Murder by Manicure (21 page)

"I wonder why I've never run into you at the club,” Marla commented. “I was hoping to make an appointment for a massage."

"We have several other therapists, darlin',” Tess said with a strong Southern accent. “Ah'm sure you could see one of my colleagues."

"I've already had an hour with Slate.”
Interesting how Tess's nostrils flared at the mention of his name.
“I gather Amy Gerard likes him. Quite a coincidence that you and Amy chill at the same club."

"Isn't it,” Tess crooned in a voice that reminded Marla of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.” “Just as much of a coincidence as you bein’ here tonight."

"I'm with a friend,” Marla explained, nodding to Tally, who was walking in their direction.

Tess paled. “Ah have to go."

"Wait, I want to talk to you about Jolene Myers."

"What about her?” Tess back-stepped toward the door.

"I heard Slate was angry with her because he'd asked her out and she refused. Do you think Slate's anger extended to violence?"

The woman's face clouded with fury. “You have no business askin’ questions,” she said, stopping to confront Marla.

"Why? Because Slate is your boyfriend? Where were you the night Jolene died? Or maybe Amy's jealousy led
her
to commit the dire deed. Is that why you're watching her, because you and Slate suspect she murdered Jolene?"

Tess's face purpled with rage. “Ah wouldn't go around town makin’ accusations like that, darlin'. Y'all could land yourself in a heap of trouble."

"Oh, yeah?” Marla said evenly. “So could you, if I tell Detective Vail you're following one of his suspects."

The amber eyes cooled to a topaz hardness. “You do, Miz Shore, and you'll find your fuckin’ ass sucked down a whirlpool worse than that Myers broad."

Her ominous words hanging in the air, Tesla Parr spun around and teetered toward the exit.

"Whew,” Tally said, pretending to fan herself. “The temperature's risen in this place."

"Let's get out of here. I'm definitely going to tell Dalton about her. She's very strange. Did you notice her hair? It's fake, and she wears a ton of makeup, so you can't tell what she really looks like. Her eyes, though..."

"What about them?"

Outside, Marla glanced uneasily around the parking lot. It wasn't well lit at night, and she remembered the other incident at the athletic club. Could Slate have been the one who'd attacked her?

"Her eye color is uncommon. I know I've seen that woman somewhere else."

"Me, too. She must have left already. I don't see her car."

"She made a fast getaway.” Retrieving her keys, Marla led the way to the Camry. Inside the car, she locked the doors before starting the engine. Belatedly, she thought of checking for telltale signs of tampering. Oh, well. If a bomb were going to explode, most likely it would have happened when she turned on the ignition.

According to the clock, it was nearly eleven by the time they reached Palm Haven. Perfect Fit Sports Club would be closing its doors in the next few minutes. Marla had doubts her plan would succeed, but she intended to give it a try.

"Do you have to go home yet?” she asked Tally, who'd been relatively quiet during the drive. She supposed her friend was reviewing events in her mind just as she was. “I know it's late. We both have to get up for work in the morning, but there's one more thing I need to do."

"Which is?” Tally grinned encouragingly, and Marla felt a surge of gratitude for her support.

"I have to get into Gloria's office. She has client records and may have personnel files as well. But if the club is locked, we'll try another time."

"Excuse me, did you say
we?"

"You heard me. Are you game, or not?"

Tally shrugged. “I must be crazy to tag along with you, but it sure as hell beats staying home and watching TV. Let's go."

Thirty minutes later, Marla dropped Tally off at home. Their effort had been in vain. The sports club had been locked tight as a newly permed curl.

"We'll do it on Wednesday,” Tally suggested before taking her leave. “I'll distract Gloria while you rummage through her office. It'll be easy if I pretend to be interested in a full membership."

Marla frowned. “How will that work? She'll want to do the paperwork in her office."

Her friend smiled wickedly. “Don't worry. I have a plan. We'll meet in the locker room same time as last week, okay?"

"You got it. Thanks for coming tonight, pal."

Weariness weighted her bones as she pulled into the garage of her town house. Erasing all concerns from her mind, Marla performed the routine of letting Spooks outside and back in again, checking her answering machine, and locking up for the night. After a refreshing shower, she pulled on a cotton nightshirt and collapsed into bed to review the day.

First stop, the real estate office. Eloise Zelman hadn't shown up for work, but her colleague Judy firmly believed the woman would reappear when ready. Vail had no luck tracing her, either. Was her disappearance related to Sam's mysterious dealings, as Judy had implied, and if so, how did that relate to Jolene's death?

Both Cookie and Eloise knew that Sam had been meeting secretly with Jolene. Had they shared an illicit love relationship, or were they conspiring together? If they were lovers, Eloise had a motive for doing away with both of them. But if not, was Eloise afraid that she would be the next victim?

If only Eloise would return, Marla thought as she twisted restlessly. That would solve a couple of problems.

Next came Hortense's revelation that the woman she'd met through Arnie was really Jillian Barlow, an actress and public relations specialist. She hoped Jill had learned something about Jolene from her coworkers. In the meantime, Marla had to keep quiet about the girl's identity so as not to tip off the killer. As for Arnie, Marla would protect him from being hurt, by having a private conversation with Jill to assess her intent. Arnie was a dear friend who needed a mate, but he didn't deserve a relationship built on lies.

Throwing off her covers, Marla got up and padded into the kitchen. Her mind was too active. She'd never fall asleep at this rate. Fixing herself a cup of cocoa, she sat at the kitchen table and sipped the hot drink slowly.

Dr. Crone's documents proved that Jolene had been falsifying lab test results—obtaining favorable data elsewhere and passing it off as her own. Jill might be able to trace the source—another reason to let the actress play her part.

And speaking of playing a part, her false engagement to Arnie still had to be resolved. They were deceiving Jill, so the deception went both ways. If Jill was truly fond of Arnie, how would she react when the truth came to light?

Don't tell her,
Marla reasoned, scratching Spooks behind the ear when he nudged her ankle.
Stage the breakup with Arnie, and the matter will be settled.

Personal issues aside, what about tonight's episode? Tess was clearly following Amy, but for what purpose? Tess and Slate appeared to have an ongoing relationship. Could Slate have been using Tess to trail Amy, and if so, why? Amy's behavior generated further questions. If the snack bar attendant was mooning over Slate, why did she pick up guys in a lounge?

Add Keith into the equation.
He'd been talking to Slate about Amy. It was a tight-knit group, she concluded. If only she could get one of them to talk, secrets might unravel.

She rinsed out her empty cup, put it in the dish drainer, and headed back to bed. Feeling chilled, she pulled the covers up to her chin and turned on her side. A new moon provided no illumination through the drapes, leaving her bedroom in inky darkness. She felt the comforting weight of the dog's warm body when he jumped on the bed.

Letting her mind drift, she succumbed to a heavy drowsiness that enveloped her like a cocoon. Her eyelids drooped, and she floated into a sleep cycle, where strange dreams hovered in the wings.

Barking roused her as Spooks leapt off the bed and charged into the hallway. A crash of splintering glass was followed by utter silence, and then she smelled smoke. Bolting upright, she felt her heart race in panic.

"Spooks! Where are you? What's happened?” Tossing off the covers, she reached for a terrycloth robe and threw it on. Dare she go after the poodle? Breaking glass could mean someone had broken into her house. Or maybe it was a gunshot, and Jolene's killer was outside waiting for her to appear by a window. She reached for the phone, prudence taking precedence over her need to investigate.

"Police, fire, or medical?” asked the emergency dispatcher.

"All of them! Something smashed my window, and—"

Her smoke alarm blared, making her heart pound with fright. “Hurry,” she cried. “If someone broke in, he might still be in the house! And please, notify Detective Lieutenant Vail."

Marla fled from her bedroom through a glass door leading to the backyard. Spooks appeared at her heels, yapping furiously until she scooped him into her arms. She proceeded cautiously toward the street, hoping the dog's bark had scared off any potential assailants.

Vail's arrival brought order to chaos, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he took charge. She spoke to Goat and Moss on the sidewalk while officers inspected the scene. About thirty minutes later, she spied Vail striding toward her, carrying a pile of clothing and a pair of black loafers. Heat suffused her cheeks when she noticed the bra strap poking out from between her jeans and a pullover top.
Get over it,
she told herself.
The man is a widower with a twelve-year-old daughter. He knows what it's like to live with women.

Grateful that he'd been so thoughtful, she gave a watery smile as he handed her the bundle.

"Get in the car,” he ordered, holding open the passenger door. “You can stay at my place for the rest of the night."

After he'd settled behind the wheel and turned on the ignition, he offered his findings. “Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through your kitchen window,” he explained in a calm, detached voice.

"W-what's that?” Marla croaked, glancing at his stern profile. The only trace of emotion she could see was a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"It's an explosive device: in this case, a chemical fire bottle. You're lucky the thing didn't work right, or the damage would've been severe. Fortunately, the fire barely got started before it went out. You had more smoke than flames."

"That's enough,” she said, her voice trembling. She cradled Spooks's small body in her arms, wondering how he'd get along with Vail's golden retriever. Goat had offered to keep her pet until she returned home, but Marla needed the comfort of Spooks's presence.

"Any idea who had it in for you?” Vail said. He turned onto West Broward Boulevard, heading east toward an older residential section where banyan trees shaded the roads like arms, protecting walkers from the blazing Florida sun.

Marla glanced at him warily. “I imagine I've ruffled a few feathers lately."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Go on."

"Well, this morning I visited the Zelmans’ realty office. Their assistant, Judy, said she expected Eloise to return unharmed."

He nodded, as though this wasn't news. “And then? You had the whole day off. I don't imagine you spent it doing errands like a normal person."

She ignored his sarcastic tone. “I went to Vero Beach to visit, uh, an acquaintance of Hortense."

A smile quirked his lips. “You mean you met the real Hortense Crone."

She gave up the pretense. “How did you find out?"

"Simple. I ran a check on
our
Hortense's license tag. Her car is registered to Jillian Barlow at an address in Vero Beach."

"If you'd have told me, it would have saved me a trip!”
Lack of trust is still an issue here, pal.
“What the devil do you know about Eloise? You don't seem so concerned about her. I thought you wanted her for questioning about Sam's death."

"Umm,” he murmured, deftly avoiding a direct answer.

"She might be in danger. I hope you'll share the news if you learn she's safe."

"Are you planning to tell Arnie?” he countered.

"About what?” She gazed at him with perplexed eyes.

"Jill, a.k.a. Hortense.” They'd entered his neighborhood, and he slowed as they approached his driveway. The brick exterior of his ranch-style home was lit by security spotlights.

"I don't plan to tell anyone her true identity for now,” Marla answered. “Jill works at Stockhart Industries. She may be able to ferret out information not available to either of us. It's important that we don't jeopardize her position. As for Arnie, I think it's better for Jill to tell him herself. If she really cares about him, she'll reveal the truth in her own time. But I'm going to have a talk with her to see how she feels. I won't stand for Arnie getting hurt."

Pulling into the driveway, he cut the ignition. Spooks scampered from her arms to the backseat and peered out the window. “How about your little game? You and Arnie being engaged, I mean. Do you think he'll tell her the truth?"

"Oh God, this is such a mess. Arnie was meshuga to spread that news."

"Damn right.” His eyes glittered as he faced her. “Worrying about you is giving me gray hairs. Things could have been a lot worse tonight at your place."

Why were graying heads such a popular subject lately?
Her eyes fastened on his thick head of peppery hair, and all unpleasantries fled from her mind. The soft strands invited touching, and she remembered how silky they'd felt when she gave him a cut. A hitch caught in her throat. Her gaze, traveled downward, noted his polo shirt tucked into a pair of snug jeans. Warmth stole into her veins as his nearness penetrated her fogged brain. It was hard to swallow when she lifted her eyes and saw the way he looked at her.

When he leaned over to kiss her, she draped her arms around his solid shoulders, eager to release the fears of the night. She thought of nothing else but the press of his lips on hers until Spooks's jealous nudging broke them apart.

"Let's go inside,” Vail said huskily, “or I'll start something I won't be able to finish."