Teaberry Farmers Market

by R A Wallace

  Molly shrugged. “Not that I can remember.”

  Erica sighed and dug out a card. “If you do remember anything, please let me know immediately.”

  ***

  Nina Delgado finished entering the data into her computer and reached for her morning coffee. She sat back in her desk chair and looked around her home office. She’d had her own place now in town for several years but on the weekends she worked from home. She’d made a good life for herself in the insurance business. It hadn’t made her rich, but she was definitely comfortable and had managed to pull together a nice portfolio for her future. She definitely didn’t want to lose all of that now that Cybil Lacey was gone. Her reputation was critical for her continued success in business. People trusted her. She wanted them to keep on trusting her. And one stupid thing she’d done could take that all away from her now. What had she been thinking? Nina set her coffee cup down when she heard the doorbell ring. She rose and went to the front door, not surprised to see Erica Bennet standing there. Henley, Nina corrected herself. It was Henley again.

  Nina tried to smile. “Erica, what brings you by?”

  Erica explained the reason for her visit and suggested they have a seat. She tried all of the same questions with Nina that she had used on Molly. They were even less successful. Nina was more of a polished businesswoman. She had a bit of a poker face and even the fact that she’d been one of Cybil’s most recent customers hadn’t fazed her. Nina answered Erica’s questions quickly and efficiently but kept her answers short and didn’t volunteer anything.

  “Can you tell me what the two of you usually discussed?” Erica asked, watching Nina closely. This time she saw it. A slight hesitation before Nina smoothly answered without saying much of anything. Erica left her card with Nina with the request to call her if she remembered anything. The practiced smile Nina gave her told Erica that she shouldn’t expect the call anytime soon.

  Chapter Eight

  Jerry parked his car in front of the small house and knocked loudly on the door. It was answered quickly by a small, attractive woman dressed in shorts and a tee. She had her blonde hair pulled back in a tail and wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her bangs seemed a little short and looked like they’d recently been trimmed. Still, Jerry thought they were a little shorter than they should be. Maybe Diana didn’t get them done regularly so she had them cut extra short each time.

  Jerry knew that Diana Gordon was twenty-seven but she didn’t look much older than her grade school students at the moment. He asked to speak with her, then followed her into a small living room. He looked around the house.

  “Do you live here alone?” Jerry asked, trying to put her at ease. She seemed somewhat disconcerted with his presence but that wasn’t unusual. Uniforms could do that to anyone.

  “Yes, um, I just bought it last year. I lived with my parents before that.” Diana sat on the edge of the couch. She looked uncomfortable sitting that way, but Jerry realized that with her lack of height, it was the only way her feet could touch the floor.

  “I’m sure you may have heard by now about the death of Cybil Lacey. We’re speaking with everyone who has had recent contact with her. You had a hair appointment last week, is that right?” Against his will, Jerry’s eyes were drawn to Diana’s too short bangs.

  Diana self-consciously reached up and tried to smooth them down her forehead more. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Have you been going to Cybil’s for very long?” Jerry asked.

  “Um, no. No, I just switched, actually. I used to go to Irlene’s.” Diana clasped her hands in her lap.

  “What made you change?” Jerry watched several emotions cross Diana’s face. He wasn’t sure what they all were, but the last one looked a lot like dismay.

  “Well, I just wanted to try something new, that’s all.” Diana began wringing her hands.

  “Did you know Cybil well?” Jerry asked.

  “No, not really. We met by accident and, uh, she suggested that I switch over to her salon.”

  “And how long ago was that?” Jerry asked.

  “Um, maybe a couple of months or so. That’s about it.”

  “What did you two usually speak about?” Jerry watched as one of Diana’s legs started bouncing nervously.

  “Talk? Oh, just about whatever. You know, girl stuff, that sort of thing.” Diana must have realized that she was bouncing her leg. She stopped it immediately.

  “Well, if you can remember anything that might help the investigation, I’d appreciate a call.” Jerry left Diana with one of his cards.

  Diana watched the policemen drive away through her front window then made a phone call by pressing the number one on her speed dial. It was answered on the first ring.

  “He just left. I don’t know what to do, he asked so many questions. What if they figure it out?” Diana spoke so quickly, she realized that she was hyperventilating and tried to calm herself, but it was no use. The voice on the phone also tried to calm her down.

  “But what if they come back? What if they have more questions? What am I supposed to say?” The tears Diana had been trying to hold back began streaming down her face. The voice on the phone sounded as anguished as she did. They had agreed not to meet for a while but after listening to how upset Diana was, the voice on the phone suggested a meeting place outside of town. Diana agreed and immediately gathered her things and left. She knew she couldn’t face any of this alone.

  ***

  Sean Mitchell had spent the last hour in the kitchen cooking. It was Sunday morning and the salon was closed today so throwing himself into work wasn’t an option. Since cooking was another of his passions, he had opted for that to keep his mind from the current situation. He had dressed in brightly colored satin kimono shorts with a matching top partly because of the heat and partly because it made him feel better.

  A friend had offered to spend the day with him, but they hadn’t known each other for very long and he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Not when he was this upset. Better not to spoil a new friendship with all this emotion before he had a handle on it himself.

  He’d been working with Irlene for a few years now. He was technically his own boss, something he was proud of, but he rented the chair from Irlene’s Salon and the two had grown to be friends. He liked her professionalism and had learned a lot by watching her over the years. Irlene had been gracious enough to show him what it took to run a salon. He appreciated that she would do that and, at thirty-two, he was old enough to understand that others in her position may not have done so.

  She’d also taught him about keeping his customer’s secrets to himself. That had been an important lesson for him. Whatever happened in the chair, stayed in the chair, Sean thought with a smile. Irlene had explained it a little differently but it meant the same thing. A lot of people shared confidences with their stylists. Sean opted to follow Irlene’s example and not share those confidences. He’d watched his client list steadily grow by adhering to that mantra.

  What he didn’t understand was why Irlene’s client list had been shrinking. And so drastically. He could see her clients going into the salon across the street. He didn’t understand why. Irlene was a much better stylist, that was for sure. That woman across the street had a seriously heavy hand with the scissors.

  His musings were interrupted by the sound of his doorbell. At first, he expected to see his friend on the other side of the door. Maybe he decided to come over anyway Sean thought as he tossed the folded kitchen towel he’d just used to dry his hands over his shoulder. But when he peeked through the viewer, he saw a cop. Sean opened the door to let him in.

  “Can I help you?” Sean asked, taking a step back. He noticed that the policeman was about the same height he was, around five ten but that was where the similarities ended. While the cop had an overall healthy look about him, Sean was pale in comparison, his blond hair made even lighter with some precision highlights. He really needed to get out into the sun some more, Sean thought. A nice tan and som
e exercise was what he needed.

  Jerry smelled the food as soon as the door opened. His stomach grumbled loudly. He’d never had a chance to get another breakfast after Erica had eaten his. Both men looked down at Jerry’s stomach. Sean let out a chuckle.

  “Follow me, I can fix that.” Sean led the way back to his kitchen and quickly set a plate of food in front of Jerry.

  “I really shouldn’t be eating this, I need to ask you some questions about Cybil Lacey,” Jerry said, staring longingly at the plate of food. It had the most amazing pancakes on it with fluffy scrambled eggs, some fresh fruit, and a muffin.

  “Oh, I can talk while you eat, it’s not a problem at all. I hope you don’t mind the double carbs with the pancakes and the muffins. I cook when I’m upset.” Sean looked over at Jerry and saw that he’d tucked into his food, so he kept talking while he worked. His movements were both fluid and certain. “This whole thing with Cybil has had me upset. There’s something going on there, I just don’t know what. It’s like Irlene’s customers have been abandoning her to that woman. I have no idea why.”

  Sean looked over at Jerry to make sure he was following the conversation. Jerry nodded as he bit into the freshly baked muffin.

  “Cybil wasn’t even a good stylist if you ask me,” Sean said conspiratorially, then put his hand across his heart. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and I certainly don’t want to speak out of turn.”

  Jerry thought about Diana’s too short bangs and nodded in agreement as he picked up the glass of juice Sean had just set down in front of him.

  “That’s fresh squeezed,” Sean said, before turning back to his stove. “Anyway, so Irlene’s losing her customers for no reason, Cybil’s gaining customers for no reason, and then Cybil ends up dead.”

  Jerry finished his plate and pushed it away. “You were there Friday at the competition, right? I saw you when I was walking through on duty.” Jerry watched Sean nod agreeably. “Did you hear them argue?”

  Sean set down his stirring spoon and turned around. “I did. There was some dispute over the number of customers each team had cut. I’m certain of our count but I personally think Cybil’s was inflated. In the end, a tie was declared to settle the argument. It was the best way of handling it, I guess. Neither woman looked like they were going to back down.”

  After Sean had told Jerry everything he knew, Jerry thanked him for the breakfast and headed to the next person on his list. Sean waved Jerry goodbye at the door and thought perhaps he’d been in the mood for company after all. He called his friend and asked him over for brunch. And then maybe they could go out to the lake, get some sun, and a little exercise on the trail.

  Chapter Nine

  Jerry was back at his desk, typing up notes when Erica came in with lunch. He didn’t look up when she dropped the bag on his desk but did thank her. “How far did you get on your list?” Jerry asked as he continued to type.

  “I made it halfway through. There were a couple who weren’t home, so I’ll need to try again but I spoke with everyone else. How about you?” Erica took her food from the bag and sat at her desk, eating it, while she stared up at the murder board.

  “Me too, halfway. Did you learn anything?” Jerry asked as he typed.

  “Yeah, no one wants to talk about Cybil. More to the point, no one wants to talk about what they talked about with Cybil.”

  Jerry stopped typing and spun around in his chair to face Erica. “Yeah, me too. What do you think it means?”

  Erica shrugged, partly in frustration. “It means we aren’t getting the answers we need.” Erica rolled up a wrapper and tossed it away. “What did you learn?”

  Jerry spun back to his computer and began typing again. “I learned that Cybil wasn’t a very good hairdresser.”

  “Who told you that?” Erica took some fries from the bag.

  “A guy that fed me an amazing breakfast, for one. But I figured it out on my own when I looked at everyone’s hair. I mean, they weren’t all hideous, but some of them were just… wrong.” Jerry finished his notes and reached for the bag Erica had left. He looked inside, then back up at Erica. “We need to start eating better.”

  Erica grabbed a handful of fries, stuffed them into her mouth and chewed. “Probably,” she said as she finished chewing. “About the hair. I didn’t realize it until you said something, but you’re right. Some of the people I spoke to had bad hair too.”

  Jerry took a burger out of the bag that Erica had given him, the wrapper dripping in grease, and looked at it. He frowned, then put it back in the bag.

  “So, where are we at so far?” Erica said, frowning.

  “Irlene’s losing her customers for no reason, Cybil’s gaining customers for no reason, and then Cybil ends up dead.” Jerry pushed the bag away, then wiped his hand on a napkin. “That’s a direct quote from the guy who made me an awesome breakfast.”

  “Well, he may have something there. Let’s finish the rest of our lists for today and then see where we are after that. We have as many people on our lists for tomorrow.”

  ***

  Marissa Saltzman paced her small apartment. She’d been doing it since she’d gotten home late last night. She had no idea how she’d gotten where she was in life right now. Thirty six years old, living in a tiny apartment, and no friends. She’d had one. She and Irlene had been the best of friends. Until Marissa had stabbed Irlene in the back.

  And why? Because that no good Cybil had convinced her that she could make more money if she weren’t under Irlene’s thumb. Ha! Isn’t that a joke. Marissa thought about how Cybil had tried to turn Marissa into her slave. Cybil wanted Marissa to wash all the towels and capes, clean the combs, take down the appointments, everything.

  When Marissa had worked with Irlene, they’d shared that kind of work. Irlene never expected Marissa to do more work or any kind of work that Irlene wouldn’t do herself. Marissa turned and paced back to the other side of her small room. She could still remember the look on Irlene’s face when she’d told her that she was leaving. Marissa had gone home and cried all night. And several nights since then. Marissa was about to turn and walk the other direction when she heard the doorbell.

  She looked through the security view hole in her door and saw a lady cop. She should have expected that. She’d already spoken to them after finding Cybil, but she knew they’d keep digging. Marissa’s shoulders slumped. Then she opened the door and stepped back.

  “Marissa Saltzman, mind if I come in and ask a few more questions?” Erica didn’t wait for a reply, she took advantage of the open door and walked in.

  Marissa walked over to a small sofa and sat down. Erica took the chair across from her and pulled out a notebook. “How long have you been working for Cybil Lacey?” Erica asked.

  Marissa pulled a tissue out from under her sleeve where she’d had it tucked and began winding it through her fingers. “About two months now.”

  “Cybil opened her shop how long ago?”

  “About three months ago.” Marissa said it so quietly, Erica barely heard her. Marissa was staring listlessly at the floor.

  “Three months you say?” Erica repeated loudly. “What made you decide to switch salons?”

  Marissa shrugged and continued staring at the floor but didn’t answer.

  “Wasn’t Irlene treating you well?” Erica asked.

  That snapped Marissa’s eyes up to Erica’s. “Who told you that? It’s a lie! Irlene was always good to me,” Marissa said loudly.

  Erica raised one eyebrow. “Then why did you leave her?”

  “Because,” Marissa said, her eyes flashing. Then her shoulders slumped again. “It was a business decision.”

  “Where were you between Friday night and Saturday morning?” Erica asked.

  “Here. Just here.” Marissa began shredding the tissue in her hands.

  Erica asked several more questions and left her card. She told Marissa that she would probably want to speak to her again and that she may be a
sked to come to the police station downtown. She left Marissa sitting on the sofa, the tissue in pieces on the floor.

  ***

  Judy Crocker poured herself another glass of wine and took it out to the small balcony on her apartment. Normally, she really enjoyed her Sundays but that hadn’t been the case today. She’d been too torn about the news of Cybil’s death. She kept telling herself that no death was a good thing, but she just couldn’t help feeling relieved.

  Maybe now no one would ever know the truth. She’d been an idiot and had made a serious mistake. But now the slate could be wiped clean. She was an accountant. She knew that in the end, all of the columns had to be added up in life as they were in math. But if she could keep this from being factored into the final tally, her life would be much better.

  She flinched when she heard the doorbell. Moving back into her apartment, she passed through to the door and checked the security monitor. Erica. She should have known. Judy took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Erica. Come in. I know I can’t offer you a glass of wine. Can I get you something else?” Judy led Erica to some chairs in the living room.

  “I’m good, thanks. I do need to ask you about Cybil Lacey.” Erica sat and looked directly at Judy. She was paying more attention to hair now. Judy’s looked okay, she thought, though the style may not have been the best choice for her.

  Judy nodded as though she were expecting Erica to arrive with questions. “Sure, what can I help you with?”

  “I understand that you used to be a customer of Irlene’s. What made you switch?”

  Judy smiled. “Oh, you know. We women like to try new things. I just thought something new might be a good change, put me in a better mood for the summer.”

  Erica couldn’t ever remember wanting to change her hair based on the season. She looked at Judy’s hair again. “And your new style did that? Put you in a better mood?”

  “Well, I’m still getting used to it.” Judy nodded, as though Erica would agree that was necessary.