Trimmed to Death

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Dalton rushed at them, his weapon aimed. “I’ve got this. Sorry it took me so long. Her boyfriend Carlos is responsible for the hit-and-run accident that killed Alyce. I recognized his car in the parking lot and ran the plate. He gave me trouble when I went to talk to him.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance as he took in the chef’s limp form and his daughter holding a heavy cast iron frypan in both hands. “It looks as though you two handled things on your own quite nicely.”

  “Your daughter deserves the credit,” Marla said. “It was smart thinking to bash Raquel on the head, and deserving as well considering that’s how she killed Francine. We heard her whole confession.” Marla’s body trembled as she thought of a different outcome that might have happened. If not for Brianna’s timely intervention, Marla might be the one lying there with a bleeding wound on the floor.

  Dalton holstered his weapon and pulled out a set of restraints from his pocket. He used them to bind Raquel. “You hit her pretty hard,” he said, feeling for her pulse. “She’ll live, unlike the victim she struck with a shovel. My boys are arriving. They can take her and Carlos in together.”

  ****

  “When Francine recognized Raquel as the owner of the day care center where her sister had died, she must have been stunned,” Marla said once they were home and had eaten Chinese takeout for Sunday dinner. “Francine confronted Raquel, who did what she had to do to maintain her status and protect her daughter.” The comfort food had worked its magic. She felt calmer and able to talk about what had happened, now that they were safe.

  Brianna seemed unfazed by her role in the drama. She’d dashed off to her room as soon as she’d finished eating. Marla didn’t have the heart to chastise her for sticking around the TV studio instead of remaining outside. Brianna had witnessed her entire conversation with the celebrity chef and had saved Marla’s life at the end. It only troubled her that Brianna could be so blasé about the whole thing.

  Brianna hadn’t been blasé about Marla’s news when they’d told her the morning after her confession to Dalton.

  “Awesome,” Brianna had cried, getting up from the breakfast table to hug Marla. “I can’t wait to be a big sister. She’ll be lucky to have you for a mother, as I am. I love you.”

  Marla’s breath hitched, and her heart sung with joy. It was the first time Brianna had uttered those words. They’d come a long way as a family.

  “I love you, too,” she said in a choked tone, hugging her back.

  Her attention returned to the present as she faced her husband across the kitchen table. “I can understand Raquel wanting to safeguard her daughter. She was afraid her ex would sue for custody if her reputation was smeared.”

  “She compounded her problems by killing those two women. Carlos might have done the deed with the hit-and-run, but he was following her orders.”

  “It’s a shame she chose that route. A scandal might have ended her career on television, but she could have moved elsewhere and opened a small restaurant. People wouldn’t know her there.”

  His smoky gaze seared hers. “She ran an unlicensed day care center and let a child die, whether accidentally or not. You’ve confirmed what Alyce said about her taking shortcuts off-stage. Those indicate to me a broken individual who finds a way to justify her mistakes.”

  Marla lowered her head, saddened by the loss of two members from their community. Francine’s staff would miss her, and Alyce’s husband had to raise their children alone.

  “What about Amalfi Consolidated and their olive oil scam? Is that out the window now that your murder investigations have concluded?”

  “It’s an open case that’s being pursued by another agency. I’m still not sure if Tony Winters is a collaborator or a victim of his greedy relatives. You can be sure they’ll be watched when they set foot on U.S. soil. The Italian authorities may need to get involved as well.”

  “At least that’s out of your hands. The food critic must be happy Alyce won’t steal any more of his readers.” Marla rose to clear their empty dishes.

  “Carlton’s drop in readership may have had nothing to do with the quality of his reviews or Alyce’s blog. Journalism everywhere is suffering from the same problems. People are going online for their news.” Dalton stood to put away the leftovers.

  “That’s why Alyce’s site was so popular. Carlton should think about going freelance and syndicating his column. Or maybe he should stop accepting bribes in return for good ratings. His wife needs attention, too. Her personal trainer at the gym is a bit too familiar with her.”

  “Their problems aren’t ours, not anymore,” Dalton said.

  “No, but we’ve gotten to know these people. Hey, maybe Tristan will relocate after this fiasco. I should warn him to quit The Royal Palate before Tony’s Italian contingent arrives.”

  “Oh yeah, that reminds me. I spoke to his boss. Mr. Romano admits to being nervous about a visit from Tony’s relatives. When threatened to be named as an accomplice in a potential fraud scheme, he willingly confessed to buying their company’s olive oil despite lower bids from other suppliers. He gets a kickback from the sales and referral fees if he recommends their company to other restaurateurs.”

  “I’m amazed by how much people in the food industry lie to customers.”

  “It’s too bad the world lost Alyce Greene. She was a voice of light among the darkness.” Dalton approached and put his hands on Marla’s shoulders, turning her toward him.

  She sighed. “So many people will be affected by Raquel’s arrest. I suppose her ex-husband will get custody of their child. And Becky can no longer look forward to the publicity from being on the TV show for her new cookbook releases.”

  “She can always contact the producer. Likely he’ll cancel Raquel’s show, but he may find another chef and retool the production.”

  “That’s true.” Marla ignored the warmth seeping into her from Dalton’s proximity. “This news will come as a pleasant surprise to the Kinsdales. The blotch on their farm’s reputation will be expunged. Hopefully, Zach’s bid for ownership will come through.”

  “Or perhaps his wife will confess her role. That’s not a story for us to tell.” His face split into a grin. “We have our own stories ahead.”

  Marla’s face heated as he rubbed her belly. “Yes, we do.”

  ****

  Marla glanced at her watch during the bad hair day clinic at her salon on Thursday. The pace had been frenetic ever since they opened at nine o’clock. Besides dealing with regular customers, they’d had a crush of walk-ins who wanted free consultations about hair problems, and members of the press who requested interviews.

  True to their promises, Teri had delivered desserts and Arnie had contributed platters of cheese and crackers, mini-potato pancakes, and smoked salmon pinwheels. She’d let them both display business cards on the counter next to the soft drinks and paper plates. Customers lounged by the food display, eating and chatting. Marla’s stylists juggled their appointments for the day along with the ten-minute consults.

  Marla was watching for new arrivals, aware her mother and Dalton’s parents had promised to stop by. She and Dalton had delayed sharing their private news until their families were together.

  “Hi, I hope you can help me,” said a middle-aged ash blonde. “I had my hair bleached about four weeks ago, and I hate it. I want to dye it a light auburn to cover my whole head and keep it one color. Will this work on me? My hairdresser said I couldn’t use anything with red in it because my hair would turn pink.”

  Marla ruffled the woman’s locks. “We could tone it with a neutral color like brown to close the cuticle, and then put in the auburn color. Otherwise, your light hair will soak up the red, and it may turn pink. Would you like to make an appointment? You’ll get twenty percent off any services booked today, and the museum gets thirty percent of proceeds from all bookings.”

  After sending the woman to Robyn at the reception desk for scheduling, Marla turned to the next lady in line.


  “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

  “You’re the owner, right? First, let me tell you how generous you are to hold this event and to support the history museum. My husband and I love that place.”

  “We’re happy to help. It’s an important part of our city.”

  The woman touched her brassy red hair. “My natural color used to be almost black, but now it’s mostly gray. I wanted a new style and consulted a colorist who specializes in curly hair like mine. I take meds and informed her up front. Needless to say, the cut and color I chose were not what she did. My previous color had been a medium brown with taupe highlights. Look at this hideous red she gave me this last time. Plus, she cut off a year’s growth. Now my hair curls so tightly it’s impossible to smooth out. The colorist tried to sell me more salon products to correct the mistakes she’d made. Can you do anything to fix it?”

  Marla tapped her chin. “It’s possible your meds are affecting your hair. We could use a chemical relaxer to soften the curls and make them more manageable. Then we can think about toning down that red shade.”

  The next lady had a common problem. She’d been doing her own hair and now needed a correction from a professional.

  “I’ve been bleaching my hair for years,” said the woman, “and it feels so dry and makes crunching noises when I squeeze it. What can I do to make my hair healthy again?”

  “When you bleach your hair, it’s important to apply the solution only to your roots and not the ends. We can give you a thorough conditioning treatment. Then I’d suggest a single process instead of bleaching it.”

  Her next regular appointment arrived, and she got busy until noon. She gave a reporter a brief interview and then trudged to the back storeroom for a break. Dying of thirst, she grabbed a Coke from the fridge and popped the lid. She took several gulps before feeling satisfied.

  Nicole sailed into the room. “Finally, we have a minute or two to breathe. This morning has been incredible. Listen, I caught Dalton’s statement on TV last night. Can you talk about what happened this past weekend?”

  Marla had refused to discuss the case until Dalton gave the go-ahead. Now that the killer’s identity had been revealed in public, she could share her news. She brought Nicole up to date.

  “How’s Becky doing after Raquel’s arrest?” Nicole asked.

  Marla glanced toward the front, where the museum curator had set up a table to hand out brochures. “She seems cheerful, unless she’s faking it. Whoever takes Raquel’s place might still have her on the show, unless the producer cancels the entire production. Hey, maybe I should suggest Tristan to him? A pastry chef would be different. He’s quit The Royal Palate.”

  “Good for him. He can do better elsewhere.”

  “I heard Carlton Paige has resigned his position, too. That’s a smart move on his part. Then there’s Grace Kinsdale. She told her husband the truth about her background. They’ve spoken to their real estate lawyer, and a new deed will be issued to the Kinsdale family.”

  “Arnie should be happy for his friend, Rory.”

  “Yes, he’s glad Francine’s exposé had nothing to do with the farm.”

  “Speaking of the farm, did the camera belonging to the magazine photographer ever turn up?”

  “Raquel had taken it when she saw it lying in the grass. From the photos, it looked as though Francine had been stalking the bake-off judge that day.”

  “What will happen to the publication now?”

  “I found Francine’s notes in the back of her album. Her article would have outed Raquel’s true identity while discussing the dangers of unlicensed day care centers. Lynette Wilde said they’ll finish her article and publish it. Although it was more of a personal vendetta, the research on day care centers will be useful. In order to fit the requirements of her magazine, Francine had addressed the feeding angle. Like, what do these places serve to their young clientele who are past the infant formula stage?”

  “That’s an interesting thought. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

  “Tally might know. I’ll ask her about it.” Marla finished her drink and tossed the can into the trash. “We’d better head back out there. How are you and Kevin doing?” she asked as they strode into the main room.

  Nicole gave her a bright smile. “He made reservations for us to go to Atlantis in two weeks. It should be good weather in the Bahamas before Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m excited for you.”

  “How are Brianna and Dalton doing since you told them your news?”

  “Dalton is being so sweet. He’s concerned but not restrictive like I’d feared. And Brianna can’t wait to tell her friends. I told her we’d make a public announcement today when our parents arrive. Oh, there’s Tally. Please excuse me.”

  Marla hurried past the throng crowding her salon. Tally stood by Becky’s table and was speaking to the cookbook author. Marla had suggested Becky bring some of her recipe books for sale, but the curator had declined, not wanting to distract from her museum display.

  “Hey, Tally,” Marla called, waving to her friend. “I’m glad you could stop by.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it with two of my friends at the center of attention. Looks like you have a great turnout.”

  They embraced each other and exchanged a few words until she noticed her next client in the parking lot. That wasn’t all she noticed. Marla’s mother and Dalton’s parents headed her way. She greeted them with hugs.

  “Your fundraiser appears to be a success,” said Anita in her singsong voice.

  “Have you had many consultations for your bad hair day clinic?” Kate asked, her hazel eyes shining with pride as she regarded the milling crowd.

  “Yes, business has been nonstop ever since we opened this morning.” Their refreshments needed replenishing, Marla noted. She signaled to Robyn at the reception desk to take care of it. “Oh look, here come Brianna and Dalton. He picked her up from school.”

  After another round of greetings, Marla gave Dalton a meaningful glance. They stood in the center of the reception area and faced the crowd.

  “Hey, listen up, everyone,” Marla shouted. Numerous pairs of eyes turned in their direction, and a hush fell over the assemblage. She signaled for Brianna to join their family circle. “We have some news to announce. We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Mazel tov,” Anita cried. “It’s about time! I knew you looked different. You have a glow about you.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Dalton’s mom said with a shriek of joy. “We’ll be grandparents again. This calls for a celebration.”

  “That’s my cue,” said Arnie, rolling inside a cart with a load of Champagne bottles and plastic glassware. “Dalton notified me ahead of time,” he told Marla with a sheepish grin.

  Marla turned to her husband. “You’re a sweetheart,” she said with a quick kiss.

  “And you’re mine.” He gave her a more passionate kiss in return.

  Everyone clapped and cheered as they faced their new future together.

  Bonus Recipes

  Mushroom Pie

  2 Tbsp. olive oil

  16 oz. sliced mushrooms

  8 oz. sliced Portobello mushrooms

  2 large shallots, peeled and diced

  1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

  ½ cup shredded Swiss cheese

  2 deep dish pie crusts

  Egg Substitute

  Sauté mushrooms and shallots in olive oil in large skillet. Remove skillet from heat. Mix in Parmesan and Swiss cheeses. Put the mixture into one pie crust. Fold other pie crust over top. Brush with egg substitute. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-45 minutes or until browned.

  Chicken Cacciatore

  1 package Perdue Italian seasoned 5 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

  2 Tbsp. olive oil

  1 onion, chopped

  1 green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

  16 oz. fresh mushrooms, sliced

  1 Tbsp. minced garlic

  1 ts
p. dried basil

  1 tsp. dried oregano

  1 cup dry red wine

  28 oz. can diced tomatoes

  In a large skillet, sauté the chicken breasts in olive oil until browned on both sides. Remove to a plate and set aside. Add onion and bell pepper to pan and cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Add mushrooms and garlic and stir occasionally until mushrooms are tender. Sprinkle on basil and oregano. Pour in the red wine and raise heat to a boil. Cook until wine is reduced, about 5 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes and add the chicken to the mixture. Cover and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook for 30 minutes or until the chicken is cooked all the way through. Serve over cooked noodles or rice.

  Chicken Tenderloins

  1 pound chicken tenderloins

  2 Tbsp. mayonnaise

  2 Tbsp. white horseradish

  ½ cup seasoned bread crumbs

  2 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

  Sauce

  1/4 cup mayonnaise

  1/4 cup fat-free plain yogurt

  1 Tbsp. white horseradish

  1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard

  1/4 tsp. paprika

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Combine 2 Tbsp. mayonnaise and 2 Tbsp. horseradish in small bowl. Dip chicken in mixture and then roll in bread crumbs mixed with parsley. Place chicken tenders in greased baking dish and bake for 30 minutes or until done. Meanwhile, combine the next five ingredients for the sauce and put aside. Serve baked chicken with sauce.

  Eggplant Rollatini

  1 large eggplant, peeled and cut lengthwise into half-inch slices

  2 cups tomato basil sauce

  ½ cup part-skim ricotta cheese

  ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese

  1 large egg

  1 tsp. minced garlic

  4 oz. shredded mozzarella cheese

  In a microwave-safe dish, lay out eggplant. Microwave on high for 6 to 8 minutes until pliable. Transfer to plate and drain liquid from baking dish. Pat eggplant slices dry. In a separate bowl, combine ricotta and Parmesan cheeses, egg, and minced garlic. Mix together.

  Starting at the wide end of each eggplant slice, spread a teaspoon or so of the cheese mixture. Roll up each piece and lay seam-side down in greased microwave-safe baking dish. Pour sauce over all. Cover and microwave on high for 15 minutes or until eggplant is tender. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese on top. Microwave until cheese melts, about 2 more minutes. Optional: sprinkle on oregano or chopped basil leaves before cooking. Serves 4.