Bad Hair Day 2 - Hair Raiser (16 page)

*Chapter Sixteen*
The tropical hardwoods of the coastal hammock gave way to lower vegetation of saw palmettos and scrub oak as Marla proceeded farther into the preserve. She crossed into the mangrove wetland, with its tangled web of roots and buttonwood trees extending to the shoreline. The stench of rotting organic debris mingled with briny sea air, and she heard water lapping against a surface somewhere ahead. Was she getting close to the slough that ran out to sea?
Loud honking noises made her wonder if alligators could crawl onto the boardwalk in search of prey. Despite the unseasonably warm autumn air, a shiver wormed its way up her spine. Shadowy shapes enveloped the night, her imagination twisting them into ghouls and ghastly creatures ready to spring at human flesh. Insects buzzed at her exposed skin, but veered off at the scent of insecticide. _That won't keep all the predators away,_ she thought nervously. Her rubber-soled shoes padded softly on the boards underfoot as she slinked forward, holding on to the weathered wooden railing.
David's tall figure had moved out of sight. She'd never felt more alone and aware of peril than standing in a deserted marshland, listening to the sounds of the night. That lapping noise seemed to be growing closer. As her eyes discerned a barely visible outline, she realized she was looking at a boat gliding in her direction. An empty boat.
A crunching noise from behind brought her head up sharply, but it was too late. A hand slapped across her mouth and nose, smothering any sound she might have made. She felt a strong arm wrench under her chin, tilting her head backward. Struggling for breath, she could not resist when forced to the handrail. Release came momentarily as the hand lifted from her face, and she sucked in a strangled gasp. Before she was able to recover her wits, her assailant grabbed her by the shoulders and cracked her skull against the bar. Stunned, her senses reeling, she was barely aware of being tossed over the railing. Dank wetness enveloped her, and she realized belatedly she was sinking into the slough. Deep water, and cold. Drowning.
Like Tammy.
Horror flung her eyes open, flooded her mind with awareness. Holding her breath, she forced her panic-stricken gaze to search for the surface. Eyes stinging from salt water, she blinked desperately. Which way was up? Inky depths extended into a void all around her. So this was the way of it. Retribution at last, her fate being to end life in the same manner as the toddler whose doom she'd sealed.
_No, that won't happen._ She'd made amends and turned her life into something valuable. It was worth fighting for, and she wouldn't give up and die in this inhospitable place.
While her lungs threatened to burst with pain, she made herself relax to see if she could float. Her blouse ballooned, and her body began to rise. When she felt she'd have to breathe in even if it meant taking in water, her head broke the surface. She took a shuddering gulp of air, then kicked her feet to stay afloat.
"Marla!" David's voice hollered her name.
"Over here." Her hoarse cry went unheeded. Gathering strength, she tried again. "I'm over here, in the water."
"Oh, my God."
She swam toward his voice, and the railing came into view in the faint moonlight. The boat had long since disappeared, its owner probably hoping she'd drowned or worse. An ominous sound reached her ears, water thrashing from behind. _Oh, no. Reptiles. Hungry reptiles._
"David, there's an alligator!" No, alligators wouldn't be in salt water. Must be a snake. Oh hell, did it matter? "Help me!"
Muttering an expletive, he leapt over the railing and splashed into the water beside her. Clamping a hand around her waist, he lifted her to the landing.
"Hurry," he urged, as her fingers fumbled for a holding.
She grasped a slimy post and hauled herself over the handrail, tumbling into a bedraggled heap on the boardwalk. David scampered after her, not a moment to spare judging from the angry splash rending the night. Then the danger slithered off into the watery depths.
Breathless with relief, Marla forced herself to her feet. She eyed David's sodden form as he gazed at her with concern. "I ... I was attacked," she murmured, teeth chattering. "Someone pushed me." Swaying dizzily, she stumbled into his arms.
"It's all right. You're safe now." Holding her, he patted her dripping hair.
"Ouch! I must have a bruise there. He hit my head against the railing, then tossed me into the water. Did you see him?"
"I saw a moving figure but couldn't discern who it was."
"What should we tell my family?" she croaked as they trudged toward the house, their wet shoes making squishing noises.
"We had a craving for alligator meat but the big one got away," David suggested, a twinkle in his eye. "I think we should keep quiet about what happened. If we're lucky, we can sneak inside and get cleaned up before anyone sees us. Your cousins must have some clothes we can borrow."
But as they approached the brightly lit house, screams pierced the night, bloodcurdling cries that turned Marla's veins to ice. A cluster of her relatives gesticulated wildly as she and David rushed toward the patio.
"Rebecca fell into the pool," Aunt Polly told her. "Do something!"
Marla watched, horrified, as Bruce lifted the girl's limp body into the waiting arms of her father. Michael stared down into his daughter's lifeless face and howled in anguish.
"Call 911,_"_ Marla yelled. Scooping Rebecca from her brother's arms, she laid the girl on the ground and began CPR. David knelt to assist her. With crushing relief, Marla saw the girl's chest rise in a shuddering breath. Water spewed from her mouth as she vomited. Marla tilted her to the side, glad to see her bluish color receding as breathing was restored. By the time the paramedics arrived, Rebecca had regained consciousness. She couldn't have been under very long, Marla thought, muttering a prayer of thanks to the Almighty.
Charlene and Michael left to accompany Rebecca to the hospital, where the toddler would get a thorough checkup and remain for observation. They left their son, Jacob, in Anita's solicitous care.
Reassured that everything was under control, Marla disappeared into a bathroom to scrub the swamp mud from her skin.
"Marla, are you in there?" called Cynthia, knocking on the door. "David said you had an accident and would need something to wear. Here's a shorts set I can loan you."
Marla swung open the door, a towel wrapped around her hair.
"Don't give me that look," Cynthia cried, cringing. "I know, we'll get a pool fence. I'll order one first thing in the morning. You were right."
"I'm just glad I was here to help." Marla's voice shook with emotion. This event was too reminiscent of the last time.
Cynthia bowed her head. "Thanks," she whispered. "I -- I don't know what else to say."
Marla blinked, moisture tipping her eyelashes. Too choked up to speak, she merely nodded.
"What happened to you and David?"
Marla told her about the intruder in the swamp. "It was definitely a man, someone who isn't spending Thanksgiving with his family. You'll remember to take photos of the stuff he dumped tonight and call me, right? That may be our only way to trace the medical waste polluter. Now tell me how Rebecca ended up in the pool."
Cynthia handed over the clean clothes. "I'm not sure. We thought the kids were playing together. Bruce announced that the buffet was ready, and everyone went inside to fill a plate at the dining room table. I was supervising the staff to see that the chafing dishes remained full. Next thing I knew, Charlene was screaming."
Marla didn't learn anything new when she questioned the rest of her family. Although their responses were subdued, they wolfed down their meals. Knowing that Rebecca would survive had brought back voracious appetites. She managed to grab the last spoonful of sweet potatoes before Shark helped himself to seconds. Glancing at him curiously, she noticed water spots on his clothes. He hadn't been around when she'd worked on Rebecca, had he? Come to think of it, she hadn't noticed him or Annie in the vicinity.
Waiting for the distraction of dessert, Marla drew Annie aside. "So when would you like me to cut your hair? I've got my shears in my purse." She gave an encouraging smile.
"Not now." Annie thrust her thumbs into her belt line. Her glance followed Shark, who swaggered to the table holding a plate heaped with brownies and ruglach. "At least _he's_ having a good time."
"What does that mean?"
Annie glowered. "He's been stuffing himself all night, and I don't like the way he's been ordering me around. First he wants me to put the hummus spread on crackers for him. Then he tells me to get him a plate of food. When he said I should get him a piece of pie, I told him to get it himself. What a conceited prick."
"You filled his plate for dinner?"
Annie's eyes downcast. "Yeah, like I'm his doormat."
"Where was he?"
"Huh? He was waiting out here."
"On the patio. Alone?"
"Heck, no. The kids were playing over there." Her glance rose to the swing set. "Actually, Jacob came inside. He said he needed to use the bathroom."
Marla's pulse rate quickened. Making Annie promise to call her for a haircutting date, she excused herself and wandered over to the little boy. Busy eating a cookie and smearing chocolate around his face, he grinned through a mouthful of food. His thick head of wheat-colored hair and wide round eyes gave him an impish appearance. Anita hovered next to him, beaming with a grandmother's glory as she watched him chew.
"Hey, Jacob," Marla said, crouching down to his level. She exchanged a few words with him, ruffled his hair, then rose. "Ma, did he say why he went inside and left Rebecca?" she whispered out of the kid's hearing.
Anita's face pinched. "He had to use the bathroom. Someone told him to wash his hands or he wouldn't be allowed to eat."
"Who? Charlene?"
"No. She'd gone to get the kids their plates. I've asked Jacob, but he won't tell me. I think he's scared he'll be blamed."
"Or afraid to tell for other reasons." Marla's glance swung to Shark, who was peering at them intently. Their eyes met, and she stared him down until he looked away. Damned if she'd let him screw her family.
"You're still coming over this Sunday, right?" Anita said.
"Yes, I'll see you then." She hadn't been able to make their date this past weekend due to a last-minute wedding party. Another beautician had canceled, and Marla had been asked to substitute. Being a sap for a hard case made refusal impossible. Besides, the pay had made it worthwhile.
Taking her leave, she retrieved her purse and headed into the house.
David waylaid her in the living room. "Where are you going? You're not leaving, are you? We haven't made any plans to see each other again."
His eyes regarded her fondly, and she felt an answering warmth. After all, the man had saved her life earlier.
"I'm afraid I'm busy for the rest of this weekend," she said, a hint of regret in her tone. "Tomorrow after work, I promised my colleagues to take them out for pizza. I've had to rearrange so many appointments lately that I feel I owe them a good time. Saturday night, I'm treating my friend Tally to dinner. Her husband will be out of town, and we haven't seen each other for a while. And Sunday is the day to visit my mother and get all my chores done."
"Well, aren't you the busy lady. I guess things will be more frantic with only three weeks to the fund-raiser. Say, I want to call Mustafa to request he include a certain item from his menu for Taste of the World. Do you still have that envelope Ben gave you with Mustafa's phone number?"
She gazed at him quizzically. "Yeah, I put it somewhere, but didn't you get the chef's business card? You can call him at his restaurant."
David smiled, reaching out to pull her close. The smell of fresh air and earth clung to him. A lock of hair swept his forehead, crowning arches of bristly eyebrows. "You're right, as always. Let me know if you hear anything new regarding Popeye's heir."
"I will." She gazed into his face, her eyes searching his. How did she really feel about this man?
His gaze darkening, David lowered his head to graze his lips against hers. "We make a good team," he murmured. "I see something permanent in our future."
_You see more than I do, pal._
Marla drew back, detaching herself from his embrace. His kisses were so lukewarm, almost obligatory. Was he merely being polite, saving his passion for later? While she felt drawn to him, the reasons eluded her. Sure, he acted like a gentleman, but was that his appeal? Or did her family's approval have more to do with her attraction? Perhaps she was falling into the same trap as she had with Stan. Craving respect from her relatives after her disastrous past, it had been easy to succumb to Stan's powerful personality. She didn't need to go down that same road twice. _Let's get past the fund-raiser,_ she told herself, _and then I'll examine my motives._
Saturday night, she confided her concerns to Tally. Purposefully avoiding restaurants owned by chefs participating in Taste of the World, she'd suggested a local steak place. With her hearty appetite, Tally had happily agreed.
"How can Vail think I may be endangered in David's company?" Marla said between bites of salad. "He's been looking after my safety."
"So who does that leave as suspects in Ben's death?" Tally asked, flinging a strand of blond hair from her eyes.
Marla held up her fingers as she ran through the list. "Babs Winrow, who visits Orlando when she's supposed to be in Tampa. Dr. Russ Taylor, who needs money to cover a mysterious debt. Darren Shapiro, the banker who slinks away on weekend nights. Stefano Barletti, whose Pre-Need funeral arrangements are probably overpriced. Digby Raines, a politician who likes women as much as the polls."

"And your cousin Cynthia. Means, motives, opportunity?"
"You sound like Vail!" Marla laughed. "Stefano was being sued by Ben on behalf of disgruntled former customers. Digby may have felt threatened by Ben on election eve. They were entangled in a scandal years past which gave Ben a hold over him. Darren inadvertently provided the murder weapon." She paused. "Whoever is Popeye's heir had reason enough to kill the lawyer as well as the trustee in order to hide his identity."
"Temporarily," Tally wisely pointed out. "If Ocean Guard fails to meet its obligations and this person inherits, you'll all know who it is."
"Tell me about it. That makes no sense, does it?"
"What's Vail's opinion?"
"He's not very forthcoming with information. I have no clue which one of the board members he thinks is guilty."
Wishing to eliminate Cynthia from her list, Marla queried her mother the next day. As usual when she visited Anita, Marla found herself seated at the kitchen table and served a meal.
"What did Cynthia have against Ben Kline?" she asked.
Anita smoothed a manicured hand over her sleek white hair. "I didn't want to mention this earlier, _bubula._ You must promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to reveal."
Marla's ears perked up. She'd thought only her past held a dastardly secret.
"You know Corbin, whom we haven't seen for a while? Well, I can tell you where he is: spending time in the clinker. Cynthia hired Ben to defend her brother against felony charges, but Ben screwed up, and Corbin got put away. Cynthia felt she'd paid Ben for nothing and accused him of ripping her off."
Marla swallowed a bite of gefilte fish before she replied. "How angry was my cousin?"
Anita frowned. "Not enough to kill Ben, if that's what you're thinking. Shame on you, daughter, for suspecting a member of your own family."
"I'm just covering all the angles," Marla said in her best imitation of Vail's impassive voice. _Damn,_ why did that man keep creeping into her consciousness? "Anyway, you were going to tell me about your Pre-Need funeral arrangements." Reaching into her purse, she retrieved a bunch of papers. "Here's the estimate I got from Stefano Barletti."
Anita took a seat and perused the forms. "These numbers are way out of line. Mine came to less, but don't forget, your father and I bought our plans many years ago. I called my Pre-Need counselor, and this is the quote he gave me for you."
She picked up a scrap of paper. "You can get a decent casket in poplar for $1295. Professional services, removal of the body, refrigeration, and use of a chapel shouldn't cost more than $1400. Cemetery services come to $650. Adding in the plot and extras, your total comes to approximately $5000."
"Wow, that's quite a difference. Babs was right. She said Stefano charged higher prices than elsewhere. I wonder if he'd do a price match."
"You can shop around, even for funeral expenses," Anita advised, "but you only have that luxury if you plan things ahead of time."
"Can I take this paper? I may need it as an excuse to see Stefano again."
"Why don't you leave the murder investigation to your policeman friend?"
"Someone has targeted me, Ma. I didn't want to worry you before by telling you. David and I must have been followed to Nassau, because someone tried to clunk me on the head with a coconut, and Popeye's trustee was murdered. A dead duck was left on my doorstep at home, and my house was invaded. Dalton isn't revealing his findings, so I have to act on my own."
"My God, Marla. Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"
"Why? So you wouldn't look as upset as you do now." She smiled reassuringly. "Look, I don't want to disappoint Cynthia. She's relying on me to keep the fundraiser on track."
"Yes, but you're putting yourself at risk!"
Marla raised a hand. "Say no more about it. I'll watch my back, but I won't quit."
Anita gave a resigned sigh. "I liked the way you did Cynthia's hair. It's about time she changed her style."
"She wants me to cut Annie's hair," Marla said, beaming with pride.
"That girl is a problem. She's blind-sided by that fellow, Shark. I don't like him."
"Neither do I." Marla had left a message for Vail on Friday, giving Shark's tag number which she'd copied down upon leaving Cynthia's house on Thanksgiving. It brought to mind something else she needed to do.