A Knight Before Christmas

by Alicia Dean

  give him more working room and picked Nic's folder of

  paperwork off the front seat. He would have to investigate

  without letting anyone know he was investigating. Pretty

  tricky when he had to ask questions.

  A number Nicolette marked as unfamiliar popped up

  frequently in the months preceding Rudy's death. Heath

  dialed the number.

  A male voice answered, "Salarber's Cut and Style, Ted

  speaking."

  A barbershop? Heath didn't know what else to do other

  than make an appointment. Damned sure could use a cut

  anyway. "Yeah. Can I get an appointment? Today if possible."

  "Let me see. Hmmm. Yeah. We have some openings

  today, it being Wednesday and all we're not that busy.

  Haircut only?"

  "Yeah."

  "Anyone specific you want to see?"

  Preferably the person who is blackmailing Nicolette, or the

  one who did drugs with my best friend. Definitely the one who

  made twenty-seven phone calls in two weeks to a guy who is

  now mysteriously dead.

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  "No. Not really. I've never been there. How many barbers

  do you have?"

  "Barbers. I like that. Don't hear it much anymore. Now

  we're stylists." He infused the word with disdain. "We have

  seven stylists. If you don't have a preference, I'll just put

  down your time and whoever is free can get you. When you

  wanna come in?"

  Heath looked at his watch. It was just now after ten.

  "Around eleven too soon?"

  A pause. "Will eleven-thirty work?"

  "Sure." Heath gave his name and took down the address,

  then called Nicolette at Renewed Hope.

  After going through an automated maze, which eventually

  allowed him to punch in the first three letters of her last

  name, Nic's voice came on the line. "Nicolette Morgan. May I

  help you?"

  "Hey, Nic. It's me."

  "Heath—what's up?"

  She sounded happy to hear from him, and for a moment,

  he let the pleasure of that thought wash over him. Then he

  took a reality check and reminded himself she was anxious to

  find out who was wrecking her life, not just pleased that he

  called.

  "Listen, did Rudy get his hair cut at Salarber's Cut and

  Style?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "There were a lot of calls from the shop on Rudy's cell

  phone records. I can't imagine he'd need that many consults

  on a haircut. Do you know which of the barbers he used?"

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  "No, I don't recall him ever mentioning a name. Before he

  started going there, he'd had the same barber for years, Don

  Valeska."

  "Yeah. I used to go to him, too. He retired."

  "Right. After that, about a year and a half ago, Rudy ended

  up going to Salarber's. He never mentioned who cut his hair.

  Do you think the blackmailer works there?"

  "Even if those calls are from the blackmailer, he could be

  anyone in the shop. Hell, even a customer who used the

  shop's phone."

  "You wouldn't think the blackmailer would take a chance

  on being overheard in a public place like that."

  "True. But you never know how these people think. Of

  course, it could have nothing to do with that. Maybe whoever

  called him from the shop had to do with the drugs and not the

  blackmail."

  "You mean like his dealer?"

  "Maybe. Either way, I'm going to check it out. I'll stop by

  and see you at work when I'm done. I should have some kind

  of update for you then."

  "Great. I'll see you a bit later, then."

  Was there a note of more-than-businesslike anticipation in

  her voice? Then again, given the jumble of his thoughts, it

  could just be a projection of his own desires.

  Salarber's Cut & Style was located in North Kansas City,

  just a few miles from Nicolette's house. Before going in,

  Heath studied the cars in the parking lot. Most likely the ones

  in back were employees, and the ones near the front door

  were customers. He jotted down the make, model and license

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  plates of all of them, just in case. The person he was looking

  for could be a customer or an employee. Or no one to do with

  Salarber's at all.

  The place was larger than Heath expected, especially when

  he went inside and saw the rows of chairs at either end of the

  long room beyond the lobby. The distasteful smell of perm

  solution hung in the air. Don would have been horrified at the

  thought of giving perms in his shop. His had been a two-

  seater that only catered to men and still had a barber pole

  outside.

  Heath remembered the first time his father had taken him

  there when he was eight. Heath had been thrilled when the

  men included him in their conversation, and his dad showed

  off Heath's knowledge of major league baseball by quizzing

  him endlessly for the audience; the other barber, and two

  customers, one getting a shave, the other waiting for a cut.

  After that, Heath and his dad and his brothers made regular

  visits, every four weeks to Don's shop. The guy talk and cigar

  smoking made the King boys feel grown up, and it was a

  highlight of Heath's childhood. Some of the men swore like

  there weren't even kids in the room, although once in a while

  they would mutter, "'Scuse my language." When he and Rudy

  were twelve, Rudy started coming along too.

  Heath cleared his throat and looked around for someone to

  help him, before he got all misty about memories that were

  as false as the breasts on the girl who approached, a friendly

  smile on her too-pink lips. Her hair was multi-colored, pinks

  and purples, and her shirt rose up, showing a belly button

  ring. "Can I help you?"

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  "I have an appointment at eleven-thirty."

  "With?"

  Heath shrugged. "No one in particular."

  "First time, huh?" She smiled and touched her bottom lip

  with her tongue, exposing a piercing. Heath cringed. Tongue

  piercings always looked more painful than sexy to him,

  although he'd heard how much better oral sex was when—

  For God's sake. He reigned in his thoughts. Too long

  without sex. Too much time around Nicolette. Bad

  combination.

  "First time here, yeah."

  She frowned as she ran her long pink fingernail down a

  sheet. While she was trying to perform a task that appeared

  as difficult as unraveling the mysteries of life, a largely built

  man with a protruding gut and frizzy, receding hair entered

  the lobby area. "You the fella who said barber on the phone?"

  Heath grinned. "Yes. That would be me."

  "I'm Ted Welling, the owner." He looked at the girl. "I'll

  take him, Gertrude."

  Gertrude. Heath would not have guessed that.

  Heath
followed Ted past rows of chairs, half of them filled,

  and a few empty, with bored-looking stylists, some men,

  some women, standing near them. One fussed with the items

  that lay on a shelf beneath the mirror. Fussing wasn't a word

  that usually came to Heath's mind, but with this particular

  guy, that was the only word that fit. He was slender and

  dressed all in bright blue shiny stuff with heavy Adam

  Lambert makeup. His white-blonde hair lay to one side and

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  hung over his ear, while the other ear—one with a dangling

  silver earring—was left exposed.

  Ted led Heath to a chair toward the back, and when he

  was seated, Ted shook out a cape and secured it around

  Heath's shoulders.

  "How much you want off?" He grinned. "Or you just want

  me to style it nice and purty?"

  Heath grinned back. "I want it fairly short, but not

  shaved."

  "Got ya."

  Ted picked up a pair of shears and got to work at the back

  of Heath's head. As he did, he kept a running conversation

  about everything from the shitty weather, to politics, to the

  Chief's lousy franchise, to how bad it sucked to have to run a

  business this way to make a living. "You know, it's all that

  metro-sexual stuff. Guys these days want to look feminine.

  Crazy thing. Young women seem to like it, though."

  "Yeah. Guy who cut my hair most of my life ran a man's

  man shop." Did that sound sexist? Maybe, but he needed to

  segue into asking about Rudy, and no one who would care

  was within hearing distance. No harm. No foul. "You know it?

  Don's Barber Shop over on Barry Road?"

  "Yeah. He retired, right?"

  Heath nodded. "About a year and a half ago. I'd moved out

  of state, but my buddy was still going to him. You might know

  my friend. He started getting his hair cut here after Don

  closed his shop. But he passed away back in January. His wife

  recommended you."

  "What's his name?"

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  "Rudy Morgan. You know him?"

  In the mirror, Heath saw Ted squint at the side of Heath's

  head as he moved around to start on the hair there.

  "Everyone around here knew him. In the news a lot. Big

  philanthropist. I knew him because he sent a few people my

  way. Mostly clients, but I hired a couple of his guys."

  "Recovered drug addicts?"

  "Yep. I figured if a guy like Rudy believed in them, who

  was I not to give 'em a chance, you know?"

  "How'd they work out? Any of them still with you?"

  "Yeah. One was a gal. She's a real sweet thing. Does a

  great job, too."

  "So, are they here now? Which ones are they?"

  Ted's hands stilled and he scowled. "Don't think I should

  tell you that. Why you asking so many questions, anyway,

  pal?"

  Heath considered deceiving him but didn't see the point of

  withholding the truth, at least not all of it. "I guess you heard

  that Rudy's death is being investigated as a homicide?"

  "Yeah. Cops have been in here a few times."

  They would have gone over the phone records, too. Not

  likely they'd come in to interrogate a victim's barber without

  good reason. He wondered if they'd learned anything.

  Whether they had or hadn't, it didn't mean Heath would.

  Worth a shot, though.

  "I was his best friend," Heath said. "I'm not a cop, but I

  run a security firm in Oklahoma City. I'm here visiting family

  for the holidays, and when I heard Rudy's death was

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  suspicious I thought I'd do a little digging myself. I'd like to

  find out what happened to my friend."

  Ted continued to scowl but had paused in the process of

  cutting Heath's hair. Heath could picture being thrown out

  and having to hunt a place to finish the job, looking like a

  freak with his half-cut hair. Finally, the shears started again,

  and so did Ted's mouth.

  "I don't know anything about how he was killed, and I'd

  swear on a stack of Bibles no one here had anything to do

  with it. I've got some oddballs around here but no killers."

  Heath held his response when a young guy, wearing a

  smock and listening to an iPod, came into earshot. At the

  places where Heath usually got his hair cut, the barbers

  always swept up their own hair. Business must be pretty good

  if Ted was able to keep someone on just to clean up after the

  stylists. Heath waited until the man and his broom moved

  away.

  "Not saying anyone here killed him. Just trying to learn as

  much about him as I can. Hoping it leads me to some facts I

  can share with the police that might solve his murder."

  Ted nodded and the scowl disappeared. "My cousin was

  killed when I was a kid. They never found her killer. She was

  only sixteen. Hard thing to live with." He moved to the other

  side of Heath's head, efficiently snipping as he spoke. "Don't

  think you're going to find anything here, but I'll do whatever I

  can to help."

  "Even give me the names of the people you hired from

  Renewed Hope?" As soon as he asked, he realized he could

  get that info from Nic. Better to make a friend of Ted and not

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  ask for more than he was willing to give. "Never mind. Tell

  you what, how about you just tell me who Rudy's barber was.

  If he had a regular."

  Ted smiled. "There's that word again. Barber. Did you

  figure out what the deal was with the shop's name?"

  "The shop's name?"

  "Yeah," Ted said. "Salarber's. Think about it."

  Heath thought about it for a few seconds, then grinned.

  "It's a combination of salon and barber?"

  "That's right." Ted laughed. "Sort of my little inside joke.

  You're pretty sharp to figure it out that quick. I think you'll

  figure out what happened to your friend, too." He

  straightened and pointed over Heath's shoulder. Heath

  twisted and found Ted was indicating the shiny blue guy.

  "Noah cut Rudy's hair."

  "The guy with the white hair and blue clothes?"

  Noah twisted a lock of hair in his fingers and stared at

  himself coquettishly in the mirror.

  "Yeah." Ted shook his head and sighed. "Doesn't look like

  he's too busy. Soon as I'm done with your hair, you can talk

  to him."

  After Ted took Heath back up front so he could pay for his

  haircut, Ted motioned for Noah, and the guy sauntered to the

  lobby.

  "This here's Heath King," Ted said. "He wants to talk to

  you about Rudy Morgan."

  Something fearful flashed in Noah's silver-blue eyes before

  they grew wet with tears. "You're a friend of Rudy's?" Noah

  asked as he shook hands with Heath.

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  The guy's palm was damp. Nerv
ous? What reason did he

  have to be nervous? Unless he had something to do with

  blackmail, or maybe murder?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter Nine

  Noah and Heath sat in the cushioned chairs of the lobby.

  Heath studied the guy, who crossed and uncrossed his legs

  repeatedly, then fiddled nervously with his hair.

  Could he be a murderer? The guy just didn't seem the

  type. But then, if there was a definite 'type' for all criminals,

  solving crimes would be easy.

  "I have a few questions, if you don't mind," Heath said.

  "No. I don't mind." Noah's gaze darted nervously around

  the lobby, and he checked his watch. "I hope this won't take

  long. It's almost my lunch, and I'm meeting my girlfriend at

  Cracker Barrel."

  "Girlfriend?" Maybe he meant 'girlfriend' the same way a

  girl meant girlfriend. Because if this guy wasn't gay, neither

  was Elton John.

  "Yes." He sat up straighter, seeming offended. "My

  girlfriend. Ugh." He rolled his long-lashed eyes. "You thought

  I was gay, didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. It's just that..." Heath held out a hand then let

  it drop in his lap, at a loss for words.

  Noah shrugged. "I get that all the time. I just like to

  express my moods with my ensemble. Tomorrow, you might

  come in and find me dressed like a construction worker."

  Or under a construction worker. Heath cringed at his

  stereotyping and lack of political correctness. He didn't give a

  damn about this guy's sexual orientation or his wardrobe.

  Time to get back on track.

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  "How well did you know Rudy Morgan?"

  Again, the eye-dart thing. A dubious suspicion came over

  Heath. If this guy were bisexual—and Heath had a hard time

  believing he was totally straight—did that mean that he and

  Rudy...

  Nah. No way. Heath was beginning to learn that his

  lifelong friend had some secrets, but sex with men was

  definitely not one of them. Heath needed to look at this in a

  totally unbiased manner and not get tripped up in

  appearances. Deal with the facts, only the facts.

  "I've done his hair for, oh, I don't know..." Noah crossed

  his legs and clamped his hands around his knees, then