False Nails and Tall Tales (The Teasen and Pleasen Hair Salon Cozy Mystery Series Book 5)

by Constance Barker

  "You know that when they are together they entertain themselves. I don’t do much more than keep a watchful eye peeled and an ear out. I actually get more work done when Sarah is over."

  Paula had a part time job transcribing legal tapes of various kinds. Investigator Woodley had gotten her the job to supplement her other part time job as Ellen Hart’s receptionist at our mayor’s real estate office. As a single mom, she could use the income.

  "So you are getting plenty of work?"

  "The transcription business is growing fast." She paused. "There is so much that… well, I might be making a change."

  "A change?"

  "A number of them, actually, such as leaving Ellen’s employment. More than one of the offices I’ve been freelancing for in New Orleans wants me to take on extra work. I could build this into something that would pay a heck of lot better than Ellen can afford."

  "Well good for you."

  "But it’s not as simple as just taking on more work. In fact, it’s complicated. I’d like to sit down and talk to you when we have a chance, because I need to make several decisions that are important and I’d appreciate your insights."

  "Big ones?"

  "A number of them will be life changing. I’ve started thinking about what happens next year when the girls can’t go to school right here in Knockemstiff."

  "Me too."

  "I don’t have a car and if there’s no bus service…"

  "We can work that out together."

  "I appreciate that, but I’m a planner, Savannah. I need to nail some things down a bit more concretely than that. You go with the flow better than I do."

  "I do?" I thought of myself as increasingly inflexible.

  She hesitated. "And there are other factors I have to consider."

  "Okay, we will talk this through soon. You can tell me all your thoughts. The truth is I could probably use your help in understanding what I want to happen next too, but the school issue is high on the list."

  She let out a sigh of relief. "You are a good friend."

  So I approached Nellie’s tasting with my emotions a little mixed. I’d done my duty toward Sarah and she’d have a great time, but that didn’t keep me from feeling a little guilty. Being in the role of mother was still relatively new, and although she was an exceptional kid, anytime I didn’t personally pick her up or take her to school, I felt a little guilty as if I was neglecting her. Guilt’s like that. Paula was great, often reminding me that the girls enjoyed each other's’ company more than ours and that we needed time for ourselves too. And now she’d reminded me that I had to make decisions and I was stalling. She was taking action and I was curious to hear her plans.

  But for now there was flavored moonshine to be tasted and decisions to be made about flavor.

  When I got back into the salon I found that Nellie’s sign had done its work. An influx of people, mostly regular customers, were milling about sipping moonshine out of plastic cups. It wasn’t the sort of thing you saw everyday, or even wanted to, but the fact that it could happen here in Knockemstiff was yet another argument in favor of life here.

  Keeping score was tricky.

  "Try this one," Nellie said, handing me a cup. I tasted it and noted a slightly fruity aftertaste that was nice. "Number one," Nellie said.

  I could feel the alcohol in the drink. "Still toxic as ever."

  "Potent," Nellie said. "You can say strong, gutsy, robust, or potent, but never toxic."

  "Ah, there are rules to drinking now?"

  "No, but Aubrey has established rules for talking about the brand. It’s from an online marketing course he’s taking."

  I handed her the empty cup. "Whatever, it’s good stuff."

  "Those aren’t on his list, but I’m sure that’s acceptable."

  I watched Ella sipping moonshine and chatting with Dolores Pettigrew. "Dolores is tasting it?"

  Nellie arched her eyebrows. "She fancies herself a connoisseur. Turns out her brother was a moonshiner until he poisoned himself."

  "This town is nuts, Nellie."

  She picked up a bottle labeled with a large Roman numeral two. "That’s why we fit in so well."

  Number two had an odd hint of mint that I didn’t think worked all that well. "Do we fit in, Nellie? Do any of us fit in at all? It doesn’t seem like it to me at times."

  She grinned. "Maybe the people we care about all fit together by not fitting in anywhere else."

  As usual Nellie’s logic could be both compelling and perverse at the same time. You had to love her for it. She kept my world an interesting place.

  I felt a chill. Leaving Knockemstiff, if it came to that, would mean leaving Nellie, losing her companionship. I’d never lose her friendship, but distance weakened the bonds. I knew that.

  # # #

  I suppose it was inevitable that the day that Teasen and Pleasen held its first-ever, and perhaps only, moonshine tasting party, was the same day that Doctor Charles Fimbus would decide to come in to introduce himself.

  We were all sitting around sipping moonshine and chatting.

  "What on earth?"

  I stared at the man standing in the doorway and smiled. He was stout, balding, conservatively dressed and rather red faced. In retrospect it seems appropriate that those were the first words out of the man’s mouth. From then on whenever anyone mentioned him, I think that phrase and the shocked tone of voice that carried them, were what everyone who was there that day would think of.

  "I," he said, pausing dramatically, "am Doctor Charles Fimbus."

  "Welcome, Doc," Nellie said cheerfully. "Care to cast a vote for your favorite flavor for Knockemstiff’s next artisanal moonshine?"

  His pupils widened. "Moonshine? You are drinking alcohol?"

  "Tasting," she said. "It’s market research."

  He stiffened. "I most certainly do not wish to taste that evil and toxic brew," he said, sounding as certain as a person can possibly sound. "I do not care to sample that sinful swill and I do not condone you serving it on these premises. Your promotion of the devil’s water is a scourge!"

  Dolores clapped her hands. "Savannah Jeffries, isn’t Dr. Fimbus just the most poetic man?"

  He glared at her. "Dolores Pettigrew, what on earth? Why are you here?"

  That seemed to be an expression he favored.

  "Just helping friends decide which of these tastes best," she said.

  He scowled and stared at the lot of us. "These are your friends?"

  "Savannah Jeffries owns the salon, Dr. Fimbus." I noticed that she was slurring her words ever so slightly. While Dolores was known to have a drink from time to time, she wasn’t a big drinker and the shine was probably stronger than she’d expected. As smooth as it was, it was easy to drink a little more than you intended.

  Dr. Fimbus came over to me. He drew himself up to his full height and did his best to tower over me. Unfortunately for him, he was only about five seven, which is my height, so it didn’t come off well. "Miz Jeffries, you are responsible for this?"

  "Nope. That’d be me," Nellie told him. "It’s my party. And while I’ll admit market research can be a sleazy job, I’m giving away top-flight booze here in return for honest opinions. I call it acceptable."

  "And I call it evil!"

  "But then you haven’t tasted it," I said. "It’s rather good."

  "I have come to this town to assume leadership of the Congregational Abstinence Parish," he said. "I am here to put this town on the righteous path, not to encourage sin. I came here to pay my respects and encourage you to attend services. What an outrage that I should walk in and find this abomination."

  "Abomination… that’s bad, right?" Nellie asked, winking at me.

  "This…" he pointed at the table, "is a scourge whose very presence defies our Lord."

  "No, actually this is moonshine, like she told you already. And rather good stuff too," Pete said. "I like the one that seems to have a hint of blackberry, Nellie. Can I get a gallon?"

  "No
t until we go into production," Nellie said, jotting it down. "I’ve recorded that you prefer number one."

  "Didn’t you hear me?" Dr. Fimbus asked.

  "Of course we did," Nellie said. "How could we avoid hearing you when you are shouting like that? Given the small room, can’t you manage to be indignant at a slightly lower volume?"

  I watched his face turn red. "This is an unusual event," I told him.

  "Wednesday’s are slow," Nellie put in. "So we decided to use the opportunity for market research."

  "I should call the police," Dr. Fimbus said.

  "We already did that," Nellie said. She nodded toward the corner where Chief Tanner held two plastic cups and was taking sips from one and then the other. "The police seem to agree with Pete about that hint of blackberry."

  "It’s all perfectly legal, Doctor Fimbus," Chief Tanner said. "Nellie even came by the office to get a permit and she’s a licensed alcohol server."

  "A permit? A person can get permission from the city to serve alcohol?" Clearly, the realization that the chief was part of our nefarious consorting with evil didn’t help Dr. Fimbus’s mood at all. It didn’t sit well with him.

  "That’s the law, Doctor," Chief Tanner said. "I just enforce it."

  "And partake of alcoholic beverages."

  "I’m off duty now," he said. "Wednesdays are slow and Digby and I alternate working a half day on Wednesday. It’s all very civilized."

  "Civilized?" Then he seemed to remember that Dolores was there. "Dolores Pettigrew, what are you doing in this evil place?"

  "Getting my hair done and drinking coffee," she said, wide eyed. "What did you think?"

  "You endorse these activities with your presence."

  Dolores looked around nervously. "I…"

  "The church doesn’t offer hair styling, last I heard," Sanders said.

  "And why shouldn’t Dolores be here? You are here, Dr. Fimbus," Pete said. "If it’s all right for you to be here why shouldn’t a regular customer be here?"

  The man look flustered for a moment. Then he rallied visibly. "I’m here by accident. I stumbled into this… this den of iniquity. I have seen the wickedness of this place with my own eyes. I would expect one of my flock to recognize evil when she sees it and to turn her eyes away and not look upon it."

  "Teasen and Pleasen. Salon of beauty and iniquity…" Nellie said.

  Fimbus glared at Pete. "I’ll tell you young man, now that I have seen what takes place in this place, I am leaving. Dolores, for the sake of your soul I advise you to come with me right now."

  Looking rather befuddled, Dolores got to her feet. "If you think it’s really that important…" she mumbled and followed the irate preacher as he stomped out our front door. "I’m not sure how I’m supposed to keep my hair nice if I don’t…"

  The door closed behind them.

  "Now there is a charming man," Nellie said. "I’m sure he’ll make a pleasant addition to our little community. Apparently he doesn’t know beans about moonshine, though."

  "He certainly doesn’t distinguish between a tasting party in a salon and a bar."

  "It does seem that he knows what he doesn’t like," Pete said. "That seemed clear. And I don’t think I like him just as much as he doesn’t like us."

  Although the party resumed after he left, I found myself trying to shake off a bad feeling. The man had left my salon, but his anger, his disapproval lingered and I didn’t like the way it tinged the room. He was divisive as well as judgmental. Dolores was a part of our world and Fimbus was making her choose between his teachings and her friends. It would be hard on her and while it was usually difficult to feel sorry for Dolores, who was, at her worst, also judgmental, I didn’t like the way he’d treated her, played on her beliefs. If he made her stay away, she was going to be isolated. And even though she disapproved of a lot that went on at the salon, she was a social person. She thrived on interaction with people. And she had an appetite for gossip. How could she hear the latest dirt if she weren’t allowed to socialize? Clearly even Facebook had only created a temporary setback to the salon as an important social center.

  A nudge of my elbow caught my attention, bringing me out of my reverie. I turned to face Nellie and a plastic cup that she held out to me. "Let it go," she said. "You need to taste this. It’s quite different," she said. "Almost nutty. It will wash away the bad taste that little man left in everyone’s mouth."

  "My stomach isn’t exactly calm right now," I said.

  "Then drink this and I’ll pour you another one," she said. "You have my personal guarantee that a couple of shots of this hooch will settle any upset. Rumor has it that this very elixir is going to be the preferred drink for all your chic exorcisms of evil spirits."

  I couldn’t help but smile. And as she went for another cup I tasted the smooth moonshine. It was delicious and infused with spices. I had to think she was probably right unless two cups weren’t quite enough. But Nellie was a survivor and I was sure she would have plenty.

  I was glad that I’d arranged for Sarah to stay overnight with Ginny. Not just because I could drink without worrying about her, but because the encounter with our new man of God had me fighting off a foul mood. I didn’t like the thought that Dr. Fimbus might be able to get me out of sorts to where I might snap at her—or my friends.

  "You are right about this stuff, Nellie. What is it?"

  "Secret recipe number four," she said, looking at the label. "The whole point is we aren’t supposed to know. The ingredients might prejudice us for or against one of the flavors."

  I held up the cup. "I’ve made my decision and this one the best. Now can we find out what’s in it? Besides cinnamon, I mean. I can taste the cinnamon."

  "We have to get Joe or Rudy to tell us. They promised that when I gave them the results of the testing they’d spill the beans."

  Lucille came up with an empty cup. "Is there more of number four?"

  "Another county heard from!" Nellie laughed. "Yes, I can spare another… taste."

  As she filled Lucille’s cup, the woman smiled. "For the record, Dolores drank two cups of number three and didn’t finish the others. I just don’t understand what happened."

  "Well she is under that man’s thumb as long as she honestly believes that he represents the church."

  "I know that! I meant how she could not finish number four."

  "Probably had too much of one, two, and three," Nellie said.

  Lucille nodded. "Now that could be."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As the word about tasting got out we had a steady stream of people go through the salon. Some curious, some wanting to taste the stuff. Ellen Hart echoed Pete’s affection for number one and its hint of blackberry; Sanders wanted to vote for all of them, but settled on the subtle, nutty flavor of number four. Even the less popular flavors disappeared.

  "I think we have a winner," Nellie said.

  "Was it a landslide?"

  She gave me a wicked look. "As the official vote counter I get more votes than anyone, so of course."

  "And the winner is?"

  "Number four with number one the runner up. Maybe they’ll go for two new flavors."

  "They could stagger the introductions and tease people."

  "There’s a thought. A good one. An Aubrey marketing thought."

  "But Rudy and Joe make the final decision?"

  "Supposedly Rudy does, but he likes them all. And of course he’ll want to make sure Joe is included in that discussion. In fact, I promised him I’d drive over there, out to Joe’s cabin as soon as I had the results. So… want to go for a ride in the swamp?"

  I was a little light headed from tasting the moonshine, and having so many things buzzing around my head. That wasn’t a good combination and the idea of a ride outside of town sounded right. It might clear my head. "Into the swamp?"

  "Out to Old Joe’s cabin. Rudy should be there already." She grinned. "How can you resist a chance to meet the old man now that he’s popped out of
the woodwork?"

  I laughed. She was reminding me of one of the things my Daddy always said. In a place like Knockemstiff, a small rural town, the census figures are usually low, because people don’t like to give strangers information. When you visit them they seem even smaller than the census figures would make you believe. The reason is that places like this have a large percentage of people who live in what my Daddy called ‘the woodwork.’ Their houses aren’t on roads, but are tucked away deep in the swamp. They don’t go into town unless they have to, and since they are often poachers and moonshiners, or both, they don’t need to go in for food or booze. They keep to themselves. When they do appear in town, they look ill at ease.

  Nellie had heard my Daddy say it almost as many times as I had: "Look who popped out of the woodwork today," he’d say, pointing out someone that I didn’t know. "That’s Old so and so," he’d say, mentioning a name I’d heard of vaguely. It seemed like all the people who popped out of the woodwork were called "old" for some reason or other.

  Later I understood that keeping a low profile was a key to success when you were engaged in illegal activities. In addition to them, were people like Leander’s parents who were poor and working the land with no time to go to town and no money to bother going in except to shop for essentials. That was when, from our perspective, they came out of the woodwork.

  Now it sounded like Nellie was suggesting that we go into the woodwork. "You’re going to Joe’s cabin?"

  "Yeah. That’s why I haven’t been tasting."

  "He really cares what we all think?"

  "The whole idea of flavored booze intrigues him. It’s nothing he’d care for. He came over to the house last night, brought over the samples so I could bring them in. He was real curious what the townies would make of the stuff, so even though it’s Rudy’s stuff, I promised I’d get him the results of the tasting. Rudy is probably over there now. Since you have a free evening and probably could use some air, I thought your company would make it the ride more fun and I’d like you to meet Old Joe. Besides, we haven’t driven out into the swamp since high school."