Marion Mysteries: Books 1-3 (A Cozy Mystery Bundle)

by Amy Andersen

  Again, both women were thrown a bit by the question. “What are you talking about?”

  Carter shook his head. “The victim had two train tickets in her purse. I have to ask.” He stood and came around to give his sister a hug and her employee a handshake. “Thank you for your time. I will let you know if I need to talk to either of you again. I’ll walk you out.”

  In the bright sunshine outside the station, both women shivered. Angela had been just like them, having a day just like this when her life was taken from her in a place she had never even been inside. Marion wondered what would happen to Angela’s body, if her family knew about the crime and were planning her funeral. She looked over at her friend Ruth, but she seemed completely calm and collected. Marion envied her ability to compartmentalize everything the way she did—putting aside death and despair for dinner plans with her husband and weekend plans. Marion envied her a little just then and wished for a moment she could be a little more like her good friend Ruth. Marion could not stop thinking that there was a murderer in Chippingville. How could she smile at her neighbors, wish them a good afternoon, when it was possible that anyone of them could have killed Angela Burr?

  Chapter 3

  Ruth and Marion walked toward Ruth’s car. Andy sat waiting for them, listening to his usual public radio. Ruth rolled her eyes as the garbled conversation from the radio reached them through the open window.

  “Lord, what did I do to deserve a husband who hates music, but loves analyses about the economic downturn?”

  Marion giggled. “Must have been awful, whatever it was.”

  The two approached the car and Ruth pulled out her big key ring and played with it as they walked and talked. “This whole murder situation,” she bit her lip, thinking. “It’s really going to hurt the business, isn’t it?”

  Marion groaned a little. “I think so. You know how people are; they get wind of a rumor and they latch onto it.” She touched her friend’s back in hopes of reassuring her. “We just have to show people that it’s business as usual; we’re fine. The business is fine. If anyone asks, that’s our story.”

  Ruth held her car key in her hand, but when she pushed the little key remote to unlock the car, nothing happened. “I have to fix this key someday, I always forget,” she said. “For two months I’ve been meaning to do it.” Marion smiled at Ruth’s absent-mindedness. She always left things until the last moment. Andy snapped out of his reverie and quickly opened the doors for both ladies. Ruth decided to sit in the back with Marion, but reached over the seat to rub her husband’s shoulder. “Sweetie,” she purred, “can we please listen to that station I like? I would owe you one.”

  Smiling, Andy dialed in the station and pulled out of the parking lot. He was one of the better looking guys in town with his wavy brown hair, big twinkling eyes and muscles all over. He and Ruth made quite the couple.

  “How did it go?” Neither of the two women were excited to discuss it so both just mumbled indistinctly about not wanting to relive it, thanks.

  Back at her place, Marion sat at the computer and did a quick image search to update herself on what was hot and what was not in hair these days. She scrolled through some different pictures, drank her tea and then clicked on a woman with a really cute short cut.

  The pixie look, a short cut with a softer edge and bangs, was back and updated beautifully. Pink highlights, razored napes and fringy, flat-ironed sweeps across the forehead were all over the place. Even a lot of celebrities were trying it out. Marion looked at all of them and wondered why more women didn’t come to her for short cuts. She’d been styling hair for a while, but rarely got requests for shorter looks.

  Then one picture turned Marion’s blood to ice water. She set her tea down and leaned close to the little thumbnail of a picture on her screen. She clicked on it and fell back into her chair as a little shriek escaped her. The woman’s hairstyle was almost identical to the cut Angela Burr had.

  Marion’s head spun. Something about all of this was starting to dig up old memories from the corners of her mind. She stood up and paced the floor, sure she was on the verge of something.

  She stopped suddenly—the salon! It was only one of two in town. Silver Shears tended to get a certain crowd, more traditional, a little more conservative and girly girls were her bread and butter. The other place in town was Michael Browne’s, an edgier, more modern place a person went to for some of the trendier cuts. It was very likely that Angela had been a customer at the trendier place; they would do a great pixie cut and a nice job on highlights, just like Angela’s.

  On top of that, Michael and Marion had an odd history. Several times, Michael had tried to buy Marion’s little salon so that he could open a second, smaller location for faster service. Marion always refused. Why would she give up a business she had just gotten up and running? Besides, not everyone wanted to go to a place like Michael’s with it’s techno music and vapid stylists.

  So Marion had stood her ground over and over, turning Michael and his stacks of money away several times. Michael’s wife, Stephanie, even tried buttering her up for a while, coming in for the occasional pedicure and feeding Marion a bunch of phony gossip. She always commented on how Marion “just looked so tired,” and how great it would be to just relax at home all day.

  Could they have done this? The thought made her heart stop, but it did make a weird kind of sense. A murder in a salon would scare away lots of customers and they would be sure to find another place to go to. The more she thought about it, the faster Marion convinced herself there was a very real possibility Michael and Stephanie could have been involved.

  She had to know if they killed that poor woman. Marion got out her notebook and made copious notes. She suddenly had to record every single thing that had happened, every conversation she’d had since the murder. She wanted to devote all of her time to learning more about this woman. “Don’t worry, Angela,” she thought. “I’m on your side.”

  Chapter 4

  Marion ran out to the driveway where Ruth was waiting for her, car still running. She jumped in the passenger seat.

  “Wow. You’re energetic,” Ruth turned a little to study her friend a bit closer. What had gotten into her? “Where are we going?”

  “To see a man who worked with Angela. His name is Chris. Take a left up here and then a right on Maple. He’s waiting for us.”

  A quick drive later, the two women were greeted by a thirty-something bachelor in typical Chippingville wear: a button-down shirt and nice jeans. His skinny build and big eyes gave off an air of extreme energy, as if he would prefer never to sit down. Even his gelled hair was overly spiky, as if it had been quickly styled with a dinner fork.

  “Come in!” Christopher had come to the door looking relieved to see them. “I’m so glad you want to know more about Angela. We’re all positively devastated about her death.”

  “Thanks so much.” Marion and Ruth settled themselves in a living room so full of flower prints and fleur-de-lis that were covered in doilies that the two women weren’t quite sure where to look. “Your home is … lovely.”

  “Thanks! I like it too. So,” Christopher continued, “what do you want to know?”

  Marion put down the cookie she had just picked up from the little snack plate and gave their host her full attention. “Well, anything, really. We didn’t know Angela at all, so to find her, well, dead in our salon … it really terrified us. But, what’s bugging me more than anything is how on earth she could have ended up there. It’s bizarre.”

  “A few weird things happened just before she died.” Christopher took a cookie and helped himself to a big bite. He put a hand in front of his full mouth and said, “Lie de hodel.”

  “Sorry?”

  Ruth jumped in. “Like the hotel. Oh, wait—what hotel?”

  Chris swallowed and wiped his mouth. “It was so strange. I was in St. Joseph, attending a wedding, and I stayed at a little place called The Red Leaf not far
from the highway. One night, I’m opening my window and directly across from me is Angela leaving someone’s room. She was kind of, you know, sneaking away. I yelled out a hello as soon as I saw her and she talked to me for a bit, but she seemed really nervous.”

  Marion nodded, praying Christopher was telling the truth. “You ever mention it to her after that?”

  “Honestly,” he shrugged. “I think I meant to and then we just had a crazy busy day. I forgot all about it.”

  Ruth nibbled on a cookie and then stopped to tap it against her chin. “Your place does always seem slammed. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t been in; I don’t want to stand in those lines.”

  Nodding emphatically, Chris handed her a napkin. “It’s great! Someone wrote about us in a travel guide a couple of years ago and the place just took off. We were all shocked when Angela sold it.”

  Ruth and Marion shared a silent glance and then Marion ventured a question, careful to keep it casual. “Weird. Why sell a place that’s doing so well?”

  “Who knows? Everyone positively freaked out when she announced the sale, myself included. But, she said it was a done deal.”

  Ruth worked her jaw back and forth, deep in thought. “But who bought it?”

  He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  They left and got back in Ruth’s car. She was a bit quiet, just fiddling with the radio and overly pensive. Marion took note of her odd demeanor and decided to pry. “How are things with you and Andy?”

  “Oh, you know.” Ruth gave up on the radio and started up the silent car. “We have our problems now and then, but overall it’s good. Typical marriage stuff.”

  Marion looked at Ruth’s face a little closer and could see that she really didn’t want to discuss it. She knew Ruth liked to keep her private life private, but she worried about her friend nonetheless. Marion focused her attention out the window at the blood-red leaves on the trees and tried not to wonder too much about what it was like to be young and married.

  The ladies moved on to stop number two: Michael Browne’s salon. A huge crowd of customers was waiting in the front, flipping magazines and glancing up to see if any chairs were free. Right away Marion spotted Miss Tuppins, who quickly ducked her head into a magazine. She thought of approaching her, but stopped herself. Miss Tuppins turned away as if she had no idea her normal stylist was staring right at her.

  The owner and his wife were far from thrilled to see them. Stephanie, a thin, dark haired woman who never wore anything except pristine white clothing, just kind of gestured in their general direction and said, “Darling, look. People are here,” then walked away. Michael, clearly in a bad mood and completely frazzled, gave them an even less friendly greeting.

  “What do you want?” his usual cockiness had clearly been worn out. His hair was a mess, he was sweating a little and his shirt had a stain from a recent dye job.

  “That’s how you talk to potential customers?” Ruth sneered at him, disgusted. “Maybe we want to come in and teach you some actual techniques. You know, with hair?”

  “You mean you need some lessons? Maybe you’re done giving your clients feathered layers and crispy, over-gelled perms? That would be a relief to everyone.”

  Marion took over. “Both of you stop it! We’re here trying to find information about Angela Burr. Was she one of your clients? Is there any chance she mentioned anything to you about anything?”

  “No. And if she had come here, I would have told it to the police. Now, I know you have a little vacation right now, but the rest of us are working. Goodbye.” He turned and walked quickly back to his waiting client and left the two amateur sleuths standing alone in his receiving area. They shrugged at one another and left.

  “That was so weird,” Ruth mumbled, watching the ground.

  “Yeah, he’s a real peach.”

  “Not that; their appointment book. I noticed they keep it under lock and key. Why would anyone be protective of something like that?

  Chapter 5

  The next day was another special trip, this one a little more ambitious. The two friends drove all the way out to St. Joseph, Chippingville’s neighboring town about two hours away to visit The Red Leaf hotel. They did so with a bit of trepidation; in their own town, they knew almost everyone, but here they would be untethered. If anything happened, they were on their own. So it was a huge relief to see a familiar face at the hotel’s front desk when they walked in.

  “Alice!”

  “Marion!” Alice Stravides, cousin to Mrs. Stravides, who frequented Silver Shears, ran out from behind her desk with her arms wide open and ready for a hug. Ruth and Marion couldn’t have been happier to see her with her fashionable, short white hair and her expensive sweater set. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Well, it’s a little complicated.” Marion and Ruth explained quickly while Alice nodded along. She shook her head sadly as they told her about discovering a body in their salon.

  “Poor Angela. She was so young! Same age as my daughter,” Alice looked down and teared up just a bit. “It’s a shame. Terrible way to go.”

  “That’s just it,” Ruth offered, “it’s so bizarre we just can’t figure out what could have happened. We didn’t even know her.”

  “I can’t say that I knew her, not personally,” Alice moved back to her spot by the desk and opened a file on her computer. “She was here quite a bit, though. Every Monday like clockwork. She’d come with a real handsome guy. I never asked questions, none of my business, you know. But they never missed a week.”

  Marion nodded, biting her lip. “Did everything seem okay between the two of them?”

  Alice cocked her head, sifting through memories. “Oh, I suppose. I never got any complaints about a fight or anything. People let me know if anything’s wrong. My guests like it quiet.”

  The three friends caught up for a while longer, but Marion and Ruth had to start the drive back. Alice promised to send any leads if she found something, then they parted ways. Marion and Ruth started back for Chippingville. Both were deep in thought about all their new clues about Angela’s life—the secret rendezvous, her sudden decision to sell the business, the night she had to sneak away. What could it all mean?

  Marion was certain of one thing, whomever Angela had been meeting needed to be free from Sunday night to Monday night. And she knew one business that was never open on Mondays: Michael Browne’s salon.

  In her mind, she played out a possible scenario. Michael and Angela got into the habit of sneaking out every week. The first few times Michael’s wife looked the other way, but then she got suspicious one night and followed her husband to the motel in St. Joseph. Catching them in the act, she killed Angela in a moment of passion. After she went limp, the couple panicked and quickly looked for somewhere to hide the body. By chance, they found a set of keys to Silver Shears and dumped the body. The two of them figured they had gotten away with it and killed off some business for their biggest competitor.

  A very upset Ruth burst through Marion’s reverie. “I have to tell you something and you are going to kill me.”

  “Ruth! Calm down.” She turned to her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just tell me and we’ll deal with it.”

  Pulling over to a little rest stop next to the road, Ruth put her head down on the steering wheel and unloaded the thoughts that had been weighing on her. “It’s the keys. I think I know what happened. One month ago, my set of keys to the salon just disappeared. I looked everywhere for them and I was so embarrassed, because like Andy is always telling me, I lose things all the time and it messes everybody up. So one day I took your set out on a break and got them copied. I didn’t say anything, because I thought well, they’re gone. But then I remembered,” here she stopped and rubbed her face, tears pushing their way through her fingers. “I had labelled them! I’m so stupid. Anyone could have found them and walked right into our place. Oh Marion, I’m so sorry!”
At that, Ruth broke into a full sob, her shoulders shaking with relief and real sadness. Marion took a deep breath, then reached out and gave Ruth a hug.