by Mary Maxwell
A melancholy grin appeared beneath her pale green eyes. “Yeah, it’s like I said; my brother’s a huge romantic. He’s always giving different nicknames to the women he dates. One was Peaches and another was Love Nugget and…” She blushed and rolled her eyes. “I think that’s probably more than you want to know.”
I thanked her and asked if she knew whether Alec had been scheduled to perform in Crescent Creek two nights earlier.
She answered with a shrug. “I have no idea,” she said. “But he’s got a website. And he actually does a really good job of keeping the calendar updated so people who want to hire him can see when he’s available.”
“Okay, thanks.” I pulled out my phone, swiped the screen and made a quick note. “I’ll check that out later.”
“Alec’s really talented,” Geneva volunteered. “I mean, I don’t get the whole magic mixed with fake gore thing, but that’s for his adult audiences. When he performs for kids, it’s all very sweet and innocent. You know what I mean? Card tricks and silk scarves up his sleeve and whatnot.”
I smiled. “The old-fashioned stuff?”
“Yeah, exactly. More like the things he did when we were younger. He didn’t start doing his ‘Magic at the Speed of Fright’ act until about two or three years ago.”
“How often do you get to see him perform?” I asked.
“Almost never,” she answered. “If I’m not here working, I’m with my boyfriend mostly. And I’ve got a really tiny apartment, so Alec only stays with me when he’s desperate. Luckily, that doesn’t happen much because he’s got a million friends or former flames who let him crash.”
“Sounds like he’s pretty social, huh?”
“Totally the life of the party,” she said. “That’s kind of why he got into magic in the first place. He was a shy kid. Somebody gave him a beginner’s kit when he was, like, eight or nine. You know—as a way to meet people? And it really worked. He actually got his first paying job when he was still in middle school.”
“Is that when he became Dynamic Dimitri?”
She smiled. “Yeah. He was obsessed with Russia back then. I guess he fell in love with the name because of that.”
“And it’s how he makes a living?”
Another throaty laugh filled the restaurant. “If you want to call it a living! He spent a small fortune on a really fancy tux a few months ago. It was tailored for him by an old guy in Denver. And it fit like a glove. But then Jenna the Freak broke into his SUV a few weeks ago and shredded it.”
Two dots connected in my mind; Alec bought the second-hand tuxedo from Becca’s shop because his ex-wife had destroyed the custom-made one.
“Do you know where I might find Jenna?”
Geneva’s eyes flashed open with surprise. “Now, why would you want to do something like that? She’s a witch on a broomstick, okay? Just the essence of evil. The most awful kind of…” When she stopped, a tiny gasp came from her mouth. “Are you a friend of hers?” she demanded. “Is this some kind of trap?”
“Oh, gosh no! I was just curious.”
She pressed her lips together. “Curious?”
I smiled. “But don’t worry about it,” I said. “I was just trying to find your brother because of…” I caught myself. “Because of the EpiPen that he left behind. And now I can—”
A skinny man with a red bandana around his head suddenly stormed into the dining room from the kitchen. He was wearing an apron splattered with something red and the look on his face screamed rage. He ignored me entirely and approached Geneva with both hands on his hips.
“When did you buy those tomatoes?” he demanded.
She spun around and glared at the man. “Ed? I’m kind of—”
“One of those cans just exploded on me,” he said. “And now I have a huge mess to clean up.”
The tension between them was palpable; it was also a good reason for me to leave. I didn’t want to extend the conversation and be forced to lie about the woman’s brother. As the man in the bandana stomped back into the kitchen, I slipped off the tractor-seat stool.
“You know what?” I said. “I’m going to head out. I really appreciate you taking a moment to talk.”
She leaned across the bar. “You sure Jenna didn’t send you?”
I nodded. “I’ve never met her.”
“Good,” Geneva hissed. “Keep it that way. I thought maybe this was about the screaming match they got into last week.”
“Screaming match?”
“She’s crazy,” Geneva said. “I mean, certifiable, loony bin crazy! She accused my brother of sleeping with some woman she used to be friends with. As if…I mean, as if she has any say about what he does, okay? They’re divorced. It’s over. Move on, crazy lady!”
“Sounds like she’s got some leftover baggage,” I suggested.
Geneva sputtered a few garbled words. Then she said, “I drive by her salon over there on Tremont every frickin’ day and it makes my stomach turn. It’s called From Hair to There! Have you ever heard such a stupid name for a salon?”
“I bet it made sense to somebody,” I said.
She shrugged and grumbled again. “You know, I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I don’t really want to talk about my brother’s ex-wife anymore, okay?”
I nodded.
“If you have other questions,” she added. “Maybe you can talk to my brother about it.”
“Sure,” I said, swallowing the pang of guilt that flickered in my throat. “I’m sorry if I got you upset.”
She frowned. “I’m fine. I just don’t wanna think about Jenna Burton. She’s ancient history. And nobody I’d ever want to talk to again.”
“Got it,” I said, smiling. “Thanks again for your time.”
CHAPTER 23
I called Dina as soon as I was back in the car. She didn’t answer, so I left a quick message telling her that I suspected John Doe’s real name was Alec Halstead. I was getting ready to share the rest of what I’d learned in Boulder when my other line beeped. It was Zack, so I asked Dina to call me later. Then I clicked over to the incoming call.
“Hey, handsome!”
“Hi, gorgeous!”
“What’s for dinner?”
He groaned. “I’ll be eating from the vending machines at the Salida Days Inn. Although I’d rather be with my favorite girl.”
“Salida? For work?”
“Yeah,” Zack explained. “It’s a last-minute deal. One of Gretchen’s favorite freelancers is writing a piece about the San Isabel Forest. She wants me to drive down and shoot some images for a splashy piece on the Gazette’s website.”
“Aren’t there any photographers in Salida?”
He laughed. “I’m sure there are, but you know how Gretchen can be. And when the editor makes a really firm request, I know it’s not a battle worth fighting.”
“Uh-huh. We both know how she can be. How long will you be gone?”
“Just overnight,” he said. “I’d heard that Caleb was writing about the San Isabel, but I didn’t know Gretchen’s dad once worked as a forest ranger. That’s why she wants to rev up the story a little.”
“Vroom-vroom,” I purred into the phone. “I’m gonna rev you up when you get back.”
Another warm chuckle came over the line. “I’m counting on it, babe. And I’m sorry about tonight.”
“That’s okay. I’m still in Boulder anyway. If you’re heading to Salida, I might poke around a little bit more up here before I head home.”
“What’s in Boulder?”
“Remember the guy from the gazebo?”
“Yep. The John Doe.”
“Well, he isn’t a John Doe anymore. I just finished talking to his sister. I’m pretty sure his name is Alec Halstead.”
“His sister?” Zack said quietly. “How’d she take the news?”
“First of all,” I began, “it wouldn’t be my place to tell her something like that; it should come from Trent or Dina or someone else with the Crescent Creek PD. A
nd, second, until the ME makes an official identification, the guy is still a John Doe as far as the case goes.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah, it may sound like splitting hairs, but I really couldn’t say anything to the sister.” I paused, reflecting on my conversation with Geneva Halstead. “My mission today was to try and get a name to put with the face. And I accomplished that; the business card that Alec gave Becca brought me to Boulder and his mailing address eventually directed me to his sister.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Katie. I just want you to be safe.”
“Always,” I said. “I’m thinking about making one more stop before I head for home.”
“Is it Sweet Cow?”
I smiled at the mention of the popular ice cream shop. Zack and I had visited it a few weeks earlier during a Sunday afternoon road trip.
“No, that’s not it. But I’ll add it to my list if you need some Mojito Sorbet.”
“Yes, please.” He’d switched into the squeaky robot voice that usually accompanied such requests. “Many, many scoops. And a pretzel cone in a separate sack.”
I giggled. “I’ll see what I can do, handsome. In the meantime, drive safely to Salida. I’ll text you later when I get back to Sky High.”
“That’s a deal,” Zack said. “And don’t forget the most important thing.”
When he said the three little words that always made me smile, I wanted to be in his arms and savor the warmth and strength of his embrace. But that would have to wait until the next day.
CHAPTER 24
I spotted Jenna’s salon the instant I turned onto Tremont Street. The bright pink awning had the name of the shop emblazoned in jet-black ink: From Hair to There. I giggled at the silly pun, found a parking spot in the next block and walked quickly to the front entrance. When I pushed against the glass door, I heard a cowbell clang on the other side.
Not very ladylike, I thought. But it’s a personal choice, so—
“Hey, there!”
A bright, cheerful voice came from somewhere to my left. I swerved my eyes in that direction and landed on a woman with vivid blue hair, heavy eye makeup and a leopard-print tube top. Her body was slim and toned; the type of physique featured in fitness magazines and television commercials.
“I’m looking for Jenna,” I said with a hearty smile. “Is she in today?”
The woman spread her arms wide. “She’s in every day!” An ample grin revealed teeth as white as fresh meringue. “How can I help you?”
“You’re Jenna?”
She hopped down from the stool where she’d been sitting and came around the counter. She was wearing tight black jeans, bright yellow flip-flops and enough perfume to choke a herd of horses. I guessed her age to be thirty-five or thereabouts.
“Yes, I’m Jenna Burton!” The chirpy tone seemed to be her normal speaking voice. “We’re closing up pretty soon. Did you want to make an appointment for another day?” She leaned from side to side, studying my hair. “I could do something really fun and sexy for you. How about a wedge? Or something asymmetrical would be awesome! Maybe buzzed real short on one side and layered in waves on the other?”
I smiled. “Or maybe not,” I said. “I’m not here about my hair.”
“Okay. Then…maybe some product?” She swept one slender hand toward the nearby displays of shampoo, conditioner, gel and pomade. “We’ve got a new one from Paris that is so crazy! It smells like roses and sprinkles your hair with small glittery flecks of real gold leaf!”
My smile wavered. “That is crazy,” I agreed. “But I’m here about Alec Halstead.”
The woman’s face froze for a few seconds. Then one eye twitched slightly and her lips quivered. And then she disappeared right back behind the fizzy, bubbly, perky façade she’d greeted me with a moment before.
“Alec?” She walked back behind the counter. “What about him?”
“He’s your ex-husband, right?”
“That’s correct. But the emphasis is on ex. I haven’t talked to Alec in a very long time.”
I nodded. “You didn’t have an argument with him last week?”
Her smile shuddered. “Who told you that?”
“Maybe they were mistaken,” I said. “But I heard that—”
An icy voice suddenly cut into my remark.
“Jenna?”
It was one of the stylists, a short woman dressed in black.
“Yeah, hon?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the woman said. “But my client can hear everything y’all are saying, so…”
Jenna patted the woman on the arm. “Got it,” she said. “Sorry about that.”
The woman glared at me briefly before walking away.
“Maybe we could step outside?” I asked.
“Or maybe not,” Jenna said, lowering her voice. “I don’t have anything more to say about Alec.”
“Okay, sure.” I turned so my back was facing the stylist and her client. “And I’m sorry that I bothered you, but—”
“You didn’t bother me,” Jenna said. “I’ve just got nothing to say about my ex-husband.”
“Did you know he was down in Crescent Creek this week?”
Her eye twitched again before she looked over my shoulder at the woman dressed in black.
“I’m sorry to say this,” she whispered. “And I hope you don’t think I’m being rude. But do you mind leaving? I really don’t want to disturb Liza while she’s cutting Mrs. Sherman’s hair.”
“Look, Jenna,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m trying to—”
“That’s enough,” she hissed. “You need to leave, please.”
I knew it was time to go. And I suddenly felt foolish and clumsy; the approach had been all wrong and I’d shown my hand far too soon.
“You’re right.” I smiled, attempting to look genuinely repentant. “And I’m so very sorry that I bothered you.”
As I walked back toward the door, catching a quick glimpse of a pastel pink cowbell, I heard the muted slap-slap of her shoes. One glance over my shoulder confirmed what I suspected; she was following me outside onto the sidewalk.
“Did he send you?” she demanded. “Or was it one of his married girlfriends?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Miss Burton. I didn’t mean—”
“Well, you did!” She was coming toward me with one finger held out like a switchblade. “You came into my shop! And you had no right to ask…” Something suddenly changed in her expression; the blistering rage was gone and her gaze was flat and lifeless. “Okay, listen,” she said after catching her breath. “I don’t know who you are. And I don’t know why you came here today. But I don’t want to hear about Alec Halstead ever again.”
“I’m sorry,” I said as she pulled a phone from her back pocket. “I made a mistake.”
She sneered at me, swiped angrily at the phone and then pressed it against her ear. As I turned to walk away, I caught something she said that was almost too quiet to hear.
“I just had a visit from some chick asking about Alec!” There was a brief pause as she heaved a gravelly sigh. “And this kind of surprise is not what I paid for, Dallas! Not. At. All.”
CHAPTER 25
Since Zack was in Salida for the night, I decided to stop and visit Connie Larson on the way home. I could see how she was holding up and share what I’d learned in Boulder during the afternoon.
When I slipped through the front door at Crescent Creek Lodge, two women were behind the reception desk. I’d met one before, but the other was unfamiliar. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with curly dark hair and a round face.
“Hi, Stephanie,” I called to the first woman. “Is Connie busy?”
“She’s in the office,” Stephanie answered. “Do you want me to call her for you?”
The other woman stepped forward. “I was actually heading that way with a delivery,” she said. “I can walk you back if you’d like.”
Before I could decline the offer and explain that I was familiar with the location of Connie’s office, the woman was by my side with her arm extended.
“I’m Lana,” she said. “I’m a huge fan!”
I shook her hand. “Oh, really?”
“Yes!” she gushed. “I just love the omelets that you guys make! I swear they’re the fluffiest eggs ever!”
“Oh! You’re talking about Sky High!”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t make that very clear, huh?”
We made our way across the lobby and into the corridor that connected the reception area with the hotel’s offices and meeting rooms. Lana’s walk was bouncy and rapid; after the long day and sitting in the car for the past ninety minutes, I was having trouble keeping up.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, noticing my slower gait. “I’ve been drinking coffee all afternoon and it’s got my engine cranked up!”
When I was beside her again, we resumed walking to Connie’s office. The door was closed, so Lana knocked softly and waited. She was raising her hand to knock again when the door flashed open and Connie appeared. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her face had the puffy look of someone who had been crying for an extended period of time.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said in a fragile voice. “I was on the phone and…” She noticed the FedEx envelope in Lana’s hand. “Is that for me?”
“Yes,” Lana said, giving the package to Connie. “It was delivered about ten minutes ago.”
Connie offered a soft smile and Lana headed back down the hallway.
“How are you?” I asked as we stepped into the office.
“I’ve been better,” she said, dropping into one of the guest chairs and gesturing at the other. “Jasper’s out on bail, but I’m still a complete basket case.”
I sat down and reached for her hand. “Listen,” I said, giving it a firm squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine. It’ll just take a while for Dina to sort out the circumstances and find whoever is responsible for Alec Halstead’s death.”
“They identified him?”
“Well, not officially,” I said, regretting the disclosure. “But I suspect that’s the name of the man who was found in the gazebo.”
