Shampoo and a Stiff

by Cindy Bell

  “And the hundreds of other people that might have had something against Brad,” Nick reminded her as he pulled into the parking lot of the salon. “I'm not looking forward to tracking down all of his girlfriends.”

  “You're right,” Bekki nodded thoughtfully. “It would make sense that it would be a boyfriend of one of the women he was with. But,” Bekki said as it suddenly occurred to her. “You're forgetting about the damaged shampoo bottle.”

  “What damaged shampoo bottle?” Nick asked with confusion.

  “Oh, that's right, I didn't tell you about that,” Bekki arched a brow. “I found one of the bottles that came in my delivery was dented and scraped. Like maybe someone had dropped it, or even scratched it with something.”

  “And?” Nick asked as he attempted to follow her logic.

  “Well, if the bottle was scraped in a scuffle, then the person who attacked Brad had to have been familiar enough with the factory to be packing the boxes. I doubt it was Brad himself packing the shampoo bottles. Why would an owner be doing that?” she shook her head at the idea.

  “Good point,” Nick agreed as he sat back and gripped the wheel of the car loosely. “We still haven’t been able to search the factory and I've got to get permission to interview the employees. Steven is being a stickler and demanding warrants for everything, which is understandable considering the bad press his company it getting from this.”

  Bekki leaned over to kiss him gently. “I'll see you at home,” she smiled as she met his eyes.

  “See you there,” he replied and kissed her once more. He waited until Bekki was safely in her car before driving off.

  ***

  Bekki knew her father would still be awake. It had taken him a while to find a way to fill his free time when he had first retired, but recently he seemed to always have a new hobby to keep him up at night. He loved tinkering with anything that he could get his hands on. Still, she knocked softly on the door just in case. He came to the door pretty quickly and smiled when he saw her.

  “What a nice surprise,” he said as he held open the door for her. “Shh, Mama's sleeping,” he added in a hushed tone.

  “I'll just stay a minute,” Bekki said as she gave her father a quick hug. “I was at Doug's, and he told me that you had spoken with Steven Zane on Sunday night.”

  “Oh sure, uh huh,” her father nodded as he walked back over to the kitchen table. He was working on a miniature plane. “So sad about his brother,” he added with a frown.

  “I was wondering if you saw him come in or leave?” Bekki asked as she sat down across from him.

  “Well, I saw him come in, everyone did. He walked right up to the bar and ordered drinks for the entire bar, everyone was impressed,” he peered closely at the wing he was gluing together.

  “Do you know what time that was?” Bekki asked hopefully.

  “Oh, maybe nine?” he shrugged a little. “I can't be sure. I was there to enjoy a few drinks, and wasn't really paying attention to the time.”

  “How about when he left?” Bekki suggested and watched as he cautiously connected the wing of the plane.

  “We hung around until about midnight I guess,” he admitted and grinned at his daughter. “Don't tell your mom though, she was sound asleep when I stumbled in. Let me tell you, one night of fun proved to me that I am too old for hangovers.”

  “Dad,” Bekki laughed quietly and shook her head. “So, Steven was still there when you left?”

  “Bekki, to be perfectly honest I can't be sure,” he frowned. “All I know is that I got herded into a cab with a few of the other guys. Steven wasn't with us then. I don't recall him leaving, though.”

  “Yes, no one does,” Bekki pursed her lips a little. “What I don't understand is, if he created such a commotion with his generosity, why did he slip out?”

  “I don't know, Bekki, guys like Steven can be pretty strange,” he said as he set down the small bottle of glue. “Are you thinking he had something to do with his brother's death?”

  “I'm not sure,” Bekki replied honestly.

  “I hope not,” her father frowned deeply as he looked at her. “There's no excuse for bad blood between brothers.”

  “Maybe not, but these brothers were in business together,” Bekki pointed out. “That can change things.”

  “Well, I wish I could help you more,” her father said as he glanced back down at his plane. “I couldn't say for sure if Steven was even there the whole time.”

  Bekki's eyebrows raised at that comment. “Doug said he was there.”

  “Doug was busy,” her father said. “He was slinging drinks up and down the bar. His help didn't bother to show up. Sorry, Hon, I really wish I had a better answer for you.”

  “Actually, Dad, you may have helped more than you realize,” she placed a light kiss on the top of his head. “Tell Mama I love her, okay?”

  “I will,” he promised as he gazed at his plane.

  “And don't stay up all night,” she warned and winked at him.

  “Oh, how times have changed,” he muttered with a low chuckle as Bekki left the house.

  ***

  On the drive home, Bekki's mind was racing. Even though Steven still had an alibi, she wondered how solid it was. If her father didn't know if he was there the whole time, it was possible that no one else really did either. As Bekki pulled into the driveway, the headlights flashed on the porch, revealing Nick waiting for her in one of the large, green rocking chairs. She smiled at the sight of him.

  “You didn't have to wait up,” she said as she walked up onto the porch.

  “It's not a have to,” he smiled up at her and pulled her down onto his lap in the rocking chair. It was large enough to fit them both, something that they both enjoyed. “It's a want to,” he kissed her cheek. “I thought maybe we could enjoy the stars together.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Bekki smiled and rested her head against the curve of his neck.

  “How's your dad?” Nick asked curiously. He had grown very attached to Bekki's parents.

  “He's building a plane,” Bekki laughed and rolled her eyes. “A toy plane.”

  “You mean a miniature plane?” Nick asked as Bekki gazed up at the stars that speckled the sky.

  “Yes, that,” Bekki sighed and relaxed in his arms.

  “That's not a toy,” he pointed out. “Miniatures are serious business.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Bekki giggled and snuggled into a more comfortable position. “But he did tell me something interesting. He said his memory is too foggy to recall when Steven left, or if he was even still there when he left. Get this, my dad had to go home in a cab!”

  “Wow,” Nick chuckled and rocked slightly. “That must have been some night.”

  “Maybe,” Bekki said thoughtfully. The nights were getting warmer, and the sky was clear. It was the perfect time to relax and enjoy some time with Nick. But when she looked up at the stars, all Bekki could think about was how to connect the dots.

  Chapter Five

  Early the next morning, Bekki woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She groaned and rolled over. She had the whole bed to herself as Nick had gone in before dawn to get a head start on the paperwork that needed to be filed in order to get inside the factory. She stretched out in the bed and groaned as she listened to the ringing. She and Nick had lain awake for some time the night before discussing the ins and outs of the case, so she was feeling pretty exhausted. As she reluctantly sat up she snatched her phone off the bedside table. As soon as she picked it up it began ringing again. She saw it was her father calling and answered it quickly.

  “What's up, Dad?” she asked sleepily as she put the phone to her ear.

  “So sorry to call so early, sweetie, but I figured you'd want to know this as soon as possible,” his words were rushed, as he barely took a breath between them. The urgency in his tone made Bekki's mind come alive.

  “What is it, Dad?” she asked as she stuck her feet into her slippers.

/>   “Bekki, I was thinking about what you asked me, and I realized that I can tell you when Steven arrived. I was on the phone with your mother when he walked into the bar. I asked her to call me when she got home from that book club meeting at Angela's Cafe. The call came in at twelve minutes after nine.”

  “Wonderful,” Bekki said with a smile. “Thanks Dad, now if only we could get an exact time that he left the bar.”

  “Maybe you could check with the cab company,” her father suggested. “I don't think anyone went home in their own cars that night. It was strange really, Doug must have been making some strong drinks.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Bekki said again. “If you think of anything else just give me a call, okay?”

  “I will, I promise,” her father replied before hanging up the phone.

  Bekki glanced at the time on her phone. It was too early to go by Doug's to ask him which cab company he used, but it was not too early to go to the factory. Sammy was covering the salon for her, and she knew that she could make up an excuse for being at the factory. It would take Nick several hours to get a search warrant and permission to interview the workers at the factory.

  If Steven really had arrived at the bar at about nine, then it did seem as if he had a pretty solid alibi. But maybe the medical examiner's time of death was a little off. Or maybe there was something she was missing. She took a shower and dressed before heading out for the day. As she drove to the factory she was thinking about what her father said. All of the customers had needed a cab to get home. That was not just strange for her father, it was strange for his friends, too. They all enjoyed a few beers now and then, but Bekki had never recalled them being so inebriated that they had to call a cab. She was going to have to stop by and have another conversation with Doug.

  Bekki parked in the large parking lot beside the employees’ entrance of the factory. The early shift started at six am so it was already in full swing. As Bekki walked towards the entrance she noticed a shadow along one of the walls. She recognized the man she had seen outside the salon the day before. Bekki stopped in her tracks for a moment and wondered if she should confront him. He was peering around the employees’ entrance and taking some pictures of the ground around the door.

  “What are you doing?” Bekki asked as she walked up behind him.

  “Oh me?” the reporter asked, appearing very startled. “I was just getting some photographs,” he explained with a shrug.

  “Of the ground?” Bekki asked suspiciously. “What is your name? What magazine do you work for?”

  “Are you interrogating me?” he laughed, his blue eyes dancing as he studied Bekki. He had a charming way about him that set her at ease even though she wanted to be cautious. He was in his late thirties but there were streaks of gray in his light brown hair.

  “Just wondering why I keep running into you, sneaking around places where you're not supposed to be?” Bekki asked with a hint of authority in her tone.

  “I just wanted to snap some setting shots,” he explained with a frown. “I'm putting together a story about the tragedy of Brad's death, and since this was probably the last place he was seen alive, I wanted to get a few shots.”

  “How do you know this was the last place he was seen alive?” Bekki asked and narrowed her eyes. It seemed like something only the killer would know.

  “Well I don’t, but it seems like a reasonable assumption seeing as he was found in the delivery truck that is usually parked on the premises,” he shrugged as if it should be obvious. “The murder obviously happened after Tom left because he said he didn’t see Brad at the factory when he left.”

  “What time did Tom leave?” Bekki asked trying to sound casual.

  “I thought Tom said he left around eight, but I checked the time sheets and it shows he clocked out closer to six, so I'm not sure what time he actually left,” he paused a moment and scrutinized Bekki. “Why are you asking so many questions about Brad's death?”

  “No reason,” Bekki shrugged. “It's just since his body turned up on my property in the truck, I would like to see the murder solved. Now, you still didn't tell me your name,” she pointed out.

  “It's Craig Denning,” he replied and handed her a business card. “I work for Factories Today, and I have nothing to hide.”

  Bekki took the card from him and studied it for a moment. It looked professional and had the contact information for the magazine listed on it. She tucked it into her pocket to give to Nick when she saw him again.

  “So, what exactly were you taking pictures of?” Bekki asked as she looked at the ground where he had been aiming his camera.

  “Oh, just some footprints,” he said as he pointed to the scuffs of dirt where the cement started at the entrance of the factory. “It's just for splash in the article, makes it look like there might have been some kind of scuffle,” he explained apologetically. “Not exactly the most honest reporting, but you have to do what sells too, you know.”

  “Sure,” Bekki said quietly. She didn't say another word. Craig nodded awkwardly and then walked away. As soon as he was gone Bekki pulled out her cell phone. She switched it to camera and zoomed in on the scuffs he had been taking pictures of. Mixed into the dirt that was spread across the cement were small shreds of paper, the same color as the label on the shampoo bottle. This wasn't too unusual, as the workers probably printed and pasted the labels and may have got one stuck on the bottom of a shoe, but she took the picture just the same. When she walked into the factory she was relieved to see that Steven was nowhere in sight. A man who had to be close to seven feet tall and was as burly as she had ever seen walked up to her as she stepped inside.

  “Can I help you, ma'am?” he asked. His voice was much warmer and more polite than she had anticipated. He smiled at her.

  “I'm a customer of the company,” she explained quickly. “My clients really enjoy natural and chemical free products. I know that this company promotes its products as being quite natural, but I was hoping to get a tour of the facility so I can make sure that I'm being truthful to my clients,” she spoke in a professional tone that seemed to set the employee's mind at ease.

  “Well, my name is Jack, and I'm nobody official, but I'd be happy to show you around,” he smiled at her, and Bekki could tell that he had a very gentle spirit.

  “Thanks Jack, that would be wonderful,” Bekki smiled in return. Jack led her through the production and packaging process. She actually found the creation of the shampoo to be quite interesting, and could certainly tell that it was a quality product. It impressed her also that the employees seemed to take real pride in their jobs. “They seem very dedicated to producing a quality product,” Bekki commented as they reached the end of the production line, which was the area where the bottles were labeled and then boxed.

  “Honestly, it's not so much the product,” Jack explained with a sad smile. “Brad was the reason why we do our best to make sure the product is shipped right the first time. He always made sure every employee here had everything they needed. He never expected us to work sick, or if we had personal issues. He treated us more like family than employees, and he paid us that way, too,” he added with a wry grin. The grin faded quickly however as he continued. “I guess all of that is going to change now.”

  “Why do you say that?” Bekki asked curiously as she studied the labeling machine.

  “With Brad gone, it's all up to Steven now, and he's only interested in money,” he shook his head and sighed. “He'll sell this place off the first chance he gets.”

  “Were you here Sunday night?” Bekki asked as she glanced up at him.

  “Sure,” he nodded a little. “I was here until about seven,” he glanced away. Bekki noticed that despite the fact that he had been talkative the entire time he had been giving her the tour, now he didn't seem to want to say another word.

  “Did you notice anything unusual that night?” Bekki asked curiously as she studied him.

  “I don't know how unusual it was,” Jack sh
rugged and looked towards Steven's office before turning his attention back to Bekki. “The thing is, we all clock out between six and six-thirty. Brad always insisted that we should be home for the dinner hour. The factory is open seven days a week to keep up production but we rotate weekends. Even when he scheduled overtime he made sure that we had an hour break for dinner and usually he would put out a spread for us in case we couldn't get home for a good meal.”

  “But that night there was no scheduled overtime?” Bekki asked as she met his eyes.

  “No,” he admitted and then shifted uncomfortably. “But I had noticed that Steven was staying late just about every night. Sometimes he would keep one of the employees late, too.”

  “Was it ever you?” Bekki asked, she did her best to keep her voice neutral.

  “Once,” Jack admitted and gritted his teeth.

  “Why did he ask you to stay late?” she pushed, sensing that she was getting to the core of what he didn't want to admit to.

  “This has to be off the record,” Jack said anxiously as he looked at her. “The thing is, when Steven asked one of us to stay late we always had to clock out first, and he would pay us out of his own pocket. He didn't want any record of it.”

  “Why was that?” Bekki asked growing more intrigued by the moment.

  “He would bring buyers here,” Jack murmured and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one could hear him. “He would bring them around seven or eight, when he was sure that Brad wouldn't be around. He would have one of us stay late to lug boxes of product to show the buyer, or to run the machines if the buyer wanted to see the factory in action. Steven didn't like to get his hands dirty,” he added with a faint sneer. It was clear to Bekki that he was not nearly as fond of Steven as he was of Brad.

  “Did he ask anyone to stay late that night?” Bekki asked curiously, her heart beginning to beat quicker. She was certain that this might be the lead she was hoping for.

  “Yeah, he did,” Jack said quietly and pursed his lips as if he might refuse to say more.