Haunted Hair Nights

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Nicole sat up straight. “What? You didn’t mention this before.”

  Marla filled her in. “We’ve found a local place where the person might have bought the head. Dalton is trying to get a warrant so he can watch the surveillance video and obtain the sales records.”

  “That would be helpful.” Nicole, having finished her meal, stood and tossed the empty wrapper in the trash. “There’s another thing you haven’t mentioned, and that’s people’s alibis. Has Dalton mapped out everyone’s locations for that night?”

  “Good point, I’ll ask him.” Her cell phone rang. Marla dug it out of her pocket. “It’s Brie. She should be in class now. I wonder what she wants. Hello, what’s up, hon?”

  “Can you come and get me at school?” Brianna asked in a tremulous tone.

  “Sure, what’s wrong?” Her heart fluttered with alarm. Something upsetting must have happened.

  “I’ll tell you when you’re here. I’ll be waiting in the front office. Hurry, Marla.”

  ***

  Marla made it to the school in record time. She hustled into the administrative suite while tamping down the panic squeezing her chest.

  The sight of Brianna’s familiar face restored her equilibrium. She hugged the teen, then stepped back to inspect her. Nothing appeared amiss.

  “What’s this about, hon?” The aroma of potato chips reached her nose. Connie, the desk clerk, had an open bag by her station. She stared at them in blatant curiosity.

  “Come with me, and I’ll show you.” Brianna marched her to a series of lockers and swung one open. “I found this inside today between afternoon periods.”

  Marla gasped as she viewed another mannequin head, similar to the one left on their doorstep at home. This lady had brown hair in a ponytail and dark brown eyes like Brianna. Again, a knife was stuck into an eye.

  “Dear Lord. I can see why you’d want to go home,” she told the teen, putting an arm around the girl’s slim shoulder.

  “I don’t feel safe here, Marla. I just want to leave.”

  “Did you call your dad? He’ll want to dust your locker for prints and bag the evidence.”

  “He wanted to drive straight over here, but I told him to send someone else. I’d call you to come and get me. I can’t keep bothering Dad every time something bad happens.”

  “I understand, but he worries about you. And this incident warrants a police report.”

  A pained look came into Brianna’s eyes. “I know, but I don’t want to wait around for the cops.”

  “If we leave this head here, the person who put it inside your locker might remove it before the officer arrives,” Marla mused. “We should bring it to your father.”

  Brianna pointed to Mr. Lynch mopping the hallway. “The janitor might be able to get us a brown bag. I’ll ask him.” The teen hurried away before Marla could protest.

  Was it her imagination, or did that man always seem to be around when something happened? She watched as Brianna spoke to him. He gave her a curt nod before scurrying off.

  While Brianna waited for their makeshift evidence bag, Marla took out her cell phone and snapped photos of the head from different angles. She took a few close-ups of the knife this time, since the lighting was better than it had been on her front stoop.

  Once they’d bagged the head, she approached Mr. Lynch. “Hi, I’m wondering who has access to these lockers.”

  The lean man in a gray uniform smoothed a lock of black hair off his forehead. “The students put in their own combinations, miss. Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, someone broke into my stepdaughter’s locker and left something inside that gave her a fright. So I repeat. Who could have gained access to her space?”

  His weasely blue eyes met her stern gaze. “I rightly dunno.”

  “Do you have a master combination so you can get in for emergencies, or if a student can’t remember the code?”

  “We keep a log of all the codes, miss. But I don’t like what yer implying.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. Could somebody else have acquired these numbers?”

  His brows lifted like twin airplane wings. “The principal has the combinations. Maybe someone copied it from his office, although I think he keeps the file on his computer.”

  “All right, I’ll stop in there.”

  “What is it you found, miss, if I might ask?”

  She opened the bag to show him and gauge his reaction. He made a choked sound.

  “Good God Almighty. Who would leave such a thing for a young ’un?”

  “That’s what I’d like to find out.” Marla tapped his suntanned arm. His skin had brown spots like many older Floridians, yet he couldn’t be past his forties, could he? Had the man lived here all his life? “Tell me, the night Mr. Ripari died at the old house, did you go outside at all?”

  “No, miss. I was busy cleaning away the cobwebs, the real ones. And that place was awfully dusty. I was happy to earn extra money getting it in shape.”

  “But you never got paid, did you? Wasn’t it Mr. Ripari who’d hired you for the night?”

  “That’s correct, miss.” His mouth compressed, but his eyes held a gleam of something other than dismay at the lack of a paycheck. “I was so upset by his death that I went right home.”

  “And where is that, Mr. Lynch?” He mentioned a trailer park in Cooper City. “So you didn’t go outdoors between the time I saw you inside the house and when I found the body? Did you happen to glance out a window and see anyone prowling the grounds?”

  He shook his head. “I wish I had, because I can’t think who’d want to harm the poor sap. I guess what they say is true. The son must pay for the sins of his forefathers.”

  The bible verse doesn’t go like that. It’s more like, fathers shall not be put to death because of their children; nor shall children be put to death because of their fathers. Each one shall pay for his own sin. But your meaning is clear. You know about the feud between the Conroys and the Riparis.

  Marla would have liked to continue this conversation, but Brianna was gesturing for her to move along. She thanked the janitor for his assistance and turned away.

  One more stop was on her agenda. She wouldn’t leave without a visit to the principal’s office to show Mr. Underwood the item in the bag and to mention how Brianna’s locker was breached.

  The principal’s eyes bulged as he regarded the knife stuck in the mannequin’s face. “How did that weapon get into this school? Connie! We have a situation.” He stalked into the outer office and confronted the receptionist. “Get me our security officer. He isn’t doing his job.”

  “Excuse me?” Marla said, following at his heels. Brianna was seated in the reception area out by Connie’s station. “This is what bothers you? My daughter’s locker was broken into and this item placed in there. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about her well-being?”

  Principal Underwood glowered at her. “Weapons are not allowed on our premises. I’ll take that, please.” He extended his hand to grab the bag, but Marla snatched it away.

  “I should say not. This is going to the police.” Her body stiff, she regarded him with her most imperious glare. “My husband is sending an officer to investigate. If you cooperate, I won’t leak the incident to the press. We wouldn’t want other mothers to panic.”

  She signaled to Brianna. “Come on, let’s go. Oh, and Brianna will be out sick for a few days. Consider this my notice.”

  Once they passed through the exit, Marla shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe that man didn’t care about your reaction. He’s more concerned about his school’s public image.”

  Yes, said her inner voice, and how far would he go to boost his own interests there?

  “They have cameras in the hallways,” Brianna mentioned as they walked to Marla’s white Camry. “Maybe Dad can get a copy of the video.”

  “Good idea.” Marla unlocked the car doors as they approached. “I wonder if he got a warrant for the beauty supply st
ore. This head might have come from the same place.”

  Brianna slid into her seat and gave Marla a contrite glance. “I’m sorry I called you at work. We can go to the salon. I know you’ll have appointments to finish.”

  Marla thought a moment. She didn’t want to leave Brianna home alone, even with the dogs present. The salon was a better option until she finished for the day, and the company might cheer the girl and put color back in her cheeks. But they had another stop to make first.

  At the police station, Dalton moved from behind his desk to embrace his daughter. “Brianna, are you all right?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

  “I’m scared. Somebody got into my locker.”

  “I know. Tell me again what happened.”

  After they took seats and the girl related her tale, Marla handed over the paper bag. “We didn’t want to leave the head there in case the same person came by to retrieve it.”

  Dalton peeked inside and muttered an expletive. “You took evidence from the scene?”

  “I know we shouldn’t have touched anything, but Brie wanted to leave. I didn’t trust this to still be there by the time your officer arrived.”

  “That was the wrong move, Marla.” His jaw clenched as he regarded her with a stern expression.

  “I’m sorry, but maybe you can get some prints off it, and I have photos.” She reviewed what they’d learned so far and whom she’d spoken to at the school. Her tale seemed to calm him. His shoulders relaxed, and the lines of tension eased on his face. “Have you made any progress?” she asked in conclusion.

  He gave a solemn nod. “Detective Hanson has identified the murder weapon. It bears the same distinctive rosewood handle and brass trim as this one and the package left on our doorstep. The cocobolo knife runs about a hundred dollars and is available online from major suppliers of camping and hunting equipment.”

  “You mean, anybody can buy it? Do the local stores carry this model?”

  “The sporting goods places might have it. My point is that it’s a common weapon.”

  “Common to people who like the outdoors.” Marla shuddered. If this knife weren’t associated with a man’s death, she might have admired its polished wood handle, stainless steel blade, and shiny brass trim.

  “What’s cocobolo?” Brianna asked in a meek tone. She’d been sitting there silently while they spoke.

  Dalton folded his hands on the desk. “According to my research, it’s a tropical hardwood from Central America. Only the heartwood portion of the tree is used. That’s where you get the reddish color. Since it holds up well to repeated handling and exposure to water, it’s commonly used in gun grips and knife handles, like this model. Cocobolo wood is also used for custom-made items, such as cue sticks, luxury pens, jewelry boxes, and even musical instruments.”

  “It is a pretty color,” Marla admitted. “Which one of our suspects might own something like this? Did you get any prints from the package left on our doorstep?”

  “Yes, but there’s no match in the system.”

  “That’s too bad. How about the murder weapon?”

  “Unfortunately, our killer was clever that night. Hanson’s team didn’t get any clear prints. Our scumbag messed up with these heads, however.”

  “At least that’s something. I’d suggest you request the surveillance video from Brie’s school along with the one from the beauty supply store.”

  “I’ll work on it. Do you want me to drive you home?”

  “No, we’ll be all right. I thought we’d go back to the salon. Come on, Brie.”

  During the ride through the streets of Palm Haven, a question came to mind. “Do any of the students who were at the haunted house care for camping and fishing or that sort of thing?”

  Brianna shrugged. “I have no idea. Before this happened, I didn’t know any of them that well. I suppose most of the crowd will be at the Halloween party this weekend.”

  “Where is it being held?” Marla should have known this already.

  “Dee’s Diner is throwing the bash. The owner says she wants to sponsor more events that school kids can safely attend.”

  “That’s generous of her.”

  “Yes, it is. Since we’re not doing the haunted house, this gives us somewhere to go. And Mr. Underwood said he might stop by.” Brianna clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure I want to go. The person who left me this head might be there.”

  “And that’s exactly why we have to show up.”

  With all of the suspects present in one place, perhaps they could finally draw a bead on the killer.

  Chapter Seven

  The following day brought several developments. Dalton called Marla at work during the late afternoon on Wednesday to tell her Mr. Ripari’s body had been released.

  “It’s about time,” she said, gripping her cell phone close to her ear with one hand and wiping down her station with the other. In between clients, she had a few moments to chat. “Will there be a memorial service?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Get this. Vicki Sweetwater claimed the body and said she’d arrange for a burial. She showed a paternity test that proved Bill Ripari was her daughter’s father.”

  “Vicki must have gotten pregnant her last year in college,” Marla figured.

  “She told Hanson that Bill knew about the baby. He paid her to get an abortion and believed she’d done so, but she had the child instead. They’d already graduated. Knowing he wanted nothing to do with the kid, she never told him the outcome. She married, and the other guy raised Rose as his own daughter. But when he died, Vicki felt compelled to learn what had happened to Bill. After she located him, they moved here, and Rose enrolled in his school.”

  “Did Rose know the history teacher was her real dad?”

  “Yes, Vicki told her. She’s contesting the will on her daughter’s behalf.”

  “Do you think she told Mr. Ripari about Rose, and he rejected the girl? Maybe Vicki killed him out of resentment.”

  “Nuh-uh. I got my warrants earlier and watched the videos from the beauty store and the school. In both instances, the person handling the heads looked to be a guy. His features were hidden by a baseball cap and jacket, but it was definitely a male.”

  “That eliminates any mothers from the suspect list,” Marla concluded. “How about the sales receipts for the mannequin heads?”

  “They trace back to Coach Garsen, but he says his credit card was stolen last week. He’d reported it to his credit card company.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Not necessarily. Detective Hanson learned he’d been fired from his previous position for giving steroids to the kids on his team. From what you’ve told me, I suspect he’s doing the same thing here.”

  “How did he get the job at Brie’s school with a record like that?”

  “Principal Underwood owed him a favor. By the way, Underwood has a valid alibi for the night of Ripari’s death.”

  “So that lets him off the hook but not the football coach. Maybe Mr. Ripari found out about Coach Garsen, and it got him killed.”

  “Perhaps, although I think Garsen would have been cleverer in planning a murder.”

  “Who’s your prime suspect at this point?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Marla didn’t appreciate his clipped tone. “You know you can trust me. Why are you shutting me out?”

  “I could still be wrong. As the noose tightens, the bad guy will get more desperate. We should make sure Brie isn’t alone for the rest of the week.”

  “She doesn’t want to go to the party on Friday night.”

  “Hanson will be there, and so will I. We’re planning to close the net and nab the guy. Brie should attend. It would seem off if she wasn’t there. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  “Okay, I’ll convince her. What are you going to do, set a trap?”

  “Exactly. It should be a Halloween to remember.”

  ***

  To set the
mood on Halloween night, they all wore costumes. Brianna eschewed the latest movies for ideas and went with classic Belle from Beauty and the Beast. The booklover suited her nature, and so did Belle’s view of the world. The ever-popular heroine looked past a person’s appearance to gauge their true personality.

  Marla and Dalton wore their western outfits from Arizona, embellished with fake spurs and neck scarves. Dalton’s gun was authentic, although the sheriff’s badge pinned to his fancy cowboy shirt was a Halloween store purchase. They’d bought boots while on their honeymoon out west, and Marla wore hers proudly. She had even learned to ride a horse at the dude ranch.

  Sitting in the car with Dalton and Brianna on the way to Dee’s Diner, she swallowed her nervousness. All of the principle players in Bill Ripari’s murder would be present tonight. Would their plan work?

  When they arrived, the restaurant was already crowded with revelers in all manner of disguises. Marla’s heart sank as they approached the brightly lit place, the only storefront open that evening in the shopping strip. How would they be able to tell who was who?

  The proprietor, dressed as a witch, had set out free fruit punch and appetizers and presented a special themed menu for anyone wanting to order a heavier meal. Kids stood in clusters, their parents socializing in another corner. Not too many adults remained, most having dropped off their teens for the duration of the party. Pumpkin spice scent from candles filled the air, while jack-o’-lanterns grinned from various corners. Orange and black streamers hung from the ceiling along with glittery ghost and goblin decorations.

  Brianna set off on her job of chatting up her classmates to learn who was behind each outfit. Marla and Dalton moseyed over to the adults. She recognized Detective Hanson in the trench coat and Sherlock Holmes hat. Really? Could he have been more obvious? But then again, Dalton wasn’t hiding his identity too well, either. What was it with lawmen?

  With Brianna’s help, Marla learned which students were the persons of interest in their case.