“Oh, yeah?” He turned in her direction, his piercing gaze making her heart flutter.
“You know how I haven’t been feeling well lately? Now I know the reason. I’ve been to see the doctor, and he’s done some tests. They came out positive.”
“What’s the problem?” His expression didn’t change, but his voice deepened. Not with concern, but with something else.
“I’m pregnant.”
Instead of acting surprised, he gave a low chuckle. “I’ve known ever since my journey on the spiritual plane when I saw another aura inside you.”
“You’re kidding? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed my vision? You had to come to the realization yourself.”
“You might have spared me the anxiety that I was sick with a stomach ailment.”
“Your symptoms fit perfectly with pregnancy. When did you figure it out?”
“Not that long ago. I did a drugstore pregnancy test and then I went to see my gynecologist. I wanted to be sure before I told you, but I don’t want you to worry over me instead of paying attention to your work.”
Dalton drew her close and kissed her. “We’ll always have distractions. This is wonderful news. You’re already a terrific mother to Brianna. She’ll be thrilled to hear she’s going to be a big sister.”
Marla kissed him back, rejoicing in his easy acceptance. She should have had more faith in him. She’d be careful and would heed the doctor’s advice. Otherwise, she wouldn’t curtail her activities as long as she felt well enough to carry on.
****
Saturday came around before she could catch her breath. Her eleven o’clock wanted a trim that reminded her of Alyce’s cute pixie style. While cleaning her station afterward, Marla stiffened. Hadn’t Alyce mentioned at the farm festival that she and Francine went to the same hairdresser?
Excited by this idea, she hastened to the front desk. “Robyn, can you look up the location for a place called Salon Style?”
“Sure, Marla. Is it in Palm Haven?”
“I don’t know. Francine Dodger and Alyce Greene went to the same stylist there.”
“Give me a moment.” Robyn’s nimble fingers flew over the keyboard as she peered at the computer monitor. “It’s in The Fountains shopping center.”
“Really? We eat at the restaurants there all the time, but I don’t recall a salon by that name. Then again, who can keep track of them all?” She took the slip of paper Robyn handed her with the address. “I’m going to run out. Hopefully I can be back before my two o’clock arrives.”
It took her less than fifteen minutes to zip over to the shops off University Drive. She located Salon Style in the corner where a salad buffet restaurant had gone out of business. It was a less populated section, but the place had a crowd when she entered. Approaching the reception desk, she sniffed the familiar scents of holding spray and chemical solutions.
“Hi, I’m looking for Karen. Is she here today?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the receptionist with a stud in her lower lip and a blue streak in her blond hair. “I’m afraid she’s fully booked. Would you like to make an appointment for another day? Or we can have you see someone else. What is it you want done?”
“Actually, I’m not here for my hair. I need to speak to Karen for a few minutes. It’s about your former clients, Francine Dodger and Alyce Greene.”
The woman’s eyes rounded. “Let me see if she’s available.”
A few minutes later, the woman returned accompanied by a brunette with curiosity in her hazel eyes. “Hi, I’m Karen. What can I do for you?”
Marla handed over a business card. “I’m Marla Vail, and I own the Cut ’N Dye Salon and Day Spa. We’re located west of here. My husband is Detective Dalton Vail. He’s investigating the deaths of Francine and Alyce. I understand you were their stylist?”
“Yes, I was. My next customer isn’t here yet. Let’s go somewhere private.” Karen grabbed Marla’s elbow and escorted her toward an empty facial room in the back. The treatment table lay empty, a clean towel awaiting the next client.
“Had they been coming here for a long time?” Marla began. Karen had left the door ajar, but no one should be able to overhear them.
“Francine started here first, and later Alyce. Poor dears. I can’t believe they’re both gone, especially since they discovered their relationship as sisters only recently.”
“You knew about it?”
She bobbed her head, her hair in a high ponytail. “Francine told me everything. I think it brought her comfort to have someone to confide in, you know? She didn’t have any relatives nearby, at least until Alyce contacted her about a hit on the genealogy site.”
“Francine must have been excited to discover her new family.”
Karen smiled wistfully. “You should have seen her eyes sparkle. She thought she’d lost her only sibling. Now she’d found a whole new family.”
“This other child was a younger girl who died?”
“Yes, she’d been a toddler who attended a local day care center. The owner inadvertently left her in a van one summer afternoon, and she died of heat stroke. It was a horrible tragedy that affected their entire family. It turned out the place was unlicensed and run in a shoddy manner.”
Marla’s heart jolted. Some of those news articles in the album Francine had kept went back years ago. Did they relate to her adoptive sister’s death?
“Was this other girl adopted like Francine, or was she a biological daughter to the mother?” Marla asked.
Karen shrugged. “I’ve no idea. But that incident scarred Francine. It made her not want to get close to people for fear she might lose them.”
“Did she ever talk about her boyfriend, the college professor who specialized in Egyptology?”
“Yes, she’d mentioned him. Francine liked his brains and his looks but said he was a bit of a kook. I didn’t get the impression they were in a serious relationship. It was more a lark for Francine to go out with him. He was married to his mythology, she used to say.”
Karen’s eyes misted, and she swiped at a tear. “Sorry, but I miss Francine. The magazine where she worked was her passion. She truly believed in bringing a message to her readers.”
Marla leaned against the treatment table. “Did anyone there hold a grudge against her or challenge her position as publisher?”
“Not to my knowledge. She spoke fondly of her staff as though she got along well with them.”
“Did she tell you about the bake-off contest and what she’d planned to do with the prize if she won?”
“Francine said she was entering, but that’s all. She and Alyce would be competitors but it didn’t faze them.”
“When did Alyce start coming to you?”
“After she met Francine and liked her haircut. Alyce had a forthright manner. I followed her food blog but didn’t agree with all her advice.”
“Did she mention any enemies?”
“Alyce didn’t talk much about herself. She kept the topics less personal and focused more on the news.”
“Did she and Francine come in separately or arrange to make their appointments back-to-back?”
“Sometimes they met up here and then went to lunch together, but not often.” Karen glanced at her watch. “Sorry, my next client should be walking in at any moment. I need to get ready.”
“I have to get back to my salon, too. Is there anything you remember about either one of the women that could be significant?”
“I don’t see why it matters. Wasn’t Alyce killed in an accident?”
“My husband believes their cases are related and that someone may have purposefully run Alyce down.”
“No way. Well, in that case, I have nothing more to report on Alyce. Her blog posts will be missed by her fans. As for Francine, it came as a shock to her when she recognized the person responsible for her sister’s death so many years ago.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Didn’t you say the owner of a day ca
re center left the child in a van?” Marla said to Karen. “When did this incident happen?”
The hairdresser from Salon Style counted on her fingers. “Francine was thirty-five when she died, and she’d been five years old when the tragedy occurred. So it would be thirty years ago.”
“And she recently recognized the person responsible? Who is it?”
Karen cast a glance at the door. “I don’t want to get in trouble for spreading rumors, Marla. It’s not for me to say. I hope you understand.”
Marla narrowed her eyes. “Would you rather my husband make you an official visit? That way, you won’t have to feel guilty about sharing confidences from a deceased client. One who was murdered.” She emphasized the last word to encourage the woman to speak.
Guilt and fear wrestled on the stylist’s expression. “Oh, very well. I’ll tell you, if it’ll help get justice for Francine.” She leaned inward and whispered in Marla’s ear.
When Marla heard the name, she gave an exclamation. If true, this would explain a lot. It should be easy to verify if the articles in Francine’s album confirmed a connection.
She thanked the other woman and left. She’d have to examine the scrapbook later since the rest of her day was filled with clients.
The afternoon passed quickly until finally she left the salon at five o’clock.
“Dad called,” Brianna said after Marla greeted her inside their house. The teen was doing her eye makeup in the master bathroom. “He’s staying late tonight to follow a lead. I’m going out.”
“With whom?”
“A friend who’s picking me up. I’ll be back by curfew.”
Marla glanced at her wedge heels, short skirt, and low-cut top. If Brianna were just hanging out with the gang, wouldn’t the girl say so? How much should she pry?
“All right,” she said, trusting her stepdaughter to make the right choices. “We won’t put on the alarm. If you come in later and see your father’s car in the garage, you can arm it.”
“Hey, I almost forgot to tell you.” Brianna paused, mascara wand in hand. She’d curled her hair and it hung in soft waves past her shoulders. “I found a video online from the festival.”
“That’s great. Can you show me?”
Brianna’s cell phone, sitting on the counter, buzzed with a text message. “I’ve got to go. My friend is outside. I’ll show you the video in the morning when Dad can see it, too.”
Brianna ran to grab her purse and dash out the front door. Marla hurried after her, dismayed to see a boy at the wheel of a Dodge that looked a few years old.
Her heart rushed to her throat. Could this be the elusive Jason? Was Brianna going out with him alone?
It was a good thing Dalton wasn’t home, or he’d have a fit.
Marla shut the door and headed for their home office. If Brianna had used their desk computer, maybe the browser history would tell her what her stepdaughter had been researching regarding the harvest festival. But she didn’t find anything relevant, meaning Brianna must have used her laptop. Tempted to look there instead, Marla resisted. She might end up peeking at the teen’s email, and that would be an invasion of privacy. If she’d thought Brianna was in any danger, she wouldn’t hesitate, but not otherwise.
She got occupied checking her own emails and then lost an hour to social media. Eventually, fatigue overruled her and she went to bed. She was reading a trade magazine when Dalton walked in, his face weary.
Marla got up to kiss him hello before he disappeared into the bathroom.
“Where’s Brianna?” he said, tossing his tie onto the bed along with his sport coat.
“She went out with a friend. How was your day?” Marla asked, the news she’d learned from Karen hovering on her tongue.
“Productive. I spoke to the TV producer of Raquel’s show as you’d suggested.” His molten gray eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “He admitted they’d had a thing.”
She raised her brows as he unbuttoned his shirt and took off his belt. He locked his weapons in their closet safe and then carefully placed his other police items on the shelf by his side of the bed.
“You mean they slept together? Are they still an item, or was it merely a means for Raquel to get her show?”
“He knew why she was doing it, so he had his fun and let her go. His station keeps renewing her contracts since her ratings are good.”
“What does he say about Alyce’s accusations that Raquel uses shortcuts off-camera?”
“Ted Hastings—that’s the fellow’s name—said he doesn’t care what she does off the air. As long as the live audience is happy with her performance, and she goes through the proper motions while being filmed, he’s okay with it.”
Marla sat on the bed facing him. “Did you ever fill in the gap in her background?”
He gave a brusque nod. “Raquel Hayes is her married name. She’d been divorced a number of years ago and has been raising a daughter on her own.”
“Yes, she told me. Did she use this same name for all the cooking jobs she’d had before culinary school?”
“I believe so.”
“It might be important to find out her maiden name,” Marla suggested. “I paid a visit to Francine’s hairstylist today. The woman said Francine had recognized Raquel as the owner of the day care center where Francine’s adoptive sister had died. This incident happened thirty years ago. I meant to check the album I borrowed from Francine’s office, but I left it in the car.”
“Good work. Let’s follow through on this stuff tomorrow. I’m so tired that I can’t think straight anymore.” He added his pants and shirt to the pile on the bed.
“Okay, although I can’t sleep until Brianna gets home.”
“Spoken like a true mother hen. Where did she go?”
“I’ve no idea. Brianna is an independent woman now. She’ll be back by curfew.”
“She’s not independent as long as she lives here and needs my money,” Dalton stated before heading into the shower.
Dalton fell asleep soon after, while Marla thumbed through her magazine until she heard a commotion from the front end of the house. A door opened and closed, and then the alarm beeped into the armed position. Brianna must be home.
She got up and padded into the kitchen where the girl was getting a drink of water. “How was your evening?” she asked.
“We had a good time.”
“You two do anything interesting?”
Brianna plopped her water glass down on the counter. “Marla, you don’t need to question me. I don’t have to share my entire life with you or my dad.”
Marla held up her hands. “Sorry, we’re just concerned about you.”
“Fine, but can you be concerned without being nosy?”
“If you wish.” She turned away, aware she wasn’t wanted. And remembering how she’d acted this way with her own mother.
It’s only a phase. She’ll mellow out in a few years.
Meanwhile, it promised to be a bumpy ride. Dalton likely wouldn’t approve of any guy she brought home for them to meet until he’d done a thorough background check and conducted a personal interview. Marla couldn’t blame the girl for being guarded about her love life and had to trust her to make the right decisions.
****
On Sunday morning, Marla served breakfast consisting of blueberry pancakes while the three of them dodged personal questions from each other.
She defused the tension in the air by focusing on Dalton’s cases. As soon as the killer was behind bars, she and Dalton could broadcast their momentous news. Meanwhile, she needed to help him wrap things up.
“Will you be looking into Raquel’s maiden name?” she asked to divert his attention.
“I’ll have my team get on it. Despite what you told me about Francine’s younger sister, I’m not convinced Raquel plays a role in her murder. Tony Winters interests me more. His company is under investigation by another agency. Either the guy knows what’s going on and is a willing participant, or he wants out an
d that’s why the head honchos are coming to town. But did he murder the two women who caught onto their scam? I don’t have enough answers yet.”
“Let me get my laptop so I can show you what I found,” Brianna said. She scurried out, looking young in her pajamas and with her hair in a ponytail.
Dalton shook his head. “I can’t get used to the idea of her growing up. She’s still my baby.”
“You won’t be able to track her movements once she’s in college.”
His gaze skewered her. “I know. I’ll have to focus on you instead. Feeling better this morning?”
Marla’s cheeks warmed. “Yes, thanks.”
“Here’s a video from the harvest festival,” Brianna said, breezing into the kitchen with her open laptop. “Watch this.”
Marla studied the recording made by a random person attending the fair. “Look, there’s Francine. She appears to be arguing with Raquel. Francine isn’t wearing Alyce’s jacket, so this must have happened before the bake-off contest.”
“Is that Ms. Wilde in the background?” Dalton pointed out.
“Yes, I recognize Lynette. Too bad the magazine photographer didn’t hear what the other women were saying. Remember when Raquel said Francine wouldn’t win despite her threats? This could be where Francine confronted the TV chef.”
“About what?” Brianna asked. “Deceiving viewers by using cake mixes and such? I thought Alyce was the one who made those accusations.”
“According to Francine’s hairstylist, Francine recognized Raquel as the owner of the day care center where her adoptive sister died nearly thirty years ago,” Marla said. “But even if true, what could Francine do about it all these years later?”
“Whoa, Marla, what if Francine’s exposé was targeted at Raquel?” Brianna suggested.
Marla straightened in her chair. “I doubt Raquel would have been pleased. If news about this early scandal got out, it could have ruined her reputation. But we don’t have any proof to connect the two of them back then.” She turned to Dalton. “You said the shovel that killed Francine didn’t have any prints. What about that set from the rock thrown at our front door?”
Dalton stuffed the last bite of pancake into his mouth and pushed his plate away. “They don’t match anyone familiar to us.”
Trimmed to Death Page 24
