Black and Blueberry Die (A Fresh-Baked Mystery Book 11) (10 page)

Having Eve back home made everything seem better, Phyllis thought. The place hadn’t exactly been empty without her, but the four of them were sort of like the Four Musketeers, as Sam had been known to claim.

“And I’m D’Artagnan,” he would always add.

“I wouldn’t know how to use a sword or a musket,” Carolyn had said the last time he brought it up. “I’m just glad you didn’t call us the Four Stooges.” She shuddered a little at the thought.

“There were actually six Stooges in all...seven if you count Ted Healy, who started the act—”

That was as far as the conversation had gotten before it moved on, thankfully, to something else.

During the afternoon, at supper, and then during the evening, most of the discussion centered around Eve’s trip to Hollywood. She had plenty of stories to tell about the fancy hotel where she had stayed, the restaurants where she had eaten, the producers she had met, and the movie stars she had seen, which turned out to be more than just Channing Tatum.

Eve was happy to monopolize the conversation, but she stopped now and then to ask about things that had happened in Weatherford while she was gone, and eventually, that brought out in bits and pieces the story of Phyllis and Sam’s investigation into Roxanne Jackson’s murder.

“I’m surprised you haven’t solved it yet, dear,” Eve said as they all sat in the living room. “You’ve been looking into it for, what, two days now?”

“It takes time to figure things out,” Phyllis said, then added dryly, “And who knows, one of these days I might
not
solve it.”

Eve shook her head and declared, “Oh, no, I don’t believe that. Failure is not an option, as the old saying goes.”

“Because it would be bad for sales of your book.”

“Because it would be bad for that unjustly accused and convicted young man. If he really didn’t kill his wife, he shouldn’t be locked up for it. That just wouldn’t be fair.”

Sam put in, “There’s another old sayin’ about life not bein’ fair.”

“Yes, but it
should
be, whenever that’s possible,” Eve said. “And if we don’t strive for that, then what’s the point?”

Flighty and shallow she might be, Phyllis thought—or at least might
appear
to be—but Eve still had the knack of putting her finger on the core of things. Phyllis supposed that was what made her a good writer.

She was in her bedroom later, with her laptop open on the desk, when Sam knocked softly on the door and came in.

“Goin’ back over the stuff in the newspapers about the case?” he asked her as he looked over her shoulder at the screen.

“Yes, just to make sure I don’t forget anything I want to try to work into the conversation at the salon tomorrow morning. I may not get another chance to talk to the people who work there. It would look funny, after all, if I kept coming back.”

“You could always claim they didn’t make you beautiful enough. Of course, I don’t know who’d ever believe that.”

Without looking around, she swatted him lightly on the hip and said, “That’ll be enough flattery, Sam Fletcher. We’re both far too old for that.”

“One more old sayin’...you’re only as old as you feel.” He bent over and kissed the top of her head. “And you make me feel like a young fella of sixty. But I’ll leave you to your studyin’. It’s important.”

“I know,” Phyllis said. “I’m not sure if it’s because Danny’s going to be transferred to Huntsville any day now or if it’s something else, but I keep having the feeling that time is running out.”

••●••

Sam took an old paperback Western novel with him the next morning, but he had his phone, too, if he wanted to read something on it. Phyllis wasn’t exactly nervous as they drove toward Fort Worth in Sam’s pickup. She had taken part in enough investigations by now that this was nothing new.

But at the same time, you never knew what was going to happen when you started poking around in people’s lives. There was always a chance things would take you by surprise, and in dealing with murder, that could be dangerous. It was easy enough to say that nothing too bad was going to happen in a beauty salon...

But it had to Roxanne Jackson, hadn’t it?

Sam must have sensed that something was bothering her, because he said, “I’ll be right there, you know, where I can keep an eye on you the whole time.”

“Oh, I know that,” Phyllis said. “I’m not really afraid. There’s just so much riding on this for Danny.”

“Years of his life,” Sam agreed. “Decades, more than likely. Not to mention his own good name. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have folks believe that you murdered somebody you love, when you didn’t do it.”

“It must be sheer torture for him. Maybe it won’t be too long before we can help him.”

“We’re tryin’, right now,” Sam pointed out.

Phyllis nodded, then said, “There is no try, only do or not do.”

Sam laughed. “You’re quotin’ Yoda.”

“I didn’t know where it was from, I just knew I’d heard it. And it’s certainly true in this case.”

Not long after that, they reached the salon, having timed it so only five minutes remained until Phyllis’s appointment. They went inside, where Aurora greeted them with a polite—but none too sincere, in Phyllis’s opinion—smile.

“Good morning,” the young woman said. Her two-toned hair was straight on both sides this morning, hanging down over her shoulders. She wore a tank top that left her arms bare and revealed more tattoos. “If you’ll go on in, Mrs. Newsom, Courtney is ready for you.”

She pointed to one of the stylists, a blonde around thirty.

Phyllis said, “Thank you. I suppose it’s all right if my friend waits out here?”

“Of course. There are some copies of
Vogue
...”

Sam held up his paperback, smiled, and said, “Thanks, but I got my own readin’ material to pass the time. Not many shoot-em-up stories in
Vogue
, I don’t imagine.”

Aurora gave him a more genuine smile and said, “Oh, I don’t know. The fashion industry can get pretty vicious.”

“Maybe I’ll check ’em out, then.”

He was off to a good start, Phyllis thought as she entered the salon’s main room. If Sam could charm Aurora, there was no telling what he might find out.

Like the paint and body shop, the smell of chemicals was strong in the salon. Ironic that both places had that in common, Phyllis mused. The stylist named Courtney greeted her with a smile and said, “Mrs. Newsom? Sit right down and tell me what you’d like for me to do.”

“Well, I was thinking it was time for a new look,” Phyllis said. “I thought I’d just put myself in your hands. Your salon has a wonderful reputation.”

“Pauline wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that she’s very devoted to making her clients happy.” Phyllis had noted that Pauline didn’t seem to be around this morning, which might mean her employees would be more liable to talk freely.

“We all feel that way,” Courtney said. “Of course, you can’t please everybody all the time.”

“I know that. Do you ever have customers get angry at the way their hair turns out?”

“Sure. Not me, specifically, mind you.” Courtney smiled. “Last year we had a woman get so mad she threatened to sue Pauline. Thank goodness I wasn’t the one who took care of her.”

“Who was?” Phyllis glanced around and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Just so I’ll know who I might not want working on my hair in the future, you know.”

“Oh, that girl’s not here anymore. In fact, she—” Courtney stopped short, then went on, “Never mind. Pauline doesn’t like for us to talk about that. Let’s talk about your hair, instead. When did you wash your hair last?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Did you use conditioner or any hair products?” Courtney asked.

“No, I just shampooed, blow dryed, and used the flat iron on some strays.”

“Perfect. I’m thinking some highlights and maybe a different cut, something a little more...stylish...”

“Whatever you think, but remember, I’m not young anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got great skin. Maybe you should get a facial next time you come in and make it even better.”

“You know, that’s a good idea. I wonder if it would be possible to work it in today.”

“I don’t know,” Courtney said with a frown. “I can check for you, if you’d like.”

The longer she could stay here talking to these people, the better, Phyllis thought. She nodded and said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

Courtney stepped over to one of the other stations and talked briefly to the young black woman working there. She came back and reported to Phyllis, “Talia said she could work you in as soon as I’m finished with your hair.”

“Thank you. I’m really grateful.”

“Always happy to help.”

How much of that was true and how much was just angling for a good tip was debatable, Phyllis thought, but she supposed it didn’t really matter. The end result was what counted.

And she had already picked up some interesting information. She had a very strong hunch that the stylist who had angered a customer enough for the woman to threaten a lawsuit had been Roxanne Jackson. And that, in turn, must have angered Pauline. Phyllis could imagine Pauline lighting into Roxanne over the problem. Maybe Roxanne had taken offense, and the confrontation had escalated into an argument...

That was pure speculation, and flimsy speculation, at that. But it was one more possibility to add to the growing list in Phyllis’s mind. Like most people, Roxanne had had problems in her life that, if taken to extremes, could provide a motive for murder. Phyllis had learned over the years that someone who supposedly got along with everybody and had no enemies was just good at covering up such things. She wasn’t pleased that she had gotten so cynical, and she tried to guard against it, but she supposed that under the circumstances, it had been inevitable.

Courtney lightly spritzed Phyllis’s hair and quickly trimmed her hair. Courtney explained how she would create fullness by cutting short feathered layers and wispy fringe giving her a soft but elegant style. She started to work in the chemicals for the highlights], telling Phyllis that she was going to use two tones of brown to cover a little of the gray, but playing up her natural color. She used a brush to paint on the highlighter applying it on small sections of hair and then wrapping each setion in foil.

While that was going on, Phyllis tried again several times to steer the conversation back around to Roxanne, but Courtney sidestepped the questions and seemed determined not to say anything that might get Pauline angry at her.

When Courtney was finished for the moment, she said, “We’ll need to let that sit for a while. I’m going to check on one of my other clients who is here for a bang trim, and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

“Of course,” Phyllis said. “I can’t wait to see how this is going to look.”

“I’m sure you’re going to like it.”

Courtney left her sitting in the chair with a plastic cape draped over her and walked to the other side of the salon.

“She’s dead, you know.”

The voice took Phyllis by surprise. She looked over at the woman sitting in the next chair. The woman was leaned back with some sort of creamy mask spread over her face. Her eyes were closed, but Phyllis was sure she was the one who had spoken.

“What?”

“She’s dead. The girl who nearly caused Pauline to be sued. I can tell you all about it if you’d like.”

Phyllis glanced around. None of the salon’s employees were close by at the moment, and she wasn’t going to pass up a chance for some gossip...especially when that gossip might be just what she needed to save Danny Jackson from a prison term he didn’t deserve.

“I’d like that very much,” Phyllis said as she leaned closer to her new-found friend.

Out in the waiting area, Sam had opened his paperback, but he read only a few pages before looking up and asking Aurora, “You don’t have a Coke machine in here, do you?”

She smiled again and said, “No, I’m afraid not. But I have a little fridge back here with bottled water if you’d like one.”

“That sounds good. I’d be obliged to you.”

Aurora turned her swivel chair around, reached under a counter where Sam couldn’t see, and asked, “Regular, coconut, or vitamin-infused?”

“Oh, I think regular will do me just fine, thanks.” He stood up and moved over to the desk so he could take the bottle of water she handed him. He unscrewed the cap, took a long swallow, and nodded. “Mighty good, even if it’s not infused. Thanks again.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Newsom.”

“Oh, I’m not Mr. Newsom. Phyllis and I are good friends, I guess you’d say. Fact is, we sort of live together.” He waggled his bushy eyebrows, imitating Groucho Marx, who there was a good chance Aurora wasn’t familiar with. He extended a hand and added, “Name’s Sam Fletcher.”

Aurora laughed at the eyebrow-wiggle, then shook his hand as she said, “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Fletcher, and good for you.”

Let her draw her own conclusions, Sam thought, as long as it made her friendly and willing to talk.

“This isn’t the first beauty shop where I’ve waited for her,” he went on, “but I reckon it’s maybe the nicest.”

“Oh, Paul’s isn’t a beauty shop. It’s a
salon
. Hearing it called a beauty shop usually makes my aunt pretty mad, although she’ll hold it in rather than risk offending a customer.”

“Your aunt runs the place?”

“She owns it. Pauline Gibbs.”

Sam nodded and said, “Yeah, come to think of it, I believe Phyllis mentioned somethin’ about meetin’ her the other day. She’s not around?”

“No, she’s gone to the bank to take care of some business.”

“I know Phyllis was impressed with her. Impressed with the whole place, to tell you the truth. She was sure pleased when you called yesterday and told her she could get in so soon.”

“Well...that was Pauline’s idea.”

“Really? I thought somebody cancelled on y’all.”

“They did,” Aurora said, “but there were nine names on the list ahead of Mrs. Newsom’s. Pauline told me to go ahead and call her, though. When I asked her why, she said we haven’t been getting enough new customers lately. The other ladies on the cancellation list are all regular clients. They’ll keep coming back. And if she’s pleased, Mrs. Newsom will, too.” The young woman shrugged. “I guess it makes sense.”

“Unless those other ladies find out somebody got bumped ahead of ’em. They might not appreciate that.”

Aurora leaned forward and looked around. She lowered her voice, even though there was no one to overhear, and said, “You won’t tell anybody, will you? I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to get in trouble—”

“Don’t worry,” Sam broke in, raising a hand to reassure her. “Beauty shop politics—I mean, beauty
salon
politics—is none of my business.”

Aurora sat back and heaved a sigh of relief. “Sometimes I talk too much,” she said. “Pauline doesn’t like that, especially when it’s about what goes on here at the salon.”

“Well, you can understand her feelin’ that way. She doesn’t want anything hurtin’ the business. I mean, Phyllis told me that somethin’ happened to one of the young ladies who used to work here, and that must’ve caused a problem.”

“You mean Roxanne.”

Sam shook his head vaguely and said, “I dunno. I never really was sure what she was talkin’ about.”

Aurora glanced around again, evidently unable to suppress the urge to explain. Then she said, “There was a girl murdered, right here in the salon.”

Sam opened his eyes wider. “You mean while ladies were gettin’ their hair done?”

“No, no, it was in the evening, after the salon was closed. Roxanne was here working late, and her husband came in and killed her.”

“That’s terrible,” Sam said.

“I know. Not that I really liked Roxanne all that much.” She made a face. “She was sort of full of herself. Stuck up, you know. But Danny—her husband—he was a lot nicer. I couldn’t believe it when I heard what he did. I was always glad to see him when he stopped by to talk to Roxanne or to pick her up if her car wasn’t running. He was pretty cute, too.”

“I guess some murderers are.”

Aurora blew out a breath and shook her head. “Anyway, it shook us all up pretty bad for a while, to think that it could happen right here where we work every day. And yeah, it hurt business for a while. But Pauline’s customers really like how they’re treated here, so eventually nearly all of them came back. By now it’s like nothing ever happened. Some of the girls weren’t even working here then, so it doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“This Roxanne, she was here by herself when it happened?”

“That’s right.” Aurora made a face again. “She was one of Pauline’s favorites, I guess you could say. Pauline let her book some late appointments and close up when she was finished. She’d take the day’s deposit to the bank when she did that.”

“Sounds like she had her eye on runnin’ the place one o’ these days.”

“Yeah, you might think so.” Aurora frowned slightly. “Funny thing, though. Roxanne didn’t act like she was trying to take over. Maybe a little, starting out, but there at the end it was more like she was counting the days until she got out of here. She never came right out and said it, but that was the impression I got.”

“She must’ve had another job lined up.”

“If she did, she never said anything about it. It was more like she was going to blow it all off, like she didn’t need the job anymore.” Aurora’s eyes opened wider. “Or maybe she had a premonition of her own death!”

“That doesn’t seem too likely,” Sam said. “If she had, wouldn’t she be worried or even scared?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it was such a strong premonition that she knew she couldn’t do anything about it. Like...her time was up.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Oh, there are things out there we can’t explain,” Aurora said solemnly. “Lots of things.

Like pretty girls with blue and purple hair, Sam thought.

“Did you ever think that maybe it wasn’t her husband who killed her?” he ventured.

“Oh, no, the cops caught him pretty much red-handed. I mean, he was the one who called 911, but he just did that to try to throw suspicion off of him. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Remember, this is the first I’ve heard about the whole thing.”

“Well, Danny was tried and found guilty and sent off to prison, I guess. Him being convicted was really the last I heard about it. So he wouldn’t have been found guilty if he wasn’t really guilty, would he?”

“I suppose not. Although you hear about that happenin’ from time to time.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She smiled. “Anyway, I need to get back to work. I have to call and confirm tomorrow’s appointments. Wouldn’t want my aunt to come in and find me not doing my job. But I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Likewise,” Sam said. He went back to the comfortably upholstered bench, taking the bottle of water Aurora had given him. He sat down and opened his paperback again.

But even though he looked at the pages, his eyes didn’t really focus on the words at first. He spent a few minutes thinking about what he had learned from the young woman. At first glance, it didn’t amount to much, but in trying to solve a murder, little things often turned out to be important.

He glanced into the salon area, wondering how Phyllis was doing with her efforts.

••●••

“I’m Desiree Chilton,” the woman in the next chair said.

“Phyllis Newsom,” Phyllis introduced herself, hoping the woman wouldn’t recognize her name.

“It’s nice to meet you. And I have to agree you have really beautiful skin. I hope mine looks that good when I’m your age.” Desiree gestured toward the cream spread all over her face. “That’s one reason for this. And I hope I didn’t offend you by mentioning your age...”

“Not at all,” Phyllis assured her. “I’m proud of every year I’ve spent on this earth.”

“Well, that’s a good way to be.”

It was hard to tell with the mask she was wearing, but Phyllis figured Desiree was in her thirties. She had blond hair pulled back in a long ponytail. A cape covered most of her body, but Phyllis could see the expensive shoes she wore, along with part of the designer jeans. Evidently, Desiree had plenty of money, which is just what Phyllis would have expected from one of the salon’s customers.

“Anyway,” Desiree went on, “I was going to tell you about what happened to Roxanne, the poor girl. Her husband killed her right here in the salon. Beat her to death with his bare hands.”

“Good Lord.” Phyllis didn’t have to fake the reaction. Even though she knew the alleged facts of the case quite well by now, hearing it stated so bluntly made it seem even more horrifying. “He came in and attacked her while people were here?”

“No, it was after hours, but Roxanne was still here. Her husband called the police, I guess because he knew he’d be the only real suspect, and tried to claim he’d found her that way, but of course no one believed him. I’m pretty sure he was found guilty at his trial, although I didn’t really keep up with it.”

“I guess you knew Roxanne pretty well,” Phyllis said.

“She was the best! I always asked for her when I came in. It was devastating when I lost her!” Desiree sighed. “That sounded callous, didn’t it? I didn’t really mean it quite like that...but I could talk to her about almost anything, and it’s certainly true that none of the other girls here have quite the same touch Roxanne did. Shelley Dawson is crazy.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Phyllis said.

“Shelley? Oh, she got mad and pitched a fit a week or so before Roxanne was killed. She claimed Roxanne butchered her hair. But if you ask me, it looked all right. And believe me, it takes a miracle worker to make Shelley’s hair look even all right! She should have been thankful Roxanne did as good a job as she did. Instead, like I said, she caused all kinds of commotion and trouble by complaining to Pauline. Then of course Pauline got mad at Roxanne and it was just a big, unpleasant mess.”

“That’s terrible. Roxanne must have been pretty upset about the whole deal, too.”

“You’d think so,” Desiree said. “Really, though, she sort of just shrugged it off, like she didn’t care all that much, even though Shelley wanted Pauline to fire her. It never came to that, of course, and then a week later...well, none of it mattered anymore because of what happened.”

“The murder, you mean.”

“That’s right. Murder makes everything else sort of pale into insignificance, doesn’t it?”

“It has a way of doing that, all right,” Phyllis agreed.

“Anyway, that’s the story, and that’s why nobody around here likes to talk about it.” Desiree sighed again. “I do miss Roxanne, though. I used to tell that girl everything! I mean, if you’re going to trust somebody with something as important as your hair and face, you can trust them with anything, right?”

“I suppose so,” Phyllis said.

“I’d better shut up now. That’s hard for me to do, if you haven’t guessed.” She laughed. “Talia’s going to fuss at me for taking a chance on cracking this mask...” Desiree’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And she and Courtney are coming back.”

The two stylists returned to their stations and went back to work on Phyllis and Desiree. Phyllis pretended to be paying attention to what Courtney was doing, but actually her mind was going over everything Desiree had said. The woman hadn’t really given Phyllis any new information, as far as she could tell, but at the same time, something had started to stir in the back of her brain. It wasn’t a coherent picture yet, or even close to that, but there
was
some sort of pattern that might be important, Phyllis sensed. She just couldn’t tell what it was.

Maybe Sam had had better luck with Aurora, she thought.