Perish By Pedicure

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “How so?”

  “Come on, let’s go inside.” Jan headed for the exhibit hall. “I believed her about something and got totally messed as a result. It taught me to verify whatever she said.”

  “It sounds like she had a way of offending people.”

  Jan gave her a sly glance. “If you keep your nose down, you can get ahead at Luxor. There’s plenty of opportunity for people who put the team ahead of their personal ambitions.”

  Like you? Give me a break. “Thanks for the advice,” she murmured.

  Jan halted at the main concourse inside the exhibit hall. “Have any of the models arrived yet?” she asked, peering around at the bustling scene. “Sampson told me what time they were supposed to arrive, but I forgot. How much did you get done at the booth?”

  “Quite a lot, but everyone is upset by Chris’s death. They need your calming influence. What did you tell the police?” Marla added in an idle tone, hoping to catch Jan off guard.

  “They needed a list of company employees working on the show plus a rundown of anyone who’d spoken to Chris yesterday. That was tough, because she’d greeted a lot of folks at the cocktail party. I mean, why did they ask so many questions when she obviously had some medical problem no one recognized?”

  Marla wondered if Jan had heard of the discourse between Chris and Tyler later that night, and of Chris’s subsequent accusation. “It’s just routine in cases with an unaccompanied death,” she replied.

  Veering left, Jan proceeded to their exhibit space. “I mean, who knew Chris was taking antidepressants? Someone on the hotel staff found out and told me. She had a prescription bottle in her bathroom.”

  “Oh, yeah? Was it something she took regularly? I wonder if seizures might be an adverse side effect.”

  “I’m not a pharmacist—how should I know?” Jan shrugged. “I gather people don’t usually pop those pills like tranquilizers. It’s likely Chris had some sort of disorder.”

  “Was she close enough to anyone on the Luxor team to have shared confidences?” Marla asked.

  “Not in the way you mean, darling. No one knew her secrets, not even the guys she bedded. With her, it was more a control thing, you know?”

  They arrived at the booth, and Marla abandoned further speculation for the moment. Jan assessed their progress and smoothly got the operation underway. By noon they’d set the stage and laid out all the products on the sales counters.

  “Let’s grab lunch,” Jan told the assembled crew, “and then we’ll head over to Marla’s salon. The models are supposed to arrive by one o’clock. Amy Jeanne, you’ll stay here to orient the store managers when they come in.”

  Miguel, bobbing his head to music from his iPod, raised his hand. “I don’t have to go, do I? If I stay here, I can pass out flyers to the other exhibitors.”

  “Good point Tyler, why don’t you guard the booth and talk up our products to anyone who walks by? And you’ll have to dispose of those empty cartons. There’s not supposed to be any visible trash.”

  Listening to her made Marla weary. For an energy boost, she bought a mandarin orange chicken salad in a takeout container at the food court. Wandering into the convention center lobby, she elected to eat at one of the tables set up by a coffee bar, away from the loud din of drills and hammers. Georgia, who’d trailed after her, slumped into the opposite seat.

  “I’m glad a few people are staying behind,” Marla confessed. ‘That will make for less confusion at the salon. You and Jan from the sales team, Liesl and myself to assist Sampson and Ron. How many models will there be?”

  Georgia scrunched her eyes. “Six for the cutand-style demos. Sampson wants them to display our spring palette. We need to work on their coloring today, although some are scheduled for perms or other processing first.”

  Bless my bones, how are they going to crowd so many people into the salon? “Just how do you expect us to get all these models done? I hadn’t planned to keep my place open late.”

  “Don’t worry, Amy got their costume measurements already, and we still have tomorrow morning for prep work. Ron said we could use his hotel room if we need extra space.”

  By one-thirty only five girls had checked in, and Ron was missing. Standing by the curb outside, Jan hailed a couple of taxis. “I’ll go over to your salon with Sampson and this bunch. Liesl, you’re with me since you have to assist our artistic director. Find Ron,” she ordered Marla and her friend, “then meet us there. I have a hunch you might find him in his room. He may have already started prepping one of the models.”

  “I’ll go look,” Marla told Georgia, whose haggard expression concerned her. Back inside the hotel lobby, she pointed to a comfy seating arrangement. “Wait for me there. If you need a brief snooze, go ahead.”

  Anxious to proceed to her salon to head off whatever disasters might occur, she hustled to the elevators. Ron’s room was on the tenth floor. Once inside the lift, she sagged against a wall. This day kept getting longer, and if every show was so exhausting, she’d rethink her decision to participate next time. But it could just be that Chris’s death had put a pall over their energy. Sighing, she added another cup of coffee to her mental priority list.

  “I’ll be right there,” Ron’s voice shouted in response to her knocking on his door. A moment later, he swung the door wide while she blinked at him. He wore a white towel tucked around his waist and nothing else. Behind him, she heard a feminine giggle and saw a streaking figure clutching a sheet around itself.

  “Marla, what do you want?” Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

  Caught you in the act, hot shot. “You’re supposed to be downstairs. We’re going to my salon to do the models, remember? Jan has already left with Sampson and Liesl. She has five of the girls with her. Am I to assume that your visitor is the sixth?”

  Ron had the grace to blush. “Er, I was only getting started. My sink works just as well as the ones in your shop.”

  “Really? Does that mean you won’t be joining us?” She peered around him, but the girl had vanished into the bathroom.

  “We’ll come over in a while. Heather’s highlights will take more time.”

  “Oh, yeah, I see how she’ll take up your time, all right.”

  Ron’s lip curled in a snarl. “Hey, no offense, but I do things my way. We’ll show up at your salon, even if we’re late. Sampson can’t possibly get everyone done by himself. Tell Jan to chill in the meantime.”

  After handing Ron one of her business cards, Marla strode down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. If this was how he conducted business, he wouldn’t be hobnobbing with Hollywood celebrities anytime soon. It could also be the reason why Ron remained in Sampson’s shadow. Being a womanizer on his own time was one thing, but Chris wouldn’t have permitted any male to upstage her. In her book, she stayed on top. Of course, now that she was gone, all bets were off. Did Ron hope to gain from her death? If so, Sampson remained his main obstacle at Luxor.

  She remembered the check Sampson had written to Chris. What was that all about? Had he owed her money? Certainly, he hadn’t been happy when Marla presented the uncashed check back to him. You’d think he would have been glad to have his debt cancelled, especially if Chris used it as a means to control him.

  And these were just the stylists, she thought as she arrived at the ground floor, retrieved Georgia, and headed for the parking lot. Now that Chris’s seat was open, Jan had a chance for promotion. That meant Tyler could move up to regional manager, the position that Chris had denied him.

  Why am I even bothering to think this way? Force of habit, that’s why. Vail’s influence already had her contemplating suspects. Chris’s unattended death raised some questions, including what had really happened last night between Georgia, Tyler, and the company director. Likely, the interpersonal dynamics were similar to what went on in most other firms, but then, no one ended up dead with their face in a foot bath at other firms.

  It’s not your concern, she told herself, withdrawing he
r car keys from her purse. Georgia remained silent, so Marla spent the drive trying to rally her friend’s spirits.

  She did a good job, because by the time they arrived at the shopping center housing the Cut ‘N Dye, Georgia was chatting happily about the restaurants in San Francisco, where she lived. Her appetite had returned with gusto, necessitating a stop at Burger King on the way west. Fortunately, the afternoon air had warmed to a balmy seventy degrees with a light sea breeze.

  “This is why I love living in Florida,” Marla said, sipping a Diet Coke in the parking lot of her shopping strip. “It’s worth the risk of hurricanes. Besides, most of the tempests I’ve confronted have been caused by people.”

  But she felt as though a whirlwind hit as soon as they walked through the door at her salon. Nicole had a panicked look on her face. “Marla, thank God,” the cinnamon-skinned stylist called out from her station. “I didn’t know where to put everyone.”

  The seats up front were filled with regular customers and a couple of the models. Glancing toward the rear, Marla noticed Sampson using her chair for a coloring job, while another model sat at an empty manicure console with foils in her hair. The fifth girl occupied a seat by the shampoo sinks. Liesl stood by Sampson’s side, looking bored.

  What am I supposed to do when Ron gets here, hand him his styling combs? Marla wondered. Is that all my role requires?

  “How’s it going, guys?” She waved to her staff members. Other than Nicole, whom she’d left in charge, the rest of her crew seemed oblivious to the commotion. Not surprising, considering some of the other interruptions they’d experienced in the past, thanks to Marla’s sleuthing.

  Jan intercepted her. “Did you find Ron? We’re on a time schedule, you know.” The redhead tapped her watch.

  “He wanted to start the other model in his room. He’ll be along shortly.”

  Jan must have heard something in her voice, because she snorted. “Don’t count on it.”

  “I can do one of the girls in the meantime,” Marla offered.

  “Not yet. Let’s review the setup for our photo shoot.” She signaled for Marla to follow her to the reception area.

  As Marla passed the front desk, Luis grinned. She imagined the handsome Hispanic enjoyed having the models close by. One of them had evidently gotten tired of sitting around. The tall raven-haired beauty flipped through a magazine on his counter, sneaking glances at his dark eyes and trim beard. Wait until Ron arrives, pal. You’ll have competition.

  Her attention turned to Georgia, who’d removed an entire display case worth of goods. The sales rep had placed Luxor products on the shelves instead and was now occupied in arranging them in a certain order.

  “Can I help you with those?” Marla asked, scurrying over.

  She didn’t want to incur the disfavor of her other accounts.

  “Listen, hon, you’re representing Luxor now. We have to show off our merchandise to its best advantage.” Georgia had tied a bandanna around her head to keep her curly black hair off her face. Her eyes sparkled as she put a sign in front of a promotional videotape for sale. “We have a unique straightening process that Sampson will be applying next if you want to watch. He’s certified to perform thermal hair reconditioning. Customers can buy this video if they want to see how it works.”

  “Wonderful, but perhaps we should replace this stock—”

  “Marla, let’s not quibble over minor stuff. Georgia is one of our top sales reps,” Jan chided. “Look, this is a good spot for the photographer. He can place the backdrop screen over there, and the lights will go in these two spots. Do you have any potted plants to soften the scene?”

  “Sure,” Marla mumbled, feeling as though a steamroller had overtaken her salon. Better to go with the flow, and fix things later.

  She didn’t realize how much time passed while shuffling around following Jan’s orders, assisting Ron, who sauntered in the door two hours late, and fitting in one of her own clients with a rush job. Jan was haranguing everyone to finish and get back to the hotel when Detective Dalton Vail strode through the door with his daughter and her grandparents in tow.

  “Marla,” he cried, his craggy face breaking into a smile, “I just stopped by to show Justine and Larry your place, but I didn’t expect to see you here. How about joining us for dinner?”

  Marla glanced at a wall clock. It was past five already? “I’m afraid not. The show opens tomorrow morning at nine. We need to make sure the exhibit is ready as well as the models.” She swept her hand to indicate the preening girls, adjusting their costumes in front of the mirror.

  Justine’s eyes widened as she took in Ron’s outfit, a khaki shirt open to the waist and hip-hugging leather pants. But that was nothing compared to the shimmering sequined tops and miniskirts on the models.

  “Dear heavens, Marla, is this the norm for your clients?” the older woman exclaimed, staring at the rainbow of hair colors the models displayed. One girl sported shades of red alternating with plum. It made her nose ring stand out.

  “Not really,” Marla replied, her cheeks warming. “It’s purely for razzle-dazzle at the show.”

  “Maybe if this were Las Vegas.” Justine sniffed.

  “You and Georgia can have the evening off,” Jan told Marla with a knowing smile. “We’ll be outta here soon, before your doors close at six. So run along, and have a good time.”

  Oh joy. Marla plastered a smile on her face as she turned to Vail. At least Georgia would be there to give her moral support. “If you don’t mind having us tag along…”

  “Don’t be silly, sweetcakes,” her fiancé said, beaming. “We’re all one big happy family. Aren’t we?” he asked his daughter.

  “Sure,” said the thirteen-year-old, swinging her ponytail. “We’d love for you to come. Right, Nana?”

  Chapter Six

  Vail decided to take his former in-laws to Padrino’s for dinner, because they’d never eaten Cuban food. Marla had her doubts that they’d like black beans and rice, but Georgia might find it fun. Personally, she liked the restaurant for its white-clothed tables, lively atmosphere, and tasty fare. Located in the Fountains Shopping Center, it held its place among the competition. She often went there for lunch, choosing the reasonably priced buffet.

  “You certainly have your choice of malls nearby,” Justine commented when their party met up with Marla and her friend at the entrance. Marla had driven separately, giving Vail time with his family. After a harassing day, she’d rather have gone home and changed first, but she was curious to know if Vail had learned anything about Christine’s death from his cronies. Nor could she constantly avoid her guests. She’d accepted the responsibility, and it wasn’t her policy to shirk her duties, however unpleasant.

  “I looked for a space here when I considered moving my salon,” she confessed, ducking under Vail’s outstretched arm while he held the restaurant door open. “But I prefer the idea of pedestrian traffic, and Palm Haven has a town square under construction. It’s going to be really neat, with upscale boutiques, bistros, and a cutting-edge technology museum that’ll draw young people to the area. The opportunity to get in at the ground level was too good to miss.”

  That’s awesome, Marla,” Georgia gushed. “We’ll have to drive over there so I can take a look. When will the place be ready?”

  Marla stood aside while Vail gave his name to the hostess. They say it’ll take six more months, but you know how those things go. Meanwhile, I’m hoping to decide what sinks I want, the fixtures, and all the other stuff that goes into a salon.”

  “Won’t you take anything from Cut ‘N Dye?”

  “No. I really want to start fresh. Probably I’ll sell most of the old equipment. I’m hoping to look around at the show, see what’s new.”

  “What did you gals accomplish today?” Vail asked, filing behind them into the dining room. Their round table seated six, and Marla found herself wedged between him and Georgia. His in-laws flanked Brianna, who grabbed for the sliced bread as soon as
the waiter set a basket on the table.

  Marla saved her answer until after their drinks arrived. She and Georgia shared a pitcher of sangria. Swallowing a gulp of the chilled fruity wine, she proceeded. “We set up the exhibit, got the stage ready for tomorrow’s demos, and prepped the models in my salon. I’m amazed we got that much done, considering how the day started.”

  “Oh, yeah—about that call you wanted me to make,” Vail began, twirling his water glass.

  “Justine and Larry probably aren’t interested in hearing about our jobs,” Georgia interrupted, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she told them. “You and Brianna must have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Marla gave her a sly glance. Had she diverted the conversation on purpose? If so, for whose benefit?

  “Brie is so grown up now.” Larry puffed out his chest. “Did she tell you she got an A on her last English test? And she’s trying out for soccer in the spring term? Way to go, pumpkin.”

  “Soccer?” Marla said. “You didn’t tell me about that, sweetie,” she added, turning to Brianna. “I think you’d be great at it, with your long legs.” At thirteen, Brianna already showed promise of being tall. She’d started filling out, and height wasn’t the only manifestation of her growth. Soccer would be really good to keep her in shape. But who would take her to the games if Vail had to work late?

  “I don’t know, Marla,” Justine said, glaring at her over a slightly uptilted nose. “Raising a teenager is a big responsibility. Brie will need someone to drive her around, and that’s only the beginning. These can be tumultuous years.”

  “I drove Brianna to ballet class for a while, so I know what to expect,” she retorted, her muscles tensing. “And Brie already looks to me for guidance on grooming matters, right?” she asked the girl, who nodded. “We’ll work things out.”

  Justine’s lips tightened, making Marla wonder how Vail had described their arrangement. He’d promised she wouldn’t get stuck with housekeeping duties or attending school functions unless it was her choice. Knowing how she felt about children, he understood the reason for making these promises, but Justine and Larry had no knowledge of the tragedy in her past or even about her previous marriage.