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

Marla blew on the hot liquid in her cup. “How so?”

“I finally met a man I really dug. We were talking about getting married. He’d even gone so far as to buy me a ring.” Georgia cast her eyes downward, twirling a plastic spoon in her cappuccino. “He came to the last show in Vegas with me. Nick attended the cocktail party and had a good time meeting everyone. But that was a mistake.”

“Go on.” Marla leaned forward so she could hear over the background chatter echoing in the huge hall. Dipping her tongue into her drink, she determined the coffee had cooled enough for her to sip.

“It was so awesome, us being there together, but I let it distract me,” Georgia said. “Chris felt I wasn’t up to par. Nick and I were thinking about hiring one of those wedding chapels, and we had arrangements to make. Chris got mad when I told her what we had in mind.”

“What did she care what you did on your personal time? Besides, she should have been happy for you.”

“Not when Luxor paid my way. Anyway, I went off with some of the girls to go shopping, but I felt guilty leaving Nick behind. So I returned early. Chris was in bed with him.” Georgia lifted her face, her eyes filled with remembered pain.

“You must have been furious.”

“Furious doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. It was my room, so I kicked them out, and I threw Nick’s suitcase in the hall after him. I never wanted to see him again.”

“What about Chris? I’d blame her for seducing the guy. What a rotten thing to do behind your back.”

“I hated her, but I understood her reasons. It was never about stealing Nick from me. Chris, ever the control freak, expected my full devotion, and our romance interfered. She probably figured we’d have a spat and make up later, but I couldn’t forgive Nick for betraying me.”

“So you just went back to work?”

“I told Chris I didn’t have to like working for her, but I had an obligation to Luxor, and I wouldn’t abandon the crew. I guess I was kinda hoping she wouldn’t be around for the Beauty Classic trade show that I’d signed on for next.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

Georgia shrugged. “It’s history. What matters now is that I’m single and looking.”

“It matters that Chris is dead and you have a possible motive, if her death proves to be a deliberate act.”

“Excuse me? It’s a far reach to believe I’d knock Chris off over something that happened months ago.”

“Combined with the fact that she just fired you, I’d say you’re a prime suspect.” Marla forked a piece of cake into her mouth. The moist cinnamon flavor melted on her tongue.

“Who told you that?”

“Tyler remarked that you’re lucky to still have a job. He said how convenient it was for you that Chris died, and no one is the wiser.”

“He’d better keep his mouth shut. I hope he didn’t rat on me to the detective. “You’re not gonna say anything, are you?”

“I’ve learned not to volunteer information.” They fell silent, consuming their snacks. “Can I ask you something?” Marla said after swallowing her last bite. “Liesl answers my questions well enough, but she seems hard to get to know. I notice she acts more relaxed around you.”

“Don’t take it personally. She feels guilty about her family history. Once when she was tipsy, she told me about it. Liesl’s grandfather served in the Gestapo. His wife fled to England with their children, one of whom married an American and moved to the United States. That was Liesl’s mother.”

“Why should she feel bad about what her grandfather did?”

“Collective guilt. I imagine she feels awkward around you.”

“Tell me about it.” Marla rolled her shoulders to shrug off worldly concerns. They had enough problems without worrying about buried hatreds and generational atonement.

She consulted her floor map for the booth with AB Salon Equipment. “Number thirty-four hundred is at the south end opposite the OPI exhibit. Let’s move on.”

Tossing her trash into a garbage can, she started down the nearest aisle. She couldn’t decide what to look at first: gleaming shears at Ashai Scissors, titanium brushes at Interfashion USA, or Turbo Power hair dryers. Georgia lingered by a collection of shiny metal tweezers.

Some guy was arguing with a security guard at another hairbrush booth. “When I opened the package I’d bought, the brush wasn’t the same model this fellow showed me. I want the one I paid for,” he said in a loud voice.

Uh-oh
. Marla hastened forward, dodging a surge of nail techs who stomped by discussing the latest China Glaze collection.

“Tell me again what happened last night,” she said to Georgia, hoping to spot a discrepancy in Tyler’s report.

“I’m getting sick of repeating myself.” Glancing at her, Georgia sighed. “Sorry, I know you’re trying to help. I went along to give Tyler moral support, and Chris accused us of having an affair. She thought I wanted revenge for what she did to me and Nick. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept shouting at me, and her face was so red, I thought she’d burst a blood vessel.”

“She complained of a headache earlier, remember? She might have been feeling ill by then.”

“Oh, she was ill all right. That woman had mental problems.”

Alarm shot up Marla’s spine. Did Georgia know that Chris had a history of depression before they learned about the antidepressants? Jostled by the crowd, she consulted her map to get her bearings. They should make a right at the Creative Nail corner.

“You saw how Chris ordered you around,” Georgia continued. “She didn’t respect anyone, not even Sampson. He’s our leading design artist, and yet she made him dance to her tune same as everyone else.”

Marla recalled the check he’d written to Chris. “I wonder what hold she had on him.”

“Good question.”

“Let’s keep our ears open. If you hear anything that might be important, let me know, okay?”

“I’m more likely to add to your problems. Gosh, hon, I’ve brought a load of trouble on you, haven’t I?” Georgia patted Marla’s shoulder.

Marla thought about Justine and Larry waiting back in her town house to offer more criticisms, Dalton’s probable resentment that he was left to deal with them alone, and Brianna caught in the middle. Never mind that she found herself in the midst of another murder.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied with a wry twist to her lips. “I manage to find enough trouble on my own.”

The homicide detective appropriated an unused classroom on the second floor for his interviews. Marla wiped her sweaty palms on her smock as she approached the door and gave her name to a deputy standing guard. She should be used to this by now, but it wasn’t Vail questioning her this time.

Sergeant Masterson had a craggy face like Columbo’s and wore a rumpled blue shirt with a diagonally striped tie. He’d discarded his jacket, draping it over an empty chair. At his motion to enter, Marla strolled inside and sank into the seat he indicated. She hadn’t passed anyone in the hallway, making her wonder whom he’d interviewed last. Steeling herself, she clutched her hands in her lap while primly crossing her ankles.

After she answered the standard opening questions, he got down to business. His keen brown eyes narrowed as he fired the first salvo. “Tell me how you first met Christine Parks.” She noticed that his shoulders hunched while he waited for her reply.

“My friend Georgia introduced me to her on Friday.” She compressed her lips, having learned not to offer extra information. She waited to see where he would lead her.

“This was your first experience working with this group, correct?” he said, consulting his notes. He clicked on a ballpoint pen in his hand.

“Yes, that’s right. Georgia told me there was an opening for an assistant stylist. I thought it would be a great opportunity to try something new.”

“You’ve known Miss Rogers for how long?”

“We were college roommates. We both dropped out after our sophomore year to go to beauty school.” Her gaze slid to the floor. That wasn’t the only reason why she’d dropped out, but the tragedy that had set her on her current path had no relevance to this investigation. She lifted her glance, staring at him defiantly. “I lost contact with Georgia for a while, but then she found my e-mail address. We got back in touch and sent each other holiday cards.”

The sergeant smirked, as though he knew all her secrets. “And then?”

“Then she called to tell me about the job opening. I offered to put her up at my house, so we could visit while she was here.”

“So she arrived on…?”

“Friday. I drove directly to the convention hotel so we could check in. That’s when I met Christine Parks for the first time. She brought down the rest of the staff for a preliminary meeting so we could go over the schedule.”

“How was her demeanor on this occasion?”

“Very much in charge.”
Chris wore flashy clothes to attract attention
, Marla wanted to add, but she bit her lower lip instead.

“Did her behavior seem off-kilter in any manner?”

“Not really, and she appeared to be perfectly healthy,” she said, anticipating his next question.

He gave her a sharp look. “Tell me about the others who were present.”

Lighten up, pal. I’m on your side
. In a concise manner, she rattled off her basic impressions of her colleagues.

“And how did your friend Georgia react toward Miss Parks?”

Marla shifted her position. “No problems there. Everyone knew Chris was the boss.”

“Please answer my question.”

“I said, there weren’t any problems. Georgia acted respectfully toward the director. If anything, Sampson was the one who had a problem with Chris. He seemed to resent her for requiring him to attend what he deemed to be an administrative session. Chris put him in his place.”

“What about Janice Davidson, who has assumed command now?”

“Jan wasn’t particularly grateful for her promotion to regional manager. I don’t think she was angling for Chris’s position.” Oh no? Hadn’t Jan said something about the perfect revenge being her getting Chris’s job? And what about Tyler, who felt he should have moved up the ladder? If Jan got the directorship, that left a vacancy for her position. Tyler could end up being promoted after all. Was it possible that political maneuvering was behind Chris’s death? That seemed too obvious. On the other hand, Georgia could have a hidden agenda. Who had the best motive, if not a woman betrayed by her lover?

“Not everyone liked Chris,” she blurted out. “At the cocktail party, Tyler warned me about crossing her path. I heard the same thing from Jan and Amy.”

“Did they say why they felt this way?”

“Not specifically, but I got the impression there were personal issues involved. I really don’t know any of these people well enough for them to confide in me.”

“Not even your friend, Miss Rogers?”

She squirmed. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t Miss Rogers have an altercation with the deceased later that evening?”

“Well, yes,” she said, wondering who had ratted on them. “But it started with Tyler. We were sitting in the lounge after the cocktail party. Chris wasn’t feeling well. She had a headache, and she asked Tyler to walk her to her room. He turned her down in a rather nasty manner.”

“Wasn’t your friend seated next to him?”

“What about it?”

“If she knew Chris had an interest in Tyler, she could have deliberately tried to provoke the victim.”

“That’s absurd. Tyler was the one making the move on Georgia. He’d put his arm around her.”

“And how did she react?”

“She slid away from him.”

“But not until she’d started an argument between Chris and Tyler.”

“Their disagreement had nothing to do with Georgia.”

“No? Didn’t Christine Parks once come between Georgia Rogers and her fiancé? Couldn’t Rogers, having detected the director’s interest in Tyler, have deliberately interfered in their relationship?”

Marla’s muscles tensed, and she gripped her hands together. ‘Tyler and Chris didn’t have a relationship. He wasn’t interested.”

“Precisely.”

“I tell you, that was not Georgia’s doing.”

“Rogers has been attending these shows for years. She’s probably gotten to know people’s habits. She could use that knowledge against them.”

“I don’t believe this. Georgia wouldn’t harm anyone, certainly not for an incident that happened months ago.”

“Someone wanted Chris dead.” The detective watched her carefully, gauging her response.

“I know all about the switch in antidepressant drugs,” she said, deciding to come clean. “My boyfriend is Detective Dalton Vail with the Palm Haven Police Force. He told me about the preliminary toxicology report.”

“Ah.” His neutral expression didn’t give away his opinion of this revelation.

“When do you think someone slipped her this drug? Presumably, she had an adverse reaction by taking the more dangerous medicine with the wrong foods. Doesn’t this imply the perpetrator had a degree of medical knowledge? Like, I didn’t know that drinking red wine and eating cheese could cause problems with some medications.”

“I’m considering the accessibility factor. Tell me, did Miss Parks obtain her own drinks from the bar?”

“Actually, at the cocktail party, a waiter came over and offered her a glass of wine. He said someone had paid the bartender. Did you talk to him?”

“I’ll ask the questions here, Marla. I may call you by your first name?” Scratching his head, he peered at his notes. “Did you see Chris helping herself to the appetizers? Or did one of your friends deliver a plate of hors d’oeuvres?”

“We were jostled by so many people, I can’t remember.” She pictured the scene, but had no memory of Chris standing in line at the buffet table. “Could you tell how many hours the drug had been in her system at the time of death?”

“It had a short half-life, so it wouldn’t have taken long to work its effects. I don’t think it’s anything Miss Parks took by mistake. I’m with you in that somebody gave it to her at the cocktail party.”

Marla leaned forward. “I’d like to help, because I don’t think Georgia would be capable. I’ve assisted Dalton with cases before with good results.”

Masterson’s face eased into a smile. “I’d be grateful for any tidbits of information you pass along, but I wouldn’t discount your friend if I were you. Rogers didn’t tell you about her engagement, did she?”

“Liesl told me, but Georgia was okay talking about it.”

“Close friends confide in each other. Did she also tell you she’d been fired?”

Tyler must have opened his big mouth
. She met the detective’s hard gaze. “I learned that through the grapevine, too. Georgia didn’t deny it when I mentioned it to her.”

“Mr. Edgewater informed me about events that night,” he said, confirming her notion. “Evidently, the victim accused him of having an affair with Rogers. Despite their protests, Miss Parks dismissed your friend. Rogers stayed behind to argue her case after Tyler left. He’d decided to explain in the morning, after Miss Parks had a good night’s rest.”

“That’s because Chris looked ill. Don’t you see?” She leaned forward. The guilty party gave Chris the wrong drug
before
she fired Georgia.”

“It doesn’t prove anything. Rogers could still have held a grudge since the show in Las Vegas.”

Marla’s blood boiled at the officer’s single-minded attitude. “Is there anything else you want to ask me? Because you seem to have decided who’s to blame already. I don’t agree, and I’ll do everything in my power to uncover the person who really bumped off Chris.”

Departing in a huff, Marla sought Georgia at their exhibit. As she approached, she noticed the dance troupe on stage, having already attracted a crowd with their wild gyrations. Sampson peeked out from behind the curtain and signaled to her. All the electronic cables from the sound system and lighting had been hooked into a laptop computer, where a guy in blue jeans sat monitoring the equipment. Marla’s stomach clenched. It was almost time for their artist’s presentation.

Liesl issued last-minute instructions to the two models who hovered together backstage, glittery makeup shimmering on their cheekbones. This particular workshop would demonstrate layering techniques and the use of finishing products. Marla’s job was to joggle the spray bottles while Liesl managed Sampson’s tools.

“Marla, where have you been?” Sampson shouted, pacing backstage. In contrast to the models’ dazzling costumes, he wore all black. With his gray hair and piercing dark eyes, he looked like a maestro. Her heartbeat accelerated. This was her chance to observe an award-winning educator up close.

Grabbing the supplies she’d prepared earlier, she nodded to him. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice squeaky. After her morning performance, she figured she should be less nervous, but being in the spotlight still left her breathless.

Concentrating on her tasks when their turn came, she was barely aware of the colored spotlights focused on the chair in the center of the stage, the pounding music blaring from the stereo speakers, or the upturned faces of the crowd. Sampson pranced around the first model, snipping and trimming while spewing instructions. He held his scissors and comb in one hand, while he lifted strands of hair with his other. He worked with quick, deft movements that Marla envied. His commentary included references to their new product line.

He waved at her, and she squirted water on the section of hair he’d just separated. Lifting the hank with his comb, he addressed the audience. “You’ll want to preserve this brilliant red mahogany with our unique protection system. Our natural extracts extend the life of hair color with their essential sunscreen properties. Use of our four-part system protects the hair from damaging UVL effects, reducing fading and keeping hair healthy and conditioned.”

Marla handed him the locking spray. “This contains silicon and panthenol that help to extend the life of your color,” he added. “See this intensified shine? Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Lift, comb out to ends, snip.
“Your clients will be energized by this remarkable treatment system.”

By the time he went on to a second demo, the audience had grown. He took a brief intermission to get a drink of water while Marla swept the stage and the other stylist changed tools.

Returning onstage, he donned a cape embellished with flashing blue lights and a glove with shear like claws on his right hand. This time, he enhanced his act with flourishes worthy of a magician. Drumbeats vibrated through Marla’s bones, reverberating through her head.

Her reactions became automatic as she handed over the products he’d preselected while Liesl dealt with his implements. Her mind reeling, Marla felt as though she were part of some tribal ritual, especially when he displayed the model like a sacrifice to thunderous applause at the end. Exhausted, she hung back while he took his bows.

Hairdressers bombarded them with questions afterward, and she was too busy describing their product line and referring customers to the sales force to consult with Georgia until later. It wasn’t until they were on their way home that she finally had a chance to discuss the police interview.

“I’m so tired,” she said, sinking against the car seat cushion during the drive west. She’d promised to pick up dinner to feed everyone. Dalton and Brianna were coming over, and just the thought of all that company made her bone-weary.

Georgia gave her a sympathetic glance. “You get used to it after you’ve done a few shows. I thought you did great.”

“Thanks. I noticed that Ron disappeared during Sampson’s demo. Doesn’t he like to watch?”

“I think he had to go upstairs for an interview then. That police detective made me very uncomfortable. How did you feel?”

Marla gripped the wheel tighter. “He knew about Chris firing you. Tyler told him.”

“Shoot. Now the sergeant will have even more against me. As for Tyler, I’m not surprised that he’d think about covering his own ass. He’s the type who looks out for number one.”

Oh yeah? Maybe you should do the same. First you forgive Chris for screwing your fiancé, then you go out on a limb for Tyler, who stabs you in the back. Are you really such a schmuck? It’s time to stand up for yourself and focus on your goals.

“Masterson asked how I felt about Chris seducing my fiancé,” Georgia said, filling the silence. “He didn’t believe me when I said it didn’t matter anymore. Really, hon, does he think I killed Chris because of what she did to me? If anyone, I should off Nick. He’s the one who ruined my life. Besides, Chris annoyed plenty of other people.”