Sinking back into her chair, Lucille ran a shaky hand across her face. “She’d discovered what he was doing with the company funds. She wouldn’t believe me, you understand, but she confided to me that she’d caught him at it herself. My guess is that she was irked because he wasn’t paying her enough attention, so she planned to publish her memoirs to expose him.”
Well, Marla thought, so Bertha’s impending memoirs affected others besides Todd. Maybe Roy wanted to stop Bertha from revealing his deceit, and Darlene had gotten involved. What was the girl’s role anyway? Was she planted here as a spy, to warn Roy if Bertha got wise to him? And when Bertha did turn against him, had he and Darlene decided to eliminate her as a threat to their security?
Marla bit back her next question when the phone rang. While Lucille was occupied, she headed toward the deli to buy bagels before their first customers arrived.
“Hey, sweets,” Arnie greeted her with his usual enthusiasm. She marveled at how he managed to look like a hunk wearing an apron over jeans and a T-shirt.
“My usual order for the salon, please.”
He shouted to an assistant. “Two dozen assorted.” There being no one else waiting at the cash register, he leaned forward and grinned. “I’ve got something for you.” Reaching behind the counter, he withdrew a large-size brown paper bag and thrust it at her.
“What is this?” Marla liked surprise gifts when she knew the giver’s identity. Inside the bag was a square box labeled: JACK DANIEL’S TENNESSEE WHISKEY-FILLED GOURMET CHOCOLATES. “Oh, Arnie, you’re a doll!” Selecting a confection, she popped it into her mouth. The liquor drained down her throat, leaving a burning trail mingled with the taste of semisweet chocolate.
Arnie’s dark eyes twinkled playfully. “I figured you’d need a boost How’d your weekend go?”
“Delightfully,” she muttered, unwilling to elaborate. “Would you like one?”
“No thanks, I know you’ll enjoy them.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I want you to think of me each time your luscious lips close on one of those sweets.”
“Come off it, pal. I’ve got a better idea. Isn’t your daughter’s dance recital next month?”
“Yeah, that’s right. She’s got her dress rehearsal soon.”
“Well, if you haven’t already asked another hot date, you can buy me a ticket. I’d like to go.” It was the least she could do when he was so kind to her.
His expression brightened. “You’re on! Want to do dinner first? Lisa and Josh will be with us,” he warned with an apologetic shrug.
Great, a romantic dinner with the kids along. “That’ll be all right”
Their conversation reminded her of some other calls she needed to make. Rushing back to the salon, she quickly put the bagels on a platter, retrieved the cream cheese and spreading knife, and laid them beside the coffeemaker. Then she closed herself in the storeroom and dialed the number of Lance’s lawyer. Briefly she outlined her situation with the landlord and promised to drop off a copy of her lease during her lunch break. Thus relieved, she called the child-drowning-prevention coalition to find out the date for their next meeting. Last week’s had been canceled, and she’d forgotten to get in touch with them. She didn’t want to neglect her duties in the wake of recent problems.
Tally was on her mind, too. They’d touched base last night, but Tally had been on her way to a meeting. She’d invited Marla to come along to a metaphysical study group, but Marla had no desire to connect with her spiritual side. Enough matters confronted her on the earthly plane. “I’ll go shopping with you but I won’t join analysis groups,” she’d replied in a bantering tone. In her heart, she knew Tally was seeking answers to her own difficulties, but that wasn’t the route Marla chose to follow. Making her last call, she caught Tally just as her friend was starting work.
“I can’t talk now,” Tally gushed. “Can we meet later?”
Marla hesitated. Face-to-face, she might inadvertently let slip that she’d seen Ken. “Er, I’m not sure. Why don’t I contact you this afternoon?” Then she thought maybe Tally had news. “Has anything different happened since we spoke?”
“Not unless you count Ken saying a few civilized words to me at breakfast, not to mention eating at home.”
“That sounds like progress.” Pleased that Ken might be making an effort to ease Tally’s anxiety, she hung up just as Nicole burst into the storeroom.
“Marla, why are you hiding in here? Your first customer has arrived.”
“Already?” She was losing track of time these days, and that didn’t translate well for her mental state. Exchanging pleasantries, she left Nicole reaching for a pile of towels and entered the salon.
The day whipped past in a flurry of activity. Having meant to question Darlene, she didn’t get the chance. People were always nearby, and she dared not invite eavesdroppers. Another alternative presented itself as six o’clock neared. She could confront the girl on her own turf, and besides, Marla was curious to see where Darlene headed when she left work.
Crouching behind the wheel of her Toyota, she waited in the parking lot for Darlene to leave the salon. She’d gone as soon as her last customer finished, using the excuse she was meeting a friend for an early dinner. Hopefully Darlene wouldn’t notice the white car following behind.
The trail led to a condo high-rise near the ocean. It was a swanky development with a guardhouse at the entrance and a gate surrounding the community. Initially, Marla cruised past at a slow pace. No way Darlene could afford a place like this on her salary as a stylist She’d need a sugar daddy like Roy to afford such an expensive lifestyle. When she was certain Darlene had cleared the guard’s vicinity, she drove through the entry.
“I was supposed to be following my friend,” she explained to the uniformed security man with a dazzling smile. “She went too fast and got ahead of me. This is my first visit here, and I’m not sure of her apartment number. Darlene Peters is her name.” Anxiously, she scanned the road leading to an underground garage. Darlene must have pulled in there because her Corvette wasn’t visible outside.
“You’ll find Ms. Peters at B-507 in the second tower,” the guard said after consulting a clipboard. “I’ll ring her that you’re on your way.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary since she’s expecting me. Is her roommate in, do you know?”
“Mr. Collins usually gets back around seven, miss.” He gave her a curious stare that warned her she’d best move on. She’d already gotten information which confirmed Vail’s report Darlene and Roy were definitely sharing the same living quarters.
Going inside to talk to Darlene probably wouldn’t be a good idea right then, she decided after glancing at her watch. Roy might arrive soon, and it wouldn’t be safe to confront them together if they’d conspired against Bertha. Tomorrow presented another opportunity to question Darlene. Somehow Marla would find a way to be alone with her.
She went directly home, exhausted more from mental fatigue than physical exertion. Her answering machine was flashing, but she didn’t feel like retrieving messages right away. Probably some customers who wanted special accommodation. Running a weary hand through her hair, she headed to the bedroom to change. Peace and quiet were not on her list, however, because the phone rang just as she stepped onto the cool tile floor in her bare feet.
“Marla, it’s Wendy. Zack told me he saw you yesterday. It was kind of you to choose him as your financial counselor.”
Marla settled onto the edge of her bed, legs dangling. Apparently Zack hadn’t confided in his wife the full gist of their conversation. “He gave me good advice.”
Wendy cleared her throat. “I guess he showed you the beautiful view out the picture window from his office.”
Didn’t she know his work space consisted of a tiny cubicle with no view except walls? “Yes, it was lovely. You sound as though you haven’t been there in a while.”
&nbs
p; “Right. Zack ... doesn’t like to be bothered at work. Did he, er, mention anything to you about my aunt?”
Marla’s brow folded into a frown. “Sure, we talked about her. Zack resented her interference in your lives, but I believe he understands how much she meant to you.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Wendy, what worries you?” Did she know something about Zack’s activities that would implicate him in Bertha’s death?
“Nothing... nothing at all. Actually the reason I called was because I found that envelope you wanted.”
“What!” Marla rolled off the bed, rocketing upright. Her fingers gripped the receiver with an iron fist.
“There was a secret compartment in her desk. I found the Manila envelope addressed with your name like you said. There was another item in there, too. I-I’m not sure where Bertha got it or what I should do, so I’ll give them both to you. Can you meet me tomorrow at lunchtime?”
“Of course. Want to join me for a meal?” Her heartbeat skipped erratically. The envelope ... at last it would be hers!
“I can’t spare the time. I only have a half hour for lunch, but if you come to the hospital where I work, I’ll give these to you.” She rattled off her location, then disconnected.
Marla hung up, then realized she was shaking from head to toe. Dear Lord, let this be an end to my problems in this arena, she pleaded. I can’t afford for Vail to get hold of those photographs. Speaking of Detective Vail, maybe he’d left her a message. Forty-eight hours had passed since she’d given him the marzipans. That should be enough time for a lab report, right?
Indeed he had left a voice message, but when she returned the call, no one answered. Frustrated, Marla fixed herself a prepackaged Caesar salad and microwaved chicken drumsticks for dinner. Afterward, she responded to messages from friends and called her mother before picking up a mystery novel and relaxing on the couch. She’d promised herself not to work on salon business since clearing her mind was more important.
Reading a book was a luxury she usually denied herself. In her spare time, she scanned through fashion and hair magazines for the latest styles. Nicole devoured mysteries as though they were candy and often tried to enlist Marla in her hobby. She’d loaned Marla a medical thriller but there just hadn’t been time to pick it up. Maybe reading it now would help her solve Bertha’s murder, Marla thought hopefully snuggling into the cushions.
Bleary-eyed the next morning from staying up too late reading a story she couldn’t put down, Marla consumed three cups of coffee before deeming herself ready for work. No wonder she didn’t normally absorb herself in a good book. A sleepless night and a throbbing head were the result. Better to stick to lighter fare, at least until she could decrease her work hours.
Her morning passed with lightning quickness for which she was grateful. Eager to meet Wendy, she left without explaining her departure to anyone. Her next two customers had canceled, so she had several hours free before her four o’clock appointment arrived for a routine haircut.
Marla knew where the hospital was located but not the physical therapy department. She asked directions at the front lobby and proceeded through a series of twisting corridors. Ignoring the antiseptic smell, she passed by a hematology lab and a respiratory unit. Hospitals are not my thing, she told herself, feeling a surge of pity for the patients being transported by wheelchair. If I worked here, I could never go home without taking a part of these people with me.
The physical therapy department was a bustling center of activity. Patients with assorted degrees of mobility, some dressed in street clothes as outpatients, others in flapping hospital gowns, were exercising using various mechanical devices. Now there was a procedure she could happily endure, she thought, observing a stout woman getting her shoulders massaged.
She connected with Wendy, who’d been watching for her, and they slipped inside an empty office. Marla was too anxious to get hold of the envelope to exchange pleasantries.
“Do you have it?” she asked, giving Wendy the once-over. The young woman’s pregnancy was barely showing, her peach smock taut over white trousers. She’d tied her hair neatly back with two barrettes, and looked harried, with a sheen of sweat on her pretty face. Marla felt guilty for interrupting her work schedule, but she rationalized that obtaining the envelope was of greater importance.
Wendy strode to the desk and opened a drawer. Beneath a pile of papers nestled a manila envelope which she withdrew. “Here you go. The document with your name on it is inside along with that other item I’d mentioned.”
Marla gingerly took the folder and peeked inside. Hmm, the original Manila envelope with her name on it had been larger. The negatives hadn’t taken much space, but the photos did. This one looked too small to hold everything. She didn’t bother to glance at the other item, some sort of magazine.
“I really appreciate this,” she said to Wendy, facing her. “You didn’t, uh, mention finding it to anyone else?”
“No, I didn’t, not even when Detective Vail inspected the contents of Bertha’s safety-deposit box.”
“Oh?”
Wendy pointed at the envelope. “I didn’t want him to see that... trash Bertha kept hidden. I can’t conceive of what she’d been doing with it unless Todd was somehow involved. You’ll see what I mean.”
Marla’s curiosity threatened to ignite. Clutching the envelope to her chest, she grinned weakly. “If that’s all,” she said, letting her voice trail off and hoping Wendy got the hint.
“For now. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Me too. Thanks for your help, Wendy. If I can ever do anything for you, please give me a call.” Waving, she left.
Inside her Toyota, she turned on the air-conditioning before opening the Manila envelope. Her eyes widened in shock as she drew out the contents. A magazine showed full color scenes of naked couples entwined in erotic positions. How did this get into Bertha’s possession? Experiencing a sinking feeling, Marla squeezed her eyes shut momentarily to block out the vivid images. Thank God her pictures had never made it into this format. Gathering her fortitude, she tore open the smaller envelope with her name on it.
A cry of disbelief escaped her lips.
The negatives were there, but where were the photographs? Desperate, she searched through the magazine pages in case the photos had fallen inside, but no luck. Could Bertha have stashed them separately for extra insurance against her blackmail scheme?
Damnation. Now she still had to get those pictures. She only hoped they hadn’t been placed in Bertha’s safety-deposit box.
Chapter 14
Taking a closer look at the magazine, Marla gnawed on her lower lip. The lurid poses blurred with her shame until she imagined herself in each of them. Thankfully, her supple young body had never been displayed in such a public fashion. It was bad enough copies of her pictures had been sold under the counter to perverts who wanted to view them in private. At least that’s what the photographer told her was being done with them. Now she wondered how many had been circulating before Bertha got hold of the negatives and original prints. Her stomach churned as she mentally revisited her sordid past. You couldn’t abolish regrets; you could only learn to live with them.
Too distraught to return to work, she changed gears and drove around aimlessly while her mind wandered back to the day Bertha Kravitz had confronted her with the evidence of her shame.
“I wanted to surprise my husband with an album of boudoir pictures,” Bertha had explained after calling
Marla to her home ostensibly to get a haircut. Marla had come eagerly, hoping to acquire the wealthy client as a regular customer. She’d had no idea the old lady planned to drop a bombshell.
“The photographer asked if I wanted normal poses or something more erotic.” Bertha had grinned, a toothy smile that showed off her capped teeth. It wasn’t so much a smile as a predatory snarl, like a hungry tigress
preparing to pounce on a helpless victim. “Imagine my surprise when the examples he showed me were pictures of you, Marla. I’d only been to your salon once, but you made quite a favorable impression. I can’t tell you how shocked I was to discover your secret.”
Marla wished the floor would dissolve so she could sink through to a bottom level, which in south Florida probably meant the Biscayne Aquifer. Sweat dampened her palms as she faced Bertha in her office. “I only took that one job,” she croaked, her tongue so dry it scraped her palate like sandpaper. “I needed the money.”
Bertha didn’t care about her explanations. In return for keeping silent, she’d demanded free hair appointments and other salon services in perpetuity. Forced to comply, Marla had tried to put the interview behind her. She’d survived worse things, and she could get past this, too, except for the days Bertha came in and gave her a disgustingly smug smile.
Oh yes, she did have a motive for wanting Bertha out of the way. Gripping the steering wheel, Marla drove slowly through a winding residential complex in an unfamiliar neighborhood. She didn’t want to be seen or recognized. Pulling alongside the curb by an empty lot, she idled the engine.
Fifteen years ago, she’d been a naive young woman whose moment of neglect had let a beautiful child drown. Unintentional though it might have been, Marla had to pay the price. Modeling jobs had provided her with pocket cash before, so this time she accepted one that offered to pay a great deal more. Posing for lingerie ads wasn’t shameful, after all. Store models did it all the time for catalogs and newspaper advertisements. So how could one stint hurt her reputation?
Unfortunately, the photographer wasn’t someone she’d worked with previously. Noticing the vulnerability in her eyes, he’d approached her with a better offer. Sweet young things like herself were highly in demand for more risque poses. If she were interested, the money rewards would be fabulous.
Permed to Death Page 16
