“That’s his job, Debbie. How is your family?” she asked, changing tactics.
“Oh, the kids are great and Jimmy is always busy. There aren’t enough hours in the day for all of the things we have to do.”
“Tell me about it.” Marla propped a hand on her hip. “You’re a real estate agent, aren’t you? How do you manage to fit that in?”
“I’m only here three mornings a week. And I often work at my regular job on weekends, when I don’t have to be with Hannah.”
“Is that your sister? I’d heard she was ill.”
Debbie’s shoulders sagged. “She has cancer, and the treatments are so expensive. Her insurance doesn’t cover half of them.”
“It’s generous of you to contribute when you have your own family to consider.” Marla watched her reaction.
Debbie stifled a sob. “I won’t be able to help anymore if I’m arrested.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Marla. I’ve done a terrible thing, and you’re the very worst person to tell. You’ll go straight to your husband.”
“Dalton is good at what he does, Debbie. Whatever you’re hiding, he might already know. He’s investigating a murder case, not the association’s bookkeeping. That is what we’re discussing, isn’t it?”
Debbie nodded.
“Did Cherry find out you were cooking the books so you could support your sister’s medical expenses?”
“Do you think I killed her? I didn’t . . . I never . . . Cherry was my friend!” Her eyes widened. “Your husband doesn’t think I’m the killer, does he? I’d never harm anyone, I swear!”
No, you’d just steal from our homeowner funds so we have to pay extra assessments. That hurts our wallets. Marla sympathized with her motives but not with her actions.
“Is Gene the only person who’s onto you? Or did Cherry know? She was the treasurer, after all.” Marla scanned the office. From the disorderly piles of papers scattered around, she surmised Debbie could barely handle her volunteer position. Cherry struck her as the more organized type. Had the treasurer caught on to Debbie’s deceit?
“Cherry didn’t suspect a thing until Ron Cloakman got wise,” Debbie stated in a defiant tone. “He thought she was skimming the cream off the top. It’s only money that I should be paid for this job. Jimmy wouldn’t let me tap into our household account to help Hannah. What other recourse did I have?”
“Your sister has no family of her own?”
“She’s divorced with two kids. If anything happens to her, those poor children will be left without a mother. Their father has remarried, and they’ve already said they don’t want to live with him. Hannah has depleted her savings. Costly medications are her only other option, but she can’t afford it.”
“I’m so sorry.” What choice did Debbie have, indeed? Still, there had to be an alternative to stealing. “Hey, I might know something that can help. Have you heard of crowdsourcing?”
Debbie took a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed at her eyes. “No, what’s that?”
“It’s where you ask strangers online to fund your project. I believe there are programs for healthcare needs. If you want, I can check into it for you.”
“Would you? Oh, I’d be so grateful.” Debbie’s eyes moistened. “No one else understands, and Jimmy will hate me when he realizes what I’ve done. He’s meticulously honest.”
At a loss for words as to how to respond, Marla changed the subject. “Tell me about Gene. Have you seen any correspondence between him and Erik Mansfield?”
Debbie’s nose scrunched like a rabbit’s when it sniffed a carrot. “We sent letters out to various contractors soliciting bids, but that was during Alan’s reign as president. I presented the responses at our last Board meeting.”
“And what happened? Did you guys vote?”
“It’s up to the membership to vote, but Gene pointed out how Erik’s proposal was superior to the others, even if the cost was higher. Erik’s company would throw in more extras and use better materials.”
“So Gene pushed his bid as the top choice?”
“His arguments made sense, even though I knew he had a personal interest in it.”
“How long has Gene been on the Board? Do you think he’s been getting kickbacks from other jobs we’ve panned out?”
“I couldn’t say. He’s been a director for the entire three years this community has been open. He keeps getting beat for president, though.”
“Why? How long is the incumbent allowed to stay in his role?”
“Alan’s term was coming up for renewal, but there’s no question he would have won again with his charisma.” Debbie tossed her crumpled tissue into the trash.
“People liked him so much more than Gene?” Marla found that hard to believe.
“Alan may have been pigheaded, prejudiced and prideful, but he was a stickler for the rules. People appreciated his leadership.”
I see how he followed the rules with his own interests. “Did he examine the budget, or did he leave that entirely up to Cherry to present to the membership?”
“Alan looked it over. He wasn’t a fool. He’d taken on the window problem and aimed to make Beamis Woodhouse replace the faulty parts.”
“According to Beamis, it’s not his fault. Ethan Lindberg, the manufacturer who supplied the vinyl extrusions, is to blame. His product melts in the heat, causing the windows to leak.”
“So you’re saying this fellow Ethan supplied the vinyl frames? He sold defective parts to Beamis, whose company used them to make our windows. Then the builder bought these windows from Beamis and installed them?”
“You got it.” Marla gave a mental prayer of thanks that her house hadn’t been involved.
Debbie’s mouth cracked into a grin. “So we could sue all three of them!”
“If you want to go that route. I thought Gene hoped to avoid the court system and costly lawyers and just get other bids for replacements.”
“Of course he does, so he can get a kickback. That’s just wrong. We have a good case. Thanks, Marla. I’ll present this information to Tom Raskins. He’s standing in for vice president.”
“Do you think he’ll be fair?”
“He’s a good man.” With a pained expression, Debbie twisted her hands together. “I’ll have to turn in my resignation. I’m sorry for what I did, Marla. Please don’t think too badly of me.”
“I understand, Debbie.” In truth, Marla didn’t. The woman had faced desperate times and embezzled from her neighbors. Turning to theft usually made things worse in the long run.
Marla wondered whether she should tell Debbie about Ethan’s connection to Alan Krabber. Had Alan realized his son was responsible for the defective product that sabotaged their development?
She could just imagine Alan’s volatile reaction upon hearing he had an offspring from the woman who turned her back on him. A Jewish woman. She’d bet that was what had soured Alan on her religion. His vitriol had been born from hurt and a sense of betrayal. Then what was this ministry he’d supported and that had paid him a regular income?
She believed Debbie who’d said she didn’t kill anyone. So who did that leave? Ethan? He would have bumped off his dad right after they’d first met, not now. And he would have had no reason to murder Cherry Hunter. The answers had to be closer to home.
“Who else knew about your, uh, indiscretion?” she asked Debbie. “Ron Cloakman found out money was missing, but he thought Cherry was to blame.”
“She was furious at him for accusing her and told Gene. He realized it was me. I’d set up the lockbox arrangement, you see.”
“So you two were watching each other’s backs, so to speak. He’d keep quiet about you if you supported the bid from Erik Mansfield.”
Debbie bowed her head. “That’s right.”
“People saw Ron talking to Cherry at the garage sale, so I’m guessing that was the first time he spoke to her about the HOA’s problematic finances.”
“If I were you, Marla, I’d te
ll your husband to take another look at Ron’s company. I don’t know that they’re doing so well. Those Native Americans have asked for a permanent injunction against further building in this neighborhood. That ruling would kill his master project.”
Maybe Ron had been warning Cherry against exposing the burial site that day. When Alan told the developer about his discovery, he may have mentioned Cherry was the one who’d verified his find. Ron might have lied about the true purpose of his conversation with the association treasurer, although Marla had no doubt he’d also accused her of embezzlement.
Another neighbor entered the office, and Marla took her leave. Troubled thoughts plagued her as she went to work. Had Dalton verified Ron’s alibi for the night Alan died?
Then again, what role did Herb Poltice play? Was he such a fanatic that he’d attempted to exact revenge on the pair who’d defiled his ancestral burial site?
She waved a greeting to Luis at the front desk and to the other stylists as she strode to her station. Had Herb been the one snooping in Alan’s yard the day Spooks fell down the hole? He could have been attempting to uncover more bones for himself. But that didn’t make sense. Herb wanted to preserve the site, not cause further desecration. And it was illogical for him to kill the two people who could serve as witnesses in favor of an injunction. The issue was bigger than him alone.
And what about her own near-miss incidents? Who was to blame in that regard? The intruder she’d surprised had been inside Alan’s house, not in his yard.
One fact was certain—Alan and Cherry were connected through the discovery in his backyard. That had to be the linchpin.
In her opinion, only one person stood to gain the most from silencing them. The finger of guilt pointed irrefutably to Ron Cloakman.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
“How’s Dara doing?” Nicole said as Marla plopped her purse on the salon counter and plugged in her appliances. “Will she be okay?”
“She’s fine. I called the hospital and they’re releasing her this morning.”
“I hope she doesn’t sue. Those cupcakes were meant for you.” Nicole gave her an appraising glance.
“Yes, and she wasn’t supposed to eat them!” Marla gestured to the interior. “If she sues us, I’ll counter with accusations of theft. I’ll bet Dara can account for our missing inventory.”
“You don’t have any proof, since you’re the only one who caught her in the act. Unfortunately, the cameras hadn’t been activated yet.”
“Maybe, but I’d have plenty of character references in my favor. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“What was in the food? Could it have killed her?”
“No, it wasn’t a lethal dose. The drug was an antihistamine commonly found in many medicines. What’s scary is that Alan Krabber ingested something similar before he died.”
“The drug or the cupcakes?”
“Maybe both.”
“Was Dalton able to trace who sent them?”
“Not so far, although his lab tech might have lifted some prints off the box. It didn’t have a label, so we’re assuming the pastries didn’t come from a shop. You can buy bakery boxes in any kitchen supply store.”
“You think this was a warning directed at you?”
“Yes, and it worked. I need to be more careful, but I’m not going to stop my inquiries.”
“What does Dalton say?”
“He’s clammed up. Usually, that means he’s getting close to solving the case. Anyway, let’s talk about more cheerful topics. What do you have going on this morning?”
Nicole pointed to her printed schedule. “My first appointment is a thermal heat treatment. I hope I remember how to do one.”
“If you want a quick refresher, we have a video in the back.”
Nicole would be tied up all morning with that procedure. The special process relaxed and straightened hair. Its effects could last up to four months.
“No thanks, I’ll be okay.” The sleek stylist glanced at her watch. She wore skinny pants and a blousy top. Several bracelets clinked on her other arm. “It’s almost time. I need some more coffee before I get started.”
“Me, too. I’ll walk you back.” Once they were ensconced in the break room, Marla addressed an issue of concern. “Did you make plans for Luis’s going-away party?”
Nicole grinned, a flash of white teeth in her warm mocha face. “Arnie is bringing platters over on Friday. I can’t believe this is Luis’s last week.”
“I’m grateful he’s coming in on Saturday since I have to leave early. We’re having eighteen people over for Passover.”
Nicole’s eyes bugged. “How will you get everything done in time? Have you started cooking?”
“Not yet, but I’ll manage.”
“You always do.” Nicole filled her mug with coffee, cream and sugar. “What do you have first?”
“A cut and blow on a new customer. At least, I don’t recognize his name.”
Marla approached the day with her usual cheer, putting aside the hundred things on her mental list until later. Working at her chair functioned as a form of meditation. When combing, cutting, or curling, she could forget about everything else. All that mattered was the art her fingers could create. And it never got boring. No matter how many times she blow-dried people’s hair, she designed the results for each client’s unique texture and volume.
She’d just put down her coffee cup on her station counter when Luis signaled to her. Marla went up front to greet the client and walk him back to the shampoo station. Her jaw dropped when she regarded the familiar face.
“Robyn! Luis told me someone named Robert was coming.”
“He must have heard me wrong.” Robyn Piper regarded her thoughtfully through her black framed glasses. “I thought I’d check out your place. I need my hair restyled anyway.”
“Come on back.” Marla accompanied her, stopping a minute to run her fingers through Robyn’s straight brown hair. “What did you have in mind?”
“Cut it shorter, but not too much. I’ve had bad hairstylists who hack your hair off.”
“Show me where you want it,” Marla suggested.
“Somewhere around here.” Robyn demonstrated a range from chin to shoulder length.
“Do you still want it one length or layered? Did you bring pictures of what you like?” Lots of times, people expected Marla to be a mind reader. Or they wanted a style worn by a celebrity but one that wouldn’t work on their type of hair.
“I’m afraid not. And can you do anything about the color? It’s so mousy. My hair looks like mud. Plus, it has no shine.”
Marla led Robyn to her chair where she discussed the possibilities for a makeover. Robyn agreed somewhat tremulously to a layered cut and color. While Robyn put on a smock, Marla consulted Luis about her schedule. She’d need more time with this appointment than anticipated.
Maybe Robyn had come to check out the salon regarding Marla’s job offer. Ads hadn’t brought in any more candidates for the receptionist position. Marla had spoken to a couple of women referred by other stylists. One of them didn’t want to work Saturdays, and the other person hung up the phone after Marla said group health insurance was available, but the woman would have to pay for her own portion. What she needed was an energetic person who enjoyed meeting new people and who had decent computer skills.
Robyn probably looked at this job as a comedown from her higher-paying corporate position. Marla didn’t want to pressure her for a decision but would hire her on the spot.
“I love it!” Robyn exclaimed after Marla finished restyling her hair. She gazed at herself in the mirror and grinned like a cat who just drank a bowl of cream. “I swear, you’ve made me look ten years younger.”
“You look great. Here, take this ticket up front. I’ve given you a discount as a first-timer and a Royal Oaks resident.”
“Sure.” Standing, Robyn fumbled in her handbag and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill. “Here, I appreciate you
altering your schedule for me.”
“Thanks.” When she’d first opened, Marla hadn’t accepted tips as the owner. But she changed that policy not long afterward, feeling customers wanted to show their gratitude and felt awkward when she turned them down. She stuck the money in her drawer and pointed to her daily printout. “Actually, Luis makes up our schedules. Saturday is his last day.”
Robyn swallowed and averted her gaze. “Um, does your offer still stand?”
“Honey, if you want a job, you’ve got one.”
“Really? Because I’ve decided I need a break from corporate America. It would be fun to work here. It’s lively, and I’d get to meet new people. I’d like to give it a try.”
Marla’s spirits soared. “When can you start?”
Robyn smiled. “When do you need me? I’ve been enjoying my time off, but I’m starting to get restless. I don’t like being idle.”
“We’re closed Sundays and Mondays. Can you begin on Tuesday?”
Robyn clapped. “I’m so excited. I have errands to run today, but could I come in tomorrow to see what Luis does?” Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses.
“Absolutely. This is fabulous. Nicole, meet our new receptionist!” Marla made the rounds, introducing Robyn to her staff. They extended friendly greetings.
“Welcome aboard,” Luis said. “I’ll be happy to show you the ropes. You’ll like this job. It’s a cheerful place to work. Marla, your first client on Thursday is scheduled for one o’clock like you requested.”
“Okay, great. I have things to get done in the morning.”
First thing on her list for Thursday was the appointment for the fence estimate. Dalton dropped Brie off at the school bus stop while Marla took the dogs out. It would be wonderful when she could just let the animals out in the backyard.
Around the corner, she spied Angela working on her plants. Stray wisps of hair curled around the older woman’s face under a wide-brimmed hat. She used a hoe in her garden, clearing a patch of land. The tool had seen better days, judging from the rust stains on its surface.
11 Hanging by a Hair Page 22
