Bad Hair 8 - Day Perish By Pedicure (5 page)

“That woman eats rabbit food,” Amy Jeanne agreed. “I can’t get her to scarf down a decent meal. She’s way too thin.”

“Never mind that,” Ron said. “If she’s to take charge, she’ll have to learn how to cope with last-minute setbacks. She should have been the first one here this morning.”

“Oh, like you’re so perfect?” Sampson sneered, peeking out from behind the curtain. “We’re all out of whack because of Chris’s death. Who wouldn’t be? Hey, where’s Tyler? Is Pretty Boy still getting his beauty sleep?”

“He hasn’t come down yet,” Georgia offered in a meek tone.

Marla realized the others were just going to mope around unless someone took command. “Amy Jeanne, why don’t you and the sales reps unpack the products and arrange them on the counters? Set out the cash registers, the order forms, and whatever else you need to get started with sales. Meanwhile, I’ll help Sampson and Ron with the stage work. Has anyone seen Liesl?”

Georgia raised her hand. “She went back to sleep after the police woke us.”

“We’ll get started without her. Let’s go to work, folks. If you put your best effort into this show, it’ll be the most rewarding tribute you could give Chris. You know it’s what she would want for the company.”

Dispersing to their different duties, they left Marla to trail after the master stylists. Sampson seemed obsessed with the stage, gazing with dismay at the array of cartons.

“This will never do,” he said, waving his hand imperiously. “Has anyone unpacked the lighting? I need my model’s chair set over here under the spotlight. Will we have enough electrical outlets? Technician!” he hollered.

Stepping around the curtain, Marla offered to help Ron find the styling accoutrements. “Did you bring the products you’re intending to use on the models? I could organize them into one container.”

“Everything should be labeled,” he said wearily. He kicked at a carton. “I still can’t get it through my head that Chris is gone.”

“I know.” Needing to keep busy, Marla ripped open one of the boxes. A sharp cutter would be handy, she thought after chipping her nail polish. “What’s this?” She pointed to an assortment of business cards, promotional pamphlets, a calculator, scissors, duct tape, a folded easel, and a glass fish bowl packed in foam inserts.

“That’s Chris’s stuff. She runs a contest to give away samples. People put their business cards in the bowl, and she draws half a dozen at the end of each day. Amy Jeanne adds the names to the company’s mailing list. That’s how we gain customers. We always notify people about new product releases.”

“Clever idea. We can probably use the scissors and tape to put up our signs.” She paused, curious about his personal background and why he’d chosen to work for Luxor. “How long have you been doing these shows?”

Stooping to tear open a carton, he spared her a glance. “Six years. I’m from L.A. Maybe you’ve heard of my salon—Ron’s Hair Emporium?”

Marla grinned. “Not really, but I don’t keep up with other parts of the country. So you have your own place, huh?”

“We specialize in hair design, not your weekly wash-and-blow. My average tab runs about four hundred dollars.”

Marla gaped. ‘You must be well-known on the West Coast. What do you gain from being in the shows?”

His eyes sparked, making Marla surmise that his enthusiasm helped draw patrons to his chair. “As I told you before, I like to teach,” he said simply. “Being in front of people lets me share my vision. When I create a style, it’s the perfect complement to a certain facial structure and personality. You have to consider what’s inside the person that wants to come out. It’s more than just a look—it’s a form of self-expression.”

“I see.” She could tell Ron genuinely wanted to mentor others and felt herself warm toward him. “I can’t wait to observe what you do with the models.”

“You’ll be blown away,” Ron said, grinning. “But taking center stage is nothing compared to my big plan. Someday I’ll have celebrities seeking me out. That’s when I’ll take my stage name, Rinaldo.”

“As a platform artist?”

“Hell, no. As owner of Rinaldo’s Hair Emporium of Beverly Hills. The time isn’t ripe just yet, but you’ll see. One day I’ll be famous for my artistic creations.”

Just don’t let your ego get too inflated, pal.
The aroma of warm baked cinnamon rolls drifted into her nostrils. “The food court must have opened. I’m hungry.” As her stomach rumbled in confirmation, she reached for a piece of paper wedged inside the glass fish bowl. Unfolding what appeared to be a bank check, she deciphered the handwriting. The draft was made out to Christine Parks and signed by Sampson York.

Clanging noises sounded from around the corner. Still holding the check, Marla straightened and rounded the stage. She saw a guy setting up lighting tracks while Sampson yelled orders to another man hanging publicity shots of models against the black backdrop.

“I found something of yours,” she said, approaching the artistic director.

He glanced at her. “My chair?”

“No, not that.” She could understand his obsession, since the chair would be the focal point for his stage action. “I imagine it’s packed with the bigger equipment. All of the crates haven’t been opened yet. Anyway, that isn’t what I’m talking about. This check belongs to you,” she said, handing it over.

Viewing the handwriting, he paled. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it among Chris’s things and figured you’d want it returned. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

He looked as though he’d choke on his tongue. ‘Thanks,” he muttered, crushing the paper into his pants pocket “Where the hell is Liesl? She should be here by now. Chris would never let her sleep so late. Why don’t you go and kick her out of bed? Oh, and Marla,” Sampson added, just as she shifted her foot to turn away, “I know you’ll be a sport and won’t mention this check to anybody.” He patted his trousers, giving her a distinct glare. “We wouldn’t want your first experience with Luxor to be your last. Understand?”

Marla spotted the blond stylist in line at the food court. Waving, she hastened over. “Liesl, I’ve been looking for you. We’re getting set up for the show.”

“Hiya, luv. I ran into Janice outside. She said the cops wanted to ask me some more questions. Do you know how early that detective chap woke us?” She yawned for emphasis.

The aroma of brewed coffee made Marla eager to get in line, but first she had a question for the other stylist. “Do you remember what time Georgia came in last night?”

Liesl shrugged. “I’d called the front desk so she could get her own key. I must have been conked out because I wasn’t aware of anything until the police rapped on our door. Why do you ask?”

“Tyler went up to Chris’s room last night to apologize for something he’d said earlier in the lounge. Georgia accompanied him for moral support.”

“So?” Liesl moved up her place in line, while Marla glanced at the fruit cups and yogurt on display.

“I’m trying to get a sense of the timing. Georgia indicated that Tyler had left Chris’s room first, while she lingered behind.”

“Did I hear my name?” Tyler drawled, tapping Marla on the shoulder.

She spun to face him. “Where have you been? We need help at the booth.”

“No sweat, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” He didn’t look too energetic, with dark circles under his eyes and an unshaven jaw.

“Tyler, can I get you a Danish?” Liesl said in a suggestive tone, her pout indicating she’d rather offer something more personal. Dressed in a tight-fitting amethyst sweater and jeans, she was attracting envious glances from other females.

Hello, did I suddenly turn invisible
? Marla thought.
You could include me in your breakfast offer. I’d like a Bagel.

“No thanks,” Tyler replied, “I lost my appetite, after what happened to Chris and all.”

“What did happen last night?” Marla asked, her hunger fleeing. “Georgia said you both went up to Chris’s room. Chris threw you out, but Georgia stayed to argue your case.”

Tugging her elbow, Tyler drew her aside. “Chris accused us of having an affair behind her back. It made her furious to see us together, and she hadn’t been feeling well to begin with.”

“How so?”

“Remember in the lounge, she’d complained of a headache? She looked really bad when she opened her door. Very pale, her eyes kinda glazed. I thought she’d drunk too much.”

“Did you know of any medical problems she might have had?”

“Are you kidding? I tried to steer clear of any personal business between us. Not that she didn’t keep trying,” he added bitterly.

“Okay, so she wasn’t receptive to your apology last night. What did Georgia say in your defense?” Marla asked.

“She tried to reason with Chris, but the more she said, the angrier Chris got. They ended up shouting at each other.”

“That couldn’t have helped Chris’s headache.” Perhaps the guests in the neighboring room had heard their raised voices and reported the incident to the police. “Did you tell the cops about your disagreement? They knocked on Liesl’s door to question Georgia this morning.”

He shifted his feet. “Hey, they questioned all of us, ya know?” Gesturing at Liesl, who’d emerged from the line holding a croissant in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, he said, “You heading over to the booth? I’ll go with you. Man, this is going to be a crappy day.”

Realizing she still lacked a clear sequence of events, Marla decided to report to Jan. The regional manager might need help making arrangements for Chris’s body after it was released. Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she exited the exhibit hall and dialed her salon. It would be easier to hear out in the main lobby, away from the construction noise.

“Luis,” she told her receptionist when he answered, “please tell Nicole that there’s been a setback. I’m not sure we’ll make it into the salon today. The company director died in the night under strange circumstances.”

“Ayie, that’s horrible.”

“They’re going to continue with the show, but I don’t know if anyone will be able to focus on the models. We’ll have to get them done somehow, I suppose. Anyway, I may not get there until much later, if at all. Were there any calls for me that I have to return?”

After receiving her messages, she hung up and punched in the code for Palm Haven’s police station. “Lieutenant Dalton Vail in Homicide,” she told the operator. Then, “Dalton? Sorry to bodier you at work. Just wanted to touch bases and let you know what’s going on. I met Justine and Larry this morning. I hope they can entertain themselves until you pick them up later, when Brianna comes home from school. I’m stuck at the convention center all day and don’t know if we’ll get to my salon to do the models’ hair. The company director was found dead this morning.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Actually, I’m not. The cops think she may have had a seizure. Do you think you can find out anything from your buddies in Fort Lauderdale?”

After a pause to digest the news, he said, “I’ll give them a call. Give me the victim’s name.”

“Christine Parks. Uh-oh, I’ve got to go. Here comes the regional manager, and I need to talk to her. I’ll get back to you later. Love you.” Stuffing her cell phone back into her purse, she hustled toward Jan.

“Morning, Marla,” Jan said, looking svelte in a black turtleneck sweater and a leather miniskirt. Her hazel eyes shone with clarity of purpose, while her hips swung with confidence. She looked the consummate professional, ready to take charge.

“Is that your breakfast?” Marla asked, pointing to the bottle of yogurt fruit shake in Jan’s hand.

“Yep. You should try one of these drinks. They’re rich in nutrients.”

“That’s okay. I need solid food for energy in the morning.”

“Exercising helps, too. I get sluggish if I don’t do my morning routine. Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Everyone is inside setting up the booth,” Marla told her. “I’m so sorry about Chris. This must be very difficult for you.”

Jan tossed her sleek red head. “I’m not surprised that Chris worked herself into a frenzy. She micromanaged everyone’s job. I won’t be like that if I get her position.”

“I see,” Marla said, taken aback by Jan’s callous attitude. Taking advantage of the opportunity presented, she threw out a probe. “Were you surprised when she promoted you to regional manager? I understand Tyler would have liked the job.”

“He was really in line for it. Tyler wouldn’t give her what she wanted, though, so she passed him over. You learned quickly not to cross the boss lady, but trust was another issue. I came by that lesson the hard way.”

“How so?”

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Jan headed for the exhibit hall. “I believed her about something and got totally messed as a result. It taught me to verify whatever she said.”

“It sounds like she had a way of offending people.”

Jan gave her a sly glance. “If you keep your nose down, you can get ahead at Luxor. There’s plenty of opportunity for people who put the team ahead of their personal ambitions.”

Like you? Give me a break
. “Thanks for the advice,” she murmured.

Jan halted at the main concourse inside the exhibit hall. “Have any of the models arrived yet?” she asked, peering around at the bustling scene. “Sampson told me what time they were supposed to arrive, but I forgot. How much did you get done at the booth?”

“Quite a lot, but everyone is upset by Chris’s death. They need your calming influence. What did you tell the police?” Marla added in an idle tone, hoping to catch Jan off guard.

“They needed a list of company employees working on the show plus a rundown of anyone who’d spoken to Chris yesterday. That was tough, because she’d greeted a lot of folks at the cocktail party. I mean, why did they ask so many questions when she obviously had some medical problem no one recognized?”

Marla wondered if Jan had heard of the discourse between Chris and Tyler later that night, and of Chris’s subsequent accusation. “It’s just routine in cases with an unaccompanied death,” she replied.

Veering left, Jan proceeded to their exhibit space. “I mean, who knew Chris was taking antidepressants? Someone on the hotel staff found out and told me. She had a prescription bottle in her bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah? Was it something she took regularly? I wonder if seizures might be an adverse side effect.”

“I’m not a pharmacist—how should I know?” Jan shrugged. “I gather people don’t usually pop those pills like tranquilizers. It’s likely Chris had some sort of disorder.”

“Was she close enough to anyone on the Luxor team to have shared confidences?” Marla asked.

“Not in the way you mean, darling. No one knew her secrets, not even the guys she bedded. With her, it was more a control thing, you know?”

They arrived at the booth, and Marla abandoned further speculation for the moment. Jan assessed their progress and smoothly got the operation underway. By noon they’d set the stage and laid out all the products on the sales counters.

“Let’s grab lunch,” Jan told the assembled crew, “and then we’ll head over to Marla’s salon. The models are supposed to arrive by one o’clock. Amy Jeanne, you’ll stay here to orient the store managers when they come in.”

Miguel, bobbing his head to music from his iPod, raised his hand. “I don’t have to go, do I? If I stay here, I can pass out flyers to the other exhibitors.”

“Good point Tyler, why don’t you guard the booth and talk up our products to anyone who walks by? And you’ll have to dispose of those empty cartons. There’s not supposed to be any visible trash.”

Listening to her made Marla weary. For an energy boost, she bought a mandarin orange chicken salad in a takeout container at the food court. Wandering into the convention center lobby, she elected to eat at one of the tables set up by a coffee bar, away from the loud din of drills and hammers. Georgia, who’d trailed after her, slumped into the opposite seat.

“I’m glad a few people are staying behind,” Marla confessed. ‘That will make for less confusion at the salon. You and Jan from the sales team, Liesl and myself to assist Sampson and Ron. How many models will there be?”

Georgia scrunched her eyes. “Six for the cutand-style demos. Sampson wants them to display our spring palette. We need to work on their coloring today, although some are scheduled for perms or other processing first.”

Bless my bones, how are they going to crowd so many people into the salon?
“Just how do you expect us to get all these models done? I hadn’t planned to keep my place open late.”

“Don’t worry, Amy got their costume measurements already, and we still have tomorrow morning for prep work. Ron said we could use his hotel room if we need extra space.”

By one-thirty only five girls had checked in, and Ron was missing. Standing by the curb outside, Jan hailed a couple of taxis. “I’ll go over to your salon with Sampson and this bunch. Liesl, you’re with me since you have to assist our artistic director. Find Ron,” she ordered Marla and her friend, “then meet us there. I have a hunch you might find him in his room. He may have already started prepping one of the models.”

“I’ll go look,” Marla told Georgia, whose haggard expression concerned her. Back inside the hotel lobby, she pointed to a comfy seating arrangement. “Wait for me there. If you need a brief snooze, go ahead.”

Anxious to proceed to her salon to head off whatever disasters might occur, she hustled to the elevators. Ron’s room was on the tenth floor. Once inside the lift, she sagged against a wall. This day kept getting longer, and if every show was so exhausting, she’d rethink her decision to participate next time. But it could just be that Chris’s death had put a pall over their energy. Sighing, she added another cup of coffee to her mental priority list.

“I’ll be right there,” Ron’s voice shouted in response to her knocking on his door. A moment later, he swung the door wide while she blinked at him. He wore a white towel tucked around his waist and nothing else. Behind him, she heard a feminine giggle and saw a streaking figure clutching a sheet around itself.

“Marla, what do you want?” Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

Caught you in the act, hot shot.
“You’re supposed to be downstairs. We’re going to my salon to do the models, remember? Jan has already left with Sampson and Liesl. She has five of the girls with her. Am I to assume that your visitor is the sixth?”

Ron had the grace to blush. “Er, I was only getting started. My sink works just as well as the ones in your shop.”

“Really? Does that mean you won’t be joining us?” She peered around him, but the girl had vanished into the bathroom.

“We’ll come over in a while. Heather’s highlights will take more time.”

“Oh, yeah, I see how she’ll take up your time, all right.”

Ron’s lip curled in a snarl. “Hey, no offense, but I do things my way. We’ll show up at your salon, even if we’re late. Sampson can’t possibly get everyone done by himself. Tell Jan to chill in the meantime.”

After handing Ron one of her business cards, Marla strode down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. If this was how he conducted business, he wouldn’t be hobnobbing with Hollywood celebrities anytime soon. It could also be the reason why Ron remained in Sampson’s shadow. Being a womanizer on his own time was one thing, but Chris wouldn’t have permitted any male to upstage her. In her book, she stayed on top. Of course, now that she was gone, all bets were off. Did Ron hope to gain from her death? If so, Sampson remained his main obstacle at Luxor.

She remembered the check Sampson had written to Chris. What was that all about? Had he owed her money? Certainly, he hadn’t been happy when Marla presented the uncashed check back to him. You’d think he would have been glad to have his debt cancelled, especially if Chris used it as a means to control him.

And these were just the stylists, she thought as she arrived at the ground floor, retrieved Georgia, and headed for the parking lot. Now that Chris’s seat was open, Jan had a chance for promotion. That meant Tyler could move up to regional manager, the position that Chris had denied him.

Why am I even bothering to think this way? Force of habit, that’s why
. Vail’s influence already had her contemplating suspects. Chris’s unattended death raised some questions, including what had really happened last night between Georgia, Tyler, and the company director. Likely, the interpersonal dynamics were similar to what went on in most other firms, but then, no one ended up dead with their face in a foot bath at other firms.