Died Blonde

by Nancy J. Cohen

  A sense of impending disaster twisted her gut, and it didn’t herald the approaching gale.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After performing her usual mundane chores at home, Marla sat eating a bowl of borscht and rye bread with butter in front of the television. Annoyed with all the commercials on the news station, she’d just switched to the weather channel when the phone rang.

  “Thanks for checking on Brie,” Vail said on the other end, his deep, resonant voice curling her toes with pleasure. “You wouldn’t have to keep coming over if we were together.”

  “I know. We need to talk about it.”

  She’d already decided that she could never live in his house on a permanent basis. It just didn’t suit her personality, and it held too many memories from his past.

  “Rosh Hashanah is coming up. Do you think we could discuss things before I meet your family?” he said. “I’d like to know where we stand before you introduce me.”

  She heard the resolve in his voice and swallowed. “Of course. This weekend?”

  “Can’t. I’ll be tied up working on these cases.”

  “Oh.” Would their lives always be disrupted by his work? Her own job necessitated a regular schedule; she could count on the same days off each week. His erratic pattern meant Brianna couldn’t rely on him, either. If it doesn’t bother Brie, it shouldn’t bother me, Marla concluded. They’d find ways to get around his irregular work habits.

  “Have you learned anything new?” she asked, diverting his attention from their personal differences.

  “Nothing I can talk about, except the net is closing. What are your plans for the next few days?”

  While his inquiry might have annoyed her early in their relationship, now she knew he asked out of concern for her welfare. “I’ll be working Friday and Saturday, but I kept my evenings free for you. Since you’re busy, I might call one of my girlfriends and make plans for tomorrow night.” She hesitated, hoping to avoid being tied down. “What about Brianna?”

  “She has a skating party and a movie date. Her friend’s mother will be driving.”

  “Ma has a date with Sam this weekend.”

  “You might advise her to stay home.” A heavy silence. “You know, with the weather and all.”

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “I want to keep my women safe until this is over.”

  His women. She weighed her response. “Unless you can be more specific, I don’t see any reason for us to hide in a cave. Oh, I almost forgot. I saw Dr. Hennings today. Are you aware he cheats Medicare by making false claims?”

  “That’s someone else’s department, but, yes, he’s under investigation.”

  “Instinct tells me he didn’t kill Carolyn. He was too forthright discussing his situation with me. So who does that leave?”

  “Plenty of people,” Vail murmured.

  “I spoke to my landlord. Mr. Thomson had a motive if Carolyn threatened to expose his affair to his wife, but he pointed the finger at Atlas Boyd.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to check Thomson’s schedule against Claudia’s yet.”

  “It may not be necessary. I’m interested in how Boyd’s name keeps popping up. He made an offer to Wilda for the salon. Have you found out anything more about him?”

  “Yep. I’m finding out a lot about McGraw, Boyd, and the victim. I suspect Rosemary got killed because she knew too much. But then there’s—”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t say. Just watch the company you keep. I’ll be in touch.” He rang off, leaving her with the conclusion that he withheld important information.

  Marla got a break on Saturday when Wilda phoned her at the salon. Dumping a pile of wet towels in the dryer, she hustled to the extension in the back storeroom.

  “I heard from an old friend that you’ve been nosing around Cassadaga asking about me,” Wilda said in a high-pitched tone. “You’ll be sorry. You should be paying more attention to Carolyn’s business. Now that you’ve opened a door to the negative energy, it surrounds you. Trouble waits in the shadows.”

  Staring at tubes of coloring agents lining the shelves, Marla gripped the receiver. “Is that a threat?”

  “No dear, it’s a warning. I’m sensing bad vibes around you.”

  “You ran a phony psychic hotline in Cassadaga. Why should I believe anything you say when you were stealing people’s money?”

  “I paid the price, or the fine, I should say. And I learned a valuable lesson, too,” Wilda added. “My talents were exploited by nasty people. I was too young to know differently, and I got caught up with greed. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Yes, they do,” Marla replied quietly. The shame of her own past still haunted her.

  “Despite the danger, you must carry on. Walking the path of truth can be dangerous, but stay your course. Just be careful.”

  Forewarned was forearmed. What was Wilda trying in some oblique way to tell her? Did she suspect her former associate, the attorney? Was she too afraid to name him personally? Or did she still feel an inappropriate sense of loyalty?

  All questions, no answers. Marla approached her next customer, a simple blow-out, with theories tumbling through her mind. Maybe she could work it out later. She hadn’t made any plans for that night, not with the weather threatening to deteriorate. She’d tried to get hold of Anita to advise her to postpone her date, but Ma didn’t answer the phone. Nor could Marla contact Sam; he had the weekend off. Hopefully, they’d be smart enough to watch the news and get in touch with each other.

  Worry gnawed at her when she glanced outside. The afternoon sky appeared flat as a straightened strand of bleached hair. Rather than the usual summer blue with scattered clouds of fluff, the sky had a peculiar cloudless tint, as though the storm fermenting out to sea had sucked all the moisture from the air while it built up energy to become an avenging monster.

  Meanwhile, another tropical depression had formed just east of the Lesser Antilles. If only the paths of these tempests weren’t so unpredictable. The one after Bret, forecast to hit the southeast coast, ended up being downgraded from a Category Four to a Category Two hurricane that struck Louisiana.

  Similarly, Hurricane Dennis continued to gain strength on its northwest path straight for the Keys. Meteorologists expected a pattern that would keep it from turning away. The storm should be about two hundred miles off Florida by Monday, and although it barely made hurricane status now, Dennis could end up with winds in excess of ninety miles per hour. That still wouldn’t make it a Category Two, but it was enough to cause flooding and minimal damage. Marla worried about her mother visiting Sam’s house, in case he lived near the shore. The South Florida Water Management District had already lowered water levels in canals, and residents might be advised to evacuate low-lying areas. Why didn’t she know his address?

  Television reports showed supermarket shelves going bare of bottled water, batteries, and canned goods. Marla checked her supplies, including dog food, then phoned Anita again. The phone kept ringing, ringing.

  Should she go over there? Her mother could be anywhere, shopping, or out with a friend. She’d chastise Marla for getting alarmed over nothing. And she’ll be right. I can always get hold of her in the morning.

  But when morning came, the news was even more sobering. The Sun-Sentinel front page showed an enormous circular orange swirl in the Atlantic Ocean with the headline, “Dennis Bears Down on Southeast Florida Coast.” Now the storm was predicted to hit on Monday with winds in excess of 110 mph. That would make it a Category Three; tonight would see blustery squalls as the first storms rolled in, then it would only get worse. Television news stations presented running commentary regarding hurricane preparedness.

  Marla’s lip curled. It figured the monsoon season would bring one headed this way that shared her landlord’s given name.

  Knowing Anita woke up early, Marla dialed her number at nine o’clock on Sunday. She hung onto the line, clutching the receiver while w
aiting for her mother to pick up. Come on, answer the damn phone.

  Oh, heck. She’d have to drive by Anita’s place after all. Having dressed, eaten, and walked Spooks, she grabbed her purse and keys and rushed out the door. Hesitating, she remembered the trash bag in her trunk. At least she could remove that load.

  Dumping the pile of magazines on her kitchen table, she noticed the issues weren’t too old. She kept her new ones in the salon; maybe she’d look at these later. Then again, maybe not. They’d belonged to Carolyn and might transmit the dead woman’s negative energy. Be mindful of Wilda’s words, she told herself. Don’t tempt fate.

  A crumpled article fell out from between some pages, and she grasped it just as the telephone shrilled.

  Her knees buckled when she heard her mother’s voice on the other end. “Ma? Where are you? I’ve been trying since yesterday to get hold of you.” Glancing at the Caller ID, she noted it wasn’t her mother’s name. The person listed was Sam Cleaver. Cleaver?

  “I’m at Sam’s place,” Anita said in a strained tone. “It’s lovely here; he suggested I invite you and Brianna to join us.”

  “Didn’t you hear the weather report? You need to come home.” A sense of urgency shook her. “I’ll get you. Give me the address.”

  “Sam said he’ll meet you.”

  Wind rattled the window panes. “What for? I can drive there.” Her ears picked up the sound of a gasp. “Ma, are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Sam replied. “We’re having some trouble with the phone line. I’ll call you back.”

  Chewing her lower lip, Marla waited for his return call. When it didn’t come right away, she glanced at the paper in her hand. Good heavens, it was an old newspaper article describing a brutal murder up north. Some teenage girl had been abducted and killed in New Jersey. Marla recognized Carolyn’s handwritten scrawl across the top: Ask Sam if this is near where he lived.

  Why Sam? And how had Carolyn obtained this piece?

  Rifling through the other magazines, she failed to come across anything else exciting. Still, this was enough to make her scoot out the door in search of her mother. The White Pages had yielded an address for Samuel Cleaver. That didn’t mesh with Sam Levy, but Marla would ask him about it in person.

  Lifting her cell phone, Marla intended to call Vail, but service was down. Must be the storm causing trouble already. To the east, a huge bank of angry gray clouds roiled forward. That pinkish tinge in the sky didn’t bode well. How did that proverb go? Red sky in the morning is a sailors sure warning; red sky at night is the sailors delight. She hoped to make it before the rain. Slapping the cellular device into its charger, Marla cursed herself for not having called Vail before she left the house. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Now she raced against time to reach Anita when he could have sent a squad car.

  But why should he? Just because her breath caught with panic didn’t mean she was onto something. Vail still suspected Peter McGraw or Atlas Boyd of being involved in Carolyn’s murder. He had considered Sam at one point, but the detective hadn’t said another word about it. Anyway, why would Sam want to harm her mother? He wanted to date her. Unless it was a ruse to get Marla, and through Marla, to lure Brianna. If he had a predilection for such things. If he was the child killer described in that worn article.

  Nah, she was letting her imagination run away again. Logic kicked in. Sam was just trying to impress her mother.

  Thirty minutes later plus two wrong turns and a dirt road, Marla decided she’d better impress upon him the need to evacuate his location. South of Dania, his address presented a target too close to the shoreline. Her Camry bumped down a clamshell driveway flanked by live oaks and seagrape trees. At a circular swath in front of the address, she jolted to a halt behind a black Honda. Dead leaves glossy with moisture blanketed the hood.

  Thunder pealed in the distance as she emerged. Heaviness hung in the air, not a leaf stirring, the plants respiring quietly as they waited. A spicy scent tickled her nose. It mingled with the earthy aroma of decay.

  Her nape prickled at the isolation. Dark water glinted beyond a grove of gnarled mangroves at the far end of the yard where a lake bordered the lone cottage. Above, the harsh brightness of the sky had given way to a sickly yellow glow. Crickets sang at a louder pitch than normal, as though they knew something ominous blew on the breeze. The stillness pierced her, especially as she noted there weren’t any signs of her mother’s presence. Sam must have picked Anita up in his car, if she was here.

  She turned toward the single-story house whose windows stared at her like vacant eyes. It appeared to be built from coral rock, with a shingle roof and step-up front porch. When her knock failed to summon a reply, she twisted the doorknob. It opened easily.

  Having locked her purse in the Toyota, Marla dropped the car keys into one of her jeans pockets and gripped her Swiss Army knife in her right hand. It gave her a measure of comfort as she proceeded inside.

  “Sam? Is anyone home?” she called out, a tremor in her voice. “Ma, are you here?”

  She stepped into a small foyer, her heart beating alarmingly fast. A quick glance showed her a living room straight ahead, bedrooms to the right, and a kitchen forward to the left. There might be a family room in the back facing the lake. This was like no home she’d imagined Sam inhabiting, however. Her image of the nice old man included a neat abode with sentimental mementos from his past.

  She found mementos, all right, but they weren’t the kind she’d expected.

  Her stomach lurched as she stooped over the photographs strewn on the unmade bed in the master bedroom. They showed teenage girls in various poses mixed in with articles detailing gruesome murders. Her numbed mind made the connection that her startled gaze refused to acknowledge.

  Souvenir locks of hair, carefully labeled in plastic bags, were stapled to the photographs. All of the girls were nudes, with an unfocused quality to their eyes.

  Slapping a hand to her mouth to hold down the queasy contents of her stomach, Marla whirled around as a footfall sounded behind her.

  Sam faced her, his lanky frame and silver hair no longer disarming her. Marla’s heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t speak. Even though she held the closed pocket knife in her fist, her body froze.

  “I’m glad you came, my dear,” Sam said, blocking the doorway. “I’ve been wanting to show you my collection.”

  “Y-your collection?”

  “You were so interested in Carolyn’s treasures, I’d hoped to show you mine. That’s how we connected, you know. Carolyn told me about her hair jewelry. I couldn’t help mentioning that 1 kept hair as well. Fascinating custom, keeping remembrances of the dead by saving locks of hair.”

  “Is that why you got rid of Carolyn, because she knew too much about you?”

  “I was showing her a couple of my pieces, and an old news article fell out. It must’ve gotten stuck to the plastic wrap. The conniving bitch latched onto it and learned more about me than I cared for her to know.”

  “So you lured her to the meter room?”

  Wetting his lips like a slobbering wolf, he nodded. “I had the key from the hardware store. She thought I meant to pay her. Dumb fool. After I finished with her, I switched off your electricity, hoping you’d be blamed when you showed up at the scene. It didn’t work that way because the police detective was soft on you.”

  “And Rosemary?”

  “She saw me coming out of Carolyn’s apartment. I knew they were friends. Carolyn may have told her about me. Then she started talking to you. All the trails lead to you, don’t they?” He wrung his hands, an anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

  “What about Wilda Cleaver? Weren’t you afraid Carolyn told her psychic adviser about you, also? Carolyn was closer to her than Rosemary.”

  Something flickered behind his expression. “Wilda wouldn’t expose me.”

  Marla considered mentioning the dead woman’s message but decided against it. Wilda had her own reasons for involving
Marla.

  “Did you steal Carolyn’s hair jewelry?” she asked, stalling for time.

  He advanced closer. “I’d made an impression of her house key, so it was easy to get a copy. After she went to work that morning, I slipped inside her apartment and helped myself to what I could find. Then I reported for duty at the hardware store and called Carolyn to meet me out back. Wrong move on her part to threaten me. She should have kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to blackmail me.”

  Apparently, Carolyn had reached into several pockets. Her rival had been ruthless when it came to acquiring income.

  “I gave her a payment all right, one she deserved. Now it’s your turn.” His lean form blocked her escape route.

  Feeling like a trapped animal, Marla kept her eyes fastened on his. “Where’s my mother?”

  “Oh, she’s secure for now. When the storm hits, it’ll be different.”

  “Why take her? Why not come after me directly?”

  “Anita was my bait to get you here. I really want you to call your lovely friend, Brianna, and tell her I’m on my way to pick her up. Let her think she’s joining you for the day.” He laughed, a nightmarish cackle. “In a way, she will be.”

  Marla’s blood iced. “Brianna. So your plan was to use me as a lure to bring her here. Did you try to get her the other day in your car? A masked man accosted her after school.”

  “She didn’t recognize me in my disguise, did she? I should have waited until I had you. The girl is smart but she’s soft on her daddy’s girlfriend. Maybe I’ll tie you up and do you both together.”

  He gave an evil leer, and Marla shut from her mind the images that pressed to the surface.

  “No one is going out with the storm coming,” she said, trying to reason with him. “This place could be flooded. We need to evacuate.”

  “There’s a telephone, Marla. Make the call.”

  “You’re sick. You molest children and then murder them. Detective Vail knows. I told him I was coming.”

  “He doesn’t know anything. I was never caught. I moved to Florida before things got too hot.”