Murder by Manicure (6 page)

"That doesn't explain why you're making a big deal out of Jolene's tragic end. Somehow I don't think it's just because she was a client.” Anita's all-knowing motherly gaze met Marla's troubled glance.

Putting down her sandwich, Marla folded her hands on the table. “Okay, so I'm bored."

"Oh?"

"Taste of the World gave me a focus for the past few months. I was so busy between the fund-raiser and work that I didn't have time to think about anything else. Now the holidays are over, and I'm stuck in my everyday routine again."

"You should say a prayer every time you wake up in the morning to face another day. Be grateful for your routine.” Anita hardened her gaze. “Remember when Papa died? That phone call we got?"

Marla hung her head. “Of course I do. His heart attack was totally unexpected."

"Things could be worse. Think of that when you go about your daily business. Jolene's accident had nothing to do with you. Don't make it into more than it was to liven things up."

"You're beginning to sound like Dalton."

Anita rolled her eyes. “I hate to say this, but sometimes I agree with the man. Don't take that as approval of your irregular relationship with him."

"Irregular? What does that mean?"

"You're still dating other guys, like Ralph. I know the two of you are friends, but if you felt a commitment to Detective Vail, you wouldn't want to be in anyone's company but his."

Marla kept her tone neutral. “And if that's what I decided?"

Her mother shrugged. “I've already told you my opinion. Cops make lousy husbands."

"So do arrogant lawyers who impose their will on others."

"Stan believed he was acting in your best interests."

"By keeping me from seeing my own friends and putting me down constantly? I don't think so.” She chomped on another piece of sandwich. “Anyway, I didn't come here to discuss Stan or my love life."

Anita patted her hand. “I know,
bubula.
Are you going to let me take you to lunch for your birthday?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. I don't want to get older."

"You'd prefer the alternative? I doubt it."

"I'm getting fat, and the sports club receptionist asked if I dyed my hair. Do I look that bad for my age?"

"You look beautiful."

"Soon I'll be getting wrinkles."

Anita laughed, a pleasant sound like clinking crystal goblets. “Snap out of your mood, Marla. Or do you have PMS?"

Marla nearly choked on a morsel of corned beef. “Hell, no. I had that last week."

"Then you need something to focus on, so you don't think about yourself so much. Plan a dinner party. That always works when I'm depressed, because I get busy planning menus and can look forward to being with friends."

"Thanks, but it sounds like more aggravation to me.” Finishing her sandwich, she fell silent. True, she'd been feeling restless lately. Was her moodiness due to a letdown after the holidays, or was she upset over her upcoming birthday? Either way, Ma was right. She needed a new goal, one that was more fun than getting into shape.

Unwilling to address her insecurities further, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and got up. “What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked her mother. “I've got some errands to run if you want to come with me."

Anita shook her head of short, white hair. “I have ballet tickets with my friend, Lil. I'm picking her up in a half hour.” She glanced at a table in the hallway. “I won't have time to stop at the pharmacy. My blood pressure prescription needs to be refilled."

Marla spotted the paper with the doctor's scrawled handwriting. “Want me to drop this off? The pharmacy is on my list of errands. I need more vitamins and a few other things."

"That would be helpful. Then I could pick up the medicine on my way back from the theater.” Anita embraced her in a quick hug. “Call me after you see Michael tomorrow. Your brother thought he might be coming down with a cold."

"Maybe I'll bring him some zinc lozenges.” Marla grinned. “Have a good time at the ballet."

Hank Goodfellow was behind the counter at the pharmacy. After twelve years, his white-coated figure was a fixture in the community. Neighbors relied on his advice, which he dispensed with a twinkle in his blue eyes. At forty-two, his dark hair had receded considerably, but his face held enough character for him to be regarded as a handsome devil by female clients.

"How are ya, Marla?” he queried when she approached. A wide grin lit his entire face. His winged brows lifted, the deep creases beside his eyes indicating that he smiled frequently.

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Just fine, Hank. Here's a prescription for my mother. She'll stop by later to pick up the medicine."

"Okay. You need any more of your favorite hand cream?"

"No, thanks. That stuff really works, and I've been careful not to let my hands get too dry. They're not so chapped now."

Hank glanced behind her, and his mouth tightened. “Excuse me, Marla. Here comes Wally."

Marla twisted around to see Councilman Wallace Ritiker bearing down on them, an angry scowl on his face.

"Hey, Marla,” he greeted her before turning his attention to the pharmacist. “Hank, can I have a word with you?"

Marla caught the hint and drifted discreetly away. Studying a display of vitamins, she still heard every word they said.

"I understand you had a break-in a couple of days ago,” Wally's voice grated in a low tone. “Why didn't you call me?"

"What for?” Hank replied.

Marla neared a corner where she could view the interchange without being in their direct line of sight.

"I expect to be informed when something like this happens that affects the town.” Ritiker tugged at his navy sport coat.

Hank's face grew livid as he stared at the middle-aged politician. “Are you crazy? I'm trying to avoid publicity."

"Oh, you've done a great job. Burglars rammed a hole through the roof, lowered themselves inside, and stole prescription drugs and cash. That was splashed all over the community newspapers, including how your alarm was conveniently shut off,” Ritiker said in a snide tone.

"A wire was loose, and I didn't want to trip a false alarm, so I deactivated it until the security company came out,” Hank said in a curt tone that implied it was no one else's business.

"How'd the crooks get out?"

"They broke the back door lock and got away clean."

"I warned you about this sort of thing. People will be suspicious.” Ritiker glowered at the pharmacist.

"It was necessary."

"Well, keep me out of it, or you'll be sorry."

Marla sauntered toward them, wanting to detain the councilman for her own purposes.

"Was there something else you wanted from the pharmacy?” Hank snapped at her.

"Not right now, thanks.” Boldly lifting her chin, she addressed the councilman. “Wally, I've been meaning to thank you for voting in favor of the pool enclosure ordinance. It's too bad we didn't have enough votes for it to pass, but I appreciate your support."

Squaring his shoulders, Ritiker beamed at her. “I always support my constituents."

Marla twirled a strand of hair coyly around her finger. “I guess all your wheeling and dealing takes its toll. Eloise Zelman told me you belong to the Perfect Fit Sports Club. I just joined with my friend Tally for the free trial membership. Isn't it awful what happened to Jolene Myers?"

"That troublemaker?” His eyebrows raised. “She was a thorn in my side. Can't say I'm sorry she's gone."

An old lady shuffled to the counter. “Oh hello, Mrs. Jenkins,” the pharmacist gushed, assuming his professional demeanor. “Is your ankle better? You could barely walk last week. I hope those cold compresses were helpful."

"Indeed they were, but I could use more of that pain medicine, sonny. Do you still have any available?"

"Of course.” He did a quick exchange, handing her a bottle that he retrieved from a locked drawer in return for a twenty-dollar bill.

"Hank,” Ritiker began, an odd glimmer in his eyes.

"Not now, Wally. I'm tending my customer."

"I see exactly what you're doing. Didn't I tell you it was time to quit?” the councilman said.

Hank shot him a dirty look. “Keep out of this."

"Or what? Listen carefully, friend, if you're smart, you'll heed my words.” Turning away, he indicated Marla should accompany him. “I hope you're not on his list."

"What are you talking about?” Marla said.

Wally gave her a keen glance and shook his head. “Never mind. What were you saying about Jolene Myers?"

"Eloise Zelman said you were in the steam room with her husband Sam when all hell broke loose in the sports club that day. Was anyone else in there with you?"

"Nope. Sam and I had things to discuss in private, so we made sure no one else was around."

"How about when you entered the locker room to change?"

He stopped in the aisle by a display of household cleaning fluids. “Why are you so interested?"

She spread her hands. “I just thought I might have more information to offer to the police. Detective Vail is a friend of mine. He's not officially on the case as far as I know, but I'm sure he'd pass on anything useful."

His hazel eyes stared down at her. “We need more responsible citizens like you, Marla,” he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “Now if you want to know who I saw skulking about that day, you might consider talking to Gloria Muñoz, the sales rep. I saw her leaving the women's locker room as I was on my way to the steamer. I remembered the look on her face. She reminded me of a cat who'd just swallowed a bird whole."

Marla didn't have time to think about Councilman Ritiker's remarks. Monday was taken with visiting her brother and catching up on bookkeeping in preparation for the dreaded meeting with her tax accountant. On Tuesday, work was busier than usual, so lunch consisted of yogurt and a banana in the back room.

Waiting for her final appointment, she was brushing stray hairs off her station chair when the chime over the front door sounded. Marla glanced up, eager to do her last customer so she could leave. Tonight was Brianna's dance class, and she wanted to be on time to pick the girl up.

"Arnie, what are you doing here?” she asked as the proprietor of Bagel Busters charged in her direction.

"Marla, you've got to help me!” The big man's mustache quivered, and his dark eyes regarded her wildly.

Aware of her staff's interest, she took his arm and gently propelled him toward an empty manicure station at the rear. He still wore an apron over a collared shirt and khakis. Beneath the fabric, she felt the rock-hardness of his biceps.

"What's wrong?” she said. “Are your kids all right?"

"Yes. That's not the problem. It's Hortense."

"Who?"

"Hortense Crone. You know."

She tapped her foot impatiently. “No, I don't. You're confusing me, Arnie. Who is this person?"

Arnie wrung his hands. “She's a former classmate. We went to high school together, and she had a crush on me. The ugliest dog in school, that was her. A real
fresser,
too. Ate everything in sight. And now she's here!
Oy vey,
what am I going to do?"

"What do you mean?” Marla glanced furtively at the reception area, hoping her next client would be delayed. Arnie needed her, making her nurturing instincts surface.

"Hortense is in town. She wants to see me. She's on her way over here!"

"So? You can exchange a few reminiscences and then she'll leave."

He leaned forward, breathing heavily. “You don't understand. She
likes
me. Hortense said she'd been sorry to learn my wife had passed away, and how difficult it must be for me to raise two kids on my own. I could tell from her tone of voice that she's still interested in me."

"Hortense never married?"

"She's divorced.” His brows drew together. “I said the only thing I could think of to get rid of her. I told her I was engaged."

Marla smiled gently. “Arnie, how could you? The poor woman probably just wants an hour of your time."

"No, no. She's moving back to Palm Haven! I had to discourage her. Tell me you'll play along."

"Huh?"

"I knew you wouldn't mind, since you're such a good friend.” Taking her by the elbow, he steered her into the rear storeroom. “She'll come into the salon. Tell her off for me, would you please?"

"Me?” She wrinkled her nose. “Why would she come here?"

"Oh, God,” he moaned. “I remember how her second chin jiggled when she waddled down the hall. She was the only girl with frizzy black hair whose boobs were overpowered by her blubber.” His eyes grew as round as bagel holes when the front door chimed. “That may be Hortense!” he croaked. “Marla, you've got to save me. I'll give you free bagels for a year!"

"You're on,” she said, laughing. How bad could this woman be to make Arnie so afraid of her? Intensely curious, Marla strode toward the reception desk.

The woman standing by the counter wasn't the ugly horse Arnie had depicted. Nor was she Marla's next client. A tall, sexy blonde, she wore a short skirt and bolero jacket with black leather heels. Wavy hair cascaded like a river down her back. A delicate lilac fragrance wafted around her. Marla approved of the woman's subtle makeup that enhanced her refined features. Envying her busty figure and shapely legs, Marla vowed to work out extra hard at the fitness club on Wednesday.

"This is Marla Shore,” said the receptionist. “She owns Cut ‘N Dye."

"Hi, I'm Hortense Crone.” The woman grinned, displaying a row of perfectly aligned teeth. “I was told Arnie Hartman came in here. Y'all can call me Jill; I use my middle name now,” she added, extending her hand.

Marla exchanged a firm handshake.
This
was Hortense? A bubble of laughter welled within her. Would Arnie be surprised to see what a looker his classmate had turned into!

"He's in the storeroom. I'll get him for you. Hey, Arnie,” she called, eagerly anticipating his reaction. “Someone here to see you."

All eyes in the salon turned in their direction as Arnie marched toward the front, gaze downcast like a condemned man.