Body Wave

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Anita clicked her tongue. “You weren’t very nice to him at the time, if I recall.”

  “Nice? All he did was put me down and tell me how much I needed him. He didn’t want me to succeed on my own. If it weren’t for Tally, I’d never have had enough faith in myself to go to cosmetology school.”

  “Your best friend is a jewel, but she might have steered you back to college instead.”

  “Two years of undergrad studies was enough for me to realize that wasn’t my calling. You wanted me to be a teacher. After what happened to Tammy, working with children was the furthest thing from my mind. I love being a hairdresser and making people feel good about themselves. Anyway, this is an old discussion.”

  “Maybe Stan is hoping to rekindle your romance.”

  Marla laughed aloud. “Heck, Ma, he’s just using me.

  “So why are you getting involved? Won’t your detective friend disapprove?”

  She shifted her position. “He would if he knew about it.”

  “You know, I’m starting to like him. He was quite charming when we met at Taste of the World. When am I going to meet his daughter?”

  “At her dance recital this spring, remember? I bought you a ticket since you like ballet.”

  “Oh yes.” A moment of silence. “I got the impression things were getting more serious between you.”

  Marla imagined her mother sitting at the kitchen table in her two-bedroom house, touching up her red fingernail polish. “I haven’t gone out with anyone else lately, if that’s what you mean.”

  “What about your other male friends? I know Arnie Hartman is still seeing Jill. He’s quite smitten by her. You missed a good chance there, you know. Arnie has a good business with Bagel Busters, and it’s in the same shopping strip as your salon.”

  “I love Arnie, but he’ll never be more than a dear friend. As for Ralph, he quit working at the body shop and went back to school full time. Besides, he got himself a live-in girlfriend.”

  “What about Lance, the computer expert?”

  “We keep in touch.”

  “Well, then, Marla, you should move ahead in your relationship with Dalton Vail. If I were you, I’d tell him about Stan’s scheme before you fall flat on your face. Trust is an important issue between two people who care about each other.”

  “He shares his insights with Brianna, not me.”

  “You told me his twelve-year-old daughter is sharp for her age. They must be very close since his wife died.”

  “So where do I fit in?”

  “You’re not family, bubeleh. And he’s not really supposed to talk about his cases.”

  “If I tell Dalton about the nurse’s aide job, he’ll forbid me to get involved. I hate how he tries to control my actions like Stanley did.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Dalton is not the same type of man. He respects your accomplishments. He’s afraid for you, that’s all. Be glad he has a protective nature.” Anita’s voice lowered. “It’s special when you meet a man who admires you and wants to keep you safe.”

  She’d never heard that peculiar tone in her mother’s voice before. “Ma, what are you saying?”

  “Just that I understand.”

  “No, there’s something more here. What’s going on?” A memory jolted her. “Didn’t you say a while ago that you had news to tell me?”

  “Look, I gotta go. Ethel is at the door. Tonight is our Hadassah meeting to plan the regional education day.”

  “Wait,” Marla said, but broke off when she heard a click on the line. Darn, why did she get the feeling Ma was hiding something from her? Would Michael know anything about it?

  She dialed her brother’s number in Boca Raton, but no one answered. His family must have gone out to dinner. Should she ask Cousin Cynthia to find out the scoop? No time. Now someone was knocking on her door.

  “Who is it?” she called from the foyer.

  Spooks yipped in the hallway, but his lack of frantic barking told her it was no stranger.

  “It’s Moss. Are you decent, mate?”

  “Of course.” She swung the door wide to smile at her elderly neighbor. “Is Emma okay?” she asked about his wife, instantly concerned.

  The white-haired gent nodded, his seafaring cap bobbing on his head. “I wrote a new limerick and wanted you to take a look before I add it to my collection.”

  Marla took the paper from his hand and gestured for him to enter. “Have you submitted your poems yet like I suggested?”

  Moss shuffled his feet. A wiry fellow, he had leathery skin from so many years in the sun. “I’m waiting until there are enough verses for a book. But I still go to that writing group at the library. Emma comes with me, says it gets her out of the house.”

  Marla suspected Emma’s excuse was her means of encouraging Moss to show his literary efforts to other writers. Her gaze drifted to the paper, and she read aloud:

  I went with my wife to the store

  We bought veggies, fruits, and more

  Until I glanced at the prices

  And said we have a crisis

  We need to start keeping score.

  “Tell me about it,” Marla remarked. “This sounds like good advice for everyone. It seems as though my grocery bill rises each time I go to the supermarket.”

  The old geezer chuckled. “Maybe you should stop buying those gourmet baked treats for your pooch.”

  “Spooks deserves them. He’s home alone all day waiting for me to return from work. It’s worth the extra cost.” She handed Moss back his paper. “This is super. Show it to your writing friends.”

  Beaming with pride, Moss took his precious page and left Marla with a smile on her face. After cleaning the dishes, she phoned her best friend, Tally, who’d left her a voice mail message.

  “Marla, what kind of mess did your ex-spouse land in? I saw the report on the news.”

  Seated at her desk in the study, Marla rolled her eyes. Here we go, she thought resignedly, then proceeded to tell Tally everything, including her plans to go undercover.

  “Holy smokes, that sounds like fun. A fancy estate on the east side of town, huh? Can I come, too? Maybe they need an extra maid on Sundays. I’m a whiz at dusting.”

  “I don’t think Ken would be happy if you were gone all day.” Her stomach full, Marla felt like crawling onto the couch with the newest copy of Modern Salon. Tally wasn’t about to let her off so easily, though.

  “You’ll need references if you apply for the job. Give them my name. I’ll say you take care of my mother during the week. They don’t have to know she’s deceased.”

  “I could always consult Jill for acting lessons,” Marla commented wryly.

  Tally laughed, an infectious peal. “After your pretend engagement to Arnie, I don’t think you need lessons from anyone. Have you told Dalton?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea, at least not yet. Arnie and Jill are meeting us for dinner a week from Wednesday for my birthday. I can bring it up then, but only if I get accepted for the position.” She waited to see if Tally would mention her birthday. They hadn’t made plans together yet, and Tally usually treated her to lunch.

  “Is it Valentine’s Day already next week? Oh, my. How time flies. Well, let me know what happens after Stan calls you tomorrow. Bye!”

  Marla stared at the dead receiver in her hand. Was it her imagination, or did Tally sound a bit breathless? Paranoia might be afflicting her, but she sensed Dalton and her mother weren’t the only ones with something cooking on the back burner.

  Chapter Three

  At work on Tuesday morning in the Cut ’N Dye Salon, Marla was subject to curious stares from her staff, who’d seen the local news reports. She had no choice but to describe her visit to Stan in the city jail. Sometime during today’s full schedule, she hoped to squeeze in a phone call to Gary Waterford, Kim’s former flame.

  At the station on Marla’s left, Nicole Johnson teased a client’s hair. “So Stan is supposed to be released today?” Her ebo
ny ponytail bobbed with her movements. The sleek stylist’s gaze glowed with the same warmth as her cinnamon skin.

  Marla paused, curling iron in hand. “That’s assuming he gets an arraignment with a judge who sets bond.”

  She glanced at her client, Babs Winrow. The woman had shared secrets with Marla in the past, so she knew Babs could be trusted.

  “Stan wants me to sound out Kim’s relatives regarding possible motives,” she confided in a low tone. “He thinks Kimberly might have been murdered for her inheritance. I’ll tell you, it bowled me over when Stan asked for my help.”

  “Why wouldn’t the man consult you?” Babs said, snickering. “You’re better at solving murders than the cops. Thanks to your efforts, Ben Kline’s killer is behind bars. After Ben got his head bashed in, all of us on Ocean Guard’s board of directors were under suspicion. Not only did you save our fund-raiser, but you also cleared our slate. Detective Vail should be glad you’re on his side. What does he say about your involvement with your ex-spouse? Don’t you have a thing going with him?”

  Marla’s face flushed, and she resumed curling Babs’s blond hair. “We see each other occasionally. I wouldn’t say either of us is committed. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

  Liar. What would you call that little scene in his office—kissing the friendly cop?

  “Dalton hopes Stan will confess his guilt to me,” she continued. “He won’t be thrilled if he finds out what Stan proposed.”

  “What’s that?” Nicole asked, leaning in her direction. “I get the distinct impression that you’re about to plunge into hot water again. Wasn’t it enough when Jolene drowned in that spa whirlpool last month?”

  Marla tightened her grip on the curling iron. “I owe it to Stan. He was there when I needed him.”

  “Girlfriend, he never lets you forget it. Now spill the beans. What does that louse want you to do?”

  “Marla, another applicant is here,” Giorgio announced. The handsome Italian stylist waved toward the front desk.

  “Give me ten minutes,” Marla called, hastening to finish Babs’s hair. She’d confide her plans to Nicole later, when they had a moment alone.

  The salon was short several staff members, since Miloki had left to open her own place, taking along their shampoo assistant, manicurist, and another stylist. Marla still had to find a permanent staffer for the front desk, and now she had the added burden of interviewing for skilled professionals. Sighing, she put down her implements on the counter and accompanied Babs toward the front. Facing the plate-glass window was a seating arrangement with six chairs and a table that held a platter of bagels and cream cheese.

  Marla spotted a man hunched by the coffee machine and walked over to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Marla Shore, salon owner. How can I help you?”

  He straightened, and she took a step back after getting a clear glimpse of him. The man was a better applicator of makeup than she. Even with the embellishments, his skin had a sickly gray pallor made worse by overly bleached hair with the consistency of straw. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose and instead plastered a polite smile on her face.

  “I’m, like, applying for the job.” He pointed to his scrawny chest encased in a stained T-shirt. “Call me Joe.”

  “Which job? We have three openings.” She couldn’t imagine him in any of the positions.

  “For the stylist. That pays the most, don’t it?” His watery blue eyes peered at her in a manner that made her uneasy.

  “How long have you been doing hair?” she asked, skepticism creeping into her tone. She ignored his remark about money.

  “Like, three years, baby.”

  “Are you licensed?”

  He glanced away. “Sure, I am.”

  “I assume you’re working somewhere else at present?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not cool. I need to find new digs.”

  “Are you flexible about hours? We need someone for Thursdays from one until seven since we’re open late that day; Fridays from nine to five; and all day Saturday.”

  He shifted his feet. “Can’t do Saturday. That’s when I meet my buddies at Culver Beach.”

  She compressed her lips. “Well, I’m still interviewing other applicants. If you’ll write down your name, phone number, and where you’re currently employed, I’ll get back to you by the end of the week.”

  As soon as he left, she felt as though fresh air had swept through the salon. “What is it?” she asked Giorgio, who was doubled over.

  “Culver Beach,” the gay hairdresser said between fits of laughter. “That’s where you sunbathe nude. It’s down near Hallandale.”

  Marla rolled her eyes. “Just out of curiosity, I’ll look into that place where he works now. I have another call to make anyway.” She had a few spare minutes before her next customer arrived.

  Inside the storeroom, she lifted a mobile unit and dialed the phone number Joe had given her as his current place of employment.

  “Manny’s Dry Cleaning,” intoned a bored female voice.

  Marla hung up, her curiosity satisfied. The fellow had lied to her. Scratch him from the applicant pool.

  Kim’s former flame was next on her list of persons to interview. She tried Gary Waterford’s home number and wasn’t surprised when no one answered.

  He’s probably at work. Didn’t Leah say Gary owned an air-conditioning business in Dania? She’d have to look it up later.

  “Marla, Andrea is here,” Giorgio called, summoning her back to her station.

  Hours passed before she was free to conduct further research. Her last client had canceled, and so by five o’clock, she was finished for the day. She had meant to catch up on ordering supplies and dealing with a washing machine leak, but those chores got put on hold when Stan walked into the salon.

  “Marla, there you are.” He aimed in her direction. From his moist hair, clean-shaven jaw, and freshly laundered shirt, she could tell he’d gone home and showered.

  “Stan, what are you doing here?” Her ex-spouse had never set foot in Cut ’N Dye before.

  He planted himself in front of her, oblivious to the sudden hushed silence in the room. His intense gaze bored into hers. “We need to talk. I have information for you.”

  Oh, right. The nurse’s aide position. Conscious of her staff’s attention, she gestured toward the parking lot. “I’m done here. Let me get my jacket and purse, and then I’ll join you. Nicole, would you mind locking up?”

  Nicole’s bright grin made her jaw clench. By now, her staff regarded Marla as a source of ongoing entertainment. Last month it was her fake engagement to Arnie. Before that, she’d had a relationship with a killer. Now Stan complicated matters. All she needed was for Dalton Vail to walk through the door.

  Be careful what you wish for, girl.

  Before she left, she stopped by the front desk computer to look up the phone numbers for air-conditioning businesses in Dania. She added them to her cell phone’s note section. She’d reach Gary Waterford somehow, unless Stan wanted her to call off the hunt.

  Maybe that’s why he was here. She felt a stab of disappointment, not having realized how much she’d anticipated another challenge.

  “Want to grab something to eat?” she asked him, once they were outside. The cold air hit her like a freezer blast. She buttoned her cocoa suede jacket, wishing she’d brought a scarf. The weak afternoon sun added little warmth. Darkness would come swiftly. She’d prefer to be home by then, and Spooks needed to go out. Hopefully, they’d make this fast.

  “Nice salon you set up for yourself with my money,” Stanley remarked, brushing a piece of imaginary lint off his shirt. The cold temperature didn’t seem to bother him, probably because he was so full of hot air.

  “Thanks to our divorce settlement,” Marla retorted, “I was able to achieve something worthwhile in my life, which is more than I can say for our marriage.”

  “That’s your fault. You should’ve been happy being married to a rich attorney. I g
ave you everything you wanted.”

  “You didn’t give me respect. You made me feel I owed everything to you, which I did at the start. That’s the only reason I’m helping you now. But you refused to let me grow when I needed to become someone better. It’s clear you never truly understood me.”

  A pained expression entered his hazel eyes. “Yes I did, babe. And I still do. You’re trying to erase your guilt over Tammy’s death. If you’d have been a proper wife, you might have redeemed yourself by giving me a family.”

  “Leah gave you a family, and where did it leave her? You let that bimbo seduce you.”

  His face purpled. “Don’t speak of Kimberly in that manner.”

  “She used you, Stan, just as you use everyone to satisfy your ego.” Uncertain if she still wanted to help him, she decided to hear what he had to say before making any hasty decisions. “Let’s go to Bagel Busters. It’s close by,” she suggested.

  Arnie Hartman, the proprietor, was a special friend. She relied on his concern in times of trouble. So how come I let him act protective, but I can’t tolerate that attitude in Dalton Vail?

  “Good enough for me,” Stan agreed. Taking her elbow, he meant to steer her in that direction, but she shook him off. “My God, you’re touchy.” The look he gave her could have shriveled a snake.

  “Keep your hands off me.” How had she ever let him talk her into this? The shmuck didn’t deserve her attention. Maybe she should charge him a consulting fee.

  The idea lurked in the back of her mind while she took a seat opposite him in the deli. “Is Arnie here?” she asked Ruth, a waitress.

  The older woman smiled. “Sorry, honey. He ran off to pick up Jill from work. She had to get her tires changed.”

  A strange sense of abandonment claimed her. How dare Arnie desert her in this hour of need? He’d been spending much of his free time in Jill’s company lately, she realized with a twinge of jealousy. Well, that had been her choice. Despite Arnie’s urging to the contrary and their false engagement, Marla hadn’t wanted their relationship to progress beyond friendship.