Bad Hair 8 - Day Perish By Pedicure (7 page)

“I got the impression that a lot of folks didn’t care for Chris. She rubbed people the wrong way. Tyler, our area supervisor, was pissed that she promoted Janice Davidson over him. Jan made a remark that the promotion wouldn’t make up for what Chris did to her, and even Sampson got spooked when I tried to return a check he’d written to Chris.”

“Sounds like you’ve already been snooping.” Her friend’s tone held amusement.

“I’m keeping my ears open, that’s all.” Marla lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about it to Georgia. She keeps changing the subject. I’m wondering what really happened between her, Chris, and Tyler last night.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other. I’d be careful what you say around her.”

“Georgia can’t be guilty. She wouldn’t harm a soul. She certainly isn’t capable of committing murder.”

“No? Then perhaps you can find out what, if anything, she stands to gain from Chris’s death.”

“Who, me? I’m not getting involved. My job is to assist the master stylists at the show and host a photo shoot at my salon. That’ll be enough to keep me busy.”

Tally’s low, throaty chuckle didn’t come as a surprise. ‘Yeah, right. Since when has a hectic work schedule stopped you from sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

Sitting on her bed, Marla grinned. “You have a point. I’m really trying to be good, though, with Pam’s parents here. It isn’t easy when they keep comparing me unfavorably to their daughter.”

“You can’t blame them. They must miss her terribly.”

Marla traced the pattern on her bedspread. “I guess so.” An uncomfortable lump rose in her throat. Justine and Larry brought home the fact that Pam had been a living and breathing individual, a loving mother to the family that Marla wanted to join, and a vibrant woman who had been taken from life too soon. Could it be that the pain of loss was reminding her once again of her own past mistakes and inadequacies?

“How is Ken? Any progress in that department?” she asked Tally to defer die conversation from herself. Her friend had been trying to get pregnant for months now. Since fertility tests had shown there wasn’t any physical problem, that left stress as a possible culprit Ken had urged her to hire a manager for her dress shop so she could take more time off. Tally had resented his implication of blame, and they’d embarked on rocky waters in their relationship.

“We’re thinking about taking a cruise,” Tally replied. “Ken won’t admit that his job makes him tense, and we could both use the break. I don’t know if I could stand being on a ship for an entire week, though.”

“You know what they say—a relaxing cruise washes away your worries. I wouldn’t mind trying one.”

“What about those brochures in your purse? Doesn’t look as if you’ll get to Tahiti anytime soon.”

“How about never? I can still dream, though. I’d be lucky to get as far as the Caribbean islands.”

Even the Caribbean seemed a lifetime away when Marla entered the trade-show exhibit hall early the next morning. Pounding music blared from loudspeakers as she strode past a flashing neon siren at the Code Blue display of wigs and accessories. Red carpeting had been laid down the aisles, and bright lights glared from tracks on the cavernous ceiling. Her pulse jumped as opening hour approached. Anticipation charged the air, and she had to force herself to stay on course to Luxor’s booth instead of straying to browse the exhibits.

Marla spied Tyler examining some Lado styling tools and stopped to tap on his shoulder. Georgia had already gone ahead, disappearing around the corner occupied by tooth-whitening products. Wares beckoned from all directions, making her wish she was attending the show instead of working it. She’d really like to take some of the classes offered in the advertised seminars.

“Morning,” she said to Tyler, who wore a suede jacket over a delft blue shirt. “It’s easy to get distracted, isn’t it?” She pointed across the way. “I need to check out those capes later. I’m going with a new color scheme when I move my salon.”

Grinning, he fell into step beside her. “You’ll have time during your lunch break to scout around.”

“Are we sticking to Chris’s schedule, or did Jan change things?”

His smile disappeared. “She’s made some adjustments. The cops wanna talk to us again, so Jan set up interview times.”

“That’s a bummer,” Marla said, using his type of language.

“Not so much for me as for your pal.”

“What do you mean?”

Tyler stopped by a video displaying an application of permanent makeup. “Didn’t Georgia tell you? When we spoke to Chris the night before last, she accused us of having an affair. Like, that’s totally false. You were there in the lounge, and you heard our conversation. Chris was way out of line. Worse, she was even angrier at Georgia than at me. I felt bad because Georgia had tried to do me a favor by coming along, but Chris wouldn’t listen to us.” He paused. “She fired Georgia on the spot.”

Tyler’s voice deepened. “No one else knows, except for us. But now that Chris is gone, Georgia can keep her job. Things worked out to her benefit”

Marla hadn’t realized her jaw had dropped open, but now she snapped it shut. Why hadn’t Georgia mentioned anything about this to her? She recalled how her friend kept avoiding the subject of Chris’s death. What else did Georgia have to hide?

“And then?” she said. “Is that when you left?”

“I gave up, figuring Chris might be in a better mood in the morning. Like, I tried to tell Georgia, man, but she was too upset. I could hear them arguing as I walked down the hall.”

“Did you notice the time?”

“It was, like, after one o’clock.” He resumed his pace toward their exhibit.

Marla shifted her purse as she strode beside him down the aisle. “Were you aware that Chris took antidepressants?” Vail might have wanted her to withhold that information, but Jan knew about it already from the hotel staff.

Tyler gave her an oblique look. “Chris’s personal life wasn’t my concern.”

Before she could question him further, they arrived at their booth. Jan, looking stunning in a black suit with gold trim, descended upon them, clipboard in hand. She meted out assignments without so much as a greeting.

“Tyler, allow me to introduce you to Lou and Nina. They’re local store managers who will be helping Miguel and Georgia at the sales counter this morning. Amy Jeanne will oversee their operation, while you and I will follow up on our accounts.”

Marla glanced at the stage, where Ron was setting up equipment. Liesl, who’d been helping him, bustled over.

“Hi, Tyler,” the young stylist said, wiggling her body, dressed in a metallic grape-colored sheath.

“Hiya,” Tyler said, barely sparing her a glance. But then he seemed to have second thoughts and winked at her. “Cute outfit, babe. Where’s Sampson?”

The maestro is still upstairs,” Ron called out. He wore a flashy black jacket emblazoned with silver studs. “Hey, Marla, come over here. You’re doing a demo this morning.”

Startled, she gazed at him. “Huh? What demo?” She approached the stage, noting he’d laid out his cutting implements on a tray.

“We thought it would be instructional to correct your technique in a live performance. One of the models is coming in at ten. You’ll do a cut-and-style, and I’ll critique your work.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not prepared for anything like that.”

He tossed her a smock to wear over her suit. Earlier, she’d refused to wear a costume like a showgirl. “You’ll do fine,” he said with a reassuring grin. “Just be careful with my tools, okay?”

As the show got underway, she had to raise her voice to be heard. A cluster of bejeweled models swept past the aisle, their hips swaying to the music as though they were on a runway. They represented Farouk Systems, which apparently had a presentation coming up. She needed to see a program.

“Is there anything on extensions?” she asked Liesl during a momentary lull. “I see they’re doing braiding over at Donado International.” Not all the companies had big stage productions or their own theater like Paul Mitchell’s artists. Many of the companies offered exhibit-hall education at their booths. Creative hair design interested her, because she was thinking she’d like to do more of that in her new salon location. The more elaborate jobs brought in bigger bucks, and she’d need added income to balance her expense sheet.

“You have several choices for extensions,” the blonde said, consulting the schedule. “Torain is doing a class. He’s well-known as an author, teacher, and cosmetology demonstrator. ‘Torain introduced the contemporary adhesive hair-extension system called Fusion,’” Liesl read. “’Learn techniques that will allow you to perform one of today’s highest-paying salon services.’”

“That sounds good,” Marla replied. “Anything else?” She peered over Liesl’s shoulder.

“Here’s a demo that specializes in products for the Hispanic market. That could be useful for you in South Florida. Or else, Baha is presenting their Ultratress hair-extension technique. Get this, luv. You could win a free class valued at five hundred dollars if you attend.”

“Nice, but I wouldn’t have time to take advantage of it.”

“How about this one? ‘Increase your ticket price by learning about wigs, weaves, and extensions.’”

“Too complicated. I need to concentrate on one technique at a time. Actually, I’m hoping to learn the most from watching Ron and Sampson.”

Liesl gave her a guarded smile, as though she wanted to be Mark’s friend but couldn’t quite loosen her reserve. “Sampson acts like a blooming prima donna, but he knows his stuff. He’s a Platform Artist of the Year winner and was nominated for Top International Stylist I plan to stick with the bloke.”

“Did he enter any of the professional competitions at this show?” The first fifteen contestants in each hair competition received a free mannequin. That hardly made up for the hundred-dollar registration fee, in Marla’s opinion. Then again, entering contests served as a means to garner recognition. It might be worthwhile to consider for the future, especially if winning could raise her profile with Luxor.

“Not that I’m aware of. Look, there goes Adam Phelan. He won the GQ Image of the Year and Next Generation Fellowship awards. I think he’s doing a workshop on razor cutting.”

“You seem to know a lot of these people.” Marla was familiar only with the big names, but, then, she didn’t attend as many shows as Luxor’s team.

“It’s part of the job.”

“What do you get out of it, aside from having your travel expenses paid?”

Liesl’s gaze slid to Tyler. “It helps me improve my skills, luv. I don’t have any ambition to open my own place, but I aim to work in a high-class London salon one day. For now, I’m not tied down. Chris appreciated my ability to join the group at short notice. She wouldn’t bring anyone in who was too rigid. I guess you’re lucky there was a last-minute opening for another stylist.”

“Thanks to Georgia. She’s pretty much a free soul, isn’t she?” Marla said with affection.

“Rubbish. Georgia is looking to get hitched.” Liesl brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “She almost got married at our last show in Vegas. I’m surprised she agreed to work with Chris again after what happened.”

Ron signaled them with an annoyed frown on his face. Pushing aside her nervousness at her upcoming performance, Marla pressed Liesl for more information as they headed toward the master stylist “And what was that?”

“Why, don’t you know? That’s when Georgia discovered Christine in bed with her fiancé.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Liesl gave her a knowing glance. “I’m serious. Georgia and Nick were thinking about getting married in one of the wedding chapels. She broke off the engagement after catching him with Chris. Chris let on that he’d seduced her, but Georgia didn’t believe it. She figured Chris had to assert control as a reminder that she was in charge. When you worked for Chris, it was her way or no way. Personal issues had no place on her ground, or she’d mow you down.”

Turning away, Liesl left while Marla stared after her.
Why didn ‘t Georgia tell me
? she thought, narrowing her eyes as she glanced at her friend, who worked the counter blithely as though nothing untoward had happened. Had Georgia used this show as a cover to get revenge? If so, why wait until now?

Maybe that hadn’t been enough to motivate Georgia to murder her boss. Maybe getting fired had lit the fuse. But that didn’t make sense, if Chris ingested the wrong drug in time for the cocktail party, or even at the event. Presumably it was the food she ate there that interacted adversely with the medication in her system. That meant someone had slipped it to her before she’d fired Georgia, right?

Chewing her bottom lip, Marla contemplated the possibility that she had housed a murderess under her roof this weekend. Even though it seemed illogical, she couldn’t help adding Georgia to her list of suspects. What would Georgia do when the police got her alone for more intensive questioning?

I have to help her
, Marla decided. Despite her suspicions, she didn’t believe Georgia had done in their bossy director. No one had cared for Chris, and someone else was just as likely to have slipped her the dangerous drug. Marla could try to find out who would have the requisite medical knowledge as well as access to prescription medications, like the earlier class of antidepressant that wasn’t much used today.

With her concentration elsewhere, Marla had trouble focusing on her stage demo. Ron shouted orders while she snipped and styled the model’s hair. She fumbled the shears more than once, aware of the growing crowd, but all she could think of was Chris’s absence.

Ron lifted her elbow. “Hold this section closer to the head and take smaller cuts,” he said, speaking into his lapel microphone. ‘You want it to fall back in just this way.” Grabbing a segment of hair, he showed her the proper technique. The silver studs on his jacket shimmered from the overhead lights. He drew aside with a flourish but not before she saw his glowing expression.

Of course. Sampson was the only one on the schedule today for giving a presentation at Luxor’s exhibit, so Ron had arranged for this little lesson out of spite. It gave him a chance to showcase his talent under the guise of teaching Marla. How clever.

But how did Ron know that Sampson would be late? Probably the artistic director slept in at every show. Or he’d entered an early competition so he could strut his stuff twice in one day. Marla wouldn’t put it past him.

Sampson strolled into view just as she prepared to take a break. She’d ended up acquitting herself rather well at the demo, pleased with how the model’s hair turned out. From the rapt faces on the audience, it appeared people had enjoyed the display. Marla hadn’t realized how much satisfaction could come from instructing others. This time she had been a student under Ron’s tutelage. Maybe next time, she’d try the role as teacher.

“Want to walk around with me?” she asked Georgia. They had enough people to man the counters. Every hour, someone left to speak to the police investigator. Marla’s turn came after lunch, which wouldn’t be beneficial to her digestive system. Better grab a snack now so she’d have her wits about her later.

“Sure, hon.” Georgia reached under the counter to snatch her purse. ‘You wanted to check out the salon furniture, didn’t you? I think there’s a whole section just before the nail polishes. And I’d like to get into the Ace discount store if we have time. The line was too long when I went by there earlier.”

“I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood. Shopping always gives me a lift, too.” With a grin, Marla started down the aisle. She and Georgia both wore their smocks with the company logo.

Farther along, she gaped at a group of male dancers gyrating on a stage to a pounding beat of loud rock music. They wore tight black pants and body-hugging shirts, except for a pumpkin-haired guy in a kilt. Waving his arms over his head, he rotated his hips in an erotic motion that brought catcalls from the female audience. Another troupe of dancers trounced around on stage, women wearing tube tops adorned with blinking lights, their spiked hair in sunburst colors.

She didn’t realize she’d stopped until Georgia yanked her onward. “You wanna ogle guys? Check out the Menswork performance later. They’re showing their punk collection in rock-and-roll hair.”

“That’s okay. Now here’s something I need.” She pointed to another exhibit. “Bridal services. New graduates don’t realize all the things you can do with wedding parties.”

“Come on over, ladies.” The educator, a svelte brunette, signaled to them. “We’re demonstrating spectacular hair for your spring and summer brides. Create an unforgettable look that your customers will remember for a lifetime. Spend a few minutes with us and you’ll see how to accessorize with veils and jewelry. Learn folding, knotting, lacing, and banding techniques. Wait, don’t leave. Take one of our promotional packets.”

The salesgirl handed Marla a stuffed bag full of sample products and literature.
I should have brought a shopping cart for all the freebies
, Marla reflected. The bridal market was another area in which she could expand, with pre-wedding consultations as well as onsite service packages. But that would have to wait until she moved into her new salon.

“I always feel overwhelmed at these shows,” she admitted to Georgia, turning down a row where brooms for sweeping hair were on sale along with tattoo jewelry, hair clips, styling books, and ceramic straightening irons. Smells of garlic and onions reached her nostrils as they arrived at the far end near the food court, where they got in line at Starbucks.

Georgia shifted from one foot to the other. “I love having the opportunity to travel and learn new techniques. I wouldn’t be able to go to so many places just on my salary.”

“Do you rent your chair or work on commission?”

“I’m a renter, so I can reschedule my clients if a show comes up. I like being independent.”

“I don’t do chair rentals at my salon anymore. It gives me more control and makes for better team spirit when we split a commission. I think your owner can be more involved that way.”

“You also have more responsibilities, like restocking shelves and continuing the education for your stylists,” Georgia pointed out.

That’s why I go to classes, so I can bring home the things I learn.” At the window, Marla ordered a tall black coffee and a piece of the low-fat cinnamon cake. Offering to treat her friend, she stood back while Georgia placed her order.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Georgia said. “It’s the least I can do in return for your letting me stay at your place.”

“Let’s see what Dalton has planned with Larry and Justine.” Balancing her hot coffee cup and plate, Marla advanced to the condiment station. “I guess you’ve never had to worry about in-laws, let alone a man’s in-laws from his previous marriage.” She kept her tone idle, as though not expecting a reply. In truth, Marla hoped to prod Georgia into telling her about Las Vegas.

Finding a seat at an unoccupied table, Georgia claimed the spot, and Marla followed suit after adding cream and sugar to her coffee. “I almost had the chance for a family, but Chris ruined it for me,” Georgia said, the corners of her mouth turned down.