Murder by Manicure (12 page)

"You'll have to include us,” Hortense suggested, lowering her lashes coyly at Vail. “I'm so thrilled you introduced Dalton to me that I feel I owe you. Let us take you out to dinner for your birthday."

Us?
Who the hell did this woman think she was?
Dalton belongs to me, you twit.

She glanced at him and caught the twinge of amusement before his normally implacable expression took over.
Bless my bones, is he playing mating games?
Marla hadn't thought him the type. He seemed too somber, too rooted to the truth. Thus far in their relationship, he'd laid all the cards on the table. So why was he being so devious now?

His angular face gave nothing away. Shifting in her chair, she admitted that his unpredictability set her pulse thrumming. He'd been singularly interested in her, and maybe she'd taken him for granted. But it appeared that two could play the same game.

Patting Arnie's arm affectionately, she answered Hortense's offer. “We'd be delighted. I was getting depressed about my birthday, and now I'll look forward to it. So tell me, Dalton, anything new on the case you're working on? You've been so busy, keeping those late hours and hardly ever being home. Poor Brianna. She needs someone besides your housekeeper to watch over her."

"You're right, she does."

His intense stare took her breath away.
Not me, buster. I don't want that schtick.
Unfortunately, his daughter was part of the package. She was saved from a reply by the waitress, who came to take their beverage order. Arnie expansively offered to pay for a bottle of wine, doubtless hoping to impress the newcomer.

"I spoke to a few of the staff members at the club,” Marla blurted when Vail's attention was again distracted by Hortense.

"Go on,” he said, his lips quirking upward while his leisurely gaze perused her.

Heat coursed through Marla's veins. Tamping her reaction, she went on. “Slate gave Jolene a massage the night she died. He said he didn't notice anything unusual about her behavior. But Gloria told me she'd heard them arguing. Amy was nearby and overheard also. She warned me about Keith."

Hortense placed her hand over Vail's. “Must you talk business, sugar? We're here to enjoy ourselves."

Arnie jumped in. “Marla is helping Dalton with his case. Maybe we should get our own table and let them talk in private. You and I have a lot of catching up to do, Hortense."

"Don't be absurd, you need to keep your fiancée company. And my name is Jill now."

"Can't I call you Hortense? It brings back such sweet memories."

Marla rolled her eyes, but Hortense seemed taken in. “I suppose so,” Hortense conceded. “You know, Arnie, you're looking quite spiffy."

He preened happily. “You're quite a sight yourself."

Hortense leaned forward, engaging him in conversation, and Marla took this as an opportunity to snag Dalton.

Lowering her voice, she asked, “Don't you want to hear what else I learned? Cookie and I had a long discussion. She indicated Jolene was falsifying lab reports."

"Hmm.” Vail regarded her with an unreadable expression.

Maybe he already knows about Jolene's work.
“Cookie revealed another interesting tidbit: Jolene had met Sam Zelman on the sly a couple of times."

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You might want to ask his wife about it. I believe that's Eloise on her way to the restroom."

Marla twisted her neck in the direction of his pointed finger. Sure enough, Eloise's plump figure was headed for the ladies’ room. What good fortune that she was here tonight! Delayed by the waitress, who had returned with their drinks, Marla hastily gave her dinner order and then rose.

"I'll be right back."

Turning, she was dismayed to feel a rap on her shoulder. “I'm coming too,” Hortense said, giggling. “I'm dying to hear the intimate details about you and Arnie."

Marla's heart sank. The last thing she needed was Hortense accompanying her to the ladies’ room when she spoke with Eloise. “I need to talk to that lady,” Marla indicated.

"No problem.” Hortense strolled beside her. “I'll just fix my lipstick while you're grilling the suspect."

When Marla glanced questioningly at her, she frowned. “What is it? You think I'm not smart? Just because I look like a bimbo doesn't mean I'm a ditz. Do you know how much it cost me to change my appearance? First I lost thirty pounds, then I had a boob job.” Lifting her breasts, she grinned. “They look great, don't they? All through college, I worked hard to change my image. I bleached my hair, wore braces for two years, got contact lenses, and started an exercise regimen. Nobody calls me Horrible Hortense anymore."

"I guess not,” Marla mumbled. “You look terrific.” A wave of sympathy mixed with admiration rippled through her. The poor girl must have had a difficult adolescence. Through fortitude and determination, she'd conquered her problems. Understanding didn't assuage Marla's jealousy, however.

She pushed open the door to the lavatory. A row of sinks and closed stalls met her gaze.

"Eloise, are you in here? It's Marla Shore."

"Hi, Marla,” called Eloise's voice from behind a partition. “Where did you come from?"

"I'm at the restaurant with friends, and I just spotted you heading this way. I need to talk to you."

After using the facilities, she washed her hands beside Eloise, who peered disconsolately into the mirror. She needed to come in for a wash and blow dry, Marla thought, giving a quick glance to the woman's unkempt hairstyle. Dark shadows under her eyes and minimal makeup gave her face a sallow hue. Surely she could do better with her appearance. Eloise hadn't looked so bad the other day. What was wrong with her? Hortense stood by, watching them with a curious expression. Marla wished the girl would leave so she could talk privately to Eloise.

"Eloise Zelman, this is Hortense Crone,” Marla said, feeling obliged to introduce them. “Hortense used to live in Palm Haven. She's moving back to town."

Eloise's expression brightened. “Really? I work as a realtor if you need help finding a place. What's your situation?” Withdrawing a lipstick from her handbag, she applied a light-pink coat. It wasn't the right color for her skin and only made her look worse.

Hortense regarded her coolly. “I'm renting an apartment."

"For how long? If you're planning to stay here permanently, maybe you're interested in a condo. Or are you just on a fishing trip for now?"

Hortense's chin lifted. “I got a job in public relations at Stockhart Industries."

Marla stared at her. “That's where Jolene used to work!"

Eloise snapped her purse shut. “Don't mention that woman's name."

Hortense exchanged a meaningful glance with Marla. “What did you have against her, sugar?"

"Ask my dear husband, Sam. Ask him why he told me he was going to the library one day, but when I followed him, I saw him meet Jolene at the Holiday Inn. To this day, he denies being there.” She narrowed her gaze. “That slut was asking for trouble."

"She paid a heavy price,” Hortense murmured.

"Why do you suppose Sam was meeting her?” Marla inquired, pretending innocence.

"What do you think? His head is turned by every pretty face that walks by. No matter how hard I work out to lose weight or get my nails done or fix my hair, it doesn't matter.” Her hazel eyes glistened. “You get to my age, and you'll see what I mean."

Heck, the A-word was creeping up on all of them! Marla resisted the impulse to search her roots for telltale gray. “Eloise, you know that isn't true. Sam is devoted to you. You need to come into the salon, that's all. We'll do some highlights, spruce things up. You could use more lift on the bottom, too. A different style will make you feel better."

Anger ignited the woman's features. “I've been coming to you for two months, and that's when things started to get worse. I don't think Sam likes this new tint. It's too coppery. He says I can't hide what I am."

"Nonsense, Eloise, you're overreacting. The two of you have a successful business partnership. I'm sure he appreciates your contribution. With age comes experience, and that makes a woman more attractive to a man."

At the mention of their business, Eloise's expression closed. “Marla, did you notice Hank at the bar?” she asked, effectively diverting their conversation.

"No, I didn't. What's he doing here?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's meeting someone. I'd better get back out there. I don't want Sam to get impatient and walk out on me."

"Well, you got an earful,” Marla said to Hortense once Eloise had left.

Hortense leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Eloise doesn't seem too happy with herself."

"I don't understand it. She comes to the salon every week, and she never said a word."

"Secrets have a way of surfacing when there's a crisis,” Hortense said cryptically.

"We should be going, or the men will think we fell in,” Marla remarked. Glancing into the mirror, she noted her mahogany hair still held its bob without any stray ends. Large toffee eyes glared back at her under lashes tipped in mascara. She didn't need another application of apricot lipstick; it stayed smooth and matched her tawny powder blush.

Eloise hovered outside the door to the ladies’ room, giving Marla pause. Had she pried the door open to listen?

"I see that detective is here,” Eloise commented, moistening her lips. “I didn't tell him anything about Sam meeting Jolene. You won't reveal what I told you, will you?"

"Uh, he already knows."

Eloise clenched her arm. “What?"

Marla couldn't meet her eyes. “Cookie told me about Sam meeting Jolene, and I'm afraid I passed that information along to Detective Vail. I was only trying to help,” she added defensively.

"How the hell did Cookie find out?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Did Cookie tell you anything else about ... about my husband's liaison?"

"I'd gotten the impression she just spotted them together, maybe more than once. She didn't ... offer any judgment on their behavior.” Her expression softened. “Maybe it's not what you think, Eloise. Maybe Sam had a perfectly legitimate reason to meet Jolene."

"At the Holiday Inn?” Eloise scoffed. “Look, ladies, I'd appreciate it if you kept our conversation confidential. You're right, Marla. I may just be imagining things. On the other hand...” Her voice trailed off as her gaze wandered the room. “You're here with that detective, aren't you, Marla?"

"Actually, Dalton is
my
date,” Hortense boasted. “We're doubling with Marla and Arnie, her fiancé."

"What?” Eloise's eyes widened. “Marla, you've been holding back on me! Congratulations."

Marla groaned inwardly. Now Eloise would spread the news that Hortense apparently hadn't broadcast yet. “Thanks,” she muttered ungratefully.

Both men stood as the ladies approached. Eloise veered off toward her husband's table; Hank was nowhere in sight. Marla wondered what Vail had been discussing with Arnie, because his quicksilver eyes alighted on her in a bemused fashion.

"What did Eloise say?” Vail prompted.

Marla sniffed, disliking how Hortense slid into the booth beside him while jiggling her bosom. “She just confirmed what Cookie said about Sam meeting Jolene."

"That doesn't prove anything,” Arnie contributed, his dark gaze fixed on Hortense.

Their wine had been poured, and a spinach dip appetizer was on the table. Marla helped herself. “Hank Goodfellow was here earlier,” she mentioned, biting into a crunchy corn chip. “Maybe the pharmacist spoke to Sam while Eloise was in the ladies’ room. Did you guys notice anything?"

"No, we were too busy talking about you,” Arnie blurted.

"Is that so? Did I miss anything important?"

Vail gulped a sip of wine, then grinned broadly. “Arnie was telling me the plans for your wedding. Sounds like a grand affair. I hope I'll be invited."

Rising to the bait, Marla raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes, along with your lovely daughter. What time should I pick her up for dance class next week?"

"Does the young lady need a ride?” Hortense cut in. “I'd be happy to oblige. Surely you have more important things to do.” She emphasized her last sentence as though to say,
you belong to Arnie, so what are you doing with Vail's daughter?

"I promised to take Brianna. It's no trouble,” Marla said sweetly. “By the way, when do you start your new job at Stockhart Industries?” Across from her, Vail straightened his shoulders.

"I report in on Monday, but I'm not sure what hours I'll be working yet,” Hortense replied.

"If you, uh, hear any gossip about Jolene, will you pass it on to me?"

"Sure will, sugar. Why is everyone so hung up on that woman's death? It was an accident, wasn't it?"

Marla and Dalton exchanged a quick glance. “Maybe, maybe not,” Dalton said. “We're investigating the possibilities."

She gave him an appraising look. “Such as?"

"Jolene ingested a sedative before she went into the whirlpool."

"So? She must have been stressed out. That's probably why she went to the club in the first place."

Vail shook his head. “It wasn't the type of sedative you can buy over the counter."

"You didn't tell me that!” Marla exclaimed.

"Oh, I didn't? It must have slipped my mind."

Like hell it did.
He was revealing that little tidbit now on purpose. Why? Their entrees arrived, and Marla put aside further questions while they made small talk.

"Tell me, I've always been curious about police officers,” Hortense said between bites of grilled salmon. “Do you carry a gun when you're off duty?"

"Depends,” Vail answered in a noncommittal tone.

"How did you get into this line of work?"

"I've always liked puzzles, so being a detective seemed a natural direction for me to take."

Arnie, who'd been watching Hortense with a lovesick expression, finally found his voice. “I used to admire firefighters, but I'm afraid of heights. Putting
on
a fire in the oven is more my speed. I make the best bagels in town."

"Of course you do,” Hortense said patronizingly.

"Where did you work before you moved back to Palm Haven?” Marla asked, wondering if it was coincidence that Hortense had showed up right when problems with Jolene developed. Come to think of it, Hortense had jumped into their conversation as though she already knew what was going on. Could be she'd just heard the gossip. Or maybe she was more involved than she let on.