Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery (17 page)

Y
ou’re lucky you’re an orphan, Phil,” Helen said, pulling

herself out of the comfortable chaise longue.

“Ouch. That’s a rotten thing to say. Mom was a nice woman.You’d have liked her. Besides, my ex-wife, Kendra, more than makes up for any lack of relatives on my side.”

“Sorry.” Helen gave Phil a conciliatory kiss.”I’ve been snapping at you a lot lately.”

“Yes, you have,” Phil said.”Should I put it down to bridal nerves?”

“That’s a good reason,” Helen said.”But I don’t know what excuse I’ll have after we’re married. How about,’That was an ugly thing to say and I’m sorry’?”

“Apology accepted,” Phil said.

She filled her wineglass with more liquid courage and trudged to ward her apartment. Phil followed, clutching his spicy chips and beer.

“You can use my phone if you want,” Phil said when they reached her door. He opened his apartment, and Helen sat on his couch.

He massaged her neck.”Your shoulders are tight.”

“Just thinking about talking to my mother makes me tense,” Helen

said.”Mom’s not only in another time zone, she’s on another planet. I’ll call Kathy first. I can deal with my sister.”

Helen still didn’t have a phone. She kept a cell phone she hoped was hard to trace when she had to talk to her family. Kathy was the only person she trusted to know how to reach her. She had Margery’s phone number. Helen checked her watch. It was seven thirty in St. Louis—not so late her call would alarm Kathy. Helen’s sister lived in the near-perfect suburb of Webster Groves. She and Tom had a big, old house that needed paint and new plumbing. Tom didn’t make much money teaching. Kathy worked part-time as a checker at Target. She rarely mentioned their money worries.

Helen took a deep breath and dialed.

“Helen?” Kathy said, as soon as she heard her sister’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Helen said. “I’m calling with good news. I’m getting married. This time, I’ve found the right man. I met him at the Coro nado. His name is Phil, and he’s terrific.”

She smiled at Phil. He smiled back and squeezed her hand.

“That’s wonderful,” Kathy said.”And about time.” She’d never liked Rob.”When do I meet this paragon?”

“Soon, I hope.This is kind of last-minute, but we’re getting married a week from Saturday, and I wondered if you could be here?”

“I’d be delighted.” Kathy sounded like she meant it.

“Can Tom and the kids come, too?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” Kathy said. “He’s teaching summer school, but Tom can call in sick if he has to.”

“Good,” Helen said.”I’ll send money for gas.”

“Helen! We’re not that bad off.”

“You can stay in my apartment.There’s a nice pool for the kids to play in.”That would save Kathy and Tom the cost of a hotel.

“Deal!” Kathy said.”What about Mom? Is she invited?”

“I’ll call her after I talk to you. She’ll go ballistic. She’s still trying to get me back with Rob.”

“I can break the news to Mom and invite her to your wedding,” Kathy said.”She can ride down to Florida with us.”

“No!” Helen said.”Don’t shut her in a car with poor Tom. He’ll go crazy.”

“Okay, she can fly. But I’ll tell her for you. That will be my pres ent.”

“I’d like that better than a cut-glass candy dish,” Helen said.”I have one more favor to ask.Will you be my maid of honor?”

“Are you going to make me wear powder-blue chiffon with ruffles and daisies, like you did last time?”

Helen winced. Did she really do that to her sister? She’d wiped most of the details of her first wedding from her mind.”Nope.This time you can choose your own dress—any style you like, any color you want.”

“Short or long?” Kathy asked.

“It’s a backyard wedding. Short is fine.”

“Good. I’ll get more wear out of it.”

“That’s what all bridesmaids say,” Helen said.”I bet you never wore that dress again.”

“Oh, I did,” Kathy said. “We had an ugly-bridesmaid-dress party. We wore our worst dresses, got drunk on margaritas, then changed into shorts and burned the dresses in the barbecue grill.The neighbors called the police.” She sounded proud.

“Well, at least that dress provided a hot time. But you should have burned the groom,” Helen said.

“Instead, he burned you,” Kathy said.There was a long pause.”Sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

“This wedding will have good memories,” Helen said. “Please be part of them. I can’t wait to see my niece and nephew.”

They said their good-byes. Helen hung up, weak with relief. Kathy really had given her a gift. She’d escaped the confrontation with her mother.

“Dodged that bullet,” she said to Phil.”Kathy’s going to call Mom for me.”

“Coward,” Phil said, unbuttoning her blouse.”I have just the thing to relax you.”

“What about the cat?” Helen said.

“What cat?” Phil said.

“Your shrimp-eating buddy,Thumbs, hasn’t had dinner yet.”

“He can wait a little longer,” Phil said.”And speaking of longer …”

Helen was awakened by howls in the dark room. She stumbled out of Phil’s bed and tripped over her shoes.

Phil sat up and switched on the light.”What’s going on?” His silverwhite hair was tousled with sleep.

“It’s Thumbs,” Helen said.”He’s screaming for dinner so loud I can hear him here in your apartment.What time is it? We fell asleep.”

“Ten thirty,” Phil said.

Helen slipped on her jeans and shirt, grabbed her purse and house keys, and ran barefoot to her apartment. Phil threw on his pants, picked up her shoes, and followed.

They were met at her door by an angry Thumbs.The big gray-and white cat lashed his long tail, his yellow-green eyes burning with anger.

“If he weighed eight hundred pounds, he’d eat us,” Phil said.

Thumbs’ metal water bowl was flipped upside down to demonstrate his displeasure.

“All right, all right,” Helen said to the irate cat. “I’ll feed you. But you don’t look like you’re starving.”

She filled his bowl with dry food, mopped up the spilled water and gave him fresh.The cat pushed Helen aside with his huge six-toed front paw and gobbled his chow.

“Are you hungry, Phil?” Helen said.”I can scramble some eggs.”

“Sounds good. I’ll make toast and have a bedtime beer.”

Helen poked around in her fridge and found a green onion past its prime, added some cheddar cheese and a slightly wrinkled green pep per. She didn’t trust the ham. It was nearly as green as the pepper.

Helen beat six eggs, folded in the cheese, chopped the pepper and onion, fried the mixture, then plunked half on Phil’s plate.

“Yum,” Phil said.”A Denver omelet.”

That was a grand name for scrambled leftovers, but Helen didn’t correct him. She ate the other half.

Phil opened a cold beer, gave Helen a slice of toast and put a jar of strawberry jam on the table. He poured hot sauce on his omelet.They ate in companionable silence while Thumbs twined around Phil’s leg.

“No shrimp for you, greedy guts,” Helen said to the cat.

Phil finished his omelet, carried his dishes to the kitchen sink and filled the dishpan with hot water and soap.

“Don’t bother with that, Phil,” Helen said. “I can wash those later.” She tried to suppress a yawn. “I hate to throw you out, but I have to work tomorrow. Unlike some people, I can’t sit around all day.”

“I’m on hiatus until after the honeymoon,” Phil said. “How can I help with the wedding?”

“Just round up a best man—or a good one, anyway,” Helen said. “And would you buy the booze?”

“Finally, a job I’m qualified for,” Phil said.”Want to sleep over at my place tonight?”

“Thanks, but I really need to go to bed—and sleep for a change.” Helen pushed Phil toward the door. They had a last, lingering kiss in the doorway.

“I can’t wait until we’re married,” Helen said.

“Me, either,” Phil said.”Good night.”

Helen fell asleep wondering how Kathy’s conversation with their

mother went. If anyone could get through to Dolores, it was Helen’s patient, nearly perfect sister.

Helen’s alarm went off at seven thirty-eight the next morning. She tried to roll over for a few more minutes of sleep, but Thumbs jumped on the bed and yowled for breakfast.

“Hang on,” Helen said.”Let me find my head.”

She wandered into her tiny bathroom, looked in the mirror and winced. Sleep wrinkles creased her face. Her brown hair looked like an uprooted plant.

“Ugh.” Helen showered and washed her hair, then put on coffee and fed Thumbs. She drank her coffee while she blow-dried her hair. The hair seemed to take forever, but she thought it looked good. Maybe some of Miguel Angel’s genius was rubbing off on her.

Helen believed that all the way to the salon.The June morning was so humid, it was almost like wading through a swimming pool. She reveled in the blast of cool air as she opened the salon door. How did people live in Florida before air-conditioning?

“Good morning,” Helen said. Ana Luisa was talking on the phone, and waved at Helen.

Miguel Angel was at his station, putting his things back to rights. Helen didn’t think the cops had done any damage except for the bro ken jar in the back room, but Miguel Angel had a discerning eye.

“Sit in my chair,” he said.”Let me fix your hair.”

“I fixed it myself,” she said.

“I can see.What have you done to your bangs?”

Helen sat. Her hair had never looked so good since she’d had this job.

“If you don’t look good, you make me look bad.” Miguel Angel removed his hair-dryer from its holster and brushed out her long hair, pulling it taut with his strong wrists. Soon Helen’s hair was as dark and silky as a shampoo ad.

“I need a new assistant,” he told Helen.”I have to replace Phoebe. Are you sure you don’t want to get your license?”

“Thanks, but I don’t have the talent to work with hair,” Helen said.

“You’d be better than Phoebe,” he said.

“My cat would be better,” Helen said.

“Then Carlos will assist me,” Miguel Angel said. “He has a little trouble with English, but that’s not a real problem.”

“Mrs. Crane is here for her appointment,” Ana Luisa announced.

Helen didn’t know the woman’s first name. The crabby, charmless Mrs. Crane wore her pale hair in a helmet style forty years out of date. Helen wondered why she paid Miguel Angel’s prices when she could get the same style at a neighborhood salon. Mrs. Crane favored frumpy shirtwaists, stockings and low heels.

She plopped in Miguel Angel’s chair, demanded coffee with cream and sugar from Helen and said, “I have an important charity board meeting this afternoon.”

Carlos stood by, smiling happily. He was clearly thrilled with his new promotion. Miguel Angel gave his assistant instructions in Spanish. Helen could translate about every third word, but she knew Miguel Angel was telling Carlos what color to mix.

Mrs. Crane grew increasingly irritated, twisting in her seat. Finally, she erupted angrily, “We’re in America. The least you can do is speak American.”

Carlos looked hurt. Helen blushed for the woman’s boorish behav ior.Why did rude people insist everyone “speak American”? Were they proud of knowing only one language?

“We were speaking Spanish,” Miguel Angel said in a cold voice, “which is the major language of the Americas. I did not want Carlos to make a mistake. But if you wish, I will speak English. Or Helen can translate for you.”

“Never mind,” Mrs. Crane said.”I can’t wait to get back to Wiscon sin, where people still speak English.”

Miguel Angel painted the woman’s roots. Carlos put her under a color-processing dryer, carefully setting the timer.

Mrs. Crane tipped Miguel Angel a measly five dollars for her hair and gave Carlos a dollar. Both were elaborately polite in their thanks. No one asked her to return.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, after she left.

“Why?” Miguel Angel said.

“I should have spoken English.”

“Your English is better than mine,” Helen said.

“Quick!”Ana Luisa interrupted.”King’s death is on TV.”

Helen, Miguel Angel and Carlos joined her in the prep area.

“There have been no arrests in the murder of gossip mogul King Oden,” the reporter said. “This evening, Channel Fifteen will show King being threatened with death moments before his murder.Tune in for this exclusive at—”

“Turn it off,” Miguel Angel said.

“But we want—”Ana Luisa said.

“I don’t care what you want,” Miguel Angel said, turning off the television.”It’s my TV and my salon and I don’t want to know.”

But Helen did. She wondered why Miguel Angel was so anxious to avoid the subject, and who was in that video.