She told him about the drumming circle and Herb Poltice’s claims and his dialogue with Cherry Hunter.
“This puts a new spin on things,” Dalton said with a thoughtful frown. Turning back to the sink, he carefully sliced the vegetable on a bamboo cutting board.
“It certainly does. What if Krabber’s construction crew dug up more than dirt in his backyard?”
“How so?” The cucumber got added to the salad. Dalton couldn’t put onions in; Brie wouldn’t eat them, so he picked up a carrot.
“Herb mentioned bones. What if Alan halted the work detail, not because he was waiting for delivery of a propane tank, but because of what he discovered in that pit?”
Dalton’s knife poised in midair. “You mean, he found human remains?”
“That’s right—the ancient type, like you’d see in a natural history museum.” Fired by the idea, she leapt to her feet. “I’m going to look this up on the computer. You can get Brie. I’ll put the spaghetti on to boil while you’re out.”
“Okay, but we’re not done talking about this.” Dalton paused, looking adorable with a lock of hair falling across his forehead. “Do you want wine tonight? I’ve picked out a bottle of pinot noir.”
“That would be great. I can use it after everything that’s happened.” She gave him a sly glance. “By the way, how are things going with Detective Minnetti?”
“She’s handling the case. I’m not going to offer my advice unless she asks.”
“But if we uncover new information, you’ll tell her, right?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “If I don’t, I’m sure you will.”
Oh, so this was how he meant to play it. The fox hoped to scoop Kat on the killer. It wasn’t the lady detective’s fault she’d landed the case. The chief had made that decision.
Marla let the matter go and headed for their home office. It took a few searches until she discovered the Florida Department of State had a division called Historical Resources.
Florida had once been home to generations of Native Americans. Many tribal names had been lost to time, but most of the people followed specific burial practices. Unmarked human remains often originated from the era before European contact, more than five hundred years ago. These were usually found in burial mounds or prehistoric shell middens. Florida cemetery law had been revised to include these mounds or any monuments containing associated artifacts. Remains less than seventy-five years old fell under the jurisdiction of the Medical Examiner.
“Listen to this,” she said to Brianna and Dalton as they sat eating at the kitchen table, forty minutes later. She’d brought the teen up to speed on her findings. “If anybody uncovers human skeletal remains while excavating, they have to halt operations, secure the site, and notify local law enforcement. If they fail to report their find, they face a second-degree misdemeanor.”
Dalton sucked a string of spaghetti into his mouth. “So you think Krabber’s construction crew dug up some bones, and he told them to stop working?”
“Either that, or the workmen said they’d have to report the find before they could continue.”
“I don’t think that’s what happened. The authorities would have been scouring his backyard by now. It’s possible Krabber discovered the bones himself and told the crew to wait until the propane tank was delivered.”
“How would he know the remains were human, unless he’d found a skull? It could have been a small animal.” Marla felt her eyes widen. “Hey, I get it. He wanted verification, and so he took a sample of his discovery to the one person he knew who might be able to provide validation—Cherry Hunter.”
Brie waved her fork in the air. “She’s a history professor, right?”
“At the university.” Marla took a sip of dry red wine. “And Cherry specializes in Native American culture. She could have had someone in their labs test the sample.”
“So why wouldn’t she report it to the authorities?” Brie asked with a thoughtful frown. She stabbed a meatball and bit into it.
“Likely Alan told Cherry to bring her results to him, and he’d notify the proper people. They would send out a law officer, a Medical Examiner, and an archaeologist from the Florida Division of Historical Resources. This team would investigate the site to determine a course of action. That’s what happens in cases like this. But Cherry went to the tribal shaman instead and spilled the beans.”
“Why?” Dalton’s single word punctuated the air.
“Maybe Alan had offended her somehow, and she wanted to go behind his back.”
“How did he know her in the first place? Had they met as neighbors?” Brie asked. “Or did they have something going on between them?”
“Brianna, you’re not supposed to know about such things!” Dalton gave her a disapproving glare. His statement lost its impact when tomato sauce dribbled down his chin. He dabbed at it with a napkin.
“Don’t be a dork, Dad. I know everything. I’m old enough to drive.”
“You wish. Anyway, Cherry and Alan were both on the HOA Board.”
Marla picked up the thread. “It would have been logical for him to consult her. Cherry must have told Herb about the bones and the results of her preliminary tests. Obviously, the tribal shaman felt she wasn’t doing enough, and so he brought his protest to the community to arouse public awareness.”
“Did Cherry tell him out of loyalty to the tribe? You said she had Indian blood in her veins.” Although addressing Marla, Brie cast a sullen look at her father.
“Could be. Or maybe Cherry wanted to claim credit for the discovery herself.” Marla chewed a morsel and swallowed. “Think what a boost it would give her at work. She might even get promoted up the ladder.”
“Krabber may have promised her the credit if she kept her mouth shut initially.” Dalton speared his last meatball and stuck the whole piece in his mouth.
“But then why would she tell Herb? His little demo rained on her parade.”
“There’s only one option, Marla.” Brie’s eyes sparked. “You’ll have to talk to Herb yourself and see what he knows.”
“No way,” Dalton said in a firm tone. “I’ll pass this info along to Kat. It’s her job to check out new leads.”
Yeah, right. My bet is that you get to the guy first.
The next day at work, Marla discussed events with Nicole when they had a lag between clients. She’d cleaned off her chair and counter and stood holding a coffee mug while blow dryers whirred in the background, customers chatted, and water splashed in the shampoo sink. Marla inhaled the hairspray-scented air, enjoying this bustling atmosphere so much more than the garage sale frenzy.
Thank goodness that was over.
“And then the news crew came,” she concluded. “It was chaos, but I’ll have to say one thing. Sales were great. Cherry couldn’t give us a final number yet, but she believes we made a decent profit.”
Nicole gave her an indulgent smile. “Now maybe you can relax. I still don’t see how you got roped into chairing that thing.”
“Oh, you know the saying. Trouble follows me.”
“So you think this Herb fellow can clue you in as to what Alan Krabber had discovered in his backyard?”
Marla drained the last of her coffee and put the mug down. “I do, but I don’t want to tip Cherry off that I’m speaking to him. How do I find the guy?”
“You said he’s a shaman, right? It can’t be too hard to look up tribes in the area. If that fails, go visit the casinos. I’d expect he’s in the area. It’ll just cost you some legwork.”
“Like I have the extra time.”
“Did the nephew ever hold a memorial service for Krabber?”
“He had the body cremated, and since there weren’t any other close relatives, he kept it private.”
“Poor man,” Nicole said, meaning the victim. “It must be sad to be so alone in your later years.”
“Hey, did I tell you our other theory that he might have had a kid?”
Nicole’s eyes round
ed. “I thought Krabber never married?”
Marla told her about the fiancée. “How could I trace the girl, assuming she’s still alive? I mentioned her to Lieutenant Minnetti and suggested that she examine school yearbooks or interview Krabber’s old classmates, but I don’t know if she followed through or not.”
“Krabber might have kept his beloved’s correspondence. Ask the nephew if he’s come across anything. Once you have her maiden name, you can try looking her up on Facebook.”
“Good idea. I’ll have to watch for Philip’s car next door.”
“And you’re doing this, why?” Nicole waved to her client who’d just walked in the door.
“To solve the case so Dalton can be put back on his team. I can tell he still resents Minnetti taking over his turf.”
“They’ll have to learn to get along.”
“True, but it won’t be easy for either of them.”
Marla’s next customer arrived, and her thoughts fled as she focused on work-related issues. That afternoon, she finally found time to count inventory. Back in the storeroom, she narrowed her eyes. Something didn’t tabulate. Were they missing supplies that had been delivered last week?
She summoned Luis. It took him a good fifteen minutes to walk the gauntlet of customers, flirting with them along his way. He charmed the ladies with his dazzling smile, sexy innuendos, and suggestive body moves. Some of them came to the salon solely to snag the hot Latino’s attention. So far, he preferred to play the field and remain unattached.
Facing Marla in the storeroom, he sobered quickly as she related her suspicions.
“I think you’re right,” he said after confirming her count. He stroked his trim beard. “Maybe we should install a security camera back here. Whoever is guilty will be hard to catch otherwise. She must be taking small items to fit into a purse.”
Marla thought of the one stylist who had the largest bag, and her stomach pitted. That would be Dara, who always carried an enormous tote that would qualify as a piece of luggage. The stylist had made more of an effort to be on time lately, but she still mouthed off to the other girls. Marla would need evidence before confronting her, however.
“Please call our alarm company. See if they can install an additional surveillance camera back here. Do the same for the day spa.”
“Sure, Marla.” Luis shuffled his feet. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but you’re always so busy.” He cast his gaze on the shelf holding coloring agents.
Lord save me, something says I’m not going to like what’s coming next.
“What’s this about, Luis? We have time now.”
“I’m, uh, officially giving you my two weeks’ notice.”
“What?” She had thought maybe he’d ask for a raise.
He didn’t look at her. “I’ve been accepted into Broward College for the summer term. It starts in two months, but I want to take some time off and travel.”
“Oh. Well, that’s wonderful news.” For you, it is. Not so much for me. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Our customers will miss you.”
“I know. I’ll stop by to say hello now and then.”
Sure you will. “So you won’t consider working part time, once you begin school?” How would he fund the tuition?
“I have money saved up. I’d rather take a heavy load and finish sooner. And if I do have to get a temp job, it would be in the I.T. field where I hope to work someday.”
“Of course. I’ll let the others know. We’ll have to give you a going-away party.”
He pumped his fists in the air. “A party, si! But I’m sorry to give you such short notice. I’ll help find a replacement.”
“I’d appreciate that, thanks.”
Her cell phone buzzed. She grimaced as she read a text message to call her mother. Now what? Could this day get any more aggravating?
She waited until Luis left before contacting Anita. “What’s up, Ma?”
“I don’t understand that man. One minute he acts warmer toward me, and then in the next, he snubs me. What am I doing wrong?”
Marla raised her gaze heavenward. “What’s Roger done this time?”
“I invited him to spend Passover with us. You know how he joins us for every holiday.”
I know how he eats two portions at least. “Sure, so what did he say?” Hopefully, he’d refused, citing a feeble excuse. Bad Marla. You should tolerate him for your mother’s sake.
“His son’s girlfriend invited him to a Seder with her parents.”
“For the first night?” That was when Marla planned to have her holiday dinner.
Oops, she’d forgotten about it in the turmoil of the past few days. She slapped a hand to her mouth. Was it too late to invite her cousin’s family? Nor had she mentioned the event to Dalton yet.
“Yes, the first night,” Anita said. “I already signed up for the Temple Seder on the second night.”
“So we’ll have one less mouth to feed if Roger doesn’t come.”
“Marla, that’s not nice. This will be the first time he isn’t joining us.”
“Sorry. It sounds as though Barry’s influence is stronger than yours. Maybe you’re better off without Roger if he doesn’t put your interests first.”
“I don’t know why I called you expecting a sympathetic ear. I’ve had a good relationship with him until recently. His sister must have poisoned him against me.”
“Why would she do that when you’ve never met the woman in person?”
“Ver vaist? Who knows?”
Marla had her own theories. Barry had courted her at one time, but she’d turned him down in favor of Dalton. Likely, with his new girlfriend, he wanted to distance himself from her. And that meant detaching his father from Anita’s strings.
“Ma, Roger isn’t worth the effort if he acts inconsistent. You can’t rely on him. If it were me, I wouldn’t go chasing after him. Let him stew in his own pot for a while.” Who knew she’d be advising her mother on relationships?
“We’ll see. I don’t want to keep you from work. I’ll talk to you later.”
Marla got busy and was unable to think about Luis, Dara, Herb Poltice, or any of the other things on her mind. That night, she broached the subject of Passover at the dinner table.
“How many people are we talking about?” Dalton asked, seemingly unperturbed about the religious significance of the holiday.
After Marla had counted them off on her fingers, Brianna said, “So that’s at least fourteen people.”
“We can add a folding table to the dining room set,” Marla said.
“I have no objection,” Dalton said, “but why don’t we invite my folks, too? They’ve never been to a Seder.”
“Do you think they’d want to come? I mean, would they feel awkward celebrating a Jewish holiday?”
“Not if they’re included. Besides, you’ll have Easter dinner the following weekend, right?” He grinned at her, the adoring look in his eyes melting her heart.
“Sure, if you wish. Our relatives have to get used to us honoring both traditions.”
Having passed that hurdle, Marla told them about Luis leaving. “I can’t afford to be without a receptionist. It’ll be a zoo if we have to take turns manning the front desk.”
She started interviewing candidates later that week. While she’d been on the Internet researching Native American tribes in the area, she’d also peeked at job-hunting sites. Plus, Luis had rounded up a few applicants.
The first girl was a walk-in who’d seen the sign in their window advertising the job opening. Marla sat outside with her in the set of chairs in front of the salon. Stacey wore a black bustier and mini-skirt with boots, spiked raven hair, heavy eyeliner, and a silver stud in her lower lip that drew Marla’s fascinated gaze. Silver chains dangled from her neck.
“Can you tell me about your job experience?” Marla asked to begin the discussion.
Stacey plopped her hobo handbag on the concrete and crossed her legs. Her mouth worked a piece
of gum. “Well, lemme see. I worked as a cashier for a few months, but it got boring. So I switched over to a food market for a while, but I didn’t like shelving products. I tried a waitress gig afterward, but that didn’t work out.”
Marla folded her hands in her lap, reminding herself to be polite. “What are you hoping to gain from this position?”
Stacey gave her a bright smile. “Your place sounds like it could be fun. All I’d have to do is sit behind a desk and answer phones, right?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Marla said, thinking of the myriad duties Luis performed. “How familiar are you with computers?”
“I use them at the library sometimes. Why? Don’t you keep track of things in, like, an appointment book?”
“Our programs are all online these days. Do you have a resumé you could leave with me?”
“Huh? A what?”
Marla winced inwardly. “Leave me your name and phone number, and I’ll get back to you if we’re interested.”
“Oh, sure.” The woman reached into her voluminous bag and withdrew a crinkled business card. “Here, I have this. It’s from where I lived with my former boyfriend, so the address ain’t right. But the phone number is still good.”
Marla stood, not even bothering to offer her palm for a handshake.
Another candidate, a brunette, strode up to Marla inside the salon just after she’d finished a cut and blowout.
“Hi, I’m Amanda Stevens.”
Marla gave her hand a quick shake. Amanda wore her hair in an attractive style, metal-rimmed eyeglasses on her nose. Marla liked the orchid color of her suit but she seemed a bit overdressed, unless this was one interview of many in her day.
“Let’s go outside,” Marla suggested, aware of several pairs of eyes glancing their way.
As soon as they were seated, Amanda pulled a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Here’s my resumé, as well as details of several projects I completed for my former employer. I’m experienced in handling multiple phone lines, and I’m familiar with Microsoft Office, social networking, and other computer programs. You need someone to be proactive in this role, don’t you? Consider me your Girl Friday. I have super organizational skills.”
11 Hanging by a Hair Page 13
