Haunted Hair Nights

by Nancy J. Cohen

  This one’s brunette hair and brown eyes looked eerily similar to hers, except this model had a knife stuck in its right eye.

  She put a hand to her throat. “Dalton, you’d better come and see this,” she hollered.

  The dogs barked from inside the house as she felt time slowing. Fixated by the object, she couldn’t move. Who would do this to them? The sender must have come by their place while they were at dinner.

  “Good God,” Dalton said upon noting the item.

  Brianna skidded to a halt beside him. “Ugh, what is that thing?”

  “It’s the same type of head I experiment on in my salon. Do you think the person’s prints might be on that knife handle?” Marla asked in a detached voice, as though this were happening to someone else. “I recognize its reddish tint. It looks like the same knife that killed Mr. Ripari.”

  “Don’t touch anything. I’ll get my evidence kit.” Dalton loped off toward the garage.

  “Let the dogs out first,” she called as her rational mind returned. “They’ve been inside all day.”

  While waiting for his return, Marla snapped photos of the macabre gift with her cell phone. Soon the dogs quieted, and a heavy silence fell. Brianna stood by, staring at the item. Her young face looked pale.

  “Brie, why don’t you go inside? Your father will deal with this.”

  “Who do you think left it for us? And where did they buy this thing? Don’t you order the heads from your suppliers?”

  “Yes, but anyone can get them at a beauty supply store. Or at the party store this time of year,” Marla added. “They have various body parts for Halloween decorations.”

  “Maybe this is just a prank,” Brianna said with a hopeful note.

  “I doubt it. We’ve riled somebody. I haven’t a clue who it might be, though. Watch your back at school, honey. This worries me.”

  When Dalton took charge, she gave a sigh of relief and headed inside to relax. Yet her body refused to cooperate. As she lay in bed later, her muscles remained taut and her heart beat too fast.

  “Do you think it’s someone we spoke to at the football game?” she asked Dalton beside her. He smelled like shampoo, his hair freshly washed. Its silver strands glinted in the lamp light.

  He switched channels on the bedroom TV. “I don’t see how that’s possible given the time frame. This would have to be planned. How many local places are there where you can buy a salon head like the ones you work on?”

  “Not many. I order mine online.”

  “We should visit the stores tomorrow, assuming they’re open on Sunday. Maybe we can track the sale to a place around here.”

  “Will you tell Detective Hanson about this development?”

  “Let’s see what we discover first.”

  “I promised Brie we’d go to the Halloween store. The holiday is next weekend, and she doesn’t have her costume yet.”

  He put down the remote, a frown of disapproval creasing his brow. “Isn’t she too old to go out? I don’t like the idea of her roaming the streets with this business going on.”

  “It’s not for trick or treating. She’s invited to a party, now that she doesn’t have to work at the haunted house.”

  ***

  Sunday dawned bright and sunny with a balmy Florida breeze. Marla’s family took advantage of the good weather, treating the dogs to a couple of hours at the dog park. Brunch followed after the pets got dropped off at home. Finally, they headed to the Halloween store.

  While Brianna selected her costume, Marla and Dalton cruised the aisles searching for styling heads like the one left on their doorstep. Marla discovered plenty of skulls and monster masks, but nothing resembling a true-to-life mannequin.

  She suggested they try beauty supply stores next. Normally, she ordered her human hair heads from an online source, but local places might carry them.

  They hit the jackpot at a place in Davie that carried a variety of choices. Marla skipped over the Miss Michelle Afro Head and the Mr. Brad model, but she paused at the Miss Sophia Manikin Head that sold for seventy-five dollars. Her heart thumped in excitement. The brown hair parted off-center looked similar to the one she’d received as an unwelcome gift.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the blonde at the cash register. Marla held up the head in her hand. “Has anyone bought one of these recently?”

  “Let’s see, that’s Miss Sophia, right?” The clerk accessed her computer files. “Nope, I don’t see any sales for that particular model in the past month. Mr. Brad is more of a hit. He costs forty-five dollars. Would you like me to get him for you?”

  Marla put the head on the counter. “No, thanks. What other stores in the area might carry this model?”

  The clerk mentioned a couple of other places, plus a superstore east on Federal Highway. “Did you want to buy this gal?” she asked Marla.

  “Yes, I’ll get her along with one of your tripod stands.” It might be fun to put her heads on display at the salon. If nothing else, they’d be conversation starters.

  Their research took them further afield and racked up a higher bill. Marla bought a Chantal head with light brown hair and a Sabrina model with blond hair. She itched to start work on them, already imagining the colors and styles she could try.

  “Look at this one,” Dalton said at the last place on their list. “It’s a balding guy. Who would want to buy him?”

  “Don’t knock it. Danny looks a lot like our male clients.” Marla indicated the well-stocked shelves. “I’m going to come here for my heads hereafter. They have a huge selection.”

  “The brunettes all look the same to me,” Dalton remarked in a bemused tone.

  “On the contrary, their shades vary. Look, here’s another Sophia head.”

  Unfortunately, her ploy to bribe the cashier for information didn’t get too far. Neither did Dalton flashing his badge. The only bonus was learning that a Sophia head had been purchased within the past week.

  “I’ll get a warrant,” Dalton told her in an undertone. “Then we can access the surveillance video as well. Our bad guy made a mistake in leaving that gift for you.”

  “Marla, can I get these items?” Brianna asked, dumping a pile of goods on the counter. She’d been busy shopping while they studied the mannequin heads.

  “Sure, I’ll take care of it.” Marla took out her credit card and paid for the nail polishes, eye makeup, and ponytail holders that Brianna had selected.

  “You shouldn’t wear too much eyeliner,” Dalton admonished his daughter. “It’ll make you look easy.”

  “Really, Dad? I’m grown up now. Get over it.”

  Marla hoped Brianna would have no further concerns than her appearance, grades, and social life. But in view of the history teacher’s murder, she headed to Dee’s Diner after school on Monday to chat with some of the students.

  The restaurant was located in a busy shopping strip a few blocks away. From the number of cars parked in the lot, the diner looked to be popular among residents. Marla entered its brightly lit interior along with Brianna, whom she’d picked up from school before heading over there.

  “How come you never told me about this place before? It’s so quaint,” she said.

  They stood inside the entrance, where Marla gawked at the decor. Decorated in fifties style, the diner had cushioned booth seating and a counter section, plus a few separate tables for large groups. Waitresses wore frilly white aprons over black dresses with pearl jewelry. From their low-cut bodices and short hems, Marla could see why school boys might hang out here.

  She recognized some of the faces among a group of youths, but no way could she barge in there as a lone adult. What was the best way to make her approach?

  Brianna tugged on her arm. “Come on. I know these kids.”

  From the girl’s terse voice, Marla surmised this was difficult for her as well. She dutifully followed along, drawing over a chair in imitation of the teen’s action.

  “Hey, guys. This is my stepmom, Marla. She’s absol
utely starving, so I thought we’d stop by here. What’s good to eat?”

  “I like the burgers and milkshakes,” said one girl. While Brianna engaged her in conversation, Marla waved to Jules, whom she remembered from the haunted house. He had the complexion of a ghost, as though he hibernated indoors during the school year.

  “Hi, I remember you from Mr. Ripari’s house,” she called to him. “That was a terrible night.”

  “Rest in peace, Mr. R-I-P Ripari,” sneered a youth at his side. This kid had a snub nose, a broad forehead, and a head of thick black hair. He regarded Marla with an unfriendly stare.

  “I’m sorry, we haven’t met,” she said to him.

  Jules responded. “This is my friend, Patrick.” He nudged the guy. “Mrs. Vail is married to a cop. Brie’s dad is a police detective.”

  Did Marla detect a note of warning in his tone? “That’s right. I’ve heard Mr. Ripari was tutoring you in history, Patrick. I know Ricky had some trouble in his class and was wondering why he didn’t get help after hours.”

  “Ricky wouldn’t put up with his shit.”

  Marla, taken aback by the vehemence in Patrick’s tone, couldn’t immediately think of a comeback. “Didn’t Mr. Ripari help you as a tutor?” she asked after a moment.

  “He helped himself more than he did me.”

  Jules poked him again. “Patrick, be careful what you say. The man is gone. He can’t hurt anybody now.”

  Marla pounced on his words. “The teacher hurt you? In what way?”

  Patrick shot her a hooded glance. “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m a concerned parent, especially if a student is harmed.”

  “Well, don’t be. Like the dumb principal would do anything in this case. He wants Mr. Ripari’s property too badly. Principal Underwood would brag about how they were friends and how the history teacher’s will favored the school.” He snickered. “I know what kind of friends they were.”

  Oh, my. Marla got an inkling of what he meant, and it made sense on many levels. But how could she get one of these people to come out and say it?

  “Hey, here comes the deadly duo,” Jules proclaimed. His fingers drummed on the table, adding to his jerky motions. The guy couldn’t seem to sit still. His gaze darted about the room like a hunted rabbit.

  Marla raised her head as a pair of girls arrived, ogling the fellows. Brianna came to her rescue, introducing Maya and Rose. The former barely covered her skin in a skimpy outfit and oozed sex appeal in the way she moved, while Rose dressed more demurely. Rose kissed a buff fellow on the lips. Oh, yes. Wasn’t that Shaun from the football team?

  “Hi, Rose. Good to see you again. We met at the haunted house.”

  The girl gave a nervous glance at the others. “Oh, right. How are you, Mrs. Vail?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” The waitress interrupted, and Marla placed her order for a bowl of mushroom barley soup. She sat back to listen as the teens engaged in school chitchat. Brianna held her own with this bunch, but it clearly wasn’t her normal crowd. She kept glancing at the entrance as though wishing she were elsewhere.

  Feeling like an outsider as well, Marla had a sudden revelation that took her breath away. Aside from Brianna, didn’t all of these kids have a reason to resent Mr. Ripari?

  Chapter Six

  “I think they all might be guilty,” Marla said to Nicole at work on Tuesday, after bringing her colleague up to date.

  “Get out of town. You can’t believe a bunch of kids conspired to commit murder,” Nicole replied. The cinnamon-skinned stylist looked as sleek as ever in a patterned maxi-dress, her black hair clipped atop her head and her face expertly made-up. Nicole loved to read mystery novels, so Marla could always count on her to debate suspects in a logical manner.

  She’d brought to work the mannequin heads and tripod stand she had purchased the day before. Hopefully, she would have a chance to work on them today. Although her schedule was full for the first few hours, maybe later she’d have some spare time.

  The aroma of brewing coffee drifted her way from the coffee pot set up for customers. Robyn, the receptionist, had gone to Bagel Busters for their morning order. Everything sparkled from a fresh cleaning the night before.

  Marla lined up her favorite products and plugged in her tools in preparation for the day. “The bad guy has to be a teacher, parent, or student. On the teacher side, there’s Principal Underwood. He’s hoping to gain from Mr. Ripari’s death by the provisions in his will. Underwood must mean to impress the school board. Having a generous benefactor for his facility can only be to his advantage.”

  Nicole frowned at her. “I thought you said another family had filed a claim for the estate.”

  “That would be the Conroys. Dalton is researching that aspect.” Marla stowed her handbag in a drawer and then stared at Nicole. “You’ve reminded me of something. The missing marriage certificate would prove their inheritance rights. It could be hidden inside the house in the woods. Mr. Ripari never lived there. After the restaurant closed, the place was shuttered.”

  “Wait, tell me the history again. I forgot the details.”

  “Frank Conroy bought the land in the 1930s for agricultural use. After a drought, he sold his holdings at a steep discount to William Ripari, Senior. Ripari built a house on the estate. Years later, he leased the property to a consortium for a pioneer theme park, with the caveat that his house be preserved as a historical exhibit.”

  “So he moved out at the time?”

  “Obviously. Anyway, when the tourist park closed, his son Joseph tore down the attractions but kept the house. He converted it into a successful restaurant. This establishment lasted until he died.”

  Nicole leaned against her counter. “So what happened then?”

  “Joseph’s heir—our deceased history teacher—restored the home’s furnishings that had been left in storage, but he never moved in. I’d guess his appreciation of history made him hang onto the place, until he received an offer to buy the property. The buyer’s proposal promised to save the residence as part of a living history attraction.”

  “That sounds like a good compromise. How does the Conroy family fit in?”

  “Frank Conroy blamed Ripari Senior for the devaluation of his land. Frank had a daughter. Rumor says Janet had a secret relationship with Ripari’s other son, Nathan.”

  “They would have had to meet in secret if their fathers disapproved.”

  “It’s a Romeo and Juliet thing, right? Nathan would have been our Bill Ripari’s uncle, but he was drafted to Vietnam and didn’t make it back.”

  “And you think it’s Nathan who hid the marriage certificate in his family’s house?”

  Marla tapped her chin in thought. “He must have believed it was the safest place at the time. If Janet kept the document, her father might have found it and annulled their marriage.”

  “So it would be Janet who is filing a claim on the property?”

  “We don’t know if she’s still living. She’d have to be in her seventies. It’s possible she was pregnant when Nathan left to go overseas.”

  “So it could be her child who learned about their family history and wants a piece of the pie?”

  “Exactly. And the proof might be hidden in the house.”

  “You don’t want to go back there, Marla.” The front door bells chimed, and Nicole jerked her head up. It was Robyn returning with their bagels and cream cheese. “You were telling me about the teachers who might be involved. Besides the principal, is there anyone else?”

  “Yes, one of the gym instructors who also happens to be the football coach. I overheard a student mention pills the coach gave him.”

  “Like he’d hurt himself, and the man gave him an Advil? What’s the harm in that?”

  “No, this kid was feeling ill, and another student cautioned him against taking the pills the coach gave out. His team members all look rather beefy.”

  “You’re thinking steroids, or something worse? Could he be deali
ng to the kids?”

  “It’s possible. Now that I remember, I saw the janitor rummaging around in the boys’ gym lockers the other day. Maybe he suspects something, too. That man seems to have eyes everywhere.” Marla glanced out the front window. “Here comes my first customer. We’ll have to continue this talk later.”

  They got back on track at lunchtime, when both were munching sandwiches and drinking coffee in the back storeroom. It was after two o’clock, but they’d been too busy with clients beforehand. Without preamble, Marla launched into her suspicions regarding Brianna’s fellow students.

  “I count at least five of them. And most were present that night at the haunted house. Jules Jamison is a nerdy student who acts like he’s wired on something. He’s friends with Patrick Evans, who was being tutored by Mr. Ripari. Except, I’m not certain that’s all the history teacher was doing with him. I get vibes that tell me it was a troubled relationship.”

  “Meaning what?” Nicole, soaking in Marla’s litany with wide eyes, sat on a stool. She took a bite of her ham and cheese sandwich.

  “I think the history teacher made a pass at Patrick. That would account for Maya’s resentment. She’s the type who gets what she wants through sex. She must have tried to have her way with Bill Ripari and got rebuffed.”

  “I see where you’re going with this. Who else is in the group?”

  “Ricky Westfield was failing history class. Neither he nor his overprotective mother would want that to happen. Vicki Sweetwater is the same way about her daughter, Rose. She knew Bill in college, and I got the impression they had an intimate relationship. Rose might be the man’s daughter, in which case she could claim inheritance rights. Rose dates Shaun, who’s on the football team. And we already know something odd is going on between the coach and his players. That’s the bunch of them.”

  “Wow, this case is a tough one. What about clues?”

  Marla chewed a morsel of her turkey sandwich and swallowed. “The knife that killed Mr. Ripari is a similar type to the one left in a mannequin head at my doorstep.”