Marla put down the curling iron and unplugged her devices. Armed with a teasing comb and hair spray, she quickly styled Miriam’s blond wavy hair. “Kimberly had revived her relationship with Gary Waterford, the man she’d been dating before she met Stan. Gary got her pregnant, but he couldn’t afford to pay her tuition. I thought Jeremiah must have been funding her, but it could have been one of your family members as well.”
“That’s absurd.” Anger flashed in Miriam’s eyes. “I provided for her. She should still have been getting my allowance.”
An unpleasant possibility crept into Marla’s consciousness. “Who wrote the checks and mailed them?”
“Agnes does my writing for me. My hand isn’t so steady, and I don’t see well close up even with my reading glasses.”
“She signs your name?”
“Well, no, I sign a bunch of checks each month, and she fills them in. We go over the books together.”
“Maybe you should ask Agnes where Kimberly’s money has gone.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marla drove to her meeting with Kathleen on Thursday morning with high anticipation. Surely the maid would tell her what was going on in the Pearl household. She’d learned nothing new last evening. By the time Agnes returned, Miriam was asleep. She’d like to have been a fly on the wall when Miriam asked the nurse about Kimberly’s allowance checks. Meanwhile, she’d left her cell phone number for the matriarch in case of an emergency.
Luckily, she’d eased off on her client load for today and could take a generous lunch break. Heading east on Sunrise Boulevard, she turned right into the parking lot across from the flea market. Finding a space was tough. Anytime the circus performed, a mob scene prevailed.
Outside, her nose picked up the impending scent of rain. A cold front was scheduled to move in, and heavy clouds scudded overhead in a stiff cool breeze. She stuffed a folding umbrella into her purse before locking the Camry.
She’d spoken to Dalton earlier. He’d scheduled an interview with Jeremiah at his Margate residence today. She hadn’t told him her plans; hearing his voice had reminded her guiltily of her inaction regarding Brianna’s birthday party. What kind of mother would she make if she always put her own business first? Not a good one, she told herself, stepping along the pavement toward an escalator. It rose to a yellow skyway stretching across the busy thoroughfare.
She crossed the street on the covered elevated walkway, then hesitated. Ahead was an entrance into the building housing permanent stalls. Below on her left were outdoor amusement rides, an arcade, and a cotton candy concession stand, almost empty since it was a weekday. Farther along was a Farmer’s Market that teemed with customers. She recalled Kathleen saying she bought papayas for Miriam. It was early yet; should she look for the woman there?
Her long skirt flapped about her ankles in the wind, which made the decision for her. Shivering, she hustled forward into the building’s shelter, ending up in a corridor with a dirty linoleum floor. An eclectic furniture collection was on her right, an artificial-flower shop on her left. She glanced at a moving waterfall picture and wrought-iron bed frame draped in black and gold lace before moving past a women’s dress boutique. The smell of incense reached her nose as she strode by a store selling housewares. Shops offering belts and scarves, jewelry, pet accessories, and beauty supplies tempted browsers to linger.
Arriving at a central court, Marla stood a moment to get her bearings. Crowds jostled her as her ears were assaulted by blaring televisions mounted on the walls. Her eyes were stunned by flashing neon signs. The circus hadn’t even started yet, and she felt as if she were in the middle of one. How would she ever find Kathleen in this mob?
It might be easier to find the housekeeper at the Farmer’s Market. Glancing at her watch, Marla noted she had twenty minutes before the circus began. That gave her plenty of time to grab a bite to eat and then search for Kathleen outside.
She stopped at the food court and scanned the selections. The cultural diversity of Broward County was well represented by the food choices: Jamaican meat patties, coco bread, Montreal smoked meat, Cuban sandwiches, pizza, potato knishes. Feeling the need for haste, she ordered a kosher hot dog and ate it on the run.
She found a rear door and exited outdoors. Loud music mingled with chatter in foreign languages as she wound her way through a maze of stalls selling men’s guayabera shirts, tacky Florida souvenirs, scooters for old folks, athletic wear, and perfumes. At a toy stand, electronic bleeps competed with “Here Comes the Bride” from a bridal doll twirling on a pedestal.
After passing a group of alleys shaded by overhead awnings, she reached the grocery section. Enormous papayas vied for attention with coconuts, mangos, plantains, beefsteak tomatoes, glossy eggplants, and more. No wonder Miriam sent Kathleen here for papayas. These prices were cheaper than Publix, and the produce looked fresher.
Look at those huge avocados. Her fingers itched to weigh one in her hand. She’d have to come back here to buy a few things for herself sometime. She moved on to an area displaying plants and potted shrubs, where a dozen roses sold for ten dollars.
Unfortunately, she didn’t spot Kathleen anywhere in the crowded aisles. It was nearly time for the circus. She’d better get inside to look for the auburn-haired woman.
A momentary alarm flickered through her. What if Kathleen didn’t show up? Her news was dangerous enough that she hadn’t wanted to be seen with Marla at the Pearl household. Maybe she’d discovered the murderer.
No sense worrying. Just find her.
The circus area consisted of two levels. For a one dollar fee, people could sit at preferred seating overlooking the stage from the upper level. Marla cringed at the barrage to her eardrums. Explosions and gunfire from an arcade of video games punctuated the music blaring from the speaker system. Her gaze fastened on a worker in a red logo shirt. He was whitewashing the rail leading down a flight of metal steps. The noise didn’t seem to bother him; he must be used to it. Below, bleachers facing the elevated stage cost two dollars for extravagant spenders.
As the lights dimmed, Marla searched frantically for Kathleen. A few men returned her regard, and she quickly averted her gaze. For the most part, they were scruffy-looking fellows. She shuddered, wishing to complete this rendezvous so she could return to the salon and her comfort zone.
Where was Kathleen? Marla didn’t see her sitting in either of the side sections on the upper level. While the red curtain rose on a clown act, she scrutinized the people walking by. The hairs on her nape prickled as an uneasy feeling swept her.
She dropped her gaze to the lower section where she glimpsed Kathleen’s distinctive hair color. Her breath hitched, and she dashed for the stairs.
A security guard blocked her path. “Sorry, miss, all the seats are taken.”
“I’m meeting someone. She’s down there.” Marla craned her neck, searching for her quarry.
A loud explosion made her jump, while smoke billowed from the stage. Motorcycles roared into the arena, belching fire. Out stalked a tiger, playing tag with the monstrous machines.
Pop, pop. Marla’s attuned ears picked up the sounds. Was that part of the circus act?
Her heart thumping wildly, she brushed past the guard and charged toward the row of seats where she’d spotted Kathleen a few minutes ago.
There she was! The maid sat rigidly in one of the bridge chairs in a side section. Marla jostled past several irritated patrons to reach her. She crouched in front of the woman, who appeared transfixed by the circus.
“Kathleen, what’s wrong?”
The woman’s eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t raise her head. She moved her lips, and it took a few seconds for the words to come out. “Letter opener…I took it…missing from my room. Miriam is…”
A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes glazed, and she said no more.
“Miss, remove yourself from there,” ordered the guard, who’d followed her.
Marla ignored him
as icy tendrils of fear clutched her heart. “Kathleen!” She clasped the woman’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. There was none.
Another shot sounded, and a whoosh of air whizzed past her ear. Something pinged on a nearby metal rail.
Oh my God, I’ve got to get out of here. She spun in the opposite direction from the guard, crashed her way through a jumble of legs and feet, and exited the seating area.
She wound up backstage, dodging restless animals and circus workers who screamed at her that she’d entered a restricted area. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of manure as she narrowly avoided getting kicked by a spooked horse. Grasping her purse, she vaulted over a low railing and ran for the rear door. Strangers gawked at her; the security guard doggedly pursued her; and from somewhere the killer chased her.
Outside, she turned a corner in the maze of outdoor stalls and ducked inside a boutique. She crouched behind a display of straw hats and swimwear. An idea took shape when she spied a selection of wigs next door.
Several moments later, Marla left the stall with a lighter wallet and a new look. Blending into the crowd, she smoothed her turquoise ankle-length beach robe and straightened the straw hat on her blond head. She put a jaunt into her step as she headed steadily toward the parking lot, careful to latch onto a bunch of tourists going in the same direction.
When she reached the safety of her car, she wished she had searched through the crowd for a familiar face. Maybe she would have identified the murderer. She couldn’t think about what Kathleen had said yet. Her body shook so violently, she had trouble fitting the keys in the ignition. Before pulling out, she called Dalton on her cell phone.
“Go to your salon,” he ordered after she’d related her news. “You’ll be safe there. What time do you get off work today?”
“I won’t finish until eight.”
“I’ll pick you up. I don’t want you to be alone. Kathleen must have been followed, and you were seen with her.”
Marla wiped sweaty palms on her cover-up, glad she’d worn canvas shoes. They went well with her disguise. “Kathleen mentioned something about Miriam,” she said, pulling off her wig and hat. “I’m concerned for her. If someone in their household—”
“Jeremiah Dooley wasn’t home when I went to see him.”
“What?” She turned on the engine and joined a line of vehicles exiting the parking lot. Although she kept checking her rearview mirror, she didn’t notice anyone hanging behind when she proceeded onto Sunrise Boulevard.
“Remember, I was scheduled to meet him today?” Dalton’s deep voice replied. “I haven’t been able to locate the man.” He paused. “I’ll admit to being annoyed before, but now I’m worried. If someone got to Kathleen, maybe they took him out first.”
“I don’t understand the connection.”
“You will. I’ll tell you later. See you at eight.”
****
Somehow Marla made it through her afternoon appointments, mostly by performing robotic movements that she could have done with her eyes closed. If her clients noticed she was less than usually conversant, they didn’t mention it. She couldn’t help sliding frequent glances toward the door, expecting Kathleen’s killer to charge through the entrance. Her slippery fingers kept dropping instruments, and once she left a client’s highlights on too long so the hairs came out carrot-colored.
A shock jolted through her when the man of the hour appeared at six o’clock. He slammed open the door and barged inside, thick brows drawn together in a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” Marla asked, blurting the first response in her head.
“You killed her,” Jeremiah Dooley shouted. “The wrath of the Lord will visit you for what you’ve done.”
She felt herself go pale. All voices in the salon fell silent, and several pairs of eyes turned in their direction.
She’d been cleaning her counter before the next customer arrived, and now she held the spray bottle in front of her like a weapon. “I don’t understand,” she began, but he cut her off.
“I told her not to meet you. Stupid woman wouldn’t listen. She must have been followed.”
“Look, do you mind if we take this outside?” She nodded to Nicole. “Come get me when Michelle arrives. She usually shows up late anyway.”
In front of the salon, Marla motioned to a bench. Jeremiah was too agitated to sit. They stood facing each other, two combatants ready for battle. Thanks to her marriage with Stan, Marla possessed skills in verbal sparring. It was also thanks to Stan that she found herself in this predicament, Marla reminded herself with a wry grin.
“Why are you smiling?” Jeremiah snarled. “My sister is dead, and it’s your fault. May the good Lord have mercy on her soul.”
“Kathleen was your sister?”
“I didn’t think you were smart enough to figure it out.”
“Katie... Kathleen. I should have guessed! She was born to Colleen and Piotr, then,” Marla said, untangling the family threads in her mind, “whereas you were Harris Pearl’s illegitimate son. I found out about Harris’s affair with his Irish maid.”
Hostility fled from Jeremiah’s expression. “For years, I believed I was Piotr’s son. Not until my mother was dying did she tell me the truth.”
“Why did you reveal your identity to Morris?”
He flashed a brief, mirthless smile. “I showed up at his office one day and announced I was the son of his father. You should have seen the look on his face! I showed him my birth certificate as proof. Colleen had never let Piotr see that his name wasn’t on the document.”
“Morris was afraid you’d stake a claim on the family fortune.” She scanned the parking lot but didn’t see Michelle’s red Volvo. Traffic roared by, fumes and dust reaching her nostrils. A strong breeze chased the water-laden clouds overhead to a slate gray horizon. In true tropical fashion, patches of rain thundered by in short, angry bursts. An overhang protected them from getting wet.
“I’m not interested in their money, although Morris lives in fear of the day when I ask for my share,” Jeremiah confessed. “He’s afraid he’ll have to explain where all the company funds have gone. His misdeeds won’t go unpunished. I’ll see to it.” His face darkened, and he clenched his fists. “All I wanted was his help in establishing my missions. He already had connections in the Latin markets. I needed to set up export routes for my fisheries.”
“So basically, the two of you kept your connection under wraps,” Marla concluded. “What happened when Kimberly learned about you through her genealogy research?” Tired of standing for most of the day, Marla leaned against an exterior wall and folded her arms across her chest.
Jeremiah paced the pavement. “She contacted me and threatened to expose my background unless I helped her.”
“I don’t imagine she referred to her spiritual requirements.”
“She required money to enroll in design school. When Kim realized she wouldn’t deceive her husband for long, she demanded her own apartment and a regular allowance. I warned her about becoming too greedy.”
“Is that why you killed her?”
He put his hands together in a prayer position. “I do the Lord’s work, not Satan’s. Despite our dubious connection, I regarded her as my niece. Someone else silenced her. If I knew who it was, I might recognize Kathleen’s killer.” Lowering his head, he muttered a verse from a psalm.
“Have you any idea what Kathleen wanted to tell me?”
“She said she’d discovered something important that you should know. I warned her to stay away.” His anguished gaze met hers, and she realized how painful it must be for him to lose the one relative to whom he had felt close.
“Why was she working in the Pearl household?” Marla asked, needing to clarify the point. “Did you plant her there to spy on Morris?”
“I didn’t trust Miriam to keep her mouth shut. I knew Morris had told her about me. He didn’t want to expose our connection any more than I did. But Miriam had no such scruples. I couldn’t risk the n
ews leaking out. Imagine the reaction from my congregation. They’d condemn me for having tainted blood and for being spawned from an immoral relationship. My position as missionary leader would be jeopardized.”
“Especially if they examined your take of their contributions,” Marla added. Maybe that’s what concerned him more. Any publicity might expose his high-spending lifestyle.
He ignored her remark. “Kathleen served as my early warning system. She was adamant about helping me continue my good deeds. It was her idea to take employment in the Pearl household to keep an eye on their family. I told her she had to curb her destructive impulses, or she’d draw attention to herself. Her sinful behavior didn’t go unnoticed.”
“What do you mean?”
“She liked to collect things. You know, small items from around the house. It was a devilish compulsion she couldn’t expel no matter how hard she prayed. Our Lord evoked a harsh punishment for her.” His voice cracked, and he bowed his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“If she hadn’t called you, my sister wouldn’t be dead,” he said, raising eyes tinged with moisture. “Whatever she’d discovered, she should have told me first.”
Oh, yeah? Then you’d have buried it along with your identity. Doesn’t truth and justice mean anything to you?
“Here comes my next customer,” she said, spotting Michelle in the parking lot. “I believe you had an appointment with Detective Vail earlier, for which you didn’t show. It might be a good idea for you to get in touch with him.”
He gave her an enigmatic glance. “The Lord summons me elsewhere. I must obey His Word first.”
Before she could ask him more, he stalked off.
While she worked on her last customers, Marla felt haunted by something the televangelist had said. She couldn’t place what it was until later, when Stan phoned her for a progress report. Relating her conversation with the minister, she stopped when he gave a snort of laughter.
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