She had two permanent waves, a color and cut, and then two walk-in customers who had seen her on the news the night before with Sloan. They were young stay-at-home moms who had been best friends since grade school. They picked their haircuts out of celebrity magazines, and fortunately neither one asked for Sloan’s Tweetheart ‘do. Considering that had been a wig, Claire couldn’t really claim ownership of that design.
Ed came in as she finished up the second one, and he waited patiently until he was alone with Claire.
“I’ve got two first names,” he said. “The busboy at the Depot heard Phyllis call them Kyle and Peyton. He said they’ve been coming in every morning for about a week.”
“It’s a start,” Claire said. “I just have to figure out what to do with that information.”
“I’ll go down to the campus and see if one of the security guards knows who they are,” Ed said.
Ed left and Claire began cleaning up after her last appointment. She was mopping the floor when Hannah came in dragging a man behind her. She introduced him as “Dr. Drew Rosen.” Claire shook his hand and he smiled at her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Drew said. “Hannah said you had a haircut appointment available and she insists I need a trim.”
“You guys have a lot in common,” Hannah said.
Drew rolled his eyes and Claire suppressed a laugh.
“Now that I’ve met you I feel sure we’ll be married before the year is up,” Claire said.
“I hope you like kosher food,” Drew said, “because I could never raise children with someone outside my faith.”
“Very funny,” Hannah said. “Ha, ha, ha.”
Claire gave Hannah the first names of the boys and Hannah said that was all she needed.
“I’ve got connections all over that campus,” she said. “I’ll track them down.”
Hannah left and Drew sat in the shampoo bowl chair.
“I really could use a haircut,” he said.
As Claire washed his hair she considered his green eyes, lanky muscular frame, and hiker attire.
“Were you a Peace Corps guy?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “How’d you know?”
“I’m just a good guesser,” Claire said, satisfied now that she had correctly cast him as an ecological crusader in the Amazon rainforest who falls passionately in love with the beautiful but brainy microbiologist he hates for the first half of the film.
They chit chatted as she trimmed his hair, and although he was a nice enough guy, he didn’t ring any bells for her. Claire was pleasantly impressed and that was all. As he left two more customers arrived, and she didn’t give him another thought.
Scooter Scoley dropped by but he wasn’t interested in a haircut. He was still sporting the same mullet he’d worn ever since they were in the tenth grade, only now the shiny black hair was mixed with silver.
“You didn’t think I was gonna let you come to town and not sing for me,” he said. “We’re playing at the Thorn this weekend and I want you front and center.”
“I don’t know,” Claire said. “I’m pretty rusty.”
“Don’t you give me that,” Scooter said. “You get there about seven and we’ll get your pipes warmed up for the eight o’clock show.”
“I can’t believe you’re still doing it,” Claire said. “I thought you’d meet some local gal and she’d make you settle down.”
“I meet local gals all the time,” Scooter said. “That’s one of the reasons I keep doin’ it.”
“You always were a ladies’ man,” Claire said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“We’re booked up through the New Year,” he said. “We’ll be traveling all over the Southeast. I’d love to have you come along.”
I don’t think so,” Claire said. “I’m thinking of settling down myself.”
“You won’t,” Scooter said. “You’re just like me; we’re the restless kind.”
“Tell you what,” Claire said. “Anytime you’re playing in the Thorn I’ll join you.”
“That’s a deal,” Scooter said. “I’m holdin’ you to it.”
Ed stopped in to say he’d found out the full names of the boys.
“I ran into Hannah,” he said. “She knows the registrar so she’s going to take it from there.”
“Thanks, Ed,” she said. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I had my head so far up my own backside this morning I forgot to ask you about Tommy.”
“That’s understandable,” Ed said. “Being a murder suspect will do that to you.”
“So who is this boy and why does he live with you?”
“His mama and I dated for awhile and he and I got close,” Ed said. “She had to go away for awhile, so he’s staying with me until she gets back.”
“Was this the Mandy who lived with my mom and dad for awhile; way back, like ten or fifteen years ago? The waitress?”
“One and the same,” Ed said.
“I’d forgotten all about her,” Claire said. “Why’d you break up?”
“Because I’m an idiot,” he said. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Claire said. “Do you ever hear from Eve?”
“We e-mail once or twice a year,” Ed said. “She’s working for a big news organization in New York.”
“She never liked me,” Claire said, “but I did try.”
“We all tried,” Ed said. “She just didn’t belong here.”
“I wonder if I do,” Claire said.
“Give it some time,” Ed said. “You’re not in any hurry are you?”
“I guess not,” Claire said. “I’ve got no place to go or anyone waiting for me.”
“Let’s you and me get a beer this weekend at the Thorn,” he said. “We’ll get all caught up.”
“It looks like I’ll be singing there with the Snufftuckers on Saturday night,” she said. “I’m not sure it’s wise but I’m doing it anyway.”
“That’s how we get to experience the best life has to offer,” Ed said. “Sometimes you have to take your heart out for a spin and leave your head at home.”
“You’ve changed,” Claire said. “I always thought of you as the most sensible, cautious person I know. What happened?”
“I fell in love with a pretty young waitress,” Ed said, “and then like a fool I let her get away.”
“She’s coming back, you said.”
“She’s coming back here, but not back to me.”
“You’re not dead yet,” Claire said. “So there’s still hope.”
“How about Pip and you?” he said. “Is there still hope there?”
“I won’t kick you for suggesting it this time,” Claire said, “but don’t do it again.”
As Claire worked on her next customers she was distracted by thoughts of what she would do when she did know who the students were. Why would they tell her anything? She wasn’t young enough to seduce them, and she didn’t have any power over the rich brats who attended Eldridge. She could threaten to blackmail them as if she knew what had happened, and hope to get them to confess. In her mind she went back through decades of the films she’d seen looking for a plot that covered this situation, but in almost every one someone ended up getting shot.
“I know where those boys hid their car,” Hannah said as she rushed in through the door to The Bee Hive at just past noon. “They just hired Hatch to tow it from a storage unit to a body shop in Pendleton.”
“Phyllis must have tipped them off that I was asking about them,” Claire said.
“Hatch is going to let us ride out there with him,” Hannah said.
“I can’t leave right now,” Claire said. “I’m double-booked the rest of the day.”
Claire was putting the finishing touches on an impressive up-do, more suited to 1967 than the current year, perhaps, but still an architectural marvel, nonetheless. She had another lady waiting, and expected two more people within t
he hour.
“We can’t let them get away with it,” Hannah said.
“I’m sorry,” Claire said. “I promised Denise I would see this through. Call Scott.”
“His mom’s dying,” Hannah said, “and I somehow can’t see Skip and Frank pulling this off.”
“Call Tiny Crimefighter,” Claire said. “She lives for this stuff.”
“No way,” said Hannah. “I’ll be back.”
Claire just shook her head and went back to her customers.
A little later Gwyneth Eldridge came in to look down her nose at everyone in The Bee Hive. Her expression suggested she was the only clean person in a room full of mud wrestlers.
“Hello Gwyneth,” Claire said.
“I can’t believe you’d rather work here than for me at the Inn,” she said.
“Sorry,” Claire said. “I’m sure my mother will be back to work soon.”
“She just resigned,” Gwyneth said. “Now I have no one.”
Hannah came in, saw Gwyneth was there, and scooted around her to sit in the unoccupied second hydraulic chair. Gwyneth gave her a look that telecast just how little she thought of her, and then turned back to Claire.
“I don’t understand you people,” Gwyneth said. “You won’t get another opportunity like I’m offering you. There is no better place to work in this godforsaken town and I can pay more than anyone else.”
“I’m not interested,” Claire said. “I’m sorry if that offends you.”
Gwyneth looked as if she’d like to stamp her foot. She was power-sulking like the champion pouter she was, only this time it didn’t get her what she wanted.
“I’m so disappointed I don’t know what to say,” she finally said.
“I believe ‘off with your head’ is traditional,” Hannah said.
Gwyneth rolled her eyes in contempt and left.
“I wonder if Mom is going back to work for Ava,” Claire said.
“I doubt it,” Hannah said. “And I’ll tell you why later. Here comes your relief.”
Denise Deluca’s mother Delphina Gambini, known as Delphie, entered The Bee Hive. She was wearing a brightly colored, abstract-patterned sequined tunic over stretch pants, and her highly-teased hair was bright copper red. She looked as if she had on stage makeup, and her thinly drawn eyebrows arched high above where her natural brows used to reside, giving her a perpetually-surprised look. Pleased to see Claire, she hugged her and kissed her cheek. Her floral perfume was overwhelming and her stiffly lacquered hairdo scratched Claire’s ear.
“Wait ‘til you see my new grandbaby,” she said. “He’s the spittin’ image of my youngest; you remember Nicky? He’s got a full head of black hair and dimples in both cheeks.”
“Sounds like another Gambini heartbreaker,” Claire said.
“You gotta come over and see him,” Delphie said. “Come for dinner tonight.”
“Maybe this weekend,” Claire said. “I’m still getting settled.”
“I’ll make you some gnocchi,” Delphie said. “You have been such a blessing to Denise, taking over like this. I would have done it but Grandpa Frankie has the sleep apnea so bad I’m afraid to leave him for very long. He could take a nap, and boom! He’d be dead. My Stephie’s with him this afternoon and she’ll keep an eye on him. You remember her; she’s my youngest. What a klutz. She broke her ankle in two places and has to wear a cast for six weeks. She’s boy crazy but she can’t cook. She’s tired of cutting hair, she says. She’s going to the community college to be a web developer, whatever the heck that is.”
“I’m sorry we have to rush off,” Claire said, remembering that you had to be rude to get away from Delphie because she never took a breath.
“You two go on, honey,” Delphie said. “I’ll take care of this lovely lady. Come for dinner, though, as soon as you’re settled. We’ve always got a room full of people to feed, sweetie, so come any time. My kitchen stove is always hot.”
“Thanks again,” Claire said as Hannah pulled her out the door by her arm.
“Glad to do it, honey. You girls go on,” Delphie said, and then to the customer, “Hello, darling. What can Delphie do for you today? Look at this thick head of hair, you make me so jealous. Let me tell you about my new grandson …”
Claire and Hannah ran across the street to the station, where Hatch was waiting in the wrecker.
“You’re making me late,” Hatch said as they climbed in the cab.
Morris Hatcher had been Hannah’s boyfriend in high school. A lanky, skinny, dark-eyed country boy, he’d had to quit school when his parents died, leaving him in charge of his four younger siblings. He was now raising his nephew, the red-headed Joshie, whom everyone suspected was Brian Fitzpatrick’s illegitimate son with Hatch’s sister.
“What’s the plan?” Claire asked Hannah.
Hannah shrugged.
“I hadn’t really figured one out.”
“You girls is in way over your fool heads,” Hatch said. “If it were me, now, I’d call the law and let them deal with it.”
“They’d have to get a search warrant,” Hannah said. “It would take too long. We have to do something now before we lose the evidence.”
“Like what?” Claire said.
“I’ll think of something,” Hannah said.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Hatch said. “Like as not we’ll all end up in the pokey.”
The two college kids Claire recognized from the Mountain Laurel were waiting by the storage unit when they pulled up in the wrecker. The two young men were wearing khakis, polo shirts, windbreakers, and loafers with no socks. Claire instantly cast them in a coming of age film set at a resort in the summer. Having got tangled up with the local waitress, an aging seductress, they had been drawn into her tawdry world of drama and drug addiction.
Claire could almost feel sorry for them, having accidently killed someone, now panicked and trying to cover up their crime. They hadn’t intentionally killed Tuppy; it had been a terrible accident. Maybe, Claire thought, she should just let them dispose of the car. An arrest would ruin any hope they had of productive futures. They were so young, after all.
‘We all do things we regret,’ Claire thought.
“Took you long enough,” the taller one said when Hatch rolled down the window to greet them. “You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”
“Maybe he can’t tell time,” the other one said. “Maybe they just teach readin’ and writin’ but not ‘rithmatic ‘round here.”
Hatch just rolled his eyes and shook his head as the two boys laughed at him. Any sympathy Claire felt immediately evaporated. She and Hannah got out of the car and stood to the side as Hatch backed the wrecker up to the door of the storage unit.
“Why are you here?” the shorter one asked Hannah.
“He’s just giving us a ride,” Hannah said.
The two young men looked at each other, rolled their eyes and snickered at Hannah.
“Weren’t you in the depot this morning?” the taller one asked Claire. “Sittin’ with that crazy old guy?”
Claire felt her blood pressure rise. Hannah gripped Claire’s arm, and she just pretended she didn’t hear the insult.
“Hey, yeah,” Claire said, breaking out her brightest smile. She wished she had on her heels and something more flattering than her mother’s tennis shoes, jeans and a t-shirt.
“I remember you two,” Claire said, as Hannah stared at her in amazement. “Phyllis says you guys love to party. She said you all are hardcore.”
The taller one puffed up a little and the shorter one looked Claire up and down.
“I guess,” the taller one said.
“Phyllis said you were looking for some serious party supplies,” Claire said. “That just happens to be my specialty.”
Now they looked interested. The taller one walked over and motioned to Claire to move away from Hannah. Claire smiled, hoping her rusty frat-boy-charming skills still worked, and followed his direction. The sho
rter one moved closer in order to hear.
“What have you got?” the taller one asked her.
Close up, she could see that his pupils were already dilated. Claire knew next to nothing about drug culture, as Sloan’s vices were more mundane, limited to cigarettes, verbal abuse, and sexually punitive role playing. She’d just have to pretend to be more knowledgeable than she was. Luckily she remembered some dialogue from the hooker movie for which Sloan had won her academy award. She hoped these two were too young to have seen it.
“I’ve got everything,” she said. “Ecstasy, Vitamin K, smack, meth; you name it, I got it.”
“You got any Oxycontin?” the shorter one said, and the taller one said, “Shut up, Peyton.”
It suddenly struck Claire that Peyton was the name of Meredith’s son, the one who attended Eldridge. Could it be?
“I just got back from LA,” Claire said. “I’ve got some extra-pure blow and some killer skunk that’s guaranteed to blow your socks off.”
“How much are we talking?” the taller one said.
“I let good customers sample everything before they invest. How about we party together and then you can decide which ones you like best?”
“Cool!” Peyton said. “Spencer, we should totally do that.”
“Where’s your place?”
“Tell ya what,” Claire said. “I’ll give you a little something right now if you want.”
“Sure,” Spencer said.
Claire went over to the truck, opened the passenger side door, and leaned inside; giving the boys a good long look at her toned rear end.
“What are you doing?” Hatch asked her.
Claire reached into her purse, took out her smart phone, pressed the commands that caused it to start recording, and stuck it down in her bra. Then she took Hatch’s small, round can of snuff off the dashboard and emptied it into a mint tin she had in her purse. When she looked up at Hatch his eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
Peony Street Page 30
