by Amy Andersen
“What … are … you … do ...ing?”
“I need you to agree with me, Kate. We’ve always been friends. I was always the nice guy in your life.” He slid his hands onto her neck and began to squeeze. “Why do I keep being so nice to everyone when no one wants to help me? Why don’t I just stop helping? There doesn’t seem to be any reason to be nice anymore. So I’m not going to do it.”
Kate’s face started to go pale and her eyes darted in every direction possible. Daniel watched her face, waited for it go slack, and listened to the sound her voice struggling to get out. He smiled despite himself; he was amazed at how much easier it was to kill than he’d ever imagined. Fred had gone down so easily, only with a push while he was looking out the window. Kate was a loose end; she had to go next. He could cover this murder up just as easily as the first.
Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the door. “Daniel Taylor, this is the Chippingville police. Open this door right now.”
Finally, after gasping for air, Kate looked at him with a reprovingly face. She stood and moved to the door, opening it to let in a uniformed officer.
“Daniel Taylor, you’re under arrest for the murder of Fred Hendrickson.”
“Wait, what’s happening? Who are you?”
“My name is Carter Fox, I’m the captain of the local police department and you have just confessed to a murder with the help of my informant, Kate.” He gestured towards his accomplice, who was unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a small microphone and wire. He handed it over to Carter who nodded and smiled at him. “Thanks, again.”
Daniel just stood with his mouth open. After Carter walked in, everything happened quickly. He heard Carter reading him his rights, heard sirens, but they all seemed muted and unreal, as if he were floating above the whole scene. He looked at Kate, but she quickly looked away from him. So it was true; he was really being arrested.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
As he was escorted out of his house and into the cruiser, he saw other people. He saw that nice lady who owned the salon, Marion, was it? She was watching him silently. He quickly scanned the crowd for any sign of Julie; maybe she’d been the one to figure it out. But his hopes were for nothing, Julie was nowhere in sight as he was put in the car and driven away to jail.
Chapter 10
Marion’s ice tea arrived with Glenn’s espresso and they both gave polite smiles to the waiter. She took a sip of hers while he gave his a delicate slurp from his miniature cup. She’d never been able to get into just a little cup of condensed coffee, but she found it interesting that Glenn liked it. She could imagine him taking to it as a teenager, doing his best to impress the young ladies around him with a tiny cup in front of him, a copy of the newspaper on the table and a serious expression on his face. Irresistible.
“I still can’t believe you found those plans in the car.” He set his cup down and Marion laughed a little to herself again at his ridiculously tiny coffee. “What?”
“Nothing.” She waved the laughter away, then nodded enthusiastically about the find. “I couldn’t believe it either. He’d drawn out his idea for the air vent so perfectly. You know, I felt something was up with that hotel room after I saw the security video. It just didn’t sit right with me.”
Glenn nodded, drinking the last tiny drops of his coffee. “We’re lucky you’re so tenacious. You could have shrugged it off as a suicide like the cops did.”
She shook her head, going back to the memory of Fred walking down the street with Julie, his arm around her and a big smile on his face. “It’s funny; I didn’t pay too much attention to him while he was alive, but now that he’s gone I remember him so well. He was just one of those people I saw walking around all the time. And it was so clear that he loved Julie, really truly loved her.”
Coming out of her reverie, she realized Glenn was smiling at her and that his hand was just a centimeter away from hers. She smiled back with a little blush in her cheeks. Maybe he was interested in a simple hairdresser who solved the occasional crime.
She thought back to the conversation they’d had together. He’d confessed that his father was currently in jail serving a sentence after committing serious fraud. Apparently he’d taken over one hundred people’s money, racking up a huge number of charges over the years. Glenn felt endlessly guilty about his father’s past.
However, Marion had given it a lot of thought and refused to lump Glenn in the same category as his father. How could she? Here she was, losing business because of a couple of circumstantial events that just happened to take place near her salon. She believed that Glenn was a good guy; she wasn’t interested in what his father or anyone else in his family had done. She just hoped he felt the same way about her.
“Well,” Glenn said, his voice bringing her back to the moment, “let’s hope our friend Daniel stays in jail for a long time. That guy’s got some real problems.”
Again, Marion nodded with enthusiasm. “Fingers crossed his family doesn’t chip in to get him some amazing lawyer. Anyway, they have his confession on tape as well as testimony from his accomplice. I’m thinking he’ll be behind bars for quite a while. Premeditated murder doesn’t typically go over well with a jury.”
“I just don’t know what is going on with this town,” Glenn said, looking a little sad. “Remember when we had no murders? We could all just go to work and live our lives. Oh, speaking of work, what’s going on with Silver Shears?”
“Literally nothing. I mean, it could not be slower.” She put her head down on her arms and let out a big gust of air. “It looks like my days as a salon owner are numbered. I’m going to have to lock up for good. I mean, my place is getting famous for a body count; how is an amateur gumshoe like me supposed to continue working in a salon?”
Glenn reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m so sorry. I know that salon means the world to you.”
Marion nodded and forced herself to smile a bit. “Well, it looks like it’s over. It’s time to close Silver Shears.”
The Mysterious Sullivan Case
Chapter 1
Marion stared at the scissors in her hands. They gleamed in the light as she held them up and twisted them in the air. Keeping them in position, she brought them down through the air towards the blonde head in front of her. Snip! A small lock of hair floated to the floor.
Picking up the mannequin head she’d used in her training, she laughed a little at the awkward chunk she’d taken out of the style. If only her mentor could see her now. Packing up Silver Shears, broke and alone—not exactly what she’d had in mind when she first opened her doors.
On her wall was a framed dollar bill, the first dollar of pure profit she’d made ten years ago in that first week of business. That was before; before her best friend and only employee had strangled the woman trying to steal her boyfriend, before a dead body had fallen to the sidewalk right outside, before the business died down completely.
Marion could picture that first week so clearly. She’d hired her younger friend, Ruth, to liven up the place with her fun energy and love of beauty culture. The two of them had customers right away once they were done installing the hair dryers and spinning chairs. They’d had to ask family to come in and finish decorating, and people had been so enthusiastic about their place they came in before the paint was dry.
At the time, the town of Chippingville had been low on high quality salons. When Marion’s mentor had handed over the keys, a lot of her clients had been nervous. Was she actually ready to take over? Did she know anything at all about true hair care? Would anyone be keeping an eye on her and Silver Shears? Everyone in Chippingville loved to gossip, none more so than the local women who frequented little beauty shops.
But Marion’s skills had prevailed; no one had complained after she sent them out into the world with soft, deep conditioned hair free of split ends and with that lively bounce that only came fr
om a trip to a professional. Her reputation had grown quickly and she had loved every minute of it. She’d hoped to work here until she retired. Back then, it had seemed impossible that she would be closing after just ten years.
The bells on the door jingled and she turned to see Glenn Steele, her crush and the local doctor. He gave her a big smile and she walked up for a hug without a word. He knew she was struggling with the hard times for her business and so he just hugged her silently for a moment, rocking her in place in that sweet way he always did.
“Hey,” he whispered down to her, “how are you?”
“I can’t say I’m good, but the truth is, I’ll probably survive.” She shoved her shears into her back pocket and smiled up at him. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you here? Last-minute haircut?”
Glenn ran his fingers through his hair for a moment, thinking, then shook his head. “Let’s skip that and get straight to an investigation.”
“A what?” She stepped away from him to take down her framed dollar bill and he followed. Together they taped up her packing box.
“You heard me, gumshoe. I need your detective skills. I’ve got a really odd case on my hands.” He picked up the box and she walked ahead to open the door.
She shrugged. At least it would take her mind off of all this mess. “Alright. Tell me about it.”
“It’s Camille Sullivan. You know, the wealthy widow?” She nodded and the two went out onto the street in the direction of their favorite gelato shop. “Mrs. Sullivan has been the victim of two very suspicious car accidents. I’m wondering if someone is trying to get her out of the way. She’s asked me to keep it all under wraps, so I can’t go to the cops.”
Marion put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Come on, Glenn. Car accidents happen all the time. It’s probably a coincidence.”
He stopped and put his hands on her shoulders, his mouth open in a shocked O. “What’s this? Where’s my amateur detective when I need her? Aren’t you the lady who’s solved no less than two murders in her free time and after the police, who are supposedly the professionals, had given up on both? Where’s that Marion?”
She paused and looked into his blue eyes. She did want to hear more about all of this. If she was being honest, she was enjoying solving mysteries as much as she liked deducing which cut was best for a client. Smiling, she nodded. “Alright. Marion the amateur detective is at your service. Tell me the details.”
“Okay. No less than two times Mrs. Sullivan has been the victim of hit-and-run accidents in less than four months. Twice. I want you to come and visit her with me. Just talk to her and see what you think.”
Marion stopped short; two hit and runs? That was odd. Mrs. Sullivan’s wealth was no secret. The woman was a huge philanthropist and loved to throw events that both benefited the poor and gave her an excuse to descend a grand staircase in a glittering gown. Was someone after her millions?
It was also entirely plausible that none of this had anything to do with her money and was purely a case of chance. When she mulled it over, Glenn grabbed her hand and tugged her in the direction of ice cream.
“Hey, come on. I need frozen chocolate in order to think. Let’s recharge and then head over to the Sullivan place.”
She shook her head at the handsome man she had come to like and trust so completely. “I suppose I could let you buy me a strawberry and cream. And then,” she danced around to the front of him so she could give him a pull, “let’s go solve a mystery.”
Chapter 2
The giant, round knocker banged loudly on the grand, wooden doors to the mansion on the hill. The arrival of guests reverberated down what could only be a grand hall, the loud kah, kah, kah rang so definitely through the space. Marion and Glenn looked at one another, and then each mimed a society hair flip and bow as if they were greeting guests at their own ridiculously expensive home. Marion felt giddy standing at the door; she’d always heard about this famous house and now she would finally get to see it.
The door clicked and creaked open slowly to reveal a slight, blonde young lady peering out cautiously at the two of them. “Yes?”
Glenn stepped right up to the young, blonde girl and extended his hand. “Hi Wendy. Great to see you. I’m here to visit Mrs. Sullivan and this is my friend, Marion, a stylist. Mrs. Sullivan asked for her to help her choose a look for the party. Is this a good time?”
“Oh yes. Excuse me doctor, she mentioned you would be coming today.” Wendy opened the massive door for them slowly, then moved it closed as they stepped inside. “I’m afraid Mrs. Sullivan will need a moment before you see her. Could you have a seat, please?”
“Of course.” Glenn sat on a chaise lounge covered in pink embroidery and Marion joined him. Wendy’s feet whispered away as she left them to wait. Everything about her seemed designed to be slight and quiet—even her blue dress was of an extra light chiffon material, as if she were worried something more substantial would make too much noise. Her soft flats carried her up the stairs and Marion found herself in one of the oldest, most opulent houses in town, next to the man she was falling for and feeling very awkward.
The two sat quietly like two kids in detention, then Glenn slapped his thighs and turned to her.
“So,” he asked, “care to hear a sad story?”
“We’re in the right place,” Marion responded looking around at their current, neutral-toned setting. Even the sunlight streaming through the foyer windows seemed subdued; the room screamed for polite behavior and mumbled conversations. “What is up with this family?”
“Well, they’ve struggled a lot.” Glenn moved a little closer to her so he could talk in a whisper. “For example, poor Noah has already lost his wife and son.”
Marion’s head snapped around. “What? How?”
“It was awful. See, Noah is a close and personal friend of Camille’s. The two of them met while he was in a dance company as a principal. She happened to be staying a resort where he worked part-time when he wasn’t on stage. He’s from Argentina and Camille and his family all pressured him to move here to the states, but he had to bring his family.”
Marion grabbed Glenn’s arm, her face already pale. “So what happened?”
“Well, everything went exceptionally well as his wife and son applied for their visas, but something got in the way of Noah’s paperwork. He just couldn’t get the immigration office to get him his visa at the same time. So he put his wife and son on a boat to sail to the US and he planned to follow once he had everything arranged. But,” Glenn shook his head, then looked into Marion’s eyes, “they didn’t make it. There was a horrible accident and the both of them died, crushed by the wreckage of the boat. They didn’t stand a chance.”
“No!”
Glenn nodded. “I know. Terrible luck. Of course, he made it here eventually, but I can only imagine what something like that must do to a man. To know he put his own family on that boat. Wow.”
The two sat silently again, regarding the carpet. The sound of someone clearing his throat helped them snap out of it. Marion looked up and saw a handsome, dark man in his forties.
“Hello,” he said, smiling at her. He had a beautiful accent and lovely, dark eyes. “I am Noah, a good friend of the family. May I show you to Mrs. Sullivan’s room?”
The two nodded and stood, making an effort to straighten their hair and clothes. Noah led the way up the stairs and they followed. The only sound in the house at that moment was the ticking of a clock as it counted the seconds in time with their climbing feet. Finally, they reached a big oak door with an ornate handle.
“Here she is,” Noah said, opening the door softly. “She’s in bed. Please don’t make her anxious or wear her out. She’s in recovery.” He held the door for them and they passed through. Marion expected Noah to come in with them, but instead he walked away and left them to it.
In a large, four-poster bed covered in white was Mrs. Sullivan, propped up against big, fluffy p
illows, dressed in a long white nightgown with a mandarin collar. A state-of-the-art stereo with a record player on top had an album of classical music spinning the songs of Beethoven. She was lovely and in good shape, but clearly in pain.
