Not wanting to keep her own customers waiting any longer, Marla hurried next door. She’d have liked to tell Dalton her latest revelations, but he was busy. And if he stayed on the case, it would mean a late night for him.
She drew in a shaky breath as she entered her salon. The bright lights, familiar sounds, and chemical scents calmed her. No matter what her problems, she needed to keep her cool and get through her appointments for the day. Customers relied upon her.
Plastering a smile on her face, she approached Robyn and gave her the rundown in a low voice so others wouldn’t overhear. To her credit, Robyn gave her a reassuring grin.
“We’ll do fine, Marla. Your eleven o’clock is waiting. I told her you’d been delayed, but she didn’t mind.”
“Now I’m off schedule. Thanks, Robyn. I’ll tell you more later.” She’d been lucky to hire the marketing expert after Robyn had been laid off from her corporate job. They’d become good friends aside from work.
Nicole intercepted her in the backroom where she went to mix her customer’s highlights solution. Shelves of bottles and boxes faced her as she selected the proper products and then brought them over to the sink. After double-checking her client’s profile card, she grabbed a bowl and began measuring components.
“So what happened? Who was screaming? I saw all the flashing lights outside.” Nicole pursed her lips and leaned against a counter. The dark-skinned stylist looked svelte in a maxi-dress with a matching sweater wrap.
“You’ll never believe it. Rosana, the aesthetician, was giving her customer a facial. She applied the mask and left the room for a few minutes. When she returned, the lady was dead.”
“What? How?”
Marla paused to think things through. “Dalton said it could have been anything from a heart attack to a brain aneurysm. The only problem that showed up on Val’s medical survey was a latex allergy, but Rosana knew this. Val had been her client for years, when she’d worked in east Fort Lauderdale.”
Nicole folded her arms across her chest. “So I gather the spa will be closed for a few days?”
“Yes, but I hope we’ll be able to reopen by next week. I told Traci to send all their hair and nail people over here today. Are you between clients now?”
“I’m waiting on a touch-up.” The stylist glanced at her watch. “Ten more minutes.”
“Traci will help Robyn tomorrow at the front desk,” Marla said. “We’re bound to be busier if she shifts some of the spa appointments to the salon.”
“Careful, hon, you don’t want to add that 30 volume bleach.”
“Oops, I guess I’m more rattled than I thought.” She retrieved the correct item and added it to her bowl. Her hand shook as she mixed the chemicals with a brush.
“You need to calm down.”
“I can’t. We have to handle the overflow. But that’s not the worst of it. The woman who died was Valerie Weston from Friends of Old Florida.”
“So? What does that mean?”
“FOFL is the group that hired us to do the hair at their fashion show in a few weeks. I don’t want to lose that gig.” She didn’t mention her educator opportunity, not wishing to spring this news on her staff until it was a done deal. It would mean more hours away from the salon.
“But was this client someone you recognized? Is she the person who spoke to you about doing the show?”
“No, it was somebody else.” Marla put down her brush and spared a glance her way. “Lora Larue contacted me. She’s one of the board members.”
“So you don’t know how this Valerie was connected to the group?”
“Not really. I hope they don’t blame us and cancel our contract.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions. How can it be our fault? That woman might have dropped dead anywhere if she’d had a true medical emergency.”
“Rosana left her unattended for a brief interval. Otherwise, she might have called for help sooner.” Visions of a lawsuit entered her mind. Oh, God. Marla clutched her stomach.
“Hey, come here. Give me a hug.” Nicole strode forward to embrace her and pat her on the back. “We’ll be okay. Things will get back to normal.”
Marla sprang away, grasping the bowl and brush before the moisture behind her eyes turned into a waterfall. “I know. And I appreciate your support, as always.”
She didn’t express her misgivings about the negative publicity affecting her personal goals. But she wasn’t to be let off the hook so easily. Her customer, displeased at having to wait for her appointment, demanded Marla relate the whole story. She gave an abbreviated version, aware of listening ears around the salon. Her rendition left out any mention of the dead woman’s medical history.
“Have you heard of this organization?” Marla asked, hoping to gain some information. She knew pitifully little about the group for whom her staff had been hired. Her fingers moved automatically to section off a strand of hair, place the foil under it, brush on the solution, and fold the foil over.
“Sorry, I haven’t. How’s that husband of yours, dear? Won’t next month be one year you’ll be married?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Our anniversary is December eighth.”
“Any little ones in the barn yet?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you planning on having children?”
“Dalton already has a teenage daughter. She’s taking driving lessons. That’s enough anxiety for us, thank you.”
The woman’s dark eyes met hers in the mirror. “You’re young yet. You can still get pregnant. I’m sure you’d make a great mother.”
All right, we need to change the subject. “Let’s discuss you instead. Weren’t you about to go on vacation when I saw you last?”
Marla skillfully steered the conversation away from her personal life. What concern was it to others if she and Dalton meant to expand their family? With her past history, she didn’t want children of her own. She had enough to do without the added responsibilities and constant worry. Besides, she looked forward to traveling, something she hadn’t had much time to pursue on her busy career path.
While she worked, part of her mind kept track of the cop cars coming and going outside, along with the scudding clouds overhead that heralded another cold front. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that most of the police vans had left.
The body must be long gone by now, she thought, signaling for her next client to get shampooed. She was still behind schedule, but she’d catch up. And keeping busy prevented her from thinking too hard about what was happening next door. How long would it take before the autopsy results came in? She’d feel more vindicated if the woman had died from natural causes that couldn’t have been prevented or treated. Would Rosana quit her job there? Or if not, would she still want to work in that room?
“Hey, Marla.” Robyn approached her station, a friendly smile on her face. “There’s a sales rep here to see you from Luxor Products. Shall I send her over while your customer is getting washed?”
“Luxor Products? Oh, no!” She gulped. “I mean, yes, please send her on back. I have a few minutes free.”
Dear Lord. Luxor was the company where she hoped to work as an educator. Was this person truly a sales rep or someone come to evaluate her? If the latter, she was doomed.
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