Permed to Death

by Nancy J. Cohen

  His look of puzzlement took her aback. “I don’t know anything about blackmail. You’re confusing me, Marla.”

  “Bertha came here to get her pictures taken, and that’s when you showed her my photographs. At least that’s what she told me. You’ve been working with her ever since.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” he said, scratching his head. “It’s that male model who bought your photos and came up with the scheme for an erotic magazine.”

  “What?”

  “Bertha Kravitz never stepped foot in here. Wasn’t she the dame who was murdered in your salon? Hey, I follow the news,” he added at her astonished glance. “You didn’t do her in because she was blackmailing you?” His frightened glance strayed to her handbag as though she might have a loaded weapon inside.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m trying to uncover Bertha’s killer.”

  He sagged in relief. “Well, you’re not going to tell the cops anything about me, are you? Because I’m not doing anything illegal. People pay me to take pictures, that’s all.”

  “Who pays you?” Marla demanded. “If Bertha wasn’t the one, who then? Roy Collins?” She supposed he might be the courier who picked up the photos and delivered them to the print shop. Maybe he’d even given Bertha’s name on the post office box card. But if she wasn’t involved, how did Bertha get hold of Marla’s negatives? Obviously, she’d lied about coming here for boudoir pictures. So how else could she have obtained the goods?

  A link. She needed the link between them all.

  “Don’t sic the cops on me,” pleaded Dex, wringing his hands. “I swear I don’t know any Collins character, either. You want to pin the deal on someone, ask Todd.” Marla leaned forward. “Excuse me? Who did you say?” “Todd Kravitz, the old lady’s son. Don’t you remember? He was the male model who posed with you for those sexy shots.”

  Chapter 18

  So you think Todd killed his mother?” Tally asked. Marla shrugged. Seated across from Tally at the Olive Garden restaurant, she debated how much to reveal. Her heart burst with the truth. After recognizing that Todd was the man who’d posed with her for those shameful pictures, she needed to unburden her anguish. Who else but her best friend might understand her motives? Certainly not Detective Vail. He’d accuse her of withholding vital information and construe her actions as corroborative evidence against her.

  “Marla, spill it.” Tally wagged her index finger. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  Marla had a reprieve while the waitress delivered their entrees. Staring at her steaming dish of eggplant parmesan, she murmured, “You won’t think badly of me if I confess, will you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m your friend. We can tell each other anything. Now what has you looking like you’ve just swallowed a blasted bullet?”

  With difficulty, Marla raised her eyes to meet Tally’s compassionate gaze. “I’ve never told anyone,” she whispered.

  “Go on, I’m listening.” Shooting a longing look at her plate of spaghetti and mushroom sauce, Tally politely waited.

  Twisting her hands, Marla bent her head. “After Tammy’s accident, her parents decided to sue me. If you recall, my father had just recovered from his illness. I didn’t dare inflict this further injury upon him. Daddy and Ma already shared my grief, but they didn’t need an additional burden. I consulted an attorney—Stan’s law firm—and resolved to pay the fees myself.”

  Squirming in her seat, she drew in a tremulous breath, grateful for Tally’s encouraging silence. I should have told her long before this, Marla realized. It wouldn ‘t have been so hard to bear if I wasn’t alone.

  “I’d done modeling jobs before to earn money,” she went on, eyes still cast downward. “I thought I could work to pay off my debts, so I answered a call for a lingerie ad. I assumed the job would be for something like the Victoria’s Secret catalog or weekend newspaper ads. But the photographer wasn’t anyone familiar to me, and he offered me a lot more money if I posed ... in an indiscreet manner.”

  “How indiscreet?” Tally’s fascinated expression told Marla her friend was getting a kick out of this story. Well, at least she’s not horrified by my moral ineptitude ... yet.

  “I, er, put on this black lace merry widow ... with garters and a thong bikini, no less ... and figured I’d have different outfits to try on. Well, the photographer, who couldn’t manage to keep his hands to himself, had me recline on this couch. I should have been suspicious because we were in a back room, not his usual studio.”

  “And he wanted to pose with you himself?” Tally guessed, too engrossed to eat her meal.

  Marla had completely lost her appetite. “Worse,” she said. “He offered me an incredible amount of money if I’d pose with a male model. He’d sell the photos to a small audience who preferred to keep their voyeurism private. The pictures would never be made public, so no one else would ever see them. How could I refuse? I needed money desperately, not only to pay the lawyer, but also for beauty school. Ma was devastated I’d dropped out of college, and she didn’t support my career change. I felt totally alone, so, naive schnook that I was, I agreed.

  “Well, this man came out of another room wearing nothing more than a jock strap. Good-looking, blond hair, big chest Okay, I figured, what harm would it do if we snuggled close and the guy took his photos? I’d never have to do this again. But they wanted more than two bodies facing each other. They intended it to appear as though we were having sex. We were already entangled when the model pushed my clothing out of the way and put his hands ... in private places. The jock strap came off before I even knew what was happening. And then he poised atop me, as though he was about to ... you know. He almost did, too. He was that close.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together.

  Tally’s mouth hung open. “Couldn’t you knee him where it hurt? You didn’t agree to pose for those kinds of shots.”

  “The photographer insisted that I had. We did more,” she admitted, her face flaming. “I was so embarrassed, I wanted to die. I kept telling myself this disgrace was my punishment for killing Tammy. In my unworthiness, I deserved no better.”

  “Oh, Marla.”

  Unwanted tears sprang into her eyes. Her feelings were so vivid, as though her shameful indiscretion had happened just yesterday. “I was at the bottom, Tally. My life had turned upside down. I felt I couldn’t sink any lower.”

  Neither one spoke for a while until the waitress came to inquire if everything was all right. Hastily shoveling a forkful of food in her mouth, Marla avoided looking at her friend. She was too choked-up to speak, the morsel of eggplant sliding down her throat like a lump of clay.

  “You survived,” Tally said at last, her wavy blond hair swinging as she sipped her Chardonnay. “Not only did you crawl out of that morass, you triumphed in your new career and have helped save countless other children from drowning by your work in the coalition. I’d say you should be proud of yourself.”

  Marla smiled grimly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Stan, meeting her during her sojourns to his law firm, had latched on to her. Offering his support, he’d gained her gratitude during a period of intense vulnerability. Not until later did she understand he was a domination freak. At first she’d believed his belittling remarks, but finally she regained enough confidence to overcome his influence. She’d fought her way out of the swirling currents of despair and would never plunge into them willingly again.

  “I won’t let anyone ruin the reputation I’ve worked so hard to build,” she gritted. “Least of all will I let Bertha’s murderer get away with the crime. She was my customer and my responsibility, and no one will ever say I’ve shirked my duty again. I didn’t kill her, even though she was blackmailing me with those photographs. The only way to prove my innocence is to find the real culprit.”

  “Have you told Detective Vail any of this, or does he already know about your, uh, sul
lied past?” Tally had given in to her voracious appetite and was rapidly devouring her spaghetti. Marla marveled at how neatly she twirled the long strands into her mouth without a single dribble of sauce.

  “I haven’t said anything to him. I’d hoped to get hold of the pictures myself. I’ve got the negatives, but I can’t find the original prints. Bertha had them both, and she was blackmailing me into getting free hair appointments.”

  “How did she get them?”

  Marla wasn’t quite certain herself. “Todd must have bought them and showed them to his mother. I’d wondered if she was blackmailing other former models. Todd might know.”

  “Todd is the courier who takes the pictures to the printer? If his mother’s name is on the business post office box listing, they must have been in on the deal together.”

  “I need to see Todd.”

  “Wait a minute. Didn’t you tell me Todd was upset about his mother’s announcement that she was going to publish her memoirs? Do you think he killed her to stop her from exposing their dirty dealings?”

  “Bless my bones, you may be right.”

  “You can’t go to him alone, Marla. It’s too dangerous.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I’ll have to see him. Maybe he’s got the prints.”

  “Or maybe Detective Vail does. He’s bound to find out this stuff sooner or later. You’d be smarter to admit your wrongdoings first”

  “No, I can’t He might book me for murder.” “Well, I think you’re making a big mistake.” Putting her fork down, Tally gave a bright smile. “Dessert? Let’s splurge.”

  Marla had several calls waiting on her answering machine at home. A couple were from clients who needed appointments over the weekend. One was from Dalton Vail, which she ignored. He wanted her to call him back, but she’d rather avoid conversation with him at present Wendy’s urgent message concerned her. Since it wasn’t late, Marla returned the call. She’d already let Spooks out and changed into slacks. Lounging in her office chair, she dialed Wendy’s number.

  “Marla!” Wendy said in a breathless tone. “I’m so glad you called. I need to see you as soon as possible.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “It’s something I need to talk about, but I can’t leave the house tonight. Zack is out of town, and I told him I’d be home in case he called.”

  “You can’t tell me on the phone?” Marla’s body sagged. After the emotional events of the day, she was exhausted. Going out again would require an enormous effort.

  “Sorry. I don’t want to say anything that might be overheard.”

  Was Wendy afraid her line was tapped? “I can come there,” she offered halfheartedly.

  “Please, would you mind? I’m going crazy sitting here by myself.”

  Stifling a groan, Marla heaved herself upright. “Hang on. I’ll be there shortly.”

  An hour later, Marla flung herself onto a blue-silk-upholstered couch in Wendy’s living room. Wendy didn’t even bother to offer the social nicety of a cold drink. Wringing her hands as she paced the room, she plunged directly into her tale.

  “I’m worried about Zack.” Her eyes shot a furtive glance at Marla. “I didn’t tell you before, but the night before Aunty Bertha died, Zack went out after we’d argued about her.”

  Marla sat up straight. “You mean he wasn’t home all night with you?”

  Wendy’s slender shoulders slumped in defeat as she paused in front of Marla. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I heard about that janitor, but now I’m concerned.”

  “Carlos ... what did you hear about him?”

  “He was poisoned. I listened to the news tonight. The police say there may be a link between his death and my aunt’s.” Her chin quivered. “I’m afraid Zack might be involved. He was worried about money, Marla. He’d made some bad investments. I know he felt frantic with a baby on the way and debts to pay. Do you... think he’s capable of harming someone?”

  “You know him better than I do. But I’m surprised. Zack implied you didn’ t know how bad things were. When I visited his office, he said he was expecting a financial windfall. It would allow him to dig himself out of his pit.”

  “What windfall? Surely you don’t think he meant Aunty Bertha’s inheritance? Oh dear, he knew the terms of her will. And I have no idea where he went that night, but it could have been your salon.”

  “You didn’t share this with Detective Vail, did you?”

  A look of misery crossed Wendy’s face. “No, and I suppose that means he can accuse me of being an accomplice.”

  “You never confronted Zack about this?”

  “I was afraid of what he’d say. Now he’s not here, so I can’t ask him.”

  Marla drummed her fingers on the plush sofa arm. “You said he went away on business?” For some reason, that bothered her. Where would he go, and who’d paid for the trip?

  Wendy nodded, resuming her pacing. “He seemed excited. I-I hope he’ll be back by Sunday as promised. It’s a quick trip, but he said it was important. I think he was meeting someone else in Franklin.”

  “Where?”

  “North Carolina. I wasn’t even aware he had clients there.”

  Ken had gone away this weekend, Marla remembered, biting her lip thoughtfully. Do you suppose—nah, too coincidental.

  Loud barking sounded from the back of the house. “Your dogs want in,” she observed.

  “What should I do, Marla?”

  Sighing, Marla rose. Rolling her stiff shoulders, she yearned for a hot shower and a few hours of oblivion with a good mystery. Although didn’t she have enough to solve on her own right now? Maybe she’d read the latest trade magazine instead.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she replied, facing Wendy. The girl looked forlorn, but Marla couldn’t think of any more comforting words. Zack’s actions were puzzling but that didn’t mean he was a murderer. “Wait and talk to

  Zack when he comes home. And call me ... I’d like to know your results if you’re willing to share them.”

  “Of course. You’ve been a big help just by listening. And if you learn anything new, will you call me?”

  “Sure,” she lied, thinking of the mound of data accumulating in her brain. Trouble is, I can’t tie it all together.

  Wendy showed her to the door, and she drove home pondering their conversation: Zack and Ken, both out of town for the weekend. Zack left the house the night before Bertha’s demise. Doesn ‘t prove anything, she concluded. Nope, too many loose ends still needed completion. A weary yawn convinced her to contemplate them on the morrow.

  Saturday dawned bright and warm with the promise of rain held in cotton-fluff clouds on the horizon. Marla didn’t have time to think much less ponder the mystery of Bertha’s death. Darlene didn’t show up for work, and Nicole called in sick. The morning flew by in a flurry of activity.

  Just after Marla stuffed down a bagel and cream cheese for lunch, Lucille summoned her. “Vail’s on the line. Here.”

  “Oh, joy.” She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Shore, I’d like you to come down to the station, please. I have a few questions to ask you.”

  Marla cringed inwardly. His stern tone of voice lacked any hint of familiarity or warmth. “What’s up? We’re really busy today. Maybe I can meet you later.”

  “Now, Marla. Shall I send a car for you?”

  Compressing her lips, she glanced at Lucille, who was trying her best to pretend disinterest. “That won’t be necessary. I’m on my way.” Carefully replacing the receiver, she hung up. “Shit. What does he want?” She hoped he hadn’t found the pictures. But why else would he need her at headquarters?

  “What’s going on?” Lucille queried, a bland look on her powdered face.

  “Who knows? He wants to ask me more questions.”

  “Why? Were y
ou snooping again?”

  Gathering her purse, she shot Lucille a resentful glance. “Maybe, maybe not. What’s it to you?”

  “Someone’s got to see to your welfare.”

  “Yeah, well, I can look after myself. Did you ever get hold of Darlene? I can’t understand why we haven’t heard from her.”

  “She isn’t answering her telephone.”

  “Keep trying. I don’t like her leaving us in the lurch like this. You’ll have to reroute my clients to Miloki and Giorgio again. Sorry, guys,” she yelled on her way out the door.

  Vail met her personally in the lobby at the police station and herded her into the same office as before. A sterile room apparently used for questioning suspects, it held a single desk and several chairs. Motioning for Marla to be seated, the detective lowered himself into a creaky chair behind the desk.

  “So.” Glaring at her, he steepled his hands.

  Marla squirmed uncomfortably. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Certain new evidence has come to light. Care to explain these?” Opening a drawer, he pulled out an oversize brown envelope and tossed it across the desk surface.

  Marla, fingers trembling, retrieved the envelope. She didn’t want to examine the contents. A sinking feeling told her what was inside. Peeking past the open flap, she felt her face lose color. “W-Where did you get this?” She saw no point in denial. The best thing would be to come clean. Pressing her shaking knees together, she tried to compose herself.

  “They were in Bertha Kravitz’s safety-deposit box. You’ll notice the envelope has your name on it.” His icy tone matched the hard expression in his eyes.

  Swallowing convulsively, Marla met his gaze. “I can explain.”