11 Hanging by a Hair (26 page)

Running a shaky hand over her face, Marla lingered in the back room until she could regain her composure. Now what? She needed something to eat and a shoulder to lean on.

She strode through the salon, exited the front door, and headed down the shopping strip to Bagel Busters. Inside, she waved to the proprietor behind the cash register. Arnie Hartman walked around to greet her. He had receding dark hair peppered with gray at the temples, a trim mustache, and kind eyes. As usual, he wore an apron over his dress shirt and belted jeans.

“Marla, my
shaineh maidel,
how are you?” he said, patting her on the shoulder. His knowing gaze scoured her from head to toe. “You look upset. What’s happened?”

“Everything. Can I order a sandwich? I’m starving, and I don’t have much time.”

“Sure, what would you like?”

“I’ll have turkey and cheese on challah with mustard, lettuce and tomato.”

He clucked his tongue at her nonkosher combination but wrote up the order and placed it with his cook. A customer arrived to pay her bill. Arnie resumed his post, but signaled for Marla to come over after the woman left. “So what’s going on? Is your family okay?”

“Yes, they’re fine. How about Jill and the kids?” She hadn’t had much time to catch up since their weddings last year. It had been second marriages all around. Arnie and Jill’s nuptials had been scarred by the matron-of-honor’s death. Marla shuddered at the memory of finding the woman’s body under the cake table at his reception.

“We’re doing great, thanks. Talk to me.”

Her mouth watered as she sniffed garlic and pickles. “Should I start with the murders in my neighborhood, the girl at work I just fired, or the fact that Luis is leaving and I’ll need a new receptionist?”

“What, Luis quit on you?”

“He’s been accepted into Broward College. He plans to work in computer technology.”

“Good for him. He’s talented in that field. So where have you looked for a replacement?”

“I’ve put signs up, searched the job sites online, and asked around. It’s not hard finding someone to man the front desk, but getting a person who’s also qualified to run our computer system and manage our websites is more difficult. Do you know anyone who’s looking for that type of job?”

“Not offhand. Let me think about it and get back to you.” His concerned gaze raked her. “You said something about murders?”

Marla filled him in on recent events.

“Oy vey, you’re up to your usual shenanigans. Lucky you weren’t hurt worse. You need to be more careful.”

“Thanks, I’ve already had that lecture from Dalton.”

“Who does he suspect?”

“Just about everyone. I’m sure you’ll get an earful on Passover.”

“Oh, yeah. What would you like us to bring? We can do the desserts so you don’t have to bother. I’ll have several ones kosher for Pesach at the deli.”

“That sounds great.” The cook signaled that Marla’s order was ready. “I’d better run. We’ll talk more next time. Thanks for listening, Arnie.”

“Always.” His dark eyes gleamed as he regarded her with affection.

On her way to the salon, she passed the day spa. Ducking inside, she spoke to the front desk girl.

“Traci, I should have asked you this earlier, but do you have any friends with computer skills who are looking for a job? Luis is leaving, and I’m having a hard time finding a replacement.”

Traci, an attractive brunette who wore her hair in a shoulder-length, layered cut, shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know anyone who’s job hunting. I could always come over to help, but this place is crazy busy so I wouldn’t have much time.”

“Thanks, but we’ll manage somehow.”

Marla glanced at the customers in the waiting area and at the extra hair stations she’d added beyond for overflow from her salon. Further down was a hallway lined with private rooms for the various treatments they offered. Business had boomed since they’d opened their doors a few months ago. With the soft lighting, wood furnishings, and rich paintings on the walls, Marla had meant to provide a pleasant, relaxing experience. New Age music induced a state of calm along with a soothing eucalyptus scent.

With a wave, she left to return to her salon. Luis signaled to her as she entered.

“Marla, someone brought these cupcakes for you. A kid dropped them off and said you should bring them home. They weren’t to share with your staff.”

In a bakery box with a clear window on top, Marla spied an assortment of red velvet cupcakes with swirled vanilla icing. A candy heart decorated each top center. There appeared to be a dozen of the mini-sized cakes.

“Who sent them? Is there a card?”

“
Nada.
Maybe I should taste one?”

“I’m not supposed to share, remember? That’s an odd request, but I suppose it’s a personal gift.”

“You must have a secret admirer.” He winked. “Are you sure it wasn’t Dalton? Is today a special occasion you’ve forgotten?”

“Heck, no. I’d better refrigerate them. Write me a sticky note that no one is to touch these.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve given Dara her notice. She’s to clear out her station at the end of the day. Make sure she doesn’t walk off with this box in her bag.”

The handsome Latino’s brows furrowed. “It’s about time. No one will be sorry to see her go. You did the right thing.”

A pang of sorrow for his imminent departure hit her. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on him. Oh, gosh. She’d forgotten all about a farewell party. How could she plan one plus get organized for the holiday?

Luis raised his index finger. “Marla, I forgot. The kid who delivered these said you could sample one about an hour before you left work. That way, the sugar rush wouldn’t kill your appetite for dinner.”

“I’m not in the mood for sweets, but Dalton and Brianna will enjoy them.”

Marla gestured for her waiting client to get shampooed while she refrigerated the cupcakes in the rear and devoured the turkey sandwich from Arnie’s deli. Coffee mug in hand, she returned to her station and quickly filled Nicole in on her plans.

“Thanks, pal,” she said when Nicole offered to arrange a going-away party for Luis. “If I add one more thing to my slate, I’ll
plotz.
”

As she cut and blow-dried her customer’s hair, Marla wondered how Dalton was making out on his investigation. Had Kat learned anything new? Glancing in the mirror, she examined the spot where she’d been injured outside Alan’s garage. Her hair covered the bruise but it still hurt when she touched it. An urge to call Dalton nagged her during the afternoon. She must have had a sixth sense because he phoned her as the clock struck four.

“Sorry to bother you, but I have a couple of questions.” His deep tone resonated through her, singing to her nerves and sparking her energy.

“It’s okay. I’ve just applied a coloring agent to my next customer, so we have a half hour to wait. I don’t have anyone else scheduled until then.”

Holding the phone to her ear, Marla strode toward the front and outside. Nobody occupied the chairs in front of the salon so she claimed one. She crossed her legs, wincing in the bright sunlight as she faced west.

“Did Alan Krabber’s nephew say anything to you about his uncle’s estate?” Dalton said.

“No, why? He
is
the heir, isn’t he?”

“Undoubtedly. But Byrd gave me the impression that he only expected to inherit a modest amount.”

“Krabber made his money in the insurance field. He must have invested it wisely. Certainly, he had enough money to pay for that expensive generator.”

“That wouldn’t explain the regular monthly deposits into his checking account. They’re for different amounts each time. He had a considerable nest egg.”

“Really? Were you able to trace the source?”

“Yes. Krabber had been receiving funds from a business account belonging to StayTrue Ministries.”

“What’s that?”

“Some kind of church, I assume. Did Byrd mention this organization to you? I’m wondering if he knew anything about his uncle’s involvement.”

“Philip said that Alan favored religious sites online. What do you know about this ministry?”

“They’re registered with the state, follow all the proper protocols, and have a popular website that gets thousands of hits.”

“Strange. You’d think Alan would be giving donations to a ministry instead of getting money from them. Do you think he sold them an insurance policy and those deposits were commissions?”

“On what? There’s only a post office box listed for the business, not a physical address.”

“Alan may have sold them a liability policy or performed another service for which he was reimbursed.” Marla bit her lower lip, considering the man’s passion for computers. “Maybe he created and maintained their website.”

“That’s always a possibility.”

“Whoever established the ministry’s post office box could be the same person who set up their bank account. Do you know the signatory for either one?”

“Kat is investigating that angle. The post office is local so this ministry must be in the area.”

“What if Philip Byrd knew about Alan’s financial status and hoped to cash in on it? Have you examined his accounts?”

“That’s one of the first things we did. He has a decent balance without any irregularities, plus he has a solid alibi for the night his uncle died.”

“And he didn’t have any reason to do Cherry in, either. That’s assuming their deaths are related.” A moment of sadness afflicted her for the woman’s children. Pushing aside those unhappy thoughts, she drew in a breath full of humid air in an attempt to focus. “What about Ethan Lindberg? Weren’t you and Kat supposed to interview him?”

“We did see him as scheduled. He didn’t speak about Krabber with any fondness.”

“So he admitted to a relationship? Did he visit Alan in person and reveal his identity?”

“Ethan was nervous about talking to us at first. I think he was afraid we might cite him for fraudulent business practices. When I mentioned Royal Oaks, he was quick to deny any responsibility for the leaky windows.”

“Despite his being hit with a lawsuit for the exact same thing in the past?”

“He said the installers were at fault and offered to give us a tour of his factory.”

“Oh, joy. So what did he say about Alan?”

“Ethan used Gayle’s name to meet Krabber at a bar. The young man revealed himself as Gayle’s son and Krabber’s as well. At first Alan didn’t believe him, but then Ethan showed him a copy of his birth certificate. He said Krabber hit the wall and nearly had a stroke. Then he started spouting anti-Semitic remarks that shocked Ethan and drove him away.”

“That must have created a scene.”

“Get this—it happened a while ago, before Ethan sold his vinyl extrusions to Beamis Woodhouse for the Royal Oaks development.”

“Really? I’d gotten the impression from Gayle that Ethan went to see him fairly recently.”

“Apparently not. It makes me wonder if Krabber’s rejection and the disparaging remarks about his mother caused Ethan to snap.”

“So you’re theorizing that Ethan killed his own father out of hurt and rage?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“Do you think he purposefully sabotaged the construction materials to get back at Alan? And if so, why wait until now to do him in? And why kill Cherry? Did you find any DNA linking the cases?”

Before Dalton could reply, Luis poked his head out the door.

“Marla, come quickly.
Aiyya.
Something is dreadfully wrong.”

“I have to go,” Marla said to Dalton before she accompanied her harried receptionist into the salon. “What’s the problem?”

“Dara is passed out in the back room.” Luis hustled Marla toward the rear. “And I’m afraid I have worse news. She ate your cupcakes.”

Marla noticed the curious glances of her staff as she hurried past the hair and nail stations, the shampoo sinks, and the laundry room to the back storeroom.

Inside, she spied the black-haired stylist sprawled in a chair, her head lolled back. Vanilla icing smeared her lips. On the counter, the bakery box lay open as proof of her guilt.

“Oh, Dara, how could you?” She must have stuffed herself and then fallen asleep. But when Marla prodded her, Dara failed to respond. Her nose ring didn’t so much as quiver, alarming Marla all the more. “Hey, wake up.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Luis narrowed his eyes. “Do you think she’s taking drugs? I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe your firing her pushed her over the edge. I hope she didn’t accidentally O.D.”

Could she have overdosed? Marla studied Dara’s chest, which rose and fell in a slow, regular pattern. And her pulse was strong.

Her glance skewed to the open box. Dara must have eaten four of those mini-cakes, she judged from the empty spaces.

Marla’s blood chilled, and she felt the color drain from her face. Good God. She’d been meant to ingest them.

“Luis, what did the messenger say who brought these cupcakes? That I shouldn’t eat any until an hour before I leave work?”

His mouth gaped. “Surely, you don’t believe—”

“I’d have been driving home. Imagine if I passed out at the wheel. It could have caused an accident.”

“But there’s no guarantee you would have eaten one.”

“No. But if I didn’t, it’s a certainty that Dalton or Brianna would have tried them.” She snapped the lid down with the side of her hand. “Get me a bag. I’m giving these to Dalton to send to the lab.”

“What about Dara?” He pointed to the recumbent stylist.

“She might sleep it off . . . or not. I hate to call the paramedics, but we don’t know what she’s ingested. It could be a harmless knockout drug or something worse.”

“Are you seriously suggesting she was poisoned? By eating
your
cupcakes?”

“That’s correct. Drugged or poisoned, what’s the difference? I’ll ask Dalton what to do.” She had a feeling it would mean a call to the rescue squad again. On the good side, maybe the hunk she wanted to meet Nicole would show up. “I’ll tell Nicole what’s going on and have her take charge up front. You stay with Dara and make sure she doesn’t convulse or anything.”

Luis gulped, his Adam’s apple visible. “Make it fast, okay?”