Killer Hair (25 page)

“Who?”

“Marcia. Her mom’s got a condo on the beach and she was hiding out,” Nan said.

“Marcia Robinson is in Virginia Beach?”

“It was very hush-hush,” Heidi said, “but everybody knew.”

Both stylists agreed that Tammi had put in extra effort to make the salon look nice for Lacey’s visit. “Why would she kill herself?” Nan asked.

“And why would she do it like Angie? It’s so messy, and that wasn’t like Tammi. She liked everything to be neat.”

A silver-gray Jaguar with smoked windows pulled up to the curb. Boyd Radford emerged, slammed the door shut, and pushed his way through the mob to the salon. Boyd wore blue jeans that looked new and stiff over a pudgy belly. His sky-blue polo shirt revealed pasty white arms and a Rolex watch. A black cap with the Stylettos logo was perched on his head. He started when he saw Lacey with Vic Donovan, but he caught himself. Radford signaled Vic to come talk with him. He glared at Lacey. Vic steered Radford off to the side.

“For God’s sake,” Radford spat at Vic, “what is
she
doing here?” He turned and charged into the salon.

The window on the passenger side of the Jaguar slid down. Josephine, behind designer sunglasses and a black straw hat, calmly sat and watched the crowd. She nodded to Lacey.

Nan threw her cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. She wrinkled her nose. Lacey sensed the familiar loathing for Radford that many Stylettos’ stylists seemed to share.

“He came on to you, didn’t he?” she asked Nan.

“Does a redneck drive a truck? Yeah, I wanted to be a manager and the head rat suggested a few ways that could happen. Ratboy’s idea of a management position is on your back.”

“What happened?”

“You’re not looking at a manager, are you?” She shook another unfiltered cancer stick out of a pack and lit it, her hand shielding the match against a slight breeze. “What a pig.”

Heidi broke in. “You’re not exactly subtle about it, you know.” Heidi looked at Lacey. “She’s always singing the pink-collar blues.”

A beautiful smile lit up Nan’s face. “I told him he could suck on a hot curling iron before I’d play slap the monkey with an ugly old ape like him. He’s, like, totally gross, and I mean he must be fifty. Doesn’t that just make you want to hurl?” She blew a smoke ring.

“Yeah, well, watch out or you’ll hurl yourself out of a job,” Heidi said.

“What about Tammi? Did she have a relationship with Radford?” Lacey asked.

“She’s a manager,” Heidi said. “She put up with him. But it was kind of understood that it was over.” Heidi offered another tidbit. “Ratboy’s scouting locations for a new salon. There are two Stylettos in town now. And he owns a beach house on Ocean Front Avenue so he can combine business with pleasure.”

“New manager and assistant manager slots will open up. They say some guy from D.C.’s got the inside track on the manager slot,” Nan said. “Leonardo with no last name. How’s that for pompous? Apparently, he’s Josephine’s little protégé.”

“Leonardo was supposed to come down this week to meet with Tammi and some of the stylists and look at the possible locations, sort of a job interview.” Heidi said. It was hard for Lacey not to stare at her strange Aries haircut, but then attracting attention was the point.

Boyd emerged from the salon and spoke quietly with Vic. He announced that Stylettos would be closed for the rest of the day and next two days. His face was unreadable. Lacey couldn’t figure out if he looked angry, sad, or shocked.

There seemed to be a routine that a stylist’s death required. Boyd already had it down pat. He tacked a handwritten sign on the door telling clients to visit the other Stylettos salon two miles down the beach. The closed salon would be back in business on Friday. He misspelled “bizness” and “simpathy.”

Heidi and Nan were told to go home. Three others were told to report to the other Stylettos to see if they could fill in. On his way back to the car, Radford gave a warm hug to a striking titian-haired stylist. He whispered something in her ear and smiled lewdly. He avoided Lacey’s gaze. She looked around, but she didn’t see where Vic had gone.

Boyd’s next glare of disapproval was for his ex-spouse. He returned to the Jaguar. “Not a word, Josephine. I don’t want one goddamn word out of you.” He got in and slammed his door shut. Josephine put her sunglasses back on and spat something in French. Her window slid back up and the Jaguar pulled away.

The crowd started to dwindle and Lacey noticed a woman on the edge of the crowd slipping away.
What is Sherri Gold doing here?
Lacey couldn’t be sure if the lanky woman in oversized sunglasses was Sherri Gold. She started after the woman but lost her in the crowd.
No, wait. I must be wrong.

Heidi and Nan showed no sign of leaving while the police were still there. Lacey stood with them silently and waited until Vic emerged from the salon.

She pulled him aside. “Vic, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know anything except she’s dead and they say it does look like suicide. There’s a note in blood on the mirror.”

“A snide note. Just like Angie’s. And her hair was cut off.”

“Says who?”

“The stylists. It was long yesterday. Gone today.”

“I hadn’t heard that.” He let out a long breath. “Cops don’t pay much attention to hair, I guess. Tell me, Lacey, can you just hold your horses for now and stay out of trouble?”

Lacey cocked an eyebrow at him and gave him the “Look,” that special look women reserve for idiots and men.

“Okay. I’m sorry I said it.” He didn’t look sorry. “I’ve got to meet up with Radford.”

“What did he say?”

Lines around Vic’s eyes crinkled in the sunlight. “Told me to keep you under control. What are the odds?”

“I want to talk with the cops.”

“Later, Lacey. I’ll call you. You got a cell phone?”

She groaned. “I hate cell phones. I’ll call you.” They walked back to the Jeep and she retrieved her bag before letting him drive off. “Thanks for the ride down. I do appreciate it. I can take care of myself from here. I’ll see you later,” she said. “Or not. Let me know what you find out.”

He waved. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Chapter 18

Lacey treated Nan and Heidi to lunch. There were tears and regrets at the Sandwash Café. Neither woman knew anything about George, the mystery man who had called Tammi with the hair-for-money offer. Lacey again wondered aloud, casually, where Tammi’s hair was. Nan and Heidi just stared at each other and shrugged.

“I didn’t think about it,” Heidi said. “I didn’t really take a long look, you know.”

Nan suggested that the cops found it and took it for evidence. They couldn’t believe that Angie or Tammi had committed suicide, but neither stylist could fathom the thought of murder. Until Lacey brought it up.
Something else Boyd Radford will thank me for.

“Oh my God,” Heidi said. “Do you think someone is going after stylists? That doesn’t make any sense!”

Nan ordered another Coke. “I don’t know, some people get really pissed off about their hair.”

“Has anything out of the ordinary happened lately at the salon?” Lacey wanted to know. Nan and Heidi shared a look and Heidi shook her head. Lacey felt a jolt. “What? Tell me.”

“We kind of agreed not to talk about it after Angie died,” Heidi said. She looked down at her plate. Nobody was eating much.

“Come on, guys. Two of your friends are dead, whether it’s suicide or something else. Whatever you’re avoiding, it’s better to get it out in the open. Is there some kind of theft ring operating out of the salons?”

Nan shook her head. “I don’t know anything about that. You know, the occasional bottle of shampoo takes a walk, but something big? No. Is that what you think?”

A tear dripped off the end of Heidi’s nose. “Oh God. We thought it was just a joke.”

“It could be nothing,” Lacey rushed to assure her. “But if you tell me, maybe we can figure something out.”
You’re a glutton for punishment, Lacey.

“Come on, Heidi. We might as well tell her. And just for the record, if something weird is going on, I am not feeling like killing myself,” Nan said. “Although I’ve never felt worse.” Heidi agreed and wiped her eyes with a napkin.

“It’s that damn videotape,” Nan said. She reached for a cigarette, but remembered they were in a no-smoking section. “Few weeks ago, Tammi gets a package in the mail from Angie. A videotape with a note that says something like, ‘Don’t watch this garbage and don’t tell anyone. Please just hide it.’ ”

Heidi broke in. “Tammi figured Angie was just being funny and this was some kind of styling video from the company and it was Angie’s way of saying that it sucked.”

“Anyway,” Nan resumed, “we all think it’s gonna be a total hoot, you know, a bunch of you-gotta-be-kidding haircuts, so Tammi schedules a salon meeting to watch it, a half hour before the salon opens. We even pop popcorn in the microwave and get our smokes and sodas ready.” She snickered at the memory. “Well, goddamn, if it isn’t some funky homemade porno film! It’s pretty comical in a gross way. Starring all these Comb Overs and Helmet Heads. As if you want to see naked geezers. Geezers, well, you know, forty-somethings. Geezers with really young chicks, like teenagers. Gross. We’re just about ready to turn it off when Ratboy shows up.”

“At the salon?” Lacey asked.

“No, on the video,” Nan continued. “We see him hand over an envelope to some woman with a blond bubblehead cut, you know, short and puffy. And next thing you know, Ratboy’s dropped his drawers and Bubblehead is down to just her pearls, and bingo, bango, they’re doing it!”

“Now we call him ‘Jackrabbit.’ Or ‘R.R.’ For ‘Rapid Rodent, ’ ” Heidi said. “It was so funny I snorted Pepsi out of my nose.”

Nan mentioned that they played that part at least ten times. “Now we look at Rapid Rodent in, like, a whole new light.”

“Did you recognize anyone else?”

“Oh yeah, Marcia Robinson. She was just walking around the room topless with a plate of hors d’oeuvres like at a cocktail party,” Heidi said. “She’s kind of chubby to go totally naked. And some of the naked people looked familiar, like you’ve seen them on television or something, but I couldn’t tell you who they were.”

Nan helpfully added more details. “And some you couldn’t see very well because they’d been digitally altered, like on TV. It seemed to change to a couple of different places. I couldn’t say for sure.”

Marcia had told Lacey she had been selling tapes on the Web site. Maybe this was the blooper tape—outtakes that were too hot to handle?

“Where is the tape now?”

“I don’t know. The next day Angie was dead. The tape didn’t seem so funny anymore and we didn’t talk about it after that.” Heidi glanced at Nan.

“Don’t look at me,” Nan said. “I don’t know what happened to it. What do you think, Lacey?”

Would Radford kill for it? And who were the others on the tape?
“I think you should tell the cops.”

“What, that we watched a dirty movie with our boss in it? Sounds like a quick trip to the unemployment line to me.” Nan and Heidi crossed their arms in unison. “We’re not talking to the police,” Nan said. “Bad enough they’ve got videocams on the boardwalk now.”

“What if it has something to do with Angie’s and Tammie’s deaths?” They looked doubtful. “If that video surfaces, I think it should find its way to the police. Anonymously.” They still looked unconvinced. “Having that videotape could be lethal.”

“Lethal?” Heidi said.

“You just told me Angie sent the tape to Tammi. Now they’re both dead. It’s a dangerous secret. If I write about the tape in my column, it’s no longer a secret. No reason to kill anybody.”
I hope.

Nan wanted to know if Lacey would have to tell the police about it. Lacey assured them that it was only hearsay to the police. “From their point of view, I haven’t seen it and I’d need to have more proof that it even exists. I will have to write about it, though. It and Tammi.”

“She’d like that,” Heidi said.

“That’s cool, if you don’t mention us,” Nan said. “And Rapid Rodent, don’t mention that he’s on it.”

A welter of questions sprang to her mind:
Who knows about the tape? How did Angie get her hands on it in the first place? Was it still in the salon or did Tammi belatedly hide it? And who were those almost-familiar people on the tape?
But the stylists didn’t know any more about it.

She asked if they knew Sherri Gold. They said no, and Heidi, who filled in the salon book, claimed no one of that name had made an appointment recently and they didn’t remember anyone of her description. “We get more ‘beachy’ people. You know: tan, blond, pretty,” Heidi said.

Lacey wanted to see the other Virginia Beach Stylettos, and Nan offered to drive her to the strip mall where it was located. Ram’s-Head Heidi went home after hugs all around. Nan introduced Lacey to the hulking bronze 1960s Ford land yacht she called the “Bronze Bomber.” It was battle scarred but feared no one. The muffler and air-conditioning were shot, but the stereo was fine and belted out some retro rock from Heart.

“I love this monster,” Nan said. “Nobody gets in my way.”

The bronze behemoth delivered them safely, if loudly, to the other salon. Inside the storefront, beauticians were abuzz with the news of Tammi’s death. Apparently no one had heard of the mysterious George. But then, all the stylists there had very short hair, from Audrey-Hepburn chic to punkette. Not George’s style. They were dying to talk about Tammi’s death and knowing nothing wasn’t going to stop them.

After exhausting her questions about Tammi, Angie, Leonardo, and George Something, and learning nothing, Lacey turned to Nan. “Do you know where Radford’s beach house is?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve had fantasies about TP-ing it. In my younger days I would have. Want to see it?”

Back in the Bronze Bomber, Nan switched the radio to WCMS, blasting out Toby Keith. They cruised Ocean Front Avenue, past a number of beach homes. Radford’s matched its neighbors, a dove-gray exterior with blue-gray trim, an ocean-front view, and a profusion of decks.