Killer Cousins (7 page)

“I love that new place. Wonderful food and such funny jokes.”

“Right. And when you went, was the owner there? A distinguished-looking man, about my age? His name is Gil Thurman.”

She stared at my face. I feared she was picking out each sag and cavernous line, and deciding I was much older than Gil. “Not that I noticed.”

“Oh.” I was done with anticipating Gil’s presence.

“You won’t be too long. Come on, I’ll sweep up and then rinse you.”

She swept hair around the chair I’d sat in. Surely not all mine. Too much gray.

I looked out of her window and took momentary pleasure in the rolling landscape. I wanted to ask about the dead man but wasn’t sure what to say, especially since nothing was in the newspaper yet. A teenager pumped his bike up the road. A small car slowed. The woman driving it glanced at the shop and sped on. She’d probably read the sign
We take walk-ins
. Did anyone besides me walk in? I’d been inside a while and no one else had called or come. I feared the worst when my hair was done.

And I couldn’t think of any way to ask a tactful question so sank right in. “Do y’all have many accountants around here?”

“I guess as many as in other places. You need one?”

“Possibly. Do you know any good ones?”

“Not right off.” She waved her hand to indicate I should follow to the sink. I did, and she rinsed my hair. “One of my customers is marrying a guy who does accounting. She says he’s real good. Of course, I wouldn’t know if she means with taxes and stuff, if you know what I mean.”

“I know. Would you know the man’s name?”

“Sure, Kelly’s going to marry Pierce Trottier. She talks about it all the time. You can sit up now.”

“Trottier,” I said like I’d never heard the name, but my neck muscles tightened. “Would his firm be in the phone book?”

“I guess. But if you want, I can call Kelly. She’s not teaching today so she might be home.”

“That’s okay. I can look it up when I’m ready.” Anxiety spiked up my scalp. What if Audrey Ray called his fiancée now? The woman would probably be bawling and telling the whole story of what had happened. And that I’d tripped over him? Would his fiancée know my name?

I imagined she would. The police might even tell her more than they’d tell us. I groaned. I surely didn’t want Audrey Ray telling her I was sitting here, asking questions about him. I couldn’t imagine how that might hurt the woman who loved him.

My hairdresser snapped the black cape off me. I resumed my place on the chair in front of the lights. She draped a towel on my shoulders. With her blow dryer, she blasted hot air across my head. “They’re getting married next month.”

“They were?”

She flicked off her blow dryer. “What do you mean
were?
Did you hear that they broke up?”

“I mean…
are, were
—they’re both just verbs, about the same, right?”

She stared at my reflection. Couldn’t possibly know I owned a copyediting agency, and we proofread for grammar errors.

“You had me worried. Kelly’s been a customer for years. She’s the sweetest person and adores Pierce. I’d sure hate to see them break up right before the wedding.”

Heat blasted my head as she blew my hair up, out, and over. I wondered about the man who died. Why had he? And what about the poor woman he was ready to marry?

I gazed at the gold-flecked counter, imagining Kelly’s horror yesterday when she’d learned her fiancé had perished. I imagined his parents, if they were still alive, hearing that their son wasn’t. My heart couldn’t take in such pain.

“There.” Audrey Ray’s dryer went silent. “How’s that?”

I wiped my blurred, damp eyes and looked in the mirror.

Big
hair. Much bigger than usual. But not too bad.

“You gave it a nice shape,” I said, the second thing I noticed. Kind of puffy, yet somewhat inspired. Little flips here and there, drawing the eye away from my wrinkles. And even those wrinkles showed less. Or maybe my eye had grown accustomed to my bright image. And strawberry? Yep, it sure was. Nature’s Strawberry Highlights turned my hair into the color of a ripe strawberry. It resembled a large one.

“You want to try some lipstick?” she asked.

I didn’t. I paid Audrey Ray, adding a nice tip, and left her shop.

I didn’t look forward to finding Stevie locked inside that strange bedroom. If she was still in there, how would I get her out? She hadn’t even answered when I knocked on the door twice and called her name before I left.

Was she meditating?

Tension tightened my spine as I drove nearer her place. With her shifting moods, who knew what kind of disposition I’d find her in?

Reaching her street, I felt my anxiety soar.

Two police cars were parked in front of Stevie’s house.

Chapter 6

I stopped behind the squad cars and bolted into my cousin’s house. “Stevie, what’s wrong?”

No answer.

I dashed down the hall. Saw lights on in my bedroom.

“That’s her!” Stevie’s voice carried.

She and the police were going through my things. I knew because Stevie held my newest pastel yellow bra. A female deputy stopped rooting through dresser drawers. A young man in uniform didn’t stop fingering my outfits hanging in the closet.

“Where have you been?” Detective Renwick barked at me.

“Cealie, what happened to you?” Stevie grabbed me in a hug that snapped my breath. She stared at my head. “And what in the world happened to your hair?”

I sat on the bed. They’d even pulled back the covers, maybe checking for stray hair? Surely this must be part of the investigation for the dead man since I was the one who’d fallen on him.

“Let’s see,” I said, and all of them gathered round. I recounted my last hours, giving a detailed description of my experience at Beauty First. “And then I drove here.”

Everybody’s shoulders lowered. Expressions faded, from intense to “who cares?” Most of the cops backed away from me.

“That’s it? You only went to have your hair done?” Renwick lifted his gaze to my coiffeur.

I patted down the top a wee bit. “Was that a problem? Y’all don’t let a stranger get her hair fixed? Did somebody report me?”

Stevie’s hands fluttered around her sides. “Me. I called and told them you were missing.”

“Missing?”

“You just disappeared, and I thought whoever killed the man in my yard got you.”

Renwick stuck his pad in his pocket. “The only reason we came, with you seemingly missing for less than a day, was because someone died here. Your cousin made us believe something bad had also happened to you.”

“How nice of you to check up on me.” I patted his shoulder. “But if I ever have a problem, I have a cell phone. I’ll be sure to call you if I need help.”

All the cops turned to leave, except the young man who dug through my closet. He returned to it, stared inside, and fingered my low-cut, chamois-colored sweater that was hanging next to my short leather skirt. “Nice outfit,” he said, and for an instant, I imagined him wearing it. Maybe because of his shapely eyebrows. Possibly from his stance—one hand on his slim hip. I envisioned him wearing a push-up bra with my slut outfit he kept admiring.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” Stevie grimaced at me in the hall while the others went out. “I got so worried.”

“I knocked on that door.” I pointed to the one open now, emitting the smell of extinguished candles. “I told you where I was going and called your name twice, but you never answered.”

Her expression blanked. “You did? I was consulting…” She stared at the space beside me. Shut her mouth.

Obviously she wasn’t going to tell me with whom or what she’d spoken in that room. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Or possibly my cousin had a mental problem. Unless I could help, I’d just as soon not know about it. She seemed to function well enough.

I moved farther from the candle room. It started to give off strange vibes. Or maybe I imagined them. “You sure have nice police in Gatlinburg. They’ll come to see about you right away.”

Stevie trailed me to the kitchen. Under the bright fluorescent lights, she stood peering down at my hair.

“The hairdresser gave me a little touch-up,” I said, hinting for a compliment. “This shade’s natural. Nature’s Strawberry Highlights.”

“Let’s go eat,” she said.

“Already? Are you sure you want to eat again so soon?”

She grabbed her purse.

* * *

Stevie knew where to locate Cajun Delights restaurant. She wound her Jeep down the road, this time slowly enough for me to enjoy watching the water trickle along the mountain’s rocky side. We traveled near a bubbly tree-lined creek. I opened my window to hear water lapping against rocks, deciding tranquility tapes must have been made from such a place.

If I hadn’t found a dead person and if we weren’t headed to my former lover’s restaurant, I would have experienced perfect peace. My driver, annoying as she’d been, kept her thoughts to herself.

She turned onto a street with lush trees at the base of a mountain. The few commercial buildings blended with nature. My heart struck harder when Stevie pulled into a parking lot filled with cars and trucks. The tall wooden sign out front said
Cajun Delights
, its cayenne-red letters on a worn green finish unmistakable. The cypress exterior was gray. “Seems like lots of people heard about this place opening,” she said, “or the food is extra good.”

“It is,” I replied. Stevie glanced at me, and I had to think of a different response. “I mean, I like Cajun cooking. Cajuns prepare good food.”

She parked. I didn’t think she guessed I’d eaten in similar restaurants that Gil opened in other cities. No need for her to know about what had once been between us.

“Attractive,” she said. We walked near the aerated pond holding fish and ducks. People watched them from a wooden bridge. “This place has a comfortable feel.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I said nothing. We stepped onto the porch where families sat on swings. Some strolled beneath the roof’s tin overhang.
Welcome to Cajun Delights. We’re glad you’re here.
Those words on a small sign posted on the leaded glass door sent my pulse into overdrive.

Gil might be inside.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Who knew where he might be at this moment? I struggled to get my ideas straight, but hormones raced. Darn, I wasn’t a teenager. Gil had probably stayed back around Chicago. Of course, he’d told me he was flying out this way soon. How soon? I fought with my thoughts in an attempt to straighten them out, but couldn’t. “Dammit,” I blurted.

Stevie glanced at me. I almost fibbed and said I’d stubbed my toe. Instead I tightened my lips and gave her a half smirk.

A man entering ahead of us peered back. I felt I should apologize for my language once I saw he wore a minister’s white-banded collar with a black shirt. He looked at me but not Stevie, and turned around to follow a pair of sultry young women through the doorway. He walked with a limp.

“He looks familiar,” I told Stevie, and then remembered. “Isn’t he Father Paul Edward from your stop-smoking group?”

She pulled back and spoke softly, “I hope he doesn’t spot me. I’ll want to see how he does without smoking after he eats.”

“Is that a difficult time to do without a smoke?” I asked, having forgotten Stevie and those others must be going through withdrawal pains.

“It’s when you want a cigarette the worst. After eating—and sex.” At my startled expression, she said, “At least that’s what people tell me, you know, about sex. They say a smoke’s especially good then.”

I’d never known Stevie to have sexual encounters. It surprised me to hear her mention them.

What surprised me most were those shapely young women Father Paul Edward seemed to be with. And his walk. One of his legs dragged and its foot dipped. He used a three-pronged cane.

“Does he really have trouble walking?” I asked Stevie.

“Mmm, smell that,” she said.

The food did smell scrumptious as we entered Gil’s restaurant. Tantalizing scents of fried seafood mingled with the smell of tangy crab boil used to pepper up the large red-shelled crabs I spied on waiters’ trays. Smiling customers ate at tables with black-and-white cloths holding tempting dishes. Every chair appeared filled, yet a hostess escorted us to a table near a far wall.

We sat near the knotty pine wall. I scanned the framed pictures of swamp scenes. Across the room I spied Father Paul Edward laughing with the women seated beside him.

I glanced around at all the faces, looking for Gil. Disappointment dropped in when I didn’t find him.

“I want a seafood platter,” Stevie told our waiter. “A large one.”

Without opening my menu, I asked, “Would you have boiled crayfish?”

“Sorry,” he said, “we haven’t gotten any yet.”

More disappointment. I sighed. “Then I’d like shrimp stew and lima beans. A cup of shrimp and corn soup as an appetizer, please.”

“How did you know they’d have dishes like that?” Stevie asked me.

“Lucky guess.”

She eyed the entrées and appetizers people surrounding us ate. “This does seem like a nice place. And all of the food looks great.”

I made noncommittal sounds. “Nice music.”

“Yes, that’s good, too.”

We turned toward a small platform holding a trio playing soft jazz. Right beyond them stood the most striking woman. Probably in her early thirties, she wore a magenta suit and similar makeup that showed off a willowy figure. Shoulder-length blond hair flipped in a fashionable style and surrounded a beauty-queen face pinched up in a scowl. She stared at her watch.

The musicians quit playing. The beauty queen turned to a man with extra-short hair who rushed to the platform. The cute man didn’t look at home stuffed into his tweed sports coat.

“Good evening,” he said into the mike, “and welcome. We hope you’ll enjoy your experience at Cajun Delights and come back again soon.”

Customers applauded. The man said, “I’d like to introduce our lovely daytime manager to you, Babs Jacobs.” He pointed to the woman, her scowl replaced by a bright smile while we all clapped. “And I’ll be overseeing things here in the evening,” the man onstage said. “So if anything’s wrong with your meals, you can take it out on me, Jake Bryant.”