"Yes and no."
Resisting the urge to crane her neck and peer inside the house, she gave him a determined stare. “I need to talk to her."
Slate pursed his lips, which, Marla realized, bore faint traces of lipstick. Did he and Tess have a relationship? If so, what was Tess doing over at Betsy's house? And why did Tess list her girlfriend's address as her own?
"She's not available,” Slate told her. “But if you want to come in, just give me a minute to straighten things up.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You probably wanted to ask Tess where I lived anyway."
"Oh ... right. So are you two very close?"
He slicked a lock of hair off his forehead. “Not in the way you mean, sweetheart. Come in and I'll prove it."
"Okay.” Her foot shot forward, but he wedged the door against her.
"Wait.” A look of panic flickered behind his expression. “I have to put some things away."
"You just said I should come inside."
"Not yet. Maybe we should make it another time.” His biceps bulged as he held the door in place. Hooded eyes raked over her. “I can give you a private massage."
Holy highlights, just what I need! “Ah, sure, Slate. That sounds interesting. Let's schedule a time when Tess will be here. I'd really like to meet her, but it's hard to catch her at the club."
"Sorry, I can't guarantee when she'll be around.” A flush crept over his skin. “She keeps irregular hours."
Marla puzzled over their relationship, but Slate wasn't going to give any easy answers. Strange how Tess was so elusive.
Maybe she'd stake out the place another time and wait for her to show. “I'll see you at the club, and perhaps then we'll make a date for my private session."
Winking, he grinned. “You bet. I guarantee you'll never have it better. Some of the ladies take this stuff to heart, but I don't think you're the type. You know the score. We'll have a good time."
You wish, pal.
Wondering how Amy would feel if she knew about her heartthrob's philandering, Marla decided to sound out the Smoothie King attendant at the first opportunity. Amy had overheard Slate arguing with Jolene and had admitted to being jealous. Playing upon Amy's emotions might be a technique Marla could use to get her to talk about Slate.
She decided to confide her suspicions to Vail on their double date the following night. The only difficulty she foresaw was getting him away from Hortense.
* * * *
It was a good thing they'd all decided to meet at the restaurant, or an awkward situation would have ensued. She waited for Arnie after work, and they drove together. She'd never seen him so excited.
"Do I look all right? Is my hair okay? I used a new cologne the kids got me for Chanukah.” Stroking his mustache, he guided the wheel with his other hand. His dark eyes glanced anxiously in her direction.
Seated on the passenger side of his Chevrolet, she smiled gently. “You're fine, Arnie. Just relax. You're supposed to be my date, remember?"
Sweat beaded his brow, and it wasn't from the Florida heat. A mild cold front had swept through the area, bringing temperatures in the sixties. “How did Vail react? I swear that guy doesn't seem as though he has a sense of humor."
"He agreed to come along, more likely to keep an eye on me. I think he's jealous of you."
Arnie gave a disarming grin. “He might have had reason to be, if you'd ever given me a second look."
"We're friends, pal. That means a lot to me."
"I know.” Shaking his head, Arnie focused on his driving. “Hortense bowled me over. Never in a million years would I have expected her to show such a shayna punim."
"Ugly ducklings can turn into beautiful swans."
"Yeah, and what a schlemiel I was for telling her we were engaged! What a tight tush she has, too. Did you see her—"
"Arnie, please concentrate on where we're going. You just passed a stop sign."
"Oh, sorry. Anyway, it was a real good chochmeh of mine to ask Vail to join us. He'll pay attention to you, so I can focus on Hortense. She'll have to like me."
"She already does. That's why she called you when she came back to town."
Arnie's face glowed with happiness. “That's true, isn't it? So everything will work out when you and I have our supposed fight. Maybe we should break up tonight."
"Let's see how things progress. The best-laid plans go oft astray,” she quoted.
How prophetic were those words, she realized later. The Spice Garden was located west of Nob Hill Road in Palm Haven, on a corner beside an office complex. Weekend evenings brought out the singles crowd, whose boisterous chatter extended beyond the walls. Lacking early-bird specials, the restaurant appealed to a young, professional group of upscale patrons.
Marla scanned the crowd milling outside the lushly landscaped entrance. Her gaze alighted on a tall, masculine figure. Bless my bones, Dalton is already chatting with Hortense. No shyness there, she noted cattily. Wondering who had recognized whom first, she was glad introductions weren't required. “I see you've met,” she remarked idly.
Dalton, who looked smashing in a herringbone sport coat, grinned at her broadly. “Hi Marla. How are ya, Arnie? Jill and I were just getting acquainted."
The subject of his attention leaned forward, giving Marla a view of her substantial cleavage. “Dalton is such a hunk, isn't he? I've never dated a police officer before!” Simpering under his gaze, Hortense patted the bleached blond hair piled atop her head, its delicate tendrils framing her face.
Marla glanced approvingly at the fancy updo. Either the woman was skilled with a curling iron, or she'd seen a hairdresser earlier. Hortense knew how to apply makeup artfully as well. Marla couldn't fault her taste, but Hortense's appearance seemed too perfect. How much of it was real, and how much was artifice? Would Dalton know the difference? Or Arnie, for that matter? And did they care?
She surveyed the woman's low-cut sapphire cashmere sweater, skimpy black leather skirt, and strapped heels. No matter what Hortense wore, she exuded sex appeal. Any man would be a fool not to look twice at her.
Marla's own outfit consisted of a silk tangerine-and-black dress that clung to her curves. Sensible pumps covered her stockinged feet. Standing all day in the salon made her careful about footwear. Comfort came first, saving a visit to the podiatrist.
Dalton poked her on the shoulder. “This was such a great idea. Jill has some fascinating stories about when she grew up here. I'm glad you included me."
Arnie, hovering beside Marla, frowned. “But we used to call her Hortense, and she—"
Marla kicked his ankle. “Be careful,” she warned him under her breath. “You're trying to snow her, remember? Don't bring up ugliness from the past."
Their number was called and they went inside to be seated. Marla wasn't too happy when Dalton preceded her with Hortense. In fact, she wasn't happy at all. He seemed to have forgotten their scheme and was being far too attentive to the newcomer.
"Your job is so exciting,” Hortense said to him. Winding her arm through his elbow, she sashayed forward.
Strolling beside Marla, Arnie panted like a puppy. Staring at the woman's swaying derriere, he smacked his lips. In another minute, he'll be drooling, Marla thought.
"Arnie, stop that,” she ordered. “Now who's acting like a dog?"
"Oy vey, I can't help it. She really turns me on.” He tugged on his knit shirt tucked into a pair of Dockers slacks.
"Oh, so what did I do to you that you kept trying to get a date? Reminded you of a pot roast while she's the dessert?"
"Marla, you're a shayna madel and a beautiful person, but no one can compare to Hortense's uh..."
"Good taste? Cultured upbringing? Give me a break."
She waited until they were seated at a table overlooking an artificial brook and tropical greenery before throwing a wrench into their conversation. “So who's baby-sitting for Brianna tonight?” she asked Vail in a honeyed tone. She and Arnie sat together facing the other coup
le. “I don't imagine she goes out on dates yet. Your daughter is too young."
To her annoyance, Vail seemed unperturbed by her comments. “She's got a friend staying over. They rented a movie from Blockbuster.” He turned to Hortense. “I have a twelve-year-old daughter. She'll turn thirteen in the spring. How are you at planning birthday parties?"
Hortense thrust out her bosom. “I just love parties, sugar. I can help you arrange something for the sweet little girl."
Sweet little girl, my ass. You've never met Brianna, lady. “I'm good at planning parties, too! We have them all the time for our salon staff. Boosts morale, you know."
Vail's smoky gaze fixed on her. “I'll keep that in mind. When the time comes, I may call on you."
Great, now I'll get stuck planning a teen shindig. Lord save me, this conversation is veering way off course.
"It's Marla's birthday next month,” Arnie interrupted. He'd been too occupied gawking at Hortense to speak since they'd been seated. “She'll be thirty-five on Valentine's Day."
"Arnie!” Marla nudged him angrily.
"How romantic,” Hortense crooned, beaming at them. “Are you planning a special celebration?"
Marla and Arnie glanced at each other. “Well, we hadn't thought about it,” Arnie confessed, a bewildered look on his face. He seemed confused by the turn of events, too.
"You'll have to include us,” Hortense suggested, lowering her lashes coyly at Vail. “I'm so thrilled you introduced Dalton to me that I feel I owe you. Let us take you out to dinner for your birthday."
Us? Who the hell did this woman think she was? Dalton belongs to me, you twit.
She glanced at him and caught the twinge of amusement before his normally implacable expression took over. Bless my bones, is he playing mating games? Marla hadn't thought him the type. He seemed too somber, too rooted to the truth. Thus far in their relationship, he'd laid all the cards on the table. So why was he being so devious now?
His angular face gave nothing away. Shifting in her chair, she admitted that his unpredictability set her pulse thrumming. He'd been singularly interested in her, and maybe she'd taken him for granted. But it appeared that two could play the same game.
Patting Arnie's arm affectionately, she answered Hortense's offer. “We'd be delighted. I was getting depressed about my birthday, and now I'll look forward to it. So tell me, Dalton, anything new on the case you're working on? You've been so busy, keeping those late hours and hardly ever being home. Poor Brianna. She needs someone besides your housekeeper to watch over her."
"You're right, she does."
His intense stare took her breath away. Not me, buster. I don't want that schtick. Unfortunately, his daughter was part of the package. She was saved from a reply by the waitress, who came to take their beverage order. Arnie expansively offered to pay for a bottle of wine, doubtless hoping to impress the newcomer.
"I spoke to a few of the staff members at the club,” Marla blurted when Vail's attention was again distracted by Hortense.
"Go on,” he said, his lips quirking upward while his leisurely gaze perused her.
Heat coursed through Marla's veins. Tamping her reaction, she went on. “Slate gave Jolene a massage the night she died. He said he didn't notice anything unusual about her behavior. But Gloria told me she'd heard them arguing. Amy was nearby and overheard also. She warned me about Keith."
Hortense placed her hand over Vail's. “Must you talk business, sugar? We're here to enjoy ourselves."
Arnie jumped in. “Marla is helping Dalton with his case. Maybe we should get our own table and let them talk in private. You and I have a lot of catching up to do, Hortense."
"Don't be absurd, you need to keep your fiancée company. And my name is Jill now."
"Can't I call you Hortense? It brings back such sweet memories."
Marla rolled her eyes, but Hortense seemed taken in. “I suppose so,” Hortense conceded. “You know, Arnie, you're looking quite spiffy."
He preened happily. “You're quite a sight yourself."
Hortense leaned forward, engaging him in conversation, and Marla took this as an opportunity to snag Dalton.
Lowering her voice, she asked, “Don't you want to hear what else I learned? Cookie and I had a long discussion. She indicated Jolene was falsifying lab reports."
"Hmm.” Vail regarded her with an unreadable expression.
Maybe he already knows about Jolene's work. “Cookie revealed another interesting tidbit: Jolene had met Sam Zelman on the sly a couple of times."
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You might want to ask his wife about it. I believe that's Eloise on her way to the restroom."
Marla twisted her neck in the direction of his pointed finger. Sure enough, Eloise's plump figure was headed for the ladies’ room. What good fortune that she was here tonight! Delayed by the waitress, who had returned with their drinks, Marla hastily gave her dinner order and then rose.
"I'll be right back."
Turning, she was dismayed to feel a rap on her shoulder. “I'm coming too,” Hortense said, giggling. “I'm dying to hear the intimate details about you and Arnie."
Chapter Nine
Marla's heart sank. The last thing she needed was Hortense accompanying her to the ladies’ room when she spoke with Eloise. “I need to talk to that lady,” Marla indicated.
"No problem.” Hortense strolled beside her. “I'll just fix my lipstick while you're grilling the suspect."
When Marla glanced questioningly at her, she frowned. “What is it? You think I'm not smart? Just because I look like a bimbo doesn't mean I'm a ditz. Do you know how much it cost me to change my appearance? First I lost thirty pounds, then I had a boob job.” Lifting her breasts, she grinned. “They look great, don't they? All through college, I worked hard to change my image. I bleached my hair, wore braces for two years, got contact lenses, and started an exercise regimen. Nobody calls me Horrible Hortense anymore."
"I guess not,” Marla mumbled. “You look terrific.” A wave of sympathy mixed with admiration rippled through her. The poor girl must have had a difficult adolescence. Through fortitude and determination, she'd conquered her problems. Understanding didn't assuage Marla's jealousy, however.
She pushed open the door to the lavatory. A row of sinks and closed stalls met her gaze.
"Eloise, are you in here? It's Marla Shore."
"Hi, Marla,” called Eloise's voice from behind a partition. “Where did you come from?"
"I'm at the restaurant with friends, and I just spotted you heading this way. I need to talk to you."
After using the facilities, she washed her hands beside Eloise, who peered disconsolately into the mirror. She needed to come in for a wash and blow dry, Marla thought, giving a quick glance to the woman's unkempt hairstyle. Dark shadows under her eyes and minimal makeup gave her face a sallow hue. Surely she could do better with her appearance. Eloise hadn't looked so bad the other day. What was wrong with her? Hortense stood by, watching them with a curious expression. Marla wished the girl would leave so she could talk privately to Eloise.
"Eloise Zelman, this is Hortense Crone,” Marla said, feeling obliged to introduce them. “Hortense used to live in Palm Haven. She's moving back to town."
Eloise's expression brightened. “Really? I work as a realtor if you need help finding a place. What's your situation?” Withdrawing a lipstick from her handbag, she applied a light-pink coat. It wasn't the right color for her skin and only made her look worse.
Hortense regarded her coolly. “I'm renting an apartment."
"For how long? If you're planning to stay here permanently, maybe you're interested in a condo. Or are you just on a fishing trip for now?"
Hortense's chin lifted. “I got a job in public relations at Stockhart Industries."
Marla stared at her. “That's where Jolene used to work!"
Eloise snapped her purse shut. “Don't mention that woman's name."
Hortense exchanged a meaningful g
lance with Marla. “What did you have against her, sugar?"
"Ask my dear husband, Sam. Ask him why he told me he was going to the library one day, but when I followed him, I saw him meet Jolene at the Holiday Inn. To this day, he denies being there.” She narrowed her gaze. “That slut was asking for trouble."
"She paid a heavy price,” Hortense murmured.
"Why do you suppose Sam was meeting her?” Marla inquired, pretending innocence.
"What do you think? His head is turned by every pretty face that walks by. No matter how hard I work out to lose weight or get my nails done or fix my hair, it doesn't matter.” Her hazel eyes glistened. “You get to my age, and you'll see what I mean."
Heck, the A-word was creeping up on all of them! Marla resisted the impulse to search her roots for telltale gray. “Eloise, you know that isn't true. Sam is devoted to you. You need to come into the salon, that's all. We'll do some highlights, spruce things up. You could use more lift on the bottom, too. A different style will make you feel better."
Anger ignited the woman's features. “I've been coming to you for two months, and that's when things started to get worse. I don't think Sam likes this new tint. It's too coppery. He says I can't hide what I am."
"Nonsense, Eloise, you're overreacting. The two of you have a successful business partnership. I'm sure he appreciates your contribution. With age comes experience, and that makes a woman more attractive to a man."
At the mention of their business, Eloise's expression closed. “Marla, did you notice Hank at the bar?” she asked, effectively diverting their conversation.
"No, I didn't. What's he doing here?"
"Who knows? Maybe he's meeting someone. I'd better get back out there. I don't want Sam to get impatient and walk out on me."
"Well, you got an earful,” Marla said to Hortense once Eloise had left.
Hortense leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Eloise doesn't seem too happy with herself."
"I don't understand it. She comes to the salon every week, and she never said a word."
"Secrets have a way of surfacing when there's a crisis,” Hortense said cryptically.
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