Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery (27 page)

iguel Angel, would you put on my veil, please?” Honey

asked.

She had said those same words one week ago, but then the veil was white.

Today, the bride wore black. Her severe maternity suit looked like dark armor, and she needed it. Her late husband’s gossip rivals had branded Honey a murdering gold digger. They gleefully revealed that the bride was a “person of interest” in King’s murder investigation.

Honey’s in a Sticky Mess gloated one blogger.Another gossip site showed a video of the dazed bride leaving the emergency room on her fatal wedding day, escorted by her lawyer. She was still wearing her bridal gown, but it no longer resembled the magnificent
Sex and
the City
dress. Honey’s wedding dress was torn and wrinkled, and her expensively coiffed hair straggled down her shoulders. Her pregnancy was obvious in the drenched dress, and one gossip columnist gleefully asked,”Is that a King-sized baby bump?”

The new widow looked even more pregnant today. Despite her bulk, she seemed fragile in her dark mourning suit. Her face was pale and lined, and shiny patches of concealer showed where she’d tried to cover the dark circles under her eyes. Honey’s beauty and confidence were gone. She moved and spoke with such slowness Helen wondered if the bride was on heavy tranquilizers. She couldn’t be, could she? Not with the baby?

Was King’s death really only a week ago? Helen couldn’t tell if Honey was suffering from the dreadful publicity or if she’d really loved her husband of one hour.

“I’m so glad you came to the house,” Honey said, her voice dying to a whisper. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me any more.”

Honey had called the salon and begged Miguel Angel to style her hair for King’s memorial service. Miguel Angel had refused, and Honey doubled his fee.

Helen talked Miguel Angel into it.”I’ll go as your assistant,” she said. “How else can we get into that house? Maybe we can find something that will clear your name. Besides, you don’t have any important ap pointments today.”

“Or next week. Or the week after that, thanks to her,” Ana Luisa said.”It’s all vultures. Miguel Angel, you can’t afford to say no. Honey is rich and famous. She tips. Go.”

Miguel Angel went. Helen rode with him in his rattling Jeep. He dodged the news vans parked along the narrow street and pulled into the semicircular driveway.

King’s mansion still showed the chaos of his death.The burned tent and overturned tables were gone, but Helen saw the glitter of crushed crystal stars in the pink pavers.The flower beds were trampled and the shrubbery broken.

The lawn had been resodded to cover the tire marks gouged into it from the emergency vehicles. One side of the house was streaked with black smoke and some windows were boarded, but the repairs had started. Helen heard the pounding of hammers and the screech of a power saw.Yellow caution tape blocked the entrance to the backyard.

The front door had a black wreath. Its dark ribbon fluttered in the heavy, damp breeze. A maid in a white uniform answered the doorbell and ushered Helen and Miguel Angel upstairs to the master bedroom, where Honey now slept alone in the huge round bed. There was no sign of Honey’s wedding finery. What had the bride done with her bedraggled twenty-thousand-dollar dress? Packed it away? Given it to charity? Thrown it out?

Probably not that last choice. King’s competitors would stoop to searching his garbage in the name of news. The fatal dress would be quite a find.

Honey was seated at the vanity. She rose when they entered the room, and Miguel Angel took her hand. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected,” she said.

“Sit. Let me fix your makeup,” he said.

“I plan to hide my face under a veil,” she said.”It will give me some privacy.”

“You can do that, but let me fix you up a bit.” Miguel Angel wiped away her amateur makeup job and began repainting her face. Honey let him work without saying a word. For the next half hour, there were only his soft commands—”Look up. Up,““Don’t blink,““Hold still”— while he used pencils, brushes and sponges to hide the ravages.

When Miguel finished Honey’s makeup, he said,”There.That’s bet ter. Now you look dignified.”

Miguel Angel styled Honey’s hair in a severe updo, while Helen handed him pins, brushes and hair spray from his salon case.The police still had the black traveling case he’d brought here for the wedding.

Then he pinned on the black mourning veil, as she requested.

Honey stood up and twirled around, in a parody of last week’s per

formance. “What do you think of my suit?” she asked. “Jessica Alba wore one just like it.”

“Very attractive,” Helen said.

“The veil is a copy of the one First Lady Jackie Kennedy wore to John F. Kennedy’s funeral,” Honey said.

“Oh,” Helen said. It was all she could manage.

Helen had seen the funeral photos of the widowed first lady holding the hands of her two orphaned children. On Jacqueline Kennedy, the black veil seemed dignified and touching. On Honey, it was overdone and tasteless. She was the widow of a gossip columnist, not a world leader.

“The veil is classy,” Honey said.”King always liked class.”

Miguel busied himself packing away his brushes, possibly to avoid talking.

“I’m having King cremated today,” Honey said.”I don’t think he’d like being buried.”

“Who does?” Helen asked.

Miguel Angel glared at her. Honey didn’t seem to hear Helen’s re mark. Instead, she babbled about the funeral plans. “King’s memorial service is at the crematorium chapel at three this afternoon. I didn’t want to have a wake with his body on display.That would attract the most awful people, and security would be impossible. I’ve only invited his close friends to the service. I hope you don’t mind that you weren’t on the list, Miguel Angel.”

“We weren’t friends,” he said. “Everyone knew that. It would be improper for me to attend.”

“That’s what I thought,” Honey said.

Helen was relieved that Miguel Angel wouldn’t be at the memorial service. Phil had told her that the police frequently videoed murder victims’ funerals, looking for persons of interest. It would be better if Miguel Angel—and Helen, for that matter—were absent.

“I didn’t want his body on display,” Honey said.”I think that’s a hor rible custom. Instead, we’ll have my favorite photos of King.That way, people can remember King the way they saw him in life.”

How was that? Helen wondered. As a crude drunk? A cokehead? A philanderer? A vicious gossip who destroyed careers? Perhaps King’s daughter would mourn him sincerely. Cassie was too young to know what her father was really like. But Helen doubted there would be many tears shed for the dead King. Even Honey’s eyes were tearless. Did murderers cry for their victims?

“It’s a sad business,” Helen said, which was as close to the truth as she wanted to get.

“Cremation is so much nicer and cleaner,” Honey said. “It’s better than having him rotting in the ground.”

“King should definitely burn,” Helen said, then stopped. Miguel Angel’s glare could have stripped the skin off her face.”It’s how many cultures give final tributes to their kings and warriors. What are you going to do with his ashes?”

“King loved the ocean. That’s his boat docked behind the house. I’ve hired a charter captain to take us out at sunset and scatter his ashes at sea.”

Helen heard the screech of a power saw and jumped. “Sorry,” she said.”I thought it was one of the peacocks.”

“They’re gone,” Honey said. Helen thought the widow might be smiling under the heavy veil.

“Gone where?” Helen said.

“I got rid of them. I couldn’t stand the noise. It reminded me of King.”

Who thought the noisy birds sounded like money, if Helen remem bered right. Maybe Honey preferred quiet money.

“I know King’s death is hard for you, but it’s also caused problems for Miguel Angel,” Helen said. “The video of their disagreement just before the wedding was on television.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Honey said.”I didn’t give that terrible video to the TV station. I don’t know how they got it. My lawyer is looking into the situation. I just want this horrible mess to go away.”

“So do we,” Helen said. “But all that’s going away right now are Miguel Angel’s celebrities.They’re canceling bookings right and left.”

“What can I do to help?” Honey said. “May I write you a check to cover the salon’s losses?” She pulled a checkbook out of the vanity drawer.

“Yes!” Helen said.

“No!” Miguel Angel said.”There were no losses.We had many ap pointments.”

“All tourists,” Helen said.”The big names are gone.”

“Do you want me to make some calls?” Honey asked.

“I won’t beg people to come to my salon,” Miguel Angel said. “If they don’t want my services, they can go to hell.”

Helen could see Miguel Angel was angry with her for telling Honey about his troubles. He was a proud man.

“You can help Miguel Angel by letting us examine the wedding photos and videos,” Helen said. “Maybe we can find something that will give us a clue to the killer.”

“I don’t see how you can, since the police already took copies. But you might as well have them,” Honey said.”I can’t bear to look at those pictures and videos. I’ve paid the photographer for his work, but Marco Antonio still has the originals.Take them if you want.”

“Where’s his studio?” Helen asked.

Honey gave Helen the address.

“Will you give us written permission?” Helen asked.

“I’ll write something now,” Honey said.

Miguel Angel ducked outside on the balcony for a cigarette while Honey typed a permission letter on a computer in King’s home office.

She’s being very cooperative, Helen thought.Was Honey innocent of murder? Or did she already know there was nothing useful in those photos? Helen couldn’t read the woman.

She slipped into the bride’s dressing room. It was the size of Helen’s Coronado apartment, and organized like a fine library. Flat mahogany drawers held scarves, sweaters, socks and lingerie. Sweaters were ar ranged in clear drawers by color. Dresses hung on a revolving carousel. They were a rainbow of color: red, yellow, green, black, turquoise, pink and coral.

So why did Miguel Angel choose the peacock blue dress that nearly everyone else had?