Save Her Soul: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Josie Quinn Book 9)

by Lisa Regan

  “We’ve been told that she had an accident.”

  “Yes,” Lisette said. “She mentioned that at one of the meetings with the principal, about how her back was bad and her surgery had failed, and that being called to school so often was a trial for her. She used to complain about having to get a ride. She didn’t drive, evidently—or she couldn’t, because of her back.”

  “Who drove her to school? Do you know?”

  Lisette shook her head. “Some guy. I only saw him a couple of times. He never got out of the car. Just dropped her off and picked her up.”

  “What kind of car?”

  Lisette smiled. “A blue one. That’s all I know, dear. Sorry. It was a very long time ago.”

  “That’s okay,” Josie said. “Vera referred to him as her friend, not her boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Lisette said. “I don’t think they were romantically involved. At the meetings, she never talked about anyone besides herself and Beverly. I don’t think there was a male in their lives. She always talked about how she had to ‘get’ a ride, like it was a major inconvenience. She talked a lot about her back issues, but she never said anything about having someone around to help her.”

  “Do you think she was as badly injured as she said?”

  Lisette thought about it a moment. “She was definitely injured, no question there, but she seemed to get around just fine whenever I saw her. Vera’s problem was with drugs, not pain.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Lisette sighed, meeting Josie’s gaze head-on. “Josie, I had had enough experience with a drug addict to know the signs.”

  “Right,” Josie said. When Josie was three weeks old, one of the women who cleaned her parents’ house had set the place on fire and kidnapped Josie. Josie’s biological parents hadn’t been home that day. They’d left their babies with a nanny. At first it seemed that only Josie’s twin, Trinity, survived. Everyone in Josie’s biological family believed that Josie had perished in the fire. In reality, her abductor, Lila, had brought her to Denton, and in an attempt to get back together with her old flame, Eli Matson, Lisette’s son, she had passed Josie off as their baby. She’d told Eli that during the year they’d been broken up, she’d given birth to Josie and that Josie was his. Eli raised Josie as his own daughter until his death, which came when Josie was only six years old. Lila had descended into an abyss of drugs and violence after that, finally abandoning Josie to Lisette’s custody when Josie got to high school.

  “Do you think that Vera was violent toward Beverly?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know, dear. I doubt it. Vera was frustrated and worn down and seemed mostly concerned with staying home and feeding her habit. You know there was one meeting where we waited and waited for Vera to appear. It was me and the principal. After an hour, Beverly showed up. She said that Vera had taken too many oxycodones and passed out. It was terribly embarrassing for her. That was the first time I had an inkling that Beverly was really struggling at home.”

  “Wow,” Josie said. “I had no idea.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You were a kid.”

  “Did you know Vera before the accident?”

  “I met her a few times. She was quite vibrant and lovely. We had a good laugh over you girls. She was less worn down then, although she was having far more serious problems with Beverly’s behavior than I was with yours.”

  “In what way?” Josie asked.

  “She told me that at home Beverly was very disrespectful, that she was afraid that Beverly hated her. I told her that all young girls go through that phase, but she said it was something more than that.”

  “Did she ever mention Beverly’s father?”

  “Only to say he wasn’t in the picture and that he hadn’t ever been.”

  “Do you remember either Beverly or Vera ever mentioning anyone named Alice?”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Gram, by any chance do you know where Vera worked before her accident? We were told she was a hairdresser.”

  “Oh yes, she was,” Lisette replied. “Before the accident, she was always so well dressed and put-together. Someone at her salon did her hair regularly. She always looked wonderful. Then after the accident, she became a different person.”

  “Do you remember what salon she worked for?”

  Lisette pursed her lips, eyes squinting as she thought about it. “I don’t remember the name. It was a very fancy place. Over on Maygrove Street near the college, between the—oh dear, the businesses have changed after all this time. I think now there’s a Starbucks on one side and a cell phone store on the other side. I believe the salon is still there, but it’s changed hands since Vera worked there. It’s called something completely different now, I’m sure.”

  Josie felt a small thrill of excitement. A lead. She couldn’t recall the name of the salon Lisette referred to, but she’d driven past it plenty of times. What was more, if it was near the college, it was definitely not flooded. If it had always been a salon, then there was a chance that someone who still worked there would remember Vera. A slim chance, but she’d take it.

  They finished the game and Josie stood to leave, walking around to give Lisette a hug and kiss. As she pulled away from her grandmother, Lisette gripped her and held her close. Into Josie’s ear, she said, “You know how much I love you, right?”

  Josie felt Lisette’s curls tickling her cheek. “Of course, Gram. I love you too.”

  “You’re mine and I’m yours, Josie. No matter what. Nothing in the world can change that. Don’t ever forget it.”

  Josie’s heart skipped a beat and then stuttered back to life. She pulled back and looked into Lisette’s face. “You okay, Gram? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Lisette smiled and put a hand to Josie’s cheek. “I just did.”

  Josie held her eyes for a moment longer. Her throat felt dry. “You’re not dying, are you?”

  Lisette laughed and relinquished Josie. “No, certainly not. There’s nothing to worry about, dear. Now, I know you have to get back to work. I’ll see you soon.”

  Twenty-Two

  Lisette’s strange words swam through Josie’s mind on a loop as she drove through Denton, searching for the salon Lisette had mentioned. It was in a strip mall with large glass storefronts. The sign outside read Envy. Josie knew it hadn’t always been called Envy, but she couldn’t remember the name of the salon before it had changed over. She parked in the lot and walked in, immediately assailed by the smell of chemicals. The inside of the salon looked like something out of a magazine. The waiting room was filled with cushioned chairs, small tables covered in magazines, and even a table with complimentary snacks and drinks. Music played softly. Behind the receptionist’s counter was a large room with ten styling chairs on each side and a hair-washing station at the back. Three of the chairs were occupied. Stylists, dressed all in black, flitted about, sweeping, mixing hair dye, and chatting up the clients.

  Josie waited at the counter until someone called out, “Be right with you!”

  A few minutes later, a door to the right of the reception area opened and a woman in her sixties walked in. She seemed to float in her long black cotton dress, her smile wide and welcoming. Dangling gold earrings clashed against her short silver hair, cut in a chic pixie style.

  “What’s your name?” she asked Josie, moving over to the reception desk and clicking away on the computer.

  “Oh, I’m not here for an appointment,” Josie said. She introduced herself and gave the woman her credentials.

  She smiled as she handed them back. “What can I do for you, Detective Quinn?”

  “I was wondering if you or anyone else employed here worked here before this place was called Envy?”

  The woman nodded and placed a well-manicured hand on her chest. “I’m the owner. I was the owner back when it was called ‘Bliss’. Actually, I was a co-owner of Bliss. I bought my partner out about ten years ago and rebranded. I’m Sara Venuto,
by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Josie said. “I’m here to find out anything you could tell me about a former employee. Vera Urban.”

  Sara’s smile faltered as she thought about it. “Vera Urban…”

  Josie took out her phone and pulled up the driver’s license photo of Vera they had found. She showed it to Sara.

  “Oh my goodness, yes!” Sara exclaimed. “Vera. We called her V. Wow. I haven’t thought about her in ages. Is she—” She broke off, the lines of her face deepening, sadness turning the corners of her mouth downward. Her voice lowered. “If you’re here asking about her, I assume it’s not good news.”

  Josie pocketed her phone. “I’m afraid it’s not. You may have seen the news about the body found recently on Hempstead.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I haven’t been watching the news much lately. It’s been very sad to watch our little city decimated by the flooding. There’s only so much coverage I can take before I feel like I’ll have a nervous breakdown.”

  “I understand,” Josie said. “The house where Vera used to live with her daughter washed away yesterday. Under the foundation we found Beverly’s body.”

  Sara gasped and braced herself against the desk, finally drawing the attention of the room behind her. “My God,” she said. Glancing behind her, she gave the stylists a wave, and they carried on with their work. She turned back to Josie. “Why don’t we go into my office?”

  She led Josie through the door she’d emerged from into a small office painted in gray tones with a simple desk and some filing cabinets. A guest chair sat before the desk and Sara motioned Josie to sit. Then she dragged her own chair around so there was no barrier between the two of them. Her face was still distraught as she sat down, hugged her middle, and leaned in toward Josie. “Please,” she said. “Tell me.”

  “Beverly Urban was murdered. We haven’t been able to locate Vera.”

  “I would love to help you, Detective, but Vera hasn’t worked here in almost twenty years, maybe longer,” Sara explained.

  “I realize that,” Josie said. “The thing is, Vera has disappeared. In fact, we believe she disappeared many years ago. What we’re trying to do now is piece her life together and find people who knew her, who could tell us anything about her life before she went missing. Anything we find out might help us locate her or move the investigation into Beverly’s murder forward.”

  “Oh, wow, that’s really strange and terrible. Do you think—do you think she’s dead too?”

  “We really can’t say at this point, Ms. Venuto.”

  “Oh, Sara, please. I understand. Well, let me think. Vera was with us for a long time, you know. I had started the business with my partner. We’d been open a few years when I brought Vera on. Back then, as I told you, we were called Bliss. My idea was to provide an experience. We didn’t just cut or style hair. I wanted our clients to feel like this was a safe haven where they could come and vent all their problems and be pampered. I wanted it to be… bliss!”

  She laughed but it was cut short, her eyes filling with tears. “My God, I just can’t believe this. Poor Vera and Beverly. She just loved that little girl. I remember we threw her a baby shower right here—the staff and the clients. Her clients adored her. It was right before she went on bedrest, thank goodness. She went on bedrest very early. But we made sure she had everything she needed before that. Then we didn’t see her for months. She went and stayed with her brother until Beverly came.”

  “Her brother?” Josie said. “Floyd?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember his name. I just know she had an older brother—”

  “Who lived in Georgia,” Josie said.

  “I don’t know where he lived. Vera just told us he would take care of her while she was on bedrest. The next time we saw her, she had that beautiful little baby.”

  Josie asked, “Did Vera ever talk about Beverly’s father?”

  “No, not that I recall. She just said he didn’t want to be involved. But she was over the moon to be a mother. Beverly was so sweet.”

  Sara’s face fell as if she’d remembered something disturbing.

  Josie said, “Until she wasn’t.”

  “I don’t want to say—look, it was hard on Vera being a single mother. Children can be very difficult, especially when they get to be a bit older, eleven or twelve. Right before puberty.”

  “Beverly had behavioral issues,” Josie filled in.

  “Yes,” Sara said, an air of resignation around her. “Please believe me, I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”

  “I’m only looking for facts,” Josie told her. “Regardless of any issues that Beverly may have had in her short lifetime, my job is to find who killed her and put that person away for a very long time.”

  Sara smiled sadly. “Vera had her tested, professionally. By both a psychiatrist and a psychologist. She was… wild. Disrespectful. It started when she turned eleven or twelve, I think. I’m really not sure. I remember it though because Vera was so distressed. She came in here day after day, often crying, saying to the other girls, ‘what happened to my sweet baby girl?’ The other women who had children would laugh and tell her that this was just a phase, but privately Vera told me it was more than that. Beverly was… destructive. She broke things around the house, flew into rages. I think that Vera was afraid of her—and I suppose rightly so, because they had an argument, and Beverly pushed her down the steps.”

  Josie nodded. “I’m aware of that incident.”

  “It was an accident. It really was. I went over there a few times afterward to help out. Beverly was genuinely contrite.”

  “Did Vera ever tell you what the results of the psychiatric or psychological consultations were?” Josie asked.

  “No. Only that Beverly suffered from low self-esteem, low impulse control, and depression. They talked about medicating her, but Vera was strongly against it. Things between them settled a bit after Vera’s accident.”

  “Vera quit after that?” Josie asked.

  “I kept her on as long as I could, first part-time and then whenever she could pick up a shift, but it became too much for her. I would have kept her on forever if I could. She was very talented and very personable. Her clients were devastated when she quit. Some of them had become extremely close with her. I believe they were friends outside of the salon.”

  “After she quit,” Josie said, “did Vera keep in touch? Maintain friendships here?”

  “Oh sure,” Sara replied. “But they fell off over the years until we stopped hearing from her at all.”

  “What about her clients?” Josie said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know. They kept coming here, but I didn’t hear any of them discuss her.”

  “Do you remember if any of her clients were named Alice? Or co-workers, maybe?”

  “No. I don’t remember having any Alices.”

  “I realize you don’t keep records that far back, but do you remember any of the names of any of her old clients? The ones who were very friendly with her?”

  Sara shook her head. “I know I don’t have records going that far back.”

  Josie said, “How about your other employees? Do you have any current employees who worked here when Vera was here?”

  “I do have two girls—women—I could ask them. Or you could. They’re not on till later this evening. I’m not sure either of them would remember more than I do.”

  “If you could ask them about Vera’s clients, that would be very helpful,” Josie said.

  Sara clapped her hands together. “You know what I do have! Photo albums! Before cell phone cameras and social media, we used to take photos of our clients and keep them in albums for new clients to peruse. I could have the other two girls go through some of our old photo albums together and come up with a list of Vera’s clients. It won’t be a complete list, but it would be something.”

  Josie smiled. “I would be very grateful if you could do that. Perhaps you could even pull some of the pictures a
s well?”

  “Certainly,” Sara answered. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

  Josie fished in her pocket for a business card as her cell phone rang. She took it out and swiped answer without looking at the number. “Quinn.”

  There was a breath and then, “Detective? It’s Alice.”

  Josie’s fingers brushed over a business card in her jacket pocket. She handed it to Sara and pointed to her cell number. “Call me at this number,” she said. “I’ll let myself out.” Striding out to the parking lot with the phone pressed to her ear, she said, “Alice? You there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “What happened today? We went to the place you suggested. You weren’t there.”

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t get there. It wasn’t safe.”

  “Wasn’t safe?” Josie said, ducking into her car to get out of the rain. “Alice, are you in danger? Is someone trying to hurt you? If that’s the case, I can meet you somewhere right now, take you into protective custody until we get things ironed out.”

  They didn’t actually have any facilities designated for protective custody at Denton PD, but if Josie could get this woman to come in, she’d work something out with the Chief and her team to make sure that Alice was out of harm’s way.

  “I can’t. I really can’t. It’s… delicate. I can explain but it has to be in person.”

  Josie said, “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you right now. No one has to know. No one will see us.”

  “No,” Alice said. “If we do this, it has to be on my terms. Early tomorrow. In the morning. Seven a.m. You know that road that runs parallel to the interstate? There’s a few buildings there. A motel, a warehouse, an abandoned bowling alley?”