by Laney Monday
That got me thinking. “Is there anyone who would want this place to close?”
Kathy blinked, startled. “Well, there were always people who poked fun at Marvin. People who thought he was a little odd, who just thought trains went out with the eighteen-hundreds. But I don’t see why anyone would have wanted him to fail. I mean enough to kill Millie? The naysayers think it’ll fail on its own, I’m sure.”
“Who are the naysayers?” Maybe there was more to their mocking. Maybe there was some real animosity toward Marvin.
“Gunter Hatton, the barber. I guess he’s been the most vocal. I really don’t understand it. He’s usually such a nice guy, really outgoing and funny. But not typically a mean joker, you know? He makes fun of himself a lot, not others. Except for Marvin and this train store.”
“You mean the guy who works in the old-fashioned barber shop about a block down from Shaw’s?”
“Yep. It’s a Bonney Bay original. It dates back almost to the beginning, and Gunter’s been the owner for the past twenty years.”
“Huh. You’d think that cute little stores like Marvin’s would help attract and keep more tourists in town. Tourists who’d think it was cool to sit in an old-fashioned barber’s chair in a historic barber shop.”
“Right. You’d think so, but I guess people just don’t always make sense.”
The door jingled and a young couple came in with two little girls. “Hello, there!” Kathy called.
“We’ll let you get back to your customers,” said Blythe.
“Yes. Sorry. We didn’t mean to disrupt things.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She waved her hand at us.
“Bye,” I called as we left.
Older couples and young families on vacation passed us as we made our way down the sidewalk. We didn’t drive much in Bonney Bay. Not with weather like this. It was a bright, pleasant morning with a gentle breeze and some low clouds. Everyone was hoping the forecast for a clear, pleasantly warm, Fourth of July would prove right.
“Want to walk to Espresso by the Bay?” Blythe asked me.
“Sure. I could use an iced mocha right now.”
A few minutes later, we sat at a lime green cast-iron table outside our favorite coffee shop, sipping cold coffee and watching a sailboat glide by on the water below. Beyond the small islands in the bay, we could see the Olympic Peninsula. The Olympic Mountain Range in the distance gave new meaning to “purple mountains majesty.”
“So, it sounds like we should look into this Gunter the barber guy.” I set down my cup and smiled at my sister. “You could use a haircut, right?”
“From a barber?”
“Who knows. Maybe he’s salon-trained.”
Blythe made a face. “Or maybe we could find some other suspects to look into.”
“Like?” I said.
“If the store is struggling now, maybe it was struggling before. Maybe Marvin owes someone money. Maybe he borrowed it for the store.”
“Or Millie borrowed it for the store.”
Blythe scrunched her delicate nose. “But how would killing Millie get them their money?”
“Maybe they didn’t mean to kill her. Just to scare her. Shoving someone off a ladder isn’t exactly guaranteed to kill them.”
“Yeah, that’s possible. Maybe it was supposed to send Marvin a message.”
I ran my finger along the curlicues in the table top as I thought. “How would we find out who he owed money?”
“Well, this isn’t a big city. I doubt he has a bookie, or whatever they call those guys who come after you with a bat.”
“True. And we’re not talking bank loans, if someone’s threatening him over it. So it would be a friend or acquaintance. Either someone local or someone who came into town just to threaten him.”
Blythe’s eyes got big. “Glenda! Do you think it could’ve been her and Ford?”
I couldn’t help a laugh. “If it was them, that was one heck of an act. And I don’t see how they’d know where to break in and get that Cherry Bowl outfit, unless they were working with someone local.”
“That’s right. One way or the other, there’s a local connection.”
“So the question is, who in Bonney Bay would have the money to lend Marvin, and who would be willing to do it?”
“There are a lot of wealthy retirees here. But how much money are we talking about, anyway?”
Blythe sighed. “Kathy. We’re going to need more information, and I think Kathy is the person to start with.”
“How are we going to ask Kathy more questions without her suspecting what we’re up to?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I can get more out of her,” Blythe said. She smiled at me and her eyes twinkled. “And you can work the Gunter the Barber angle.”
25
There was no way Blythe was going to subject her salon-cut locks to an old-fashioned barber, so, by default, I became the sacrificial client. As soon as I’d slurped the last, precious dregs of my iced mocha, she’d shooed me on my way to the historic barber shop.
The barber shop was simply called Bonney Bay Barbershop. A black sign with gold writing bearing that name filled the narrow space between the big front windows and the low roof of the old wooden building. The door was freshly painted white, and a red, white and blue barber pole was mounted next to it. It looked a little beaten up. Given the meticulous upkeep of the building, I wondered if the pole was an antique.
I opened the door and entered the truly tiny shop. It wasn’t too hot outside, but the shop felt warm and stuffy. A few antique wooden chairs were lined up under the window and two old-fashioned barber’s chairs were positioned along a mirrored wall. In the back corner was a vintage nineteen-eighties sink and chair with shelves of beauty products above it. I had a feeling it wasn’t meant to be vintage; it just hadn’t been updated in a long time.
It kind of ruined the old-fashioned ambiance. Well, that and the Korean rap music blasting in through the open back door. It looked like there was more space back there, near the door. A mini office, maybe. I craned my neck and saw a black car parked just outside that door. A lot of the old, narrow streets in Bonney Bay had alleys running behind the houses and businesses.
Before I could approach the open back door and investigate, the music abruptly stopped and a stocky young man, his black hair styled à la Justin Bieber, came in. There’s no way he could’ve heard me with that music blaring. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder for the security camera. Sure enough, there was a small, black dome mounted near the ceiling. But where was the screen he was watching from?
The young man casually approached one of the barber’s chairs, picked up a brush from a wheeled cart next to it, and stuck it in a drawer, as if he’d been in there tidying up the whole time, and not out in his car, probably with the air conditioning cranked up, listening to music. He looked up and said, “Hello.”
“Hi. How’d you know I came in?” I pointed to the camera.
He smiled and held his phone up. “They have an app for that.”
I returned the smile. “Ahh. I see.” I did my best to look curious and amused. Not creeped out by Big Brother. Hopefully we were bonding over this little secret. “Do you do women’s cuts?”
“Sure.” He flipped his bangs back and pointed with a comb at a chalk-painted sign. It listed the price of a woman’s cut. More than double a man’s.
“Any discount for just a trim?” I asked.
He laughed softly. “No, I don’t think so. Are you sure you just want a trim?” He eyed my hair. “What about some layers, some color?”
Some color? What the heck? My hair was a perfectly acceptable brown. “Sorry, I don’t do highlights. And I tried layers once. The layers wouldn’t stay in a ponytail, and I had hair in my face all the time.”
“Okay. Suit yourself.” He went to the sink and turned the chair around with a flourish. “Have a seat.”
I sat down and let him fasten one of those oversized plastic bibs around me
.
“So, you’re one of those Battle sisters, right?”
“Brenna,” I said. “You saw me on the news, I guess?”
“Yeah. Bonney Bay doesn’t make the Seattle news very often. Especially for murder.”
“So, you must be Gunter Hatton, the owner?” I didn’t want to talk murder just yet. I wanted to get a feel for this guy and find out if he really had a grudge against Marvin or his store.
“No, I’m Ken Yi. Gunter’s not here today. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He gave me a nudge to get me to lean back into the sink.
I sat up straighter instead. “Oh, I was really hoping to have him cut my hair. I heard he’s really good.” Great. Was I going to have to get my hair cut twice, just so I could talk to Gunter?
Ken cocked his head at me and gave me a look that made me wonder if Gunter was any good at all. “Sorry. He’s taking some time off. Millie Brown’s death really shook him up.”
Interesting. Very interesting. “Oh. Yes, it’s all so sad. Were they friends?”
“Well…it’s complicated. Gunter had kind of a crush on Millie. They were both part of the Bonney Bay Artist’s Association. He’s into ceramics, but he loved her paintings, her style. He thought she could really make career out of it.”
“Why do you think she didn’t?”
“Because of her husband, that’s why. It’s okay to throw a bunch of money into a bottomless pit—Marvin’s train hobby. But not to invest in Millie’s art. Develop it, promote it, you know?”
I must’ve looked a little stunned at Ken’s tone, because he quickly said, “Sorry. That was Gunter talking. I spend way too much time with him. Way too much time listening to him talk about Millie. Poor Marvin. I mean, he’s kind of a weird guy, but I can’t imagine what he’s going through. Losing someone he was married to for that long. In such a senseless way. And then to find out she was murdered by someone we all know…”
Ken leaned me back, over the sink. He started gently spraying my hair with warm water.
I wanted to defend Carlos, or at least the possibility of Carlos’s innocence, but I decided it was in his best interest for me not to give away that I was looking for alternative suspects. “So, they were a thing? Millie and Gunter?”
“You mean like an affair?” He shook his head vigorously. “No. Millie wouldn’t do that.” He smiled a little. “That’s what Gunter would say.”
“What would you say?”
Ken squirted some shampoo into his hands and came at my hair with it. Have I mentioned that I hate having someone else wash my hair? Talk about invading my personal space. But I was willing to endure it in order to get closer to the truth.
“I think she wasn’t interested in Gunter,” Ken said as he worked my hair into a sudsy froth. “I think she really loved Marvin, and she liked Gunter as friend. I’m sure she liked that he appreciated her art.”
“She probably wished her husband appreciated it that much.”
“Yes, she probably did. But that doesn’t mean she was interested in Gunter in a romantic way. I mean, she really started to distance herself from him, and I don’t think it was just because of her convictions. Not just because she didn’t want to have an affair.”
Ken attacked me with the sprayer again. I shut my eyes and tried not to look pained.
I wasn’t very good at faking relaxed, and Ken tsked me. “Too tense.”
“She distanced herself?” I asked. “That must’ve been really hard on Gunter.”
He nodded and wrapped a towel around my head. “He’s been really difficult the past few weeks. Mille stopped going to the Artists’ Association meetings. She wouldn’t answer his text messages. I tried to talk some sense into him. To get him to just let go. I didn’t dare tell him I didn’t think she cared for him like that. I got feeling she already told him anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
“I saw part of a text he sent her—‘How can you say you don’t feel the same?’ Something along those lines.”
“Wow. Poor Gunter. And now she’s gone.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ken rubbed my hair with the towel, then nodded at one of the barber’s chairs. I changed seats, and he got out the blow dryer.
“You’re going to dry it before you cut it?”
“It’s the new way. They always said wet hair made a better edge. But when you cut dry hair, you can see how it falls. I can see how it’ll look while I cut it. And I don’t notice any difference with the edges.”
That made sense to me. I’d always hated looking in the salon mirror at my freshly cut, wet hair, combed straight down, praying that it would look right after it was blown dry. I didn’t care for playing the game of mystery hair. Solving the mystery of Millie’s death wasn’t too fun either, no matter how much Lourdes and Carlos insisted I was good at it.
26
I couldn’t wait to tell Blythe about this new lead. But first, I had to clear up a few things about the old one—Hayley. No matter how much I analyzed all the information I had, I still kept coming back to the fact that someone, a female, had shut me in the freezer at the Cherry Bowl and warned me to stay out of the investigation. And whoever Hayley had been talking to had either done it herself, or knew about it.
So I walked to the Cherry Bowl next. I tried not to look at Millie’s unfinished mural as I approached the front of the store. My stomach tightened every time I thought about it.
I found Amy in the produce department, mopping up a spill. “Hey, Amy.”
“Oh, hi, Brenna.” She put her mop back in the bucket. “Are you guys all ready for the Fourth?”
“I sure hope so. The kids had a lot of fun practicing. Hopefully they can pull it off for the parade.”
“Practicing?”
“We’re doing a little demo.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see that.” Amy smiled, but it quickly faded. “I’m trying to focus on the holiday for now, you know? Millie’s funeral is on Monday. Everyone thought it would be best to wait until after the Fourth.”
I nodded somberly. “That sounds smart.” There was a long, sad silence. Then I said, “Amy, remember that lady, Hayley, that you told me used to work here?”
“Yeah?”
“When I was out jogging, I saw her moving out of her house.”
“Yeah, I heard she moved into the Salty Grove apartments.”
“With a friend?”
“No, not really. But one of her friends owns the place. Julia Donne. She was Hayley's partner in crime in high school, and now she owns Salty Grove. I heard she felt sorry for Hayley now that she’s having money problems, and she offered her a vacant apartment for free. Hayley figured she should move in while the offer was there and the place was empty, and worry about finding a renter for her house later. It shouldn’t take long. People are always looking for houses in Bonney Bay, and hers has a nice view.”
I just listened, trying not to look stunned. Julia Donne. Katie Donne’s mother. And she and Hayley weren’t just friends; they were old friends.
“Oh, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you heard all about it,” I said. “I mean, Hayley must have friends here at the store still.” Maybe someone who was working here the night I got shut in the freezer? But I didn’t want to ask Amy that directly. She might stop talking if she thought she was going to get someone in trouble.
“Just Lizzie Meyers, I guess.”
“Lizzie, the cashier?” I tried to bring a picture of Lizzie to mind. Slender, bleached blond hair.
“That’s who I heard it from. I don’t know if I’d say they’re really friends, though.”
“Oh?”
“More like frenemies. You know, Lizzie doesn’t want to cross Hayley. She’s kind of afraid of her, like a lot of people. She keeps her close, but not because she really likes her.”
Just how far would Lizzie go to help her frenemy? Far enough to threaten me and risk freezing me to death? Assuming Lizzie was responsible for that, wasn’t she the likely murderer, too? Maybe she’
d tried a similar scare tactic against poor Millie. Maybe she hadn’t really meant for her to die. But either way, she was certainly willing to risk killing her. And me.
“It must be really awkward for Lizzie, working here, where everyone’s grieving Millie, and—”
“And she was awful to her! Just awful!” Amy choked back a sob.
I gave her a hug. “How are you handling working with her?”
“She took some time off. Like she’s the one who needs time off, and not Millie’s friends! But at least she hasn’t been around since Saturday.”
Saturday. The Day of the Freezer. I had my girl. Lizzie Meyers. I had to tell Will.
#
I parked along the curb in front of Will’s house. It was hardly the typical bachelor’s pad, and it took my breath away every time I saw it. It was painted a creamy color—not quite buttery, with trim in kelly green and a deep, dark green. The combination was striking. Will was a pretty handy guy, and a smart man, too. He’d been buying fixer-uppers and restoring them since he was twenty years old. This old house was what had initially led him to Bonney Bay. The historic home was now fully restored—by Will. In the process, he’d fallen in love with the house, and with Bonney Bay.
And I was in love with him. There was no denying that miserable reality. I took a deep breath and strode up the front walk to the porch. I knocked on the door with the antique knocker. I felt weak in the knees. The cushioned bench on the porch called to me, promising to catch me if I just let myself collapse into a wobbly, blobbly mess of wimpiness.
Before my knees caved in, the door opened and a sleek, velvety brown figure slipped out the door and lunged into me. “Hi, there, Chloe-girl!” I knelt down and rubbed Will’s chocolate lab behind the ears. She nuzzled my face and whined entreatingly. Her tail thumped against the porch. Oh, she thought I was here to take her for a run. Poor girl. I hated to disappoint her.
“She thinks you’re here for her.”
I looked up. Will stood there in a black T-shirt and khaki shorts, his phone in hand. There was a little bit of a question in his tone, like he was saying, You aren’t, are you? You’re here for me, right?
