Highlights to Heaven (5 page)

“Will the detective tell you what he learns?”

Marla gave a rueful chuckle. “I doubt it. I canceled our date Saturday night. We had a disagreement over Brianna.”

“Oh no. What now?”

“Brianna wants to shave her legs and use makeup. Dalton won’t allow it. He’s afraid she’ll start attracting men.”

“Wait until she’s older.” Tally laughed. “So what’s his beef with you?”

“I defended her right to make herself look pretty. Dalton can’t face the fact that she’s growing up. She told me she wants to go shopping and then her face got all red. I think she’s approaching puberty and needs advice, not to mention intimate apparel and other feminine supplies.”

“Why doesn’t she ask Carmen, their housekeeper?”

Marla shrugged. “I don’t know. Beauty is my business, so maybe she felt more inclined to seek my advice. Brie has a beautiful face without any cosmetics, but you know how teenagers are. They have to fit in with the crowd.”

“It doesn’t sound as though Dalton understands.”

“He’s too protective, and he won’t listen to me. If he doesn’t consider my opinions to be of any value, then there’s no point in pursuing our relationship.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I was just rushing forward with my hormones instead of my head. It’s time to reevaluate. At any rate, I’ll see him next week at Brianna’s party.”

“How’s your mom?”

Marla grimaced. “She invited Roger and Barry to join us for services Friday night. I wouldn’t be surprised if Roger pushed himself to be included.”

“He cares for Anita. Are you sure you’re not jealous of the attention she pays him?”

“Of course not. I’d like her to be more cautious, that’s all.”

“Look in the mirror, friend. Were you cautious with David, or Dalton?”

“David wormed himself into my life. As for Dalton, I didn’t jump into bed with him right away. It took a while.”

“Uh-huh. Are you sure you’re not getting cantankerous in your old age?”

“Ha! I’m only a few months older than you.”

“Maybe we should rejoin Perfect Fit Sports Club. You need to work out that tension.”

“No way. Besides, you’d be tense, too, after someone assaulted you. I’m too nervous to go to sleep.”

“Maybe the guy was after Goat’s envelope rather than you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Did you see who sent it? You could try to track them down and ask about Goat.”

Marla straightened her shoulders. “Tally, you’re brilliant. I remember the sender’s name and town on the return address. After we hang up, I’ll call information.”

“Be careful, will you?” Tally said, a note of alarm in her voice.

“A phone call can’t harm me. When can we get together?”

“Ken will be out of town this weekend. Want to catch a movie on Saturday night? Unless you change your mind about seeing Detective Vail.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s grab a bite to eat first, okay? I have a craving for clam chowder at Legal Sea Foods. Then we can go to the theater at Sawgrass.”

A few seconds later, Marla dialed four-one-one.

“What city?” an impersonal voice responded.

“Mount Dora. The person’s name is Jenny Stanislaw.” She waited breathlessly for the answer.

“Here’s the number.”

She scribbled down the code before touching the flash button and keypad.

“Hello,” a woman’s sleepy voice answered.

“I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?” She glanced at the clock. It was only ten, early for her.

“It’s all right. Who is this?”

“I’m a close friend of Goat’s.” Marla felt foolish that she didn’t know his last name. “He, uh, mentioned your name to me on a couple of occasions,” she lied.

“And you are?” The woman’s voice sharpened.

“Marla Shore, his neighbor. I haven’t seen him around for a few days, and I’m concerned about his absence. I was hoping you might know where he is.”

“The police have already questioned me.”

Marla’s mouth dropped open. Vail had said nothing about Goat’s connections. Apparently, he’d been one step ahead of her. Recovering her composure, she said, “I’m speaking to you as his friend. I’m worried about him, and I don’t believe he’s done anything wrong. I want to help him.”

“What makes you think I know anything?”

“You sent him articles about Harperites. Why did he want them?”

“Look, Miss Shore, it’s late, and I don’t feel like talking about my brother right now.”

“Your brother!” Marla repeated in surprise.

“His real name is Kyle Stanislaw. He got the nickname of Goat because he could never grow more than a scraggly beard. I don’t know where he is, but I can tell you one thing. Kyle may be involved in another of his scrapes, but he isn’t a murderer.”

“Why did Goat want you to send him those articles about Harperites?”

“I’m a librarian, so I assume that’s why he asked me to research the topic. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t question him. He’s very bright in some respects, although he lacks common sense.”

“We’ve been really concerned about him. I collected his mail, and while I was walking home, someone attacked me. Whoever it was stole the envelope you sent him.”

A moment of silence followed, terminated by a sigh. “We have a place on Siesta Key. I’d hoped Kyle might be there, but no one answers the telephone.”

Hope flared in her chest. “Is it possible for you to give me the address?”

“I already gave that information to the police. I trust they’ve already checked it out and didn’t find any sign of him.”

“I’ve helped the police solve cases before. I don’t know if Goat told you or not, but I’m a hairstylist. People tell me things they won’t admit to anyone else.”

“So?”

“So maybe if I ask around Siesta Key, someone might have spotted Goat, especially if you think he stopped off there.”

“If you’re who you say you are, come visit me. There are things about Kyle you should know if you truly want to help him.”

Marla tapped her foot, mentally reviewing her schedule. “I’m not free until Sunday. Is this something we could discuss now? Your brother is in trouble, and he needs to be found.”

Jenny’s voice hardened. “You have it reversed. The person who killed that man in his house needs to be found. Only then will Kyle be safe.”

“I pray that he’s all right. I believe he took his pet snake with him. Its container was empty. Either that, or the creature is slithering around our neighborhood.”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Jenny warned. “Kyle told me about the run-in he’d had with that guy next door. You don’t know who you can trust.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Did he say anything about…selling dog or cat fur?”

“What? Why on earth would Kyle mention such a thing?”

“Detective Vail believes he might be engaged in the pet-fur trade. He found an animal with…patches of skin showing.” That was putting it mildly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re going to discuss such foolery with me when you come, then don’t bother.”

“I’m sorry,” Marla hastily replied. “I didn’t mean to imply Goat was involved in anything disreputable. It’s just an angle the detective is checking, which may prove useful.”

“We’ll talk more when you’re here,” Jenny said. “Bye now.”

After Marla hung up, she mulled over their conversation. Goat’s real name was Kyle Stanislaw. His sister, Jenny, worked as a librarian. He’d requested articles about Martha Matilda Harper’s followers, but Jenny didn’t know the reason why he wanted them. Nor had Jenny heard any mention of his involvement in a pet-fur scheme. Perhaps he’d said something relevant, but his sister hadn’t realized its importance at the time, Marla thought. She’d have to conduct a more thorough interview in person. Possibly Jenny didn’t realize how strong the police’s suspicions were concerning her brother.

Jenny warned me to be careful
. What did she mean about Goat having a run-in with a neighbor? Which neighbor? Was there someone here to fear, in addition to Yani Verkovich’s killer? Were they linked, and was Goat their patsy? What else could be at stake besides a shady business, not quite illegal, involving dogs and cats?
That’s a question Cutter might be able to answer. He’s mixed up in this-I know it
.

She got up to change into her nightshirt. Too many possibilities crowded her brain, so she took solace in routine actions. Nonetheless, her mind remained in hyperdrive. At this rate, she’d never relax enough to fall asleep.

A cup of coffee might help. She padded toward the kitchen, wondering if she had any sweets tucked away in the refrigerator. Passing the living room, her gaze zeroed in on Vail’s chess set. It had fallen onto the carpet, cracked open, and some of the pieces had spilled out.

“Spooks!” she yelled, certain her poodle was guilty of a misdemeanor. Her heart sank after she replaced the carved chessmen into their felt-lined impressions. An open spot leered at her like an empty eye socket. “Oh, this is just great.”

Charging into the kitchen where Spooks had his bed, she spotted him cowering under the table. As soon as he saw her, he dropped whatever was in his mouth. Marla stooped to pick it up, ready to scold the pooch. Instead, she gasped with dismay. The knight had been chewed to the extent that the varnish had come off, and teeth marks were visible.

Dear Lord, what would Vail say? “Spooks, what have you done? You’ve ruined his gift. Bad dog!”

Spooks whimpered. His tail down, he hung his head.

Vail had bought the chess set in Europe, many years ago. She’d have to find a replacement, but where? Marla opened her mouth to chastise Spooks again, but then recalled what Vail had told her about dogs being killed for their fur. Reaching for Spooks, she scooped him into her arms and snuggled her face against his soft, fluffy coat.
No one better hurt you, pal. I’ll just deal with this new problem later
.

Easier said than done. Work consumed the next few days, and she was forced to push aside personal concerns. On Friday morning she arrived early at the salon to take inventory and place orders for supplies. That task accomplished, she set up the coffeemaker. So much to do, so little time. “I’m going to Bagel Busters,” she told the receptionist, a temporary hire.

Hastening along the shopping strip, she approached the restaurant, already full with the breakfast crowd. “Hi, Arnie,” she said to the man behind the cash register.

“Here’s my
shayna maidel.
” Arnie beamed widely as he rounded the bend to embrace her in a bear hug.

“What are you so happy about?” she asked her old friend, whose dark hair increasingly showed traces of silver.

“Jill has decided to take Judaism lessons. I never suggested it to her; she made the decision completely on her own. Needless to say, I’m thrilled.”

She smiled, touching his forearm. “That’s wonderful. Did you tell Josh and Lisa?”

His eyes twinkled. “They think it’s cool.”

“We’ll have to double-date again. I’ll talk to Dalton.”

Arnie, a widower with two children, had courted Marla before he started dating Jill. While Marla held a special fondness for him, she’d made it clear friendship was on her slate, nothing more. She didn’t want to be burdened with children, although now she’d gotten involved with Dalton Vail and his daughter, Brianna. How far their relationship would go, she’d yet to find out. Marla doubted the staid detective would ever consider converting to her religion. But it wasn’t an issue for her.

Ma still hopes I’ll marry someone Jewish
. After divorcing Stan, Marla had felt less inclined to honor her family’s wishes. She’d learned to follow her own heart, more or less.

“Is my order ready?” she asked Arnie, aware of his perceptive gaze on her face.

“Yep. Here you go.” He retrieved a large bag from behind the counter. “Everything okay? Any word on your missing neighbor?”

“I haven’t spoken to Dalton lately, nor have I had a chance to look into Goat’s disappearing act myself. It’s been a busy week.”

“No further unpleasantness?”

“Well, there is one thing. I have a problem.”

“You know you can count on me,
bubula
. What’s wrong?”

Rummaging in her purse, she pulled out the mangled chess piece. “This is part of a gift Dalton is giving to Brianna for her birthday. He wanted me to wrap it. Spooks thought this was a meal.”

“
Oy vey
.” Arnie peered at the damage. “What will you do?”

“I can’t tell him I ruined his present. He bought this with his late wife on a trip to Switzerland. I’ll have to find a replacement.”

“You could try the toy stores.”

“And the hobby places. I’ll look around. Just another chore to add to my list.”

“When is her party?”

“A week from tomorrow.”

“You’ve got time. Let me know if you need help.”

Warmed by his thoughtfulness, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a savior. Say hello to Jill for me.”

Back at the salon, she handed the bagels to the receptionist. “Giorgio should be here soon, and Nicole will be coming at nine. I’m going out for a little while.”

Marla approached the stucco facade of the Sunrise Academy of Beauty with a feeling of deja vu. No wonder; she’d spent forty weeks here studying cosmetology, earning the required twelve hundred hours toward her diploma. The building didn’t show its age, thanks to a fresh coat of coral paint. She wondered if the interior had been spared the ravages of time. If memory served her correctly, this place had been here since 1975.

Inside the air-conditioned lobby, she faced a receptionist’s desk done in generic office motif. Rows of plastic chairs lined the opposite wall. A couple of senior citizens lounged there, leafing through old hairstyling magazines.

“Hi, I’m Marla Shore,” she introduced herself to the middle-aged redhead behind the desk. The secretary’s name badge identified her as Janine.

“Are you here for hair or nails? You’ll need to sign in,” Janine said before Marla had a chance to explain her purpose.

“I’m not here for any services.” She was aware students practiced on real clients in an adjacent lab, and members of the public could walk in and register for treatments. A sign on the wall said a wash and blow-dry was only three dollars. Huh! That was a lot cheaper than the twenty dollars she charged. And where else could you get a pedicure today for five dollars?

“I’d like to speak to someone about your program,” she announced firmly.

“Which one?” Janine’s gray eyes scrutinized her as though she were an overgrown cuticle. “We have courses in cosmetology, facials, nails, and skin care. We’ve recently added a health department where you can study to become a medical, dental, or nursing aide.”

Marla lifted her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you had expanded your curriculum.”

Janine’s ample bosom swelled with pride. “Our enrollment keeps increasing. Dorothy May founded the academy in 1975. All we had to offer early students was nail and skin care technology. Then we moved into hair, and now we have cosmetic specialties in fields like sculptured tips and permanent makeup.”

“I’m interested in cosmetology.”

She pursed her lips. “You’ll have to attend our orientation program which runs every Tuesday, either in the morning from eight until ten, or in the evening from seven to nine. You’re required to take a placement test to measure your math, reading, and language levels. It takes about twenty minutes on the computer. Then a counselor will describe the required classes.”

Grinning, Marla shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here, although I’d like to learn more. Just to see how things have changed, you understand. I’m a licensed stylist.”

“Oh, then you’re here about a renewal? We don’t do the HIV/AIDS course here or the other things you’ll need. It’s tough to get part-time instructors, and we have too many regular students. One of the other schools may be able to help you.”

Marla stood her ground. “I need to speak to a director.”

Challenged, the receptionist tilted her head. “Maybe you’re here to register for one of our advanced-products seminars?”

“I’m seeking specific information on my former classmates. Do you keep records from several years ago?”

Janine’s expression deflated now that she realized Marla wasn’t applying as a student. “You’ll have to speak to Virginia. She’s the cosmetology department chief. I’ll ring her up and see if she’s in.” A few moments later: “You’re in luck. Go down the hall; it’s the third door on your left.”

Marla marched proudly along the corridor, appreciating how far she’d come since she’d walked these halls so many years ago. No longer a novice, she now had the benefit of many years of experience. She glimpsed into the laboratory on her left, smiling at the scene. Students wearing blue uniforms worked on mannequin heads while others practiced on actual clients clad in maroon smocks. Although part of her felt a wave of nostalgia, she was glad her year of basic training was long finished.

When Marla reached the office indicated, she knocked on the solid wood door.

“Come in,” rang out a strong female voice.

Marla entered. An auburn-haired woman, sitting behind a mahogany desk, glanced up and smiled. Her china blue eyes looked vaguely familiar.

“Please come in,” the director said. “I’m Virginia Hawkins.”

“Hi, I’m Marla Shore. I graduated from here a number of years ago, and I need some information.”

“Please have a seat. I remember you, dear. I believe I was one of your instructors.”

After sharing nostalgic memories, Marla stated her case. “Do you keep class rosters? I’m interested in looking up a former classmate.”

“We keep a database on all our former students. Names, addresses, phone numbers, resumes, job placement. We don’t normally give out this information.”

Marla thought fast. “I’m planning a reunion.”

“A reunion, how exciting!” Virginia grinned in delight.

“I think we lost a member,” Marla said in a sad tone. “I’d read in the newspaper about a stylist drowning in an accident. I couldn’t remember whether she was in my class or not.”

The director clucked with sympathy. “Just let me bring up that window.” Turning to her computer, Virginia typed in a few commands. “You’re talking about Eileen McFee.”

“May I see?” Marla craned her neck to peer at the monitor. What she saw made her blood run cold. Louise Cunningham, the recent hit-and-run victim Giorgio had mentioned, was on the same list.

“This is my class! Can I possibly get a printout?”

“Well, since you’re a former student of mine…I’ll make an exception, but only if you invite me to the reunion.” Virginia pushed the PRINT button. “It’s difficult retaining students with our transient population.”