Murder by Manicure (14 page)

Folding her hands in her lap, Marla related the course of events. “I didn't know Sam all that well, but I'll feel awful if Eloise was in their car."

"Why wouldn't she have been?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling."

"Uh-oh."

"Eloise suspected Sam was having an affair with Jolene. Maybe she confronted him over dinner. If he was nasty or evasive, she could've walked out on him."

"Or maybe she planted the bomb herself. It fits, doesn't it? Knock off Jolene who is screwing hubby, then do in the old man? Maybe even disappear afterward so everyone believes you were in that car."

"I can't picture Eloise putting together a bomb. She's a realtor, not a mechanic."

"Anyone can learn. I'll bet they have lessons on the Internet."

Marla shuddered. “How awful. Learn to blow up people in ten easy steps? What is this world coming to?"

Tally maneuvered into the right lane. “Eloise never had evidence Sam's meetings with Jolene were for amorous purposes. What if they met over a matter of business?"

"Like what?"

"He was a realtor also. Was Jolene interested in changing her residence? Or investing in property?"

"Good point. Maybe I'll stop in at their office Monday. Dalton should have word on Eloise by then."

They pulled into the parking lot where the Cut ‘N Dye was located. Tally found a spot near Marla's Toyota and idled the engine. Another deserted, dark avenue for muggers, Marla thought with a shiver. Or mad bombers. How could she tell if her car was wired?

"Are you still meeting me at the club tomorrow morning?” Tally asked. “Ken has a golf game, so I've got a few hours free."

"Yeah, I'll be there. I want to talk to Amy, so maybe we can have a snack before our workout. Is there a Dancercize class scheduled?"

"I think so. Eight o'clock too early?"

"On Sunday? Hell, yes. Let's make it at nine."

"Nine-killer. That's another name for the butcher bird, or shrike, which supposedly kills nine birds a day,” Amy said while Marla perused the food choices at the juice bar.

"Is that so?"

"Three down. More to go. If you don't watch out, you'll ruin the show."

"Huh?” Now Amy sounded like Marla's neighbor Goat, who often spoke in obscure phrases.

Amy's turquoise eyes bored into hers. “I heard about the Zelmans. Mr. Goodfellow is here with Wallace Ritiker. He told me."

"Hank? I thought he'd left the restaurant already. We didn't see him later on."

Amy shrugged. “It must have been a blast."

Marla winced at the girl's bad attempt at humor. She'd arrived early, hoping Amy would be on duty. Funny how the prospect of questioning a suspect propelled her out of bed in the morning. Maybe Ma was right, and she needed some spice in her life. So what if an amour wasn't the direction Marla wanted to go? Solving a murder served the same purpose: cozy up to the opposition; learn his secrets; eliminate conflicting viewpoints; and get to the climax. As simple as a haircut. Snip away those dead ends; blend the different layers; finish off the style. Real life wasn't so easy, though. Relationships required constant work, and murders didn't always offer simple solutions.

Tally breezed in, and the next few minutes were spent exchanging greetings and ordering snacks. Marla was relieved to see coffee on the menu. Amy gave her a paper cup, and she served herself from a large metal urn. Brown sugar was the only sweetener available. Tally ordered a raspberry sunrise fruit drink and chose a Clif Bar from a selection of packaged goods.

"It's similar to a granola bar,” she said. “This tastes better and is loaded with protein and antioxidants."

"I'll have a bagel,” Marla said to Amy. Breakfast was an important meal; she needed something substantial. “I was hoping to make an appointment with Tess, the massage therapist. Have you met her?"

Amy leaned on the counter, her straight hair falling forward. “Several times. Tess hangs at the same club I do, down by the Strip."

"Are you two friends?"

She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn't go that far. We've only exchanged a few words, and she doesn't come in here that often."

Marla took a sip of coffee, aware that Tally could overhear them from her seat at the table. “What about Slate? Don't they ever share the same time slot in the massage suite?"

"Nah, Tess comes in during off hours."

"He seems reluctant to talk about her. I was wondering if they had anything going on."

Amy's expression grew stony. “He'd better not be seeing her, but I wouldn't put it past him. He chases after every skirt that walks through this door."

"I figured that was Keith's act. He put the moves on me the first day I met him. I think he really likes you, though."

"He can stuff it. Slate's the man for me, except he's too blind to see it."

"What would you say if I told you Slate not only knows Tess well, but she might be living with him?"

No wonder Tess had given Betsy's address. If Amy happened to see the staff roster, she'd notice Slate's street number. So Tess had given the address of her friend Betsy, instead.

"I don't believe you."

"I wanted to talk to Tess. She was at Slate's house, but I just missed her."

"There has to be a reason why she was there. Slate's a hormonal drone, but he wouldn't do it with that broad. Have you seen her? She's huge!” Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her voice. “The jerk tried to hit on Jolene. I heard them. She told him off, but I don't think she meant it. Like she was playing hard to get, you know."

"Gloria told me you overheard Slate and Jolene arguing inside one of the massage rooms. Did Jolene stay for the full hour of her appointment?"

A smug smile curved the girl's ruby lips. “No, she left early. I meant to follow her into the locker room to make sure she had no real interest in Slate, but Lindsay was just leaving and I needed to ask her something."

"So you didn't consider Jolene to be a rival at that point?"

"Honey, I consider everyone a rival who wears a dress, yourself included. You heed my warning, and stay away from Slate.” Her gaze lifted. “There's Gloria. She's a first-class bitch if ever you met one."

"Tell me about it."

"She was standing outside the door trying to hear what Jolene said to Slate. I could tell she was worried. Jolene knew things about Gloria that she doesn't want to get around."

A beefy man wearing denim shorts and a gray muscle shirt plopped his gym bag on a table and approached the counter. “Gimme a lemon twist, luv,” he demanded, winking at Marla.

Raising an eyebrow, Marla turned away and joined Tally. Spreading cream cheese on her bagel, she related what she'd learned and brought her friend up to speed about Hortense.

"I'm concerned that Arnie might get hurt,” she told Tally. “He's awed by her, but I know how deceiving appearances can be, having learned my own lesson the hard way. I'd rather know more about Hortense before he gets too involved."

"I thought you said she was attracted to Dalton."

"She played up to him, at least while we were discussing Jolene's case. Don't forget, she thinks Arnie is my fiancé."

Tally's azure eyes danced with delight. “Man, I wish I'd been there!"

"I hope Ma doesn't hear the news. She's always liked Arnie. She'd be disappointed to learn it's a pretense. Would you believe I was afraid Eloise would tell people? I can't accept that she's missing. First Jolene dies, then Mrs. Zelman disappears. I never told you what happened in the parking lot the other night.” Speaking rapidly, she related the incident.

Tally finished her Clif Bar. “Holy smokes, you don't suppose someone is knocking off your clients and having a swing at you because you make women look good, do you?"

"Who'd do that? A jealous wife?"

"Maybe an aging woman whose spouse won't look twice at her anymore because his head is distracted by other pretty faces."

"That's absurd."

"Yeah, but it's something to think about."

"Eloise fits that bill, but she's one of the victims."

"Were her remains found in that car?"

"I don't know. Dalton won't tell me anything."

"Well, what else have you got?"

"I want to know why Hortense seems interested in this case. She appeared out of nowhere and latched herself onto Arnie. When Vail came along, suddenly she liked him. Perhaps she's on the level, but I want to find out before she screws Arnie.”
Or takes Dalton away from me,
she added silently.

"How are you going to pursue that angle?"

"Arnie might know where she was located before she moved here. She wasn't that far away; I know that much. I'll take a ride and see what I can learn."

"Call me if it's one of my days off, and I'll go with you—oh, I didn't tell you about the guy who came into my boutique.” Her face creased into a smile. “He said he wanted to look at some outfits for his girlfriend, but after he selected several dresses, he tried them on!"

Marla chuckled. “Did he buy anything?"

"Yes, two items plus matching accessories. Very weird. He was a hunky-looking guy, too."

"It takes all kinds.” She fell silent to finish her bagel. Revved up from the coffee, she rose and tossed her empty containers into the trash. “Let's get changed. How much time before Dancercize?"

Tally stretched, then checked her watch. “It starts at ten. We've got fifteen minutes."

"If we hurry, we'll have time to talk to Hank. I'd like to ask him how he found out about the incident last night. Was he still at the restaurant, and if so, did he see anyone else around the cars that got blown up?"

Tally placed a warning hand on her arm. “Don't look now, but here comes Cookie."

"Hi, gals.” Cookie bounced in, looking chipper in a sweatshirt and shorts. “So Marla, I hear the Zelmans got bumped off last night."

"Who told you?” Marla demanded.

Cookie smirked. “One of my SETA colleagues. Her brother owns the tow-truck company that does accident cleanups. The Zelmans screwed a lot of people. It's no secret they made money off other people's misfortunes. Something to do with mortgage foreclosures."

"I was in the restaurant last night,” Marla confided. “I talked to Eloise in the ladies’ room. She believed Sam was having an affair with Jolene. Why else would they have been meeting at the Holiday Inn? It's not your usual business location."

"You tell me, doll. Jolene acted strange in many ways. Must've been those chemicals she worked with every day. Affected her brain. Or else guilt afflicted her from all the suffering she caused those captive animals."

Pushing open the door to the locker room, Cookie preceded the others inside and marched directly toward an unoccupied bench. The room wasn't crowded yet, but it was bound to fill later when all the Sunday snoozers woke up. Marla, trailing after Cookie, chose an empty cubbyhole and took out the combination lock she'd brought in her bag. She motioned Tally to the space beside hers.

"Did you discover anything new about Jolene's work or those lab reports you'd mentioned?” Marla asked Cookie, determined to squeeze every bit of information from the woman.

"Did you rid your salon of products from companies that use animal testing?"

"I haven't had a chance."

"Well, I won't tell you anything else until you do.” Cookie's expression hardened. “Someone has to stand up for those poor creatures. Too much of our society is based on animal abuse. Drugs, cosmetics, and industrial products all require liability and safety tests, but they can be done in a more humane manner. You're the ones who influence those industries. If you boycott their products, you won't be held personally responsible for the deaths of animals. Otherwise, you're nothing more than murderers."

Plopping onto the bench, she slid her feet from a pair of scuffed sandals and took out a can of antifungal powder from her backpack. Sprinkling the yellow substance on her feet, she then pulled on a pair of white cotton socks and stuck her feet into sneakers.

Marla stared at the sprinkling of yellow dust on the floor, but she had no time to consider Cookie's inconsiderate habits because a cough sounded from around the bend. Who had been listening in on their conversation?

Lindsay's grinning face popped into view. “Sorry, guys. I was changing into my leotard when I heard you come in, and I wasn't exactly presentable. Are you joining my dance class?"

"Sure thing,” Tally responded, beating Marla to the punch. Engaging Lindsay in small talk, she changed into a black-and-silver combo that reminded Marla of a Victoria's Secret window fashion.

By comparison, her own shorts and tank top seemed overly conservative. It didn't help that Lindsay looked like Barbie with her swinging ponytail, leggy pink tights, and glowing complexion. Where were all the overweight patrons who really needed the class?

Probably upstairs, she told herself as they followed Lindsay to the second level. Two people were missing from her group today, Marla realized with dismay. First Jolene met her demise, then Eloise vanished in a puff of smoke. Who was next?

"Hello, it's me!” trilled a voice from inside the studio.

Marla's jaw dropped open. Dressed in a two-piece outfit that showed more skin than fabric, Hortense grinned at them.

"What are you doing here?” Marla asked Hortense, determined to find out why the woman popped up at the most opportune times.

"I decided to take advantage of the three-month trial membership.” Whipping back a stray hair from her face, she glanced pointedly at Tally.

Marla introduced them as Lindsay stepped forward. “This is my friend Tally Riggs, and here's Lindsay Trotter, the dance teacher. Are you joining her class?"

"I was hoping there'd be enough room."

"Wow, the place is full,” Tally commented, noting the crowded studio.

Lindsay bounced on her heels. “We always get a good group on Sundays. Come on inside, ladies. Don't forget to rub your shoes in the resin so you don't slip,” she advised Hortense. “It's not necessary for sneakers, but I recommend it for jazz shoes or ballet slippers on a polished floor.” Beaming a toothpaste-advertisement smile, she strutted inside the room.