another lead. It’s a long shot, but I don’t believe in letting any stone go unturned. I’ll be talking to you.”

Marla hung up, frustrated that she had to spend the afternoon squiring her guests around when there were so many other things she’d rather do. Nonetheless, she was determined to play the perfect hostess despite the distraction of realizing that time was running out. If she didn’t get answers by Thursday, the person who’d left two women dead would be allowed to walk.

By Monday evening, her nerves were so frayed that when she found herself alone with Justine and Larry, Georgia having accepted an invitation from Goat to walk the dogs, she balked at Justine’s suggestion for a heart-to-heart talk.

“Look, I’m not really in the mood,” she said, staring out the kitchen window at the fading sunlight. “I’m sorry Brianna had choir practice tonight and couldn’t see you.” She’d noticed how Justine’s face fell during an earlier phone call to her granddaughter. They hadn’t had nearly as much time together as the elderly couple had wished.
They would have had more time if they d stayed at Vail’s house.

Larry cleared his throat. He occupied his usual slouch on the sofa with the television blaring. The noise grated on her nerves, making her clench her teeth. She craved time alone, but since the killer might still be out there, plotting another attempt on her life, it was probably best to have company right now.
Safety in numbers
, she thought, trying to reach a state of calm by taking slow, deep breaths.

“Have you stopped thinking about yourself enough to realize how difficult this is for us all?” Justine snapped at her side. “You’re about to become Brianna’s stepmother, and yet you still show little regard for the woman who birthed her. That hurts me in here.” Justine beat on her chest, her face a mask of anguish.

Marla wheeled around. There was no avoiding this conversation. ‘That’s not true. I respect and admire Pam. She did a great job of raising Brianna. But I feel she comes between me and Dalton. Or at least she did, until he agreed to move to a new place. I don’t feel comfortable in the bedroom where they shared their lives or in the house your daughter decorated. I’d like to honor her memory, but not in a manner that keeps reminding me of the past.”

Dalton wasn’t the only one having trouble moving on, she realized with sudden clarity. Justine clung to her daughter’s memories because letting her go felt like a betrayal.

“You reject everything of hers that you find.”

“Because you stick it in my face. You’re not making it easy for me. I love Brianna as though she’s my own child. I want to be a good role model for her, and I can’t do that if you keep putting me down.” Marla regretted hurting the older woman, but she’d kept her emotions bottled to the point of eruption, and now the eruption had come.

“Being a role model isn’t as important as being a parent.”

“In my mind, they go together. Why don’t you stop fighting me and realize I have the same goal as you do?”

Justine covered her face with her hands. “I miss my baby. No one will ever take her place.”

“I’m not trying to, Justine. Trust me. I want to do what’s best for your granddaughter.”

Justine sniffled. “Losing a child is something you never get over. I feel a terrible ache inside, like a piece of me has been ripped out.” She clapped a hand over her heart. “I yearn to hug my little girl.”

“I’m so sorry.” Marla understood the hollow feeling. She’d seen the agony of Tammy’s parents after the toddler drowned in their backyard pool. As her baby-sitter, Marla had been held accountable, and she’d revisited her private pain many times over. Maybe that was why she’d tried to deny Pam’s existence—because remembering that Pam had died made her recall the small child who never had the chance to grow up.

Her eyes glistening, Marla embraced Justine. “You can hug me. I’m not your daughter, but I promise to remember her. And, Justine, she’d want you to live your life as fully as possible.”

“Thank you, dear,” Justine choked, patting her on the back.

A sense of peace stole over Marla. No longer leery of spending time with the elder couple, she sat with them in the family room. “So tell me about Pam when she was younger,” she said in a gentle tone.

As she listened to their stories, she enjoyed the tentative rapport they’d established and the momentary calm of her life, but she knew the peacefulness wouldn’t last. When Luxor’s crew gathered at her salon the next day, she’d ask some hard-hitting questions. Sooner or later, someone would crack.

Tuesday afternoon Luxor’s crew entered the Cut ‘N Dye salon in a jovial mood, having received word from Sergeant Masterson that they were free to go in two days’ time.

“Yo, Marla,” Tyler called out, “you hear the news? You’ll finally get rid of us.” He swaggered toward her.

Just finishing her last client, she spritzed the lady’s gray head with a flourish. “I’ll see you next week,” she told the woman, unfastening her cape. “Luis will get your tab up front” After sweeping the hairs off her chair with a blow-dryer, she turned to the area supervisor, whose grin split his face like that of a child who’d been let out to play.

“I know you’re all eager to get back to work in your hometowns,” Marla told him, “but I can’t say I’m happy to see you go.”

Swatting her shoulder, he winked. “Is that your roundabout way of saying you’ll miss me?”

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of missing Chris and Heather. Someone got rid of them, and I think that person is right here.”

She leaned forward, getting a pleasant whiff of his musk aftershave. “We both know Chris liked you. I understand that she threatened to jeopardize your custody agreement when you turned down her overture. Why do you feel it’s necessary to hide being a father? Are you afraid it’ll ruin your image of the big man around town?”

“Carting a little girl along ain’t gonna get me a whole lot of dates. Women don’t fancy that kind of baggage.”

“Sorry to tell you, pal, but a woman can sense when a guy doesn’t want to commit. Having a child acts as your excuse.”

Tyler scraped a hand through his caramel hair. “Whoa, babe, you’re cuttin’ me.”

She scrutinized his face and noticed the lines tightening his mouth. “Or maybe you’re just too scared to get serious about anyone else. What happened to your wife, Tyler?”

He glanced away. “She left me for some rich accountant dude. Said she wanted a guy who worked in an office, and it embarrassed her to tell people what I did for a living.”

“So how did that make you feel, like you weren’t good marriage material? You shouldn’t let that get you down. If you show what a giving man you can be, the right person will come along who respects your career choice and devotion to your daughter.”

“We have a great relationship. I don’t want to spoil it.”

“You won’t.” She sucked in a breath. “My fiancé and his daughter got along fine before I came along, and I didn’t distract from their relationship. If anything, I’ve added to the family circle. You should be proud that you stuck to your guns and didn’t give in to Chris. It would’ve been easier to yield to her demands in order to protect your child.”

Tyler gave a furtive glance over his shoulder. “Since you’re so interested, I think there’s something you should know. Like, Jan has been depressed lately over her financial situation. She’s got the burden of supporting her mother, who’s ill, plus she’s racked up a hefty credit card debt. I think, like, she’s been taking happy pills lately.”

Marla stiffened. “Antidepressants?”

“Yup. I didn’t want to get in trouble by telling that detective anything, but I don’t mind talking to you. “You’re a cool cat, and you’ll know what to do.” He jabbed two fingers at her. “You’re the bomb, Marla. Thanks for the advice.”

Anytime
, Marla thought, eliminating Tyler as one of her prospective assailants. He wouldn’t have been so open if he meant her harm. Turning her attention to Jan, she contemplated the acting director, who kept her problems private. She’d have had the perfect opportunity to switch Christine’s medication if she’d gotten into her boss’s room earlier. When exactly had Jan arrived at the hotel? Could she have dropped into Chris’s suite after her superior went to visit her mother?

Sauntering over to where Jan had plopped into a chair at an empty manicure station, Marla leaned her hip against the counter. “I’ll bet you’re glad to be going home soon. Too bad your time off was taken with police interviews and photo shoots instead of relaxing on the beach. Or did you get in early too, like Chris?”

Jan shot her a shrewd glance. “I arrived Thursday so I’d have time to get organized before our prep meeting on Friday. I had to make sure the models were contacted and our equipment was delivered as ordered.”

“Did you happen to stop by Chris’s room at any time during the day?”

“Hell, no. I was busy.”

“Chris didn’t want to review her directives with you?”

“She went out that afternoon on personal business.”

“So you kept track of her movements? What did you do while she was gone?”

“What is this, an inquisition?” Jan said, anger flashing in her hazel eyes. “I told you, I had work to do.”

“A little birdie mentioned that you’re taking pills for depression. It would be easy to hate Chris after she screwed your investments. She was responsible for putting you in the hole financially, wasn’t she? Is that why you switched medicines on her? You knew she couldn’t tolerate the brand you’re taking?”

Jan shot to her feet so fast that her chair crashed back. “If I wanted to poison Chris, I wouldn’t have had to go to her hotel room. I’d have slipped the stuff in her drink at the cocktail party.”

“Exactly.” Marla smirked before noting that other conversations around them had fallen silent and everyone’s eyes were on them. “Hey, go back to work,” she yelled to her cohorts, stepping forward to right Jan’s chair.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t me who bought the bitch a drink.”

“Could anyone have gotten hold of your medication, taken one of the pills to switch it for Chris’s?”

“I’m on the newer kind without the bad food interaction. Come into the back room a minute, Marla.” Jan waited until Marla followed her into the storage room and they stood crowded amongst the tubes of coloring agents and developer bottles. “Promise me you won’t let this go farther than this room.”

Marla bit her lower lip, unwilling to withhold information that might contribute to the murder case. “I’ll be discreet,” she hedged.

“Amy Jeanne and I…we were together.” She must have noted the puzzlement on Marla’s face because her skin reddened. “We have a relationship,” she explained, nodding as though that would prompt Marla to comprehend.

Marla’s eyes widened. “Oh! I mean, I would never have guessed. The two of you are…” Her cheeks warmed. They’d hidden their sexual proclivities well.

“Amy was just as resentful against Chris as me, but neither one of us could kill anyone. We didn’t shed any tears when Chris died, but we’re not murderesses. Go ask my girlfriend. She’ll confirm what I say.”

Marla took Amy Jeanne aside, ostensibly to review her inventory of Luxor supplies. But once in the rear, she confronted the salon coordinator with Jan’s statement.

The sleek dark-skinned woman pursed her lips, expertly filled in with mahogany gloss. “Shut my mouth. Janice didn’t tell you about us!”

“Tell me the truth, Amy. Did you know Jan was taking antidepressants, and if so, why didn’t you tell Masterson?”

“It had nothing to do with his case. Jan made sure to count her tablets. Not one was missing, so she didn’t see any sense in blabbing her personal history. At any rate, her medicine isn’t the same kind as made Chris sick.” Opening a gum wrapper, she popped the stick of gum into her mouth.

“The detective did a background check on all of you. What do you think he found?”

“Nothing that makes the cops suspect us,” Amy Jeanne said, chewing. “Aren’t you forgetting about Heather?”

“What about her?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation down in the Keys. I didn’t mention this at the time, because it didn’t enter my mind, but Sampson went ballistic when she accidentally took one of his hairbrushes.”

“Huh?” Marla shook her head, confused by the new tangent.

Amy Jeanne’s eyes glittered. “Luxor ships in special brushes for Sampson. They’re made out of boar bristles in China. I always believed Chris catered to him just to appease his ego, because the cost must have increased the company’s expense budget quite a bit. She’d been looking for ways to reduce cash outflow, and that expense could have been on her list to pare down. Go ask Jan. She’ll know more about it.”

“You may be onto something,” Janice said to Marla when she queried her. “The containers are shipped from China and off-loaded onto trucks at Port Everglades. From there, the cargo is delivered to a local warehouse, where it’s packed into smaller cartons before being sent to our main supply depot. Chris was considering eliminating the middleman as a way to cut costs. She hoped we could increase our donation to the melanoma society if our profit margin improved.”

“That’s interesting. Sergeant Masterson told me that not all the money being donated to the cause gets into the group’s coffers. Someone is skimming at one end or possibly both. Were you aware that Heather worked for Dr. Greenberg, who was Chris’s contact at the melanoma society?” Maybe Heather, not the dermatologist, had schemed to rip off the charity. Had Heather been in cahoots with someone from Luxor? Chris could have found out and been killed for it. Then Heather’s partner might have knocked her off to avoid exposure.

Jan tilted her head. “No, I didn’t know that about Heather. I think Chris mentioned something about checking out the warehouse. She may have driven up there before the show.”

“Do you have the address?” Marla didn’t see how Sampson’s hairbrushes entered into the equation, but she remembered wanting to ask about them. Regardless, Chris’s movements were important to track. It was more likely the former company director had discovered a bookkeeping deficit, in which case Marla felt at a loss. No one present from Luxor would have been responsible for writing the contribution check. That would have come from the home office, or so she assumed. Chris might have been authorized to write a check to the society and hand it to Dr. Greenberg while she was here, but that didn’t account for the rest of the year.

Financial trails were too hard for her to follow. She’d have to leave that to Sergeant Masterson’s skills. Otherwise, she’d waste time interviewing financial officers at Luxor and at the charitable society’s headquarters. She had neither the resources nor the time to accomplish that task. However, driving to a warehouse somewhere in the area was within her grasp.

“I may have the place written down somewhere,” Jan told her, riffling through one of the folders in her possession.

Marla shot a glance at Sampson, who’d been demonstrating a feathering technique to a couple of Marla’s stylists. His animated face and gestures showed he was enjoying his teaching role. Remembering the check he’d written to Chris, she wondered if it had anything to do with the special orders. Maybe he gave Chris a kickback for ordering his hairbrushes.

“Why are the imported hairbrushes so important to Sampson?” she asked Jan. “I mean, I know boar bristles are softer and less damaging to the hair than other kinds. I prefer using them myself. But can’t you buy them in this country? Or are they mass-produced elsewhere and just sold at retail outlets here?”

“Sampson orders at bulk rates.” Jan lifted a paper from her folder. ‘This is peculiar, now that you mention it. Here’s a bill of lading. It lists Luxor Products as the buyer and gives an address in Belle Glade.”

That’s a bit north from here. May I see that paper, please? It must be the warehouse where the shipments go before they’re repackaged.” Her heart thudded when she saw the heading.

Bell Farms
.

So Heather had been onto something significant.

“May I keep dais?” she asked Jan.

“Sure, although I don’t know what you hope to do with it.”

“First I’d like to ask Sampson what’s so important about the shipments and why he can’t get them wholesale in the States.”

Sampson puffed out his chest when she approached him with that question. “Boar bristles are almost identical to human hair,” he said, waving a comb in the air. ‘They come from the first cut of boars that are raised on farms. The animals are sheared like sheep. They are well cared for, and their bristles are harvested repeatedly.”

“No one breeds boars in the United States?”

“Not to my knowledge. The best come from China. I prefer a mahogany wooden oval brush with a pneumatic cushion. The bristles distribute your natural oils and gently massage the scalp. You should use one for your fine hair, Marla. For thick-hair types, I recommend brushes with suffer black boar bristles. They’ll manage the tangles better.”

“But why do you need so many that they have to be shipped in containers to the port?”

Overhearing their conversation, Ron sauntered over after checking his reflection in the mirror. “Luxor sells them,” he said. “Don’t you have any on your shelves? I would’ve thought Georgia added them to your inventory.” His gray eyes regarded her with an odd light. He must be wondering why she was making such a big deal out of Sampson’s pet project.

“Maybe she did. I’ll have to check. It just seems like such a large order coming from overseas. An
expensive
order.”

“An artist must have his brushes,” Sampson told her in a haughty tone.

Ron grasped her elbow and drew her aside. “Let it go. The maestro doesn’t like to be crossed. What’s a few hairbrushes compared to the talent he contributes to our company?”

“It’s a lot of money, that’s what. If Chris was looking to cut costs, she may have decided to eliminate this expense. Or at least to have the brushes shipped directly to company headquarters instead of going through a middleman.”

Ron grinned, but he looked menacing rather than friendly. “Come now, I’m sure you value your role on the team. This isn’t an issue that needs your attention. Leave it to the higher-ups, and focus on technique. Would you like me to shape your hair? It’s getting a bit long, and I can show you how texturizing shears will add dimension.”

“Perhaps some other time, thanks.” She did need a haircut, but she realized his offer was meant to distract her.
Just wait until tomorrow
, she thought She’d scheduled only one client for an early perm, and afterward it might be a perfect day to invite her guests along for a ride. They might even stop for lunch at the Clewiston Inn on their way to Belle Glade.