Point of Attraction (6 page)

“How the heck did it get out there?”
Emmee asked.

How indeed Georgie wondered, holding
out her hand. Brandy dropped the small chime into her palm. Funny
how something so small could feel so heavy, she thought, curled her
fingers around it, then looked up. The little thing had hung on the
doorframe since the Western Shopping Center was built and Dare To
Care Salon moved into the unit. Not in all that time had it ever
dropped off, let alone rolled out into the parking lot.

“That’s why we never heard a thing when
they came in and took Raggs,” Emmee said.

Georgie nodded. The reason she
installed the little chime was they couldn’t see the door from the
back bar shampoo bowls. Plumbing-wise, the bowls were in the best
location, but other than their supply room, the shampoo bowl area
was the blind spot in the L shaped beauty salon.

Georgie opened the door
and placed herself between the metal frame and the glass. The top
of the door was about three inches from tipping the chime holder
that would normally send out the “
customer-entering”
alert.

“Whoever it was could have taken off
the chime, slipped in, grabbed Raggs, and out the door they went,”
Georgie theorized, more to herself than the two girls.

“That would mean.” Emmee swallowed
hard, her brown eyes wide and darker in shade. “Whoever it was,
must have been watching, waiting, until both Brandy and I were in
the back.”

“Had to have been someone tall,”
Georgie said, standing on her toes to reach up. She came nowhere
near being able to reach the chime holder.

“Will you listen to yourselves,” Brandy
said, hands waving at the absurdity of it. “Why would anyone go
through so much trouble just to take a Raggedy Ann Doll? Why? I
think the bell fell off and it landed outside. It got kicked
around. That’s all.” Brandy slipped into her cobbler apron uniform
top and flipped out her long luminous wine colored hair from under
the apron so it fell loosely about her shoulders and down her back.
“Someone came in afterwards,” she reasoned while snapping the side
tabs, “saw Raggs sitting there, and took her. That’s all. She’s
probably in the arms of a little girl right now.”

“Brandy, will you please shut up,”
Emmee snapped, putting her long, neatly manicured, fingertips at
her temples while closing her eyes in a plea. “Just zip
it.”

“Stop, stop,” Georgie said. “The both
of you. Stop.”

“Oh, Georgie, I’m sorry,” Brandy said,
reaching for her, but Georgie waved at her that it was fine and she
understood. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I know how much you
love the little thing.”

“It’s fine.” Georgie knew
that to most Raggs
was
just a rag doll.

“God, Brandy, can you just stuff a
towel in it!” Emmee hissed under her breath while handing Georgie
an apron top then shook out her own to put it on. “But I do think
that Mason fellow on the answering machine has a point. You should
call the police on this.”

“It can’t hurt,” Brandy added, then
shot Emmee a puzzled raised eyebrow. “What fellow?”

Emmee shook her head and Georgie sighed
deeply. Perhaps they were right, she thought and said, “One Amber
Alert coming up for a Raggedy Ann doll.” She shivered in the still
cool shop and flipped on the neon OPEN sign. It took another deep
breath before she could pick up the phone.

After being switched from this
department to that department, being put on hold, then transferred
from this officer to another officer, Georgie finally said,
“Actually, the doll was a collector’s item. Yes, a classic,
personally signed by the maker, and worth more than a few thousand
dollars.” There was a pause. “You will? Thank you.” And with a
smile to the girls, she hung up. “They’re sending out an officer to
get all the details.”

“A collector’s item?” Brandy asked.
“Your Raggs was a collector’s item?”

Georgie raised her chin and narrowed
her focus. “I have a few Raggedy Ann Dolls. So that would make me a
collector, right?” It wasn’t a question, but a dare for Brandy to
deny the remark.

“I would say so,” Emmee agreed, pulling
at her spiky blonde hair while spritzing it as she looked in the
mirror.

“Personally signed by the maker?”
Brandy countered.

Georgie pointed at Brandy. “My mother
made Raggs for me and embroidered her name on it in case I lost her
at the hospital. They’d know who she belonged to.”

“There you go,” Emmee said with her
traditional flip of her hands.

“Okay, okay,” Brandy relented, then
asked, “But what about it being worth thousands? Huh?”

Georgie arched an eyebrow and stared
hard at the younger of her two stylists as she handed Brandy the
slip of paper with the names and phone numbers of the persons
wanting an appointment with her. “Are you saying you don’t think
Raggs is worth thousands to me?”

The young stylist’s blue eyes dilated
to the size of silver dollars, and faded almost to that shade, as
she looked to Emmee then back. She took a deep breath and smiled
wide with beautiful teeth.

“Millions, Boss Lady, millions.” She
back-stepped her way to her styling station. “Yes, ma’am, worth
millions.”

Emmee grinned, but held back a snicker
as she shook her head, fear gone from her eyes, and took her
messages from Georgie. She pushed the ON button to the shop radio.
“Oh, oh. Here comes Jeffrey. I forgot to tell you. He’s your first
appointment.”

“Oh, my God,” Georgie said, “you’re
kidding. I’m surprised he came. I thought he’d be mad.”

“Why?”

“Long story,” Georgie said, and let her
lips pull back into a big smile and turned at the opening door.
“Good morning, Jeffrey.”

“Hi,” Jeffrey murmured, eyes casting to
the ceiling, the girls, then settling on the floor; everywhere but
directly at Georgie.

Georgie leaned down just a little,
seeking her normal face to face interaction with a client. “Come on
back.”

“I was afraid Emmee made the
appointment too early for you,” he finally said, sitting in her
hydraulic chair at the back end of the shop. “You know, so early
after your class last night.”

Georgie wrapped a neck strip around
Jeffrey’s neck and unfolded her haircutting cape with a quick flap
before draping it around him. “Is that going to be too
tight?”

“Just a little,” he said, putting his
finger at the neck giving it a tug.

“Sorry.” She unsnapped and redid the
snaps on the cape. Jeffrey not being very tall, she gave the
hydraulic two pumps. “I didn’t want to get hair down your
neck.”

Running her fingers through
his fine sand colored hair, she wondered what he would do if
she
accidentally
gave him a
high and tight
hair cut? Military short. Wicked, wicked thoughts
are not good, Georgie, she scolded herself, and water-spritzed his
hair before picking up her scissors and comb. For the last twenty
years, styles coming and going, Jeffrey always took a two and half
finger’s width length cut on the sides and back, and longer on top.
She could do it blind folded.

“Was your class good last night?”
Jeffrey asked.

And the scissors took their bite out of
Georgie. She quickly grabbed a neck strip and put it tightly around
her finger. “Band aid needed here,” she called out, holding her
hand up to minimize the bleeding. “The finger’s still attached, but
I do need that band aid.”

Jeffrey turned pale and Georgie
remembered his fear of blood. “I’m joking, Jeffrey. See? It’s
already stopped bleeding.” The thin line of blood began to show and
knowing the cut was deep enough to give a good bleed, Georgie
quickly spun away and went into the supply room. Emmee was quick.
They washed out the cut and Georgie braced herself before soaking
the finger in antiseptic. After a quick dry while holding the
finger high, they wrapped the band aid around it.

“Don’t you laugh,” she warned Emmee in
a low whisper. “Not one snicker. You hear?”

“Only if you promise to tell me what
happened last night.”

“Nothing happened!” she
hissed.

Emmee gave a sharp turn and laughed
outright as she went to the front of the shop where her appointment
waited.

“Good morning, Ben,” Emmee greeted him
with a voice bubbling with innocence. “I’m ready for you. Just had
to do a medical repair on the Boss Lady.”

One day I’m going to fire
her
, Georgie swore, and let a smile mask
her face before turning to her own distressed client. “Okay,
Jeffrey. See? All better.”

Georgie never had a hair cut take this
long, even with a band aid on, but she was grateful Jeffrey dropped
the questions about her writing class. His next subject, no doubt,
would have been Mason. After doing a quick sweep around the chair
to keep hair from sticking to Jeffrey’s shoes, they went to the
shampoo bowl to wash out any loose clippings from his hair. She
then towel dried his hair, followed with a quick use of the
blow-dryer.

“There you go,” she said, after
smoothing in the hair gel and pulling off the drape. “All set for
the day.”

“About my actions last night...” he
started to say, his green eyes still avoiding hers.

“Georgie,” Brandy called from the front
desk.

Georgie looked up and squinted at the
sun-glare off the linoleum floor surface.

At first, with the morning sun coming
in through the windows behind him, all Georgie could see was a
man’s tall silhouette. It wasn’t until he turned slightly and she
saw the outline of all the paraphernalia on his belt that she
realized what she was looking at.

It was a police officer.

Chapter Six

“Georgina?”

“What?” Georgie answered Jeffrey, but
her attention was on the officer now moving in their direction.
There was something familiar about the tall form, that long easy
stride.

Whispers spread through the waiting
clientele, and those already being worked on, as they turned to get
a good look at the rare happening... a police officer in Dare To
Care Salon. There had never been an occasion warranting the
services of a police officer on duty.

“I’ll see you later,” Jeffrey said,
handing her a twenty and a five instead of writing his usual check,
but Jeffrey’s words were far away murmurs as the officer came
closer, past the glare of the morning sun behind him.

It was Mason.

If she thought he looked good in a
blue turtleneck sweater and leather jacket last night, seeing him
in full dress black uniform complete with weaponry... she bit her
lower lip to keep her mouth from dropping open. No one had the
right to look that good.

“Is that...”

“Yes, it is,” Georgie told
Jeffrey.

“Miss Georgina Gainsworth?” Mason said,
opening his little notebook. “I’m Officer Montgomery. I understand
you had a theft last night.”

“What?” Jeffrey stared at her.
“Georgina!”

“Jeffrey, calm down,” she said,
somewhat taken back by Mason’s formality, yet respecting it. As he
said, he was a police officer on duty, not M&M, nor BADGE 747
from her writing class.

The whispers among the clientele were
now loud murmurs. Georgie could see both Emmee and Brandy trying to
explain to their clients while working on their hair, yet not
wanting to miss what was going on.

“When?” Jeffrey asked. “How much did
they take?” When she didn’t answer, his voice rose.
“Georgina?”

“Jeffrey, please!” Once he stopped to
take a breath, Georgie said, “Raggs was taken...”

“Raggs? That old thing? Why would
anyone take that?”

“Jeffrey, be quiet!” Now she was
embarrassed and pressed her hand to her forehead. It wasn’t often
she lost control at work. Why did she have to lose it now, in front
of Mason... Officer Montgomery?

“Maybe I should go then...” Jeffrey
offered.

“No. Just be quiet a
moment,” Georgie said, putting a hand to his arm in apology. A deep
breath helped clear her head. “That
old
thing was mine,” she managed to
say, her voice now calm. “And if I knew why someone would take her,
I’d know who took her.”

She finally looked up into Mason’s
face and found his gray eyes on her. Their gray hue was more to the
blue this morning. Perhaps it was the black uniform.

“
It happened last night,”
she said, “after I left for my writing class.”

“But I was here last night,” Jeffrey
explained, “and Raggs was here, wasn’t she?”

“And your name?” Mason
asked.

“I’m sure you know my name,” Jeffrey
said through clenched teeth.