Murder by Manicure (20 page)

Dr. Crone laughed, a pleasant, infectious sound that made Marla smile despite her embarrassment. “I gather Arnie wasn't too pleased. It's no wonder. Other kids used to call me Horrible Hortense in high school. Short and fat was not a great combination in those years. Add to that clunky eyeglasses, dowdy clothes, and a shy personality, and you've got a teenage tribble: something to avoid before it multiplies."

Marla's eyes sparked with admiration. “You've certainly changed,” she commented, realizing the scientist's charisma reached beyond her improved appearance.

Hortense's eyebrow lifted. “Self-confidence made all the difference. I love my work, and once I realized public speaking would be required, my views shifted. I've always been very goal oriented. During high school, aiming for the career I wanted was my main focus. Guess I was a late developer sexually, too. College was where I started to care about how I looked."

"Well, as a hairstylist, I can say that your cut is great for the shape of your face. It's very flattering."

"Thanks, Marla. Coming from you, that's a real compliment. Now tell me, are you going to keep my secret?"

"You mean Jillian's secret? I don't know. Arnie likes her, but I don't know how he'll feel when he learns the truth. I just don't want him to get hurt."

"He's a dear man.” Hortense's eyes glowed with affection, but then she frowned. “Jill thinks you're engaged to him. Even if she likes him, she wouldn't encroach on your territory. It might seem that way because she's trying to get information, but Jill is a decent character. I made sure about that before I hired her. So what is your relationship to Arnie?"

"We're good friends. I love the guy, but I'm more interested in Dalton Vail."

"I see."

Marla struggled with her conscience. She should tell Arnie so he wouldn't fall for Jill's allure. But then again, if Jill sincerely cared for Arnie, how would she feel about their deception? The situation appeared to be a catch-22. And what about Vail? Jill was perfectly placed at a position inside Stockhart Industries. If either of them blew her cover, would the girl be dismissed?

"How did Jill get a job at Stockhart Industries if she was pretending to be you?” Marla asked, trying to understand the different angles.

"She obtained the position under her own credentials,” Dr. Crone replied, picking up a Mont Blanc pen. “Jillian Barlow graduated college as a communications major. She worked for a few years in Orlando while doing acting jobs on the side; then she accepted an offer for a better position here in Vero Beach. The girl might look like a bimbo, but she has brains."

"I suppose she does, especially when she's playing the role of undercover detective. You must be paying her well."

Hortense didn't answer right away, doodling instead on a scratch pad. “She'd intended to move to south Florida anyway. I found out about the opening at Stockhart Industries and figured she'd be perfect for a job in public relations. My influence helped to land her the position. She's happy enough about that much, but I also offered to supplement her moving expenses and apartment costs until she could manage on her own."

"That's very generous of you."

Her gaze hardened. “Make no mistake about it, I intend to find out what happened to my cousin. She meant for me to air the truth about those lab tests, but I don't want to tip my hand until Jill discovers who killed her. Now that you're in on the game, will you help us?"

Biting her lower lip, Marla considered her response. If she continued to play along, she'd be deceiving everyone except Vail, and they'd have a better chance of unmasking a murderer. Perhaps that was why Vail had kept his lips sealed up to this point.

"All right, I'll join your scheme for now. But I'm going to warn Jill not to play false with Arnie. I won't let him get hurt.” She looked at Hortense speculatively. “When this is over, I hope you'll meet him. I don't think he'd be so disappointed in you now."

Dr. Crone's face eased into a grin. “I may have had a crush on Arnie during high school, but that was a long time ago. If Jill wants him and you have no claim, she can have him."

Holding up her left hand, she let a low chuckle escape her throat. “I don't wear rings because of my laboratory work; otherwise you'd see my gold band. I've no interest in Arnie because I'm married."

Marla drove straight home so she could let Spooks out and grab a bite to eat before deciding her next move. The message light blinked on her answering machine, so after a quick trip to the bathroom, she spent a few minutes in her home office. Anita had called, and so had Tally and Dalton Vail. Maybe she wouldn't have to take Brianna to dance class tomorrow night.

Aware that it was past six and that he might be in the middle of dinner, Marla dialed Vail's home number first.

"Hello,” Brianna responded.

"Hi, this is Marla. Is your father there?"

"Nope, he's still at work.” Chewing sounds emanated from the phone receiver.

"Oh. I guess I'll give him a call at the office, then."

"Is it about the case he's working on? Because if not, you shouldn't bother Dad at his job."

Marla wondered if those were his actual instructions to his daughter. “I don't think he'll mind. Am I taking you to dance class tomorrow night, or will your father be free?"

"I dunno. Guess you'll have to drive me again, unless you're busy."

"I'm never too busy for you, honey.”
Lord save me, where did those words come from?
“I'll pick you up the same time as last week, okay?"

"Sure."

"Are you home alone? Because if you want company, I can—"

"No. I don't need anyone else."

Stung by the abrupt refusal, Marla stuttered. “W-well, I won't disturb you further."

A pause. “Lucky is here. He's my friend."

"Of course. I'll see you Tuesday evening, then. Bye.” Gritting her teeth, Marla hung up. That girl persisted in getting on her nerves, but Marla felt sorry for her. She had no mother to guide her, nor any close relatives in the area, a father who was away from home more than half the time, and only a golden retriever for company. Approaching the harrowing years of puberty, how would the child cope?

It's not your business, girl.
No, it wasn't, but she couldn't help her feelings of empathy. After Tammy's drowning, she'd been vulnerable herself and had only survived thanks to a strong support system. It would grieve her to see Brianna going down the wrong path because no one was available to advise her. Dalton knew he needed help as a parent. That scared her as much as it drew her closer to him. Mothering was a role she'd avoided intentionally, because she couldn't stand the pain if something bad happened to someone she loved. If getting more involved with Dalton meant accepting his daughter as part of the package, was she really interested? And did he want her for herself, or because he needed a mother for his child?

God, it was so complicated. All she knew was that her blood surged whenever he looked at her. His smoky gaze melted her resistance so that none of this mattered in his presence. Maybe she should just go with the flow and see where it led. She was only taking the girl to dance class, for heaven's sake. That didn't warrant a commitment on her part, although Dalton preferred she didn't go out with anyone else. He'd made his feelings clear on that score. She was afraid the detective would lose patience and find someone else who'd give him her full attention. Someone like Hortense, perhaps.

Schlemiel, you mean Jillian Barlow.

Deciding to call him later, she stalked into the kitchen to prepare dinner. She was savoring a meal of eggplant parmesan and garlic bread when the phone rang. Now what? Couldn't she eat in peace?

"Where have you been all day?” Tally demanded. “That guy came into my boutique again."

"What guy?"

"The man who buys clothes for his girlfriend but tries them on first.” Her voice lowered. “I think he's weird."

"You mean he's gay?"

"No, but I can't explain it. I wish you could see him."

"So call me next time he comes into your store. If I'm free, I'll rush over while he's still in the dressing room."

"You've got a deal. So what's up?"

Marla discussed the morning's events but skimmed over her afternoon session. “I've got a few leads about Jolene's activities at work, but I'll wait to see how they pan out. Are you doing anything tonight? I want to follow up on Tesla, the massage lady from the club whom neither of us have met. I'd like to see what she has to say about her fellow staff members. Then there's another task I've been meaning to do."

"I'll join you. Ken is glued to the TV set watching a Heat game tonight, so he won't mind if I go out."

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. Oh, and one more thing: wear something dark,” she ended mysteriously.

"Why are we sitting in front of Slate's house?” Tally asked later, when they were parked a few doors down from 501 Fairlawn Court in Davie. Taking Marla's advice, she'd worn a black Spandex jumpsuit that made her look like a cat burglar. Wavy blond hair spilled down her back, negating the anonymous image Marla wanted them to project.

"Betsy implied Tesla lived here, and that's her dark-green Buick in the driveway.” Her own outfit consisted of black pants and a matching zippered tunic top in stretch nylon. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too conspicuous if Tally covered her hair. It wasn't necessary now, but it would be in a short while if Marla carried out her other plan.

Tally's azure eyes glowed in the dim light of a street lamp. “So Tesla and Slate are having an affair?"

"I'm not sure. When I called the club earlier, Sharon told me that neither one of them is on duty tonight. So let's see what happens."

"Why don't we just knock on the door?"

Marla shook her head, causing a length of bobbed hair to fall across her eyes. Shoving the strands away, she replied, “I don't want to tip them off. There's got to be a reason why Tess is so elusive."

"Speak of the devil; is that her coming from the house?” Tally pointed excitedly at the large-boned woman striding toward the Buick.

Marla's pulse accelerated. “Yes, I recognize her. She likes to wear those flowing garments. Funny, you wouldn't think Slate would be attracted to a big lady like her. He wanted Jolene, and she was slim compared to Tess."

"Maybe he doesn't like Amy because she's too petite. Should we wait until she leaves, then see if Slate's home alone?"

"Let's follow Tess. She might have more answers if we can talk to her.” Turning on the ignition, Marla shifted gears, leaving the headlights off until they approached an intersection.

"Holy smokes, where is she going?” Tally wondered aloud as they cruised east on I-595 and then veered north on I-95.

Traffic on Monday evening was still fairly heavy, but since this was tourist season, Marla wasn't surprised. “I hope Tess isn't headed for Orlando!” she joked.

"You don't know anything about her except that she works part-time as a masseuse at the club. She could be going to night classes at BCC North Campus."

Education appeared to be the farthest thing from Tess's mind when they finally pulled into a parking lot at Pelican's on South Ocean Boulevard in Delray Beach. Inside, reggae music vibrated from a stage where the Stingrays performed live. A lounge held a dance floor filled with jiving guests, a karaoke platform, and an old-fashioned mahogany bar with glistening glassware. An adjoining barroom housed billiards, video games, and another seating area. At least a no-smoking policy provided clean air, Marla thought gratefully as the loud thrumming and noisy chatter assailed her ears.

Their arrival produced energetic male whistles and several offers to dance. Fending off their admirers, Marla gestured to a dark corner table. “Let's sit there,” she suggested to Tally, hoping the dim illumination hadn't exposed them to Tess's view. Their target had taken a position at the bar, and Marla couldn't shake the feeling that her firm-jawed profile was somehow familiar.

"You know, I've seen that woman before,” Tally hissed as they shouldered their way through the crowd.

"Yeah, I got the impression I'd seen her somewhere else besides Betsy's,” Marla agreed. “Look who else is at the bar!"

"Why, it's Amy from the sports club! What's she doing here?"

"Taking a break from her job at the refreshment stand, I imagine.” Marla led the way toward a corner table. When the waiter slouched his way over, she ordered a bushwacker, her favorite coffee-laced liquor drink. Tally requested a glass of chardonnay.

While waiting for their orders, Marla helped herself to a handful of salted peanuts from a dish on the table. “Amy told me Tess came here sometimes, but they're not really friends,” she said, crunching on the nuts. “See how Tess is sitting at the other end of the bar?"

"Amy has quite a collection of guys hanging on. I thought you said she had the hots for Slate."

"Yeah, but he doesn't return her ardor. Maybe this is how Amy consoles herself, by picking up dates here."

"Tess appears to be watching Amy.” Tally's shrewd gaze assessed the two women. “Look, that hunk just came up to Tess, and she's not interested in him. Why don't you go talk to her?"

Marla gave her friend an astonished glance. “Amy is too close. She'll see me and think I followed her."

"Tell her you came here to meet Tess.” Tally's eyes twinkled playfully. “I should make an appointment for a massage with Slate. It would tickle my ego if he propositioned me!"

An hour passed while they nursed their drinks, tapped their feet to the music, and observed Tess keeping tabs on Amy. Finally, the Smoothie King attendant left on the arm of a blond, muscled surfer. Tess rose as though to follow, but Marla intercepted her.

"Hi, I'm Marla Shore, a member of the Perfect Fit Sports Club. You're one of the massage therapists, aren't you?” From the corner of her eye, she noted Tally paying their bill. She'd settle the tab with her later.

"Oh, hello, dear,” Tess trilled, her heavily made-up eyes looking less than pleased.

Marla took a moment to size up the woman. Tall and broad-shouldered, Tesla Parr carried herself with an awkward stiffness. She seemed uncomfortable in high heels, wobbling slightly as she walked but holding her head high. Her dress displayed an ample bosom but slim hips, an almost incongruous match. After scanning her hairdo, Marla's gaze narrowed. Tess's luxurious ebony layers had a suspiciously vague hairline.
Bless my bones, it's a wig,
she realized with sudden insight. Tess's crimson lips parted as Marla's eyes inadvertently widened, and the woman's chalky white skin blushed. Her skin tone was due to a heavy application of light foundation and powder, Marla determined, openly curious about the woman's odd appearance.