Her eyes bulged. The price tag of $37,995 made her throat constrict. Hopefully the ones made from wood were more reasonably priced. She surveyed the different styles ranging from solid mahogany with a polished finish and a champagne velvet interior at a cost of $19,995 to a plain pine box for $795.
“How about this one?” she asked, pointing to a solid poplar design with a polished maple finish and beige crepe interior. It ran mid-price range at $2,695.
Stefano ran his fingers lovingly over the smooth service, his dark eyes gleaming in appreciation. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Of course, if you prefer a velvet interior, we have a similar one for an extra $800.”
“No, I like this. What’s next?” Uncomfortable in the confined space with Stefano looming beside her, she headed through the door and back toward his office.
“Clergy fees, death certificates, prayer books, yarmulkes, acknowledgment cards, a guest sign-in book. Then there’s an archiving fee and sales tax on the merchandise.”
He’d been writing everything down on a proposal form, and now he pulled out a calculator to get the total. “Here’s the best package I can give you,” he said circling a number that made Marla cringe. “We have a payment plan available if you’d like to stretch this out over four years with no interest. It includes our personal protection program. If, God forbid, something happens to you after a year, the rest of the premiums are waived.”
“Terrific. Can I take this home to study?” She’d contact another funeral home to compare prices. Babs had told her Stefano charged exorbitant fees. Upon his approval, she folded the papers and stuffed them into her purse.
“Who handled the arrangements for Ben’s funeral?” she asked, knowing the answer but wondering how he’d react.
He grimaced. “One of the Levinson places took care of him.”
“They weren’t the ones involved in that voodoo case, were they?” She’d read a news article about a mortician convicted of performing voodoo rituals by stuffing dolls stuck with pins into a dead man’s chest cavity and chopping off his hand.
“No, that was somewhere in north Florida.” Thrusting stiff fingers through his gray hair, Stefano regarded her from beneath heavy brows. “Levinson’s is a nation-wide chain. Conglomerates now own more than fifty percent of the mortuaries in this county. Most people don’t realize it when they choose a place. Ownership may have changed hands, but the old names remain on the signs.”
“Doesn’t that hurt your business? Yours is one of the few family-owned firms left.”
“We still provide more personal services than the chains, and their prices tend to be higher. Did you know they charge up to sixty-two percent more than independents for the same items?”
Yeah, right, pal. Like your prices are cheap? “You’ve managed to stay viable.”
“So far.”
“I heard a rumor that Ben was suing you on behalf of some former customers,” she said, switching topics glibly to provoke a response. “Did that have anything to do with Pre-Need plans? What guarantee is there that I’ll get what I pay for?”
He shifted uneasily. “You have to trust me, Marla.”
No problem. I’d trust you like I would a snake. Digby had mentioned that story, she recalled. Had it been an attempt to discredit Stefano and throw blame off himself? Deciding to pursue that angle later, she directed her attention to a photograph on his desk. A handsome couple, attired in earlier-era swimsuits, stood in front of a palm tree on the beach.
“Nice picture,” she commented. “Your relatives?”
“My parents. That was taken not long after they met.”
“Any sisters or brothers?”
“No, I was an only child. But I made up for it with my own family.” He pointed proudly to another framed photo. “That’s my wife and our four sons.”
“How lovely.” Wishing she could get a closer glimpse, she squinted. One of those faces looked vaguely familiar.
“Is there anything else you want to know?” Stefano said, his lip curling in a sneer.
Smart man. “I have enough information for now, thanks. I guess I’ll see you at Taste of the World.” Gathering her purse, she rose.
She was headed for the door when she paused and turned. Stefano’s expression made her catch her breath. A look of utter hatred on his face was quickly replaced by an oily smile once he noticed her looking at him.
“One more thing,” she added. “Detective Vail is investigating Ben’s death. In case he asks me, where were you that night?”
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Well, the lieutenant has already questioned me. I told him I was out bowling that night, and he’s confirmed my story.”
Moving around his desk, he stalked closer, spearing her with his bulging dark eyes. In his narrow face, they reminded her of movies featuring the walking dead. Unlike a zombie, however, his menacing tone was laced with emotion. “Nosy yentas get in trouble, Marla. You’d better make a quick decision about your funeral plans. You may need them sooner than you think.”
His warning echoing through her mind, Marla returned to the salon in time for Babs’s appointment. She spared a moment to call Anita and ask her about final arrangements.
“I’d like to get a quote from the person who helped you,” she told her mother.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve got all the information here. If you’re free tonight, why don’t you come over after work? I’ll show you my Pre-Need policy.”
“I have a date with Ralph. Remember him? He’s the guy from the auto body shop. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“What happened to David?” her mother’s indignant voice responded. “You haven’t broken off with him already, have you?”
Marla grimaced with annoyance. “Of course not. I just felt like being with Ralph for a change. He’s a good friend.”
“So what is David to you, something more? Just how far did things progress while you were in Nassau?”
Marla laughed at her mother’s hopeful tone. “Not that far. David acted like a perfect gentleman.” She was grateful David hadn’t taken advantage of their situation but wasn’t ready to confront her deeper feelings about him just yet.
“David will be upset if he finds out you’re seeing someone else,” her mother warned. “Cynthia told me he’s smitten with you.”
“We don’t have any commitment to each other.”
“How about that cop fellow? You’re finished with him, aren’t you?”
You wish. “I don’t think he’ll be happy when he hears I went off alone with one of the murder suspects.” A guilty flush stole over her. She’d never returned Dalton’s phone call.
“Baloney. David wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“You’ve never met him. How would you know?”
“I’ll meet him at Thanksgiving. Cynthia invited him to join us.”
“Oh, great.” Sooner or later, she’d have to decide what she wanted from their relationship. David’s smiling face and pleasant demeanor made him an enjoyable companion, but that alone didn’t seem like enough for a long-term commitment.
“Marla, Babs is here,” Nicole hollered from inside the salon.
“I have to go. Maybe we can review those funeral plans on Sunday? I have some free time then.”
“Come for lunch. We’ll have gefilte fish, egg salad and challah.”
Babs was in a cheerful mood when Marla greeted her. Looking the competent businesswoman in a crisp linen suit, she’d made this appointment during her lunch break. She and Marla made small talk through her wash and blow-dry.
When Marla was using the curling iron, she broached what was on her mind. “I’m thinking of going to Orlando to visit the theme parks. Can you recommend a place to stay?”
Babs studied her reflection in the mirror. “Orlando is teeming with hotels. It’s easier to be near your destination.”
“I like the Courtyard by Marriott chain. Which one were you at last weekend?”
“I was in Tampa.”
Babs’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall speaking to you over the weekend, nor do I recall showing you a different number. I told you, I was in Tampa.”
Marla leaned over, lowering her voice. “Why are you lying, Babs? You can tell me. My lips are sealed, and it may help you to share this burden you carry.”
Shoulders slumping, Babs covered her face with her hands. “No, it’s my secret. You mustn’t let Walter know. He’d be devastated.”
Was she having an affair? Feeling shameful for prying, Marla refrained from posing that question. Instead, she put a comforting hand on Babs’s arm. “I won’t say anything, but if you need help, please feel that you can come to me.”
Instinct made her raise her head just as someone strode through the front door. Oh, no. Dalton Vail stomped toward her, brows furrowed on his craggy face. His charcoal sport coat hung open, showing a tie with crimson slashes that reminded her of blood. Her blood, which in his boiling rage, he might want to spill if she didn’t appease him.
Babs’s eyes widened. “If you’re finished, I’ll be running along now. Looks like Lieutenant Vail is about to lose his cool.”
Marla, her heart thumping wildly, applied a mist of hair spray. Even though reason told her to flee, she couldn’t go without finishing her client’s coiffure. Besides, cowering in the storeroom wouldn’t accomplish anything. Better to face your foes and disarm them.
Babs shrugged out of her cape and stood. After digging into her purse, she handed Marla a five-dollar bill. “I’m glad it’s you he’s after and not me,” she whispered, winking. “Good luck.”
Marla plastered a fake smile on her face and rounded on Vail who’d been impatiently tapping his foot while she finished with Babs. “Hello, Dalton,” she said pleasantly. “What brings you into the salon?”
His steely eyes assessed her. “We need to talk. Privately. Come with me.” Grasping her elbow, he propelled her toward the door.
“Wait a minute! I can’t leave. My next customer—”
“Can be handled by your staff. Right?” Raising a bushy eyebrow, he directed his query at Nicole.
Nicole’s alarmed glance moved between them. At Marla’s barely perceptible nod, Nicole agreed. “Yes, sir,” the stylist intoned, seemingly as awestruck by his commanding air as the rest of her suddenly silent staff.
Her face flaming, Marla allowed him to lead her outside. “Let’s go to Bagel Busters,” she suggested, figuring Arnie would serve as an ally at the deli.
“I don’t think so. Get in my car.”
“Stop manhandling me,” she cried as he dragged her along the pavement.
“You wanted to play with fire. Feel the heat.” He thrust her inside his vehicle, its interior hot as an oven in the afternoon sun.
She had a feeling this wasn’t the kind of heat he meant, and her skin prickled in a deliciously wicked sort of way. Had she brought this upon herself on purpose? Why else would shivers of anticipation be skimming along her nerve endings? Glancing at him as he levered his large frame into the driver’s seat, she felt her mouth go dry. No doubt he was angry because she’d gone out of town with David, but was that because David was a murder suspect or a rival suitor?
Dalton didn’t speak as he put the car into gear and headed onto the main road. He stared straight ahead, his jaw firm, hands clenched on the wheel.
Marla swallowed hard, afraid to break the silence. She’d wait to see what he had in mind before defending herself. The trip to the Bahamas had been done in the line of duty. Cynthia had requested she contact Morton Riley in Nassau, and Ocean Guard had provided the tickets. Through no fault of her own, Cynthia had assigned David to accompany her.
Keeping it from Dalton was another matter. She should have answered his phone call as soon as she’d returned. Maybe he hadn’t known about Riley. Maybe he’d assumed she was going on a tryst with David. In that case, they needed to clarify their relationship. Marla felt no obligation to Dalton, but she didn’t want to lose him, either. Introducing her to his daughter had been a serious step for him. If she wasn’t careful, she might chase the guy away, and that possibility filled her with dread.
“Where are we going?” She noticed they were entering an older residential neighborhood where overhanging branches from banyan trees shaded the road. At least he wasn’t taking her to the police station. For an intimate conversation, that was not the place she’d choose.
“My house,” he stated, his tone flat.
“Isn’t Brianna home from school?”
“She’s at the mall with a friend. We’ll be alone for as long as it takes.”
Chapter Fifteen
Marla entered Dalton Vail’s house through a foyer, where she got a quick glimpse of an umbrella stand made out of a tree trunk and silk ferns in a white-rattan basket, before Vail hustled her into his living room. The brick exterior of the ranch-style home gave no indication of its contents, she thought, as her eyes feasted on a display of scented candles. From the rear came a dog’s loud barking, presumably their pet Lucky in the backyard.
“I had no idea you liked antiques,” she remarked, running her hands over the smooth surface of an old-fashioned wooden school desk. Her glance skimmed the sofa with its curved arms and Cabriole legs, the wing chairs and lamp tables.
Dalton regarded her with an unreadable expression. “Not me. My wife was into this stuff.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His wife had passed away two years ago, and apparently he hadn’t redecorated.
“Sit down, Marla.” A fatigued look entered his eyes, as though being at home had defused his anger. Raking his fingers through his peppery hair, he remained standing while she sank onto the silk-upholstered couch. “Tell me why you went to Nassau with that Newberg fellow.”
She grasped a velvet throw pillow and cradled it in her lap. “Ocean Guard sent me. Cynthia traced Morton Riley to the Bahamas, where he was involved in negotiating some sort of trade agreement with the government. Riley is the trustee for Popeye Boodles’s estate. We figured he could give us the name of Popeye’s heir. It was Cynthia’s idea to send David along as my escort.”
“And?”
Averting her eyes, she refused to meet his accusatory gaze. “We found Riley. He was dead... murdered.”
Vail grabbed the desk chair, whipped it around, and sat facing her straddling the seat. “Give me the details.”
Waving a hand in the air, Marla swallowed. “What’s there to tell? We’d been given his address. We went to the house Riley was renting and found him lying on the kitchen floor. He’d been stabbed.”
“Did you call the authorities?”
“I used a pay phone and left an anonymous tip.” Her heart raced as the scene replayed itself in her mind. “We were afraid of being detained. I needed to return to work on Thursday and couldn’t afford any delays. We went back to the hotel and pretended as though nothing had happened.”
“What day was this? What time did you go see him?”
Relating the details, she left out the coconut incident and the killer at Crystal Cay.
His mouth tightened. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You went to your room to rest for a couple of hours. Later, you and Newberg took the trolley into town, then walked the rest of the way to Riley’s address. Newberg knew exactly where to go.”
“Yes, that’s right.” She didn’t see where this was leading.
“According to his story, Newberg had already been there and found Riley dead.”
“So? He knew I’d insist on going to see for myself.”
“Maybe not. Riley never answered his phone. Maybe Newberg hoped you’d give up your quest, believing Riley was unavailable.”
/> David had tried to dissuade her from seeing Riley, Marla remembered. She’d thought he was being protective, but what if his efforts had been more self-serving? How did she know David didn’t commit the deed?
No, that was ridiculous. Someone tried to clunk her on the head with a coconut while David was with her. And the killer at Crystal Cay had shot at them both, right? Or had the gunshots only come when she’d been separated from David?
Rubbing her temples, she gave Dalton a resentful glare. “What are you trying to do, make me suspicious of David? Do you think he killed Ben, too?”
His eyes were hard as flint. “In my book, everyone is suspect. You’re interfering where you don’t belong.”
Rising, she tossed the pillow onto the sofa. “Oh, yeah? Taste of the World is a few weeks away. A new trustee will be assigned now that Morton Riley is dead. In January, this person will decide whether or not Ocean Guard receives the mangrove preserve. We’re running out of time.”
He stood slowly, pushing the chair out of his path. Towering over her, he exuded menace with his hunched posture and clenched fists. “You’re only doing this for your cousin. It’s getting too dangerous, and I want you to sign off the project now before you become the next victim.”
“Do you really care that much about me, or are you just concerned I’ll screw up your investigation?” she retorted. “I’d thought you would have taken Ben’s killer into custody by now.” She lifted her chin, defying him to respond.
His eyes smoldered dangerously. “I’m worried about you, damn stubborn woman.”
Before she could protest, he hauled her into his arms, and his mouth descended on hers. His kiss was brutal, crushing, but it made her knees weaken and a lazy warmth steal through her veins. Clinging to him, she molded her body against his rock-solid length. A groan ripped from his throat before he thrust her away.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” His dark gaze raked her with blatant hunger before his expression closed, and a blank mask fell into place.
Hair Raiser Page 16
