7 Hairpin, Hair Dryer and Homicide

by Cindy Bell

  Bekki felt Nick's hand twitch in her own. She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, hoping that the closeness she offered would calm him. It seemed to work, as he drew her hand into his lap and rested his other hand on top of it. Once Bryan was all the way in the water, a large digital clock began to count down above the tank. It was the amount of time a human being could live without oxygen, or so the show claimed.

  As Bekki was watching, she saw Bryan execute his expected motion. She had seen it before. He always went for the ankle cuffs first. Bekki guessed this was so that he could propel himself around the tank with the soles of his feet. With his head down towards the stage, and the tank being rather narrow, he would have to use the sides of the tank to turn himself upright. But when he reached for the ankle cuffs, she watched him tug at them. Usually in one swift movement his ankles were free. However this time, he continued to tug. Then he twisted, and tugged more desperately. Bekki's heart skipped a beat. Had they changed the pattern of the show to make it more dramatic? She glanced up at the digital clock which was still ticking rapidly down towards zero.

  Bekki was starting to feel uneasy. She didn't want to fall for a trick, and she hoped that's all this was, but she couldn't be certain.

  “Is this all just part of the show?” Nick asked with growing anxiety as he sat on the edge of his chair. Bekki's eyes were fixated on Bryan. She tried to convince herself that they had just lengthened the time he was in the water. Maybe he was trying to set a new record. Then Emma was trying to release the emergency latch on the back of the tank that would release the water.

  The curtain came down to block the audience from the scene and Bekki knew that something was very wrong. Bekki and Nick stood up quickly.

  Nick was already on his phone as he sprinted towards the stage. EMTs had been standing by in case of an emergency, but no one could get into the tank. As Bekki hurried towards the stage her eyes swept naturally across the audience. People were jumping up from their chairs and running towards the stage, while others were running out the door. Bekki's eyes caught the edge of the room, she noticed one man leaning casually against the wall. He even seemed to have a tiny smirk on his face, one of contentment. Bekki dismissed it as she was so concerned about Bryan. Sammy had caught up with her and they pushed through the curtain to go back stage.

  They heard a crash and Bekki looked up to see that Nick had used the butt of his gun to unwedge the latch of the emergency door. The stage was flooded with water and Bryan's body was pulled out of the tank.

  “Where's the key?” one of the EMTs demanded. Emma pointed to Bryan’s hand. Clutched in his right hand was a key. A key that no one else had seen, but must have been how he planned to escape. Emma retrieved the key and handed it over to the EMT who was hovering over Bryan. The EMT quickly tried to unlock the shackles, but no matter how he tried to turn the key, the locks were not releasing.

  “Are you sure this is the right key?” he asked hesitantly as he looked up at Emma.

  “Of course it is,” she snapped back at him.

  “Maybe the key was rusted or bent in the water,” Nick suggested quietly. One of the stage hands came running up from the side of the stage with a pair of bolt cutters he had retrieved from the supply closet. Nick took them from the man and used them to cut through the chain on the shackles. Everyone knew it was far too late for Bryan, but the EMTs still made an effort to save him. Bekki gently hugged Emma who was trembling and weeping.

  “I'm so sorry,” Bekki said quietly. Sammy stood beside them both, stunned by the event.

  “What a terrible accident,” Nick said with a slow shake of his head when the EMTs officially declared that Bryan was dead.

  ***

  Bekki and Nick dropped Sammy off at her house. Morris, her boyfriend, came over to stay with her, and though Bekki had offered to stay, Sammy declined. She was still a little dazed. In silence Nick drove Bekki to her house. When he parked his car in the driveway he turned to look over at her.

  “Bekki, there's no way anyone could have known,” he said softly. Nick climbed out of the car, opened the door for her, and they walked quietly into the house. Bekki immediately went out to the back porch to get some air. She was trying to soothe her nerves, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Emma's sad expression.

  “Here,” Nick said quietly as he offered her a glass of wine. Bekki accepted it and continued to stare out at the sky beyond her porch. She felt Nick's hand lightly caressing the small of her back.

  “I still just can't believe this happened,” Bekki said quietly as Nick's arm shifted to encircle her waist and protect her from a chilly breeze.

  “I know,” Nick agreed. “I guess in that line of work you're always taking a risk.”

  “But he'd done the trick a million times,” Bekki pointed out with a frown. “There's no way that he would have got it wrong. I'm sure he felt perfectly safe until he realized the key wouldn't work,” Bekki sighed and leaned back against Nick's arm as she took a sip of her wine.

  “Bekki, I think it's important to remember he was in a pressured situation. Maybe when he tried to push the key into the lock he bent it. People make mistakes, even the most deadly ones,” Nick kissed her cheek gently. “I'm just sorry we had to be there when it happened. I keep thinking that if I had noticed he was in trouble I might have been able to save him.”

  “It's hard not to think that,” Bekki agreed as she turned to face him. She leaned her back against the railing of the porch and looked up into his eyes. “I feel so sorry for Emma. I couldn't even imagine…”

  “Don't,” Nick insisted tenderly as he gazed into her eyes in return. “Don't imagine it.”

  Bekki smiled slowly at the sternness in his voice. As she drank in his chiseled features and the warmth in his eyes, she was reminded for the millionth time of just how lucky she was to have him in her life. There was nothing more that she could dream of having than his arms around her. But, even with that lovely distraction her mind kept traveling back to the key. Finally, she asked in a hesitant tone, “Is there any way to tell if the key matched the lock?”

  Nick was startled by the question. “Do you think it was the wrong key?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” Bekki suggested and then frowned. “There's just something odd about what happened. I mean first the key not fitting, and second the emergency latch not releasing. What are the chances of both of those issues occurring during the same escape?” Bekki met Nick's eyes and hoped he wouldn't think she was inventing a crime. She had been trying to decide whether it was her instincts or paranoia that kept replaying the scene through her mind.

  “You have a point,” Nick replied with a slight nod. “It's easy to look at what happened and assume it was just a mistake, but it doesn't hurt to rule out other possibilities. I can have forensics evaluate whether the key would have ever fitted the lock, even if it wasn't bent or damaged. But you should be aware Bekki, Bryan's death is being treated as an accident, there is no open case.”

  “I understand,” Bekki smiled a little. “I think just knowing it was the right key will put my mind at ease.”

  “Where did he keep the key anyway?” Nick asked with some confusion. “I never saw him pull it out from anywhere. He didn't have it in his hand when he went in.”

  “I was surprised when I saw it in his hand, too,” Bekki admitted. “I assumed the cuffs had some kind of breakaway latch. I have no idea where he could have been hiding the key,” she paused thoughtfully before continuing. “I think that's a question that I should ask Emma,” Bekki nodded. “She's still staying at the Harroway Harbor Motel until the details of Bryan's death are settled. I could go and talk to her tomorrow, if you'd like,” she looked up at him hopefully. Sometimes her own investigations interfered with his police investigations, which left them at odds.

  “Sure,” Nick nodded without hesitation. “It would be good to check on her, to see how she's doing with all of this anyway,” he sighed sadly and held her a little closer to him. “Now,
can we get in out of the cold?” he pleaded with a frown. “I can start a fire, we can put some music on, and let this day drift away.”

  “Perfect,” Bekki sighed and allowed him to lead her inside the house.

  Chapter Three

  Early the next morning Bekki woke up with a start. She had a sense of urgency, as if she had forgotten to do something very important. She glanced at the clock, thinking that she was late to open the salon, before she realized it was Sammy's morning to open. Bekki sat up slowly and yawned, trying to brush away the anxiety that she had woken up with. But as her sleep-fogged mind began to clear she recalled what had happened the day before, and that she needed to get to the Harroway Harbor Motel to speak with Emma.

  The day before, Emma had been friendly enough, and accessible, but Bekki wondered if she would still be willing to talk to her. She decided to stop by on the way to pick up some coffee and danishes as she imagined that Emma hadn't eaten much, and she had been vomiting the day before. As she stepped into Angela's bakery she noticed the somber mood around her. Word had spread quickly so that even those who weren't at the show the night before knew what had happened.

  “How are you doing, Bekki?” Angela asked as she poured Bekki's coffee the way she usually ordered it. “Do you need a cup for Nick, too?” she asked.

  “I'm okay,” Bekki replied and then shook her head. “No thanks, but if you could give me a cup of black, with some cream and assorted sweeteners on the side as well as some danishes, that would be great.”

  Angela nodded and filled the order as Bekki lingered near the pastry case. She noticed that the shop was not as busy as it usually was that time of the morning. In fact there were only a handful of customers present, most of whom she knew. All, except for one man who was at the self-serve coffee kiosk dousing his coffee with sugar. Bekki watched him as he stirred his coffee. There was something about him that felt a little familiar, and yet she had no idea who he was.

  “Here you go, Bekki,” Angela said as she handed over the drink carrier and small paper bag that contained the danishes. “Anything else?”

  “No, that's it,” Bekki smiled and paid for the order. When she turned back to look at the stranger again, she discovered that he had already gone. She tried to shake the memory of him from her mind as she left the bakery and settled back into her car. She was still a little nervous about actually speaking to Emma. When she pulled into the parking lot of the Harroway Harbor Motel, she was dismayed to see that news vans and reporters had decided to camp out. But she was heartened when she discovered that the staff of the motel had formed a barrier between the parking lot and Emma's hotel room, making it clear that she was not to be bothered. That wasn't enough to stop the reporters from descending on Bekki, however. She waved them away as they tossed her questions about Bryan's death. Bekki made her way through them without making eye contact or uttering a word. The motel staff, who recognized her, stepped aside to let her through. When Bekki reached the door of the motel room she raised her hand to knock. Before she could the door swung open and Bekki nervously greeted Emma.

  “I brought some coffee,” Bekki said awkwardly, knowing that not much could soften the blow of what she had experienced, and coffee was certainly not going to do it.

  “Oh, Bekki,” she murmured as she shook her head. “I can't believe it. I still can't believe it. I keep hoping that it's some kind of trick, that he was just playing a joke on me,” she stepped back from the door to allow Bekki inside. Bekki immediately closed the door behind her and then set down the coffee and danishes on the kitchenette counter. Emma had continued to speak, but her words were lost amidst quiet gasps.

  Bekki wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders. “I'm so sorry,” she murmured as she tried to soothe her.

  Emma ran her hand across her stomach and shivered slightly. “I had just told him,” she admitted as she glanced over at Bekki with tears in her eyes.

  “Told him what?” Bekki asked with surprise as she studied the woman.

  “I'm pregnant,” Emma explained and gasped with grief after she spoke the words. “We were planning to take the week off to celebrate. He was just going to do this one last show,” she began to weep again. Bekki held her close as Emma trembled in her arms.

  “Oh, Emma, I wish there was some way I could help ease your pain,” Bekki whispered.

  “There is something,” Emma abruptly stated and cleared her throat. She reached up to wipe at her eyes and looked over at Bekki intently.

  “What is it?” Bekki asked eagerly, she would do anything to bring the slightest sense of relief to this woman.

  “Find out who murdered Bryan,” her voice trembled as she spoke the words, but her eyes were stern as they held on to Bekki's.

  “Emma, it was most likely an accident,” Bekki assured her, though her heart began to beat faster.

  “It was no accident,” Emma insisted in a cold tone, her expression hardened by certainty. “Someone did this to Bryan. He has never made a mistake on a trick. Everything is checked before the show. From the water level and temperature, to the shackles and emergency latch. There is no possible way that he could not escape.” She shook her head firmly. “This was planned. Someone did this. And I need you to make your boyfriend, what's his name, Nick?” Bekki nodded silently, riveted by the woman's passionate words. “I need you to make him believe that this was not an accident,” Emma explained. “I know the police are going to see only the surface of this incident. They will see that he was doing something dangerous and died as a result. They won't see the truth.”

  “What do you think the truth is?” Bekki asked. “Did Bryan have any enemies? Was anyone threatening him?”

  Emma was silent for a moment as she thought about it, then she shook her head. “No one,” she said firmly. “He was kind to everyone we met. He always made sure that whatever town we stayed in he made donations to, ate at the local restaurants, supported the local businesses. He was very thoughtful that way,” she added as tears misted her eyes once more. “He was always thinking about other people.”

  “He sounds like a wonderful man,” Bekki offered quietly as she reached out to give Emma's hand a gentle squeeze. “I promise, I'll look into it, and I'll ask Nick to look into it as well. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Emma nodded shakily.

  “There is one way you could help us,” Bekki continued, and wondered if Emma would be willing.

  “Anything,” Emma nodded quickly. “Anything that will help find Bryan's murderer.”

  Bekki winced a little at her words. She didn't want to give Emma the wrong impression. If she encouraged her to believe that Bryan was murdered, she might not be able to grieve and let go of what might have been an accident.

  “Bryan had a key in his hand,” Bekki explained as she studied Emma. “He didn't seem to have one before he went into the tank.”

  “Oh, you want to know the trick?” Emma hesitated. She was obviously used to keeping the tricks of Bryan's act a guarded secret. “Well, I suppose,” Emma murmured. “What does it matter now?”

  She stood up slowly and walked over to the closet. She opened up the closet and pulled out the black dress she had been wearing the day before. She carried it to the bed and laid it down beside Bekki.

  “See all these keys,” she motioned to the keys and tiny handcuffs that decorated the dress.

  “Yes,” Bekki nodded as she studied them.

  “First Bryan does his turn around to show that he has nothing in his hand, or hidden anywhere. Then we do our dramatic hug and kiss. When we do this, he takes the key off my dress, and tucks it inside a flesh-colored latex pocket that he has attached to the palm of his hand.”

  Bekki was amazed by the trick. She would never have thought of the key being hidden in plain sight, right on Emma's dress.

  “But how does he know which one is the right key?” Bekki asked as she looked over the dress. “There are so many.”

  “It's always in the same spot,” she pointed to the empty spac
e on her dress. “We've practiced it a million times, just to make sure he always had the right key. We've had people call us out and say that the keys on my dress will unlock the shackles. So the rest of the keys have to be fake, otherwise people would discover the trick. Sometimes someone in the audience will say there is a breakaway latch so we let them check because there isn’t one. The key is the only way to undo the shackles.”

  “Why don’t you put the key elsewhere?” Bekki inquired.

  “We have tried other places but it works best on the dress and Bryan loved it when the audience got involved and they think they have worked out the trick,” Emma explained.

  “Hmm,” Bekki nodded as she looked over the dress. “Do you mind if I take this?” she asked as she looked up at Emma.

  “You want to take my dress?” Emma asked with surprise.

  “Well, it could be evidence, if Bryan's death really was a murder,” Bekki explained.

  “It was,” Emma insisted and willingly handed over the dress, which Bekki folded into a plastic bag. “Anything I can do Bekki, I'll do it,” Emma spoke passionately. “Bryan didn't deserve this. He was a good man, and he would have been an amazing father,” she gasped again as the tears began to flow.

  “Emma, isn't there anyone that I can call for you?” Bekki asked softly. “A family member or a friend who can stay with you?”

  Emma sighed and wiped at her eyes. “Victor will be here soon,” she sniffed. Bekki was just about to ask Emma who Victor was, when there was a knock on the door. Emma opened the door to find a tall man with jet black hair, a pencil thin mustache, and soft, blue eyes standing outside.

  “Oh, Emma,” he murmured as he opened his arms to her. Emma fell into his embrace with complete relief.

  “Vic, I'm so glad you're here,” she moaned against his chest. “How could this happen?”