Murder by Manicure (26 page)

A line of customers was waiting outside Bagel Busters when Marla arrived at the shopping strip where her salon was located. Arnie must be serving early-bird dinners, she thought wryly. The senior citizen crowd was out in force. She allowed herself the luxury of glancing into the rearview mirror to check her hair. The reddish highlights glinted in the fading afternoon light. Opening her purse, she withdrew a tube and applied apricot lip gloss. Now she was ready to conquer the world.

"Hey, Marla,” Arnie called when she'd elbowed her way inside his establishment. Waving, he grinned in unabashed delight from behind the cash register.

Wondering how he always managed to look so manly in a T-shirt, jeans, and full-length apron, Marla approached with an answering smile. Ruth, one of the waitresses, greeted her while she waited for Arnie to finish giving change to a customer. “Have you spoken to Jill lately?” she asked at the first opening.

"We went out Friday night. I hope you don't mind.” His dark eyes gleamed expectantly as though he would have liked her to protest.

"Doesn't bother me!” she said breezily. “I'm glad the two of you have hit it off. Has she, uh, told you anything new about herself?"

The grin disappeared from his face. “Hortense, alias Jillian Barlow, confessed her secret identity. I was upset that she'd lied to me, until I remembered we'd done the same thing to her. Then I thought how brave she was to investigate Jolene's drowning."

"The real Hortense Crone—who is married, by the way—has been trying to get in touch with her, but Jill hasn't answered her telephone. Any idea if she went away for the rest of the weekend?"

"She was excited about something but wouldn't tell me more until she checked her facts."

"Ah! She left a message for Dr. Crone, who works at the Marine Annex in Vero Beach. Apparently, Jill found a link to Jolene's killer."

"Jill explained her role to me and how she's grateful to Hortense for helping her. She wouldn't do anything stupid, do you think?” A worried frown transformed his features.

"Maybe Dalton can enlighten us. I believe he's working today. I'll stop off there on my way to Hank's pharmacy."

Promising to let him know what she learned, Marla left to head for the central police station. As she'd surmised, Dalton was mired in paperwork when she was admitted to his office. Nonetheless, her heart somersaulted when his gaze brightened at the sight of her. He looked pretty decent himself, his broad shoulders encased in a white dress shirt. He'd loosened his tie and appeared relaxed, with his thick hair ruffled and a mug of coffee on his desk.

His glance scanned her denim-clad figure before settling on her face. “Sorry I haven't called lately, but I've been busy."

"That's not why I'm here.” She plopped herself down on one of his chairs. “Dr. Crone has been trying to get in touch with Jill, who left a message on her answering machine that she'd found the link to Jolene's killer. When Arnie saw Jill Friday night, she was excited but wouldn't talk. He says she wanted to gather more information before coming to you."

A bemused smile curved his mouth. “You mean Arnie knows the lady's real identity?"

"She told him the truth. They like each other, Dalton. I'm so glad for Arnie."

His gaze captured hers. “Me, too."

She blinked, realizing she could easily get lost looking into the depths of his smoky eyes. “Jolene passed off someone else's lab test results as her own. My guess is, Cookie found the source. Jill may have pinpointed the same person, in which case I'm worried for her."

"You think Jolene had a deal going with someone else who works in a lab?"

"That's what Cookie implied. The question is who? The same culprit who sold Jolene the lab reports may be the person who designed Sam's car bomb and heaved that explosive through my window."

"Sold to Jolene? You mean someone made money on their deal?"

Annoyance puckered her brow. Was he being obtuse on purpose? “Why else would the perp contribute his own reports to be used by someone else in an unethical manner?"

Vail regarded her with a patient smile. “He could be unhappy in his job, wanting to get back at a colleague who wronged him. There are lots of reasons. Find the perpetrator, and you'll have your motive."

Marla brightened. “Possibly Jolene got disenchanted and broke off her end of the bargain. I don't think she would've exposed her partner in crime, because it would have brought forth her own duplicity. But she must have angered or threatened this person somehow."

Picking up a pen, Vail studied her, as though weighing how much to say. “Have you spoken to Hank Goodfellow lately?"

Her jaw dropped open. “He's a pharmacist. Do you think he's—"

"Goodfellow doesn't work in a lab."

"So why ... wait, Slate implied Hank and Lindsay were interested in each other. Isn't Hank married?"

"Hank's got problems, and his rocky marriage is only one of them. We're about to bust him wide open."

"What exactly is he messed up in?” she asked encouragingly, as though Eloise hadn't already told her.

"Illegally selling prescription drugs. One of his clerks has turned informant, and we've obtained a list of his private customers. Apparently, Hank thinks he's doing them a service, but the law doesn't see it that way."

"That must've been what made Wallace Ritiker so upset. He was afraid he'd be implicated. Is his name on the list?"

Vail shook his head. “Not on that one, but he may have been paid to turn his back on the scheme. Jolene was one of Hank's customers. She'd been pretty vocal about protesting his recent price hike. You'd mentioned Lindsay. Isn't she Brianna's dance teacher? She takes some sort of pain med Hank supplies."

"She hurt her back a while ago,” Marla replied, “and it still bothers her. Was Sam one of his customers, too? I don't see how he enters the equation. What did Eloise tell you?"

"Not much I didn't already know.” He clicked the ballpoint pen in and out.

Marla sat forward as another idea flooded her mind. “Could Hank have supplied Jolene's gelatin capsules?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That's a distinct possibility."

Scraping her chair back, she stood. “I'm going to see him."

"You are not.” His bulk rose. “This investigation is nearly a wrap. He's about to go down for his little side business. Steer clear, understand?"

"Are you giving me orders, lieutenant? I don't believe I'm a member of the police force."

"Marla, please."

His pleading tone wormed into her heart. “I won't screw things up for you, but I'm concerned about Jill. If she knows who the killer is, she's in danger."

Walking to her car, she realized they hadn't identified any new suspects, other than Hank, who possessed the skills to make a bomb. Dr. Crone? Heck, she lived in Vero Beach. Besides, she'd sent the actress to learn who had harmed Jolene.

Wasn't there another chemical plant in town? Maybe their personnel files held some answers. Certainly it was worth a try, but most likely, they wouldn't be open until tomorrow. Hank's pharmacy seemed the best bet.

Fortunately, he hadn't locked his doors when she arrived. Ignoring the “Closed” sign in the window, Marla pushed through the entrance. Obviously figuring he'd seen the last of his customers, Hank had removed his white coat and was securing the cash register when she coughed to announce her presence.

Hank glanced up, his blue eyes looking startled at first, then relieved. “Oh, it's you."

"Who were you expecting?” she replied.
The cops, maybe?

Giving a sheepish grin, he ran a hand through his thinning hairline. “I'm just about to lock up, but since you bring your mom's prescriptions in a lot, what can I do for you?"

Marla leaned on the counter. “I've been having headaches lately, and over-the-counter medicines aren't working. What have you got that's stronger? Forget my insurance card. I'm willing to pay cash."

He leveled an appraising stare at her. “Don't you hang around with that police detective?"

"I've helped him with a couple of cases."

"I think you'll have to see a doctor."

She smiled in a beguiling fashion. “Hank, I understand you've helped people. It's not exactly a secret. You probably figure you're doing them a kindness, especially with the way managed-care plans deny benefits these days."

His guarded expression didn't soften, so she tried another tack. “Look, I know law enforcement doesn't take kindly to folks supplying certain medications without a prescription. It's a shame, because patients can't even get a doctor's appointment unless they're dying. You're treading the line between healer and druggist. In some cultures, that's acceptable, but not in ours. In fact, if I were to give you a word of warning, I'd say the shit is about to hit the fan. Get my drift, pal?"

"Why are you here? You don't usually have headaches, do you?"

"Wally was afraid you'd drag him in. Did you bribe him so he'd look the other way? He was mighty upset after that break-in."

"The thieves stole my money,” Hank said. “Ritiker felt I should've been more security-conscious."

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn't stage that robbery yourself to cover up your cash flow imbalances? I'd heard you raised prices recently, and Jolene didn't approve. Did she threaten to blow the whistle on your lucrative sideshow?"

Hank slammed a fist down on the counter. “Don't implicate me! I don't know anything about her death."

"She swallowed a couple of capsules, thinking they were gelatin, but they contained sedatives. Did you supply them, Hank?"

His oblong face sagged. The pinkish jowls reminded Marla absurdly of a turkey's wattle. All he needed were a few tufts of hair standing on end. “I knew I'd get into trouble.
She
said to make up a bottle of capsules that looked like Jolene's. If I didn't, she'd produce evidence against me. She was angry because I hadn't filed for divorce like I'd promised."

"Is that why you fixed a bomb in Sam's car, because your friend ordered it?"

"No, I knew what she'd planned. I opened his hood to see if I could dismantle the device, but I'm no good with wires."

"Eloise saw you. She figured you'd bumped off Jolene to keep her silent, then murdered Sam. Eloise suspected Jolene and Sam were having an affair, and she gathered you knew about it and were afraid Jolene had confided in Sam."

"That's absurd. Of course, Jolene was seeing Sam.
She
told me that Sam was their contact person."

"Huh? Who are you talking about?"

A sly look entered his eyes. “You don't know, do you?"

"Eloise also saw Jill in the parking lot. Hortense,” she added at his perplexed frown. A sinking feeling knotted her stomach. “Was she ... the one who ordered sedatives that looked like Jolene's gelatin capsules?” Jill hadn't come to town yet, unless she'd arrived earlier than she'd let on. But she hadn't been in the locker room at the sports club that day. Whoever switched the containers had to be present.

Hank picked up his keys and rounded the counter to face her directly. “Ask your police friend. I'm outta here.” He headed for the door, gesturing for her to follow.

"Cookie Calcone is dead."

That stopped him cold. Pivoting, he glowered at her. “That bitch should have minded her own business. She always was a troublemaker."

"Cookie discovered Jolene's supplier of test data. You
are
aware Jolene was falsifying lab reports?"

He shrugged. “I don't know the details."

"You said Sam was Jolene's contact, but she had to have been buying test results from someone at another chemical plant."

"Maybe Sam acted as their go-between.” His brows knitted pensively. “That does make sense, when I add in what you've been saying."

A snort of exasperation escaped her lips. “Will you tell me who you mean?"

He reached for the doorknob. “Since you were so kind to pass on a warning to me, I'll pass on this tip to you. Denise at the New Wave knows the details."

She'd heard that name before. “Who?"

"The manicurist. I remember my ... friend was real angry the week before Jolene died. She'd mentioned hearing some gossip while she was getting her nails done, and that's what made her ask for the capsules."

"I don't get it."

"You're a hairstylist. Ladies confide in you, right? I'd guess they talk to their manicurist, too."

"Hank, this person whose name you won't reveal, she's dangerous. Three people have been killed. Whether or not you innocently supplied those sedatives, you're implicated, and I have a feeling the police already know. Why don't you get a lawyer?"

His mouth tightened, and he ripped open the door. “It'll be a relief at this stage. I could never have kept her in the high-mannered way she wanted."

Pausing, he regarded Marla with a hooded look. “Marla, please don't think ill of me. I've been doing people a service, giving them what they need and what our health care system isn't providing. It's tough enough to remain competitive with the big chains and with insurance companies limiting payments. I could have been doing worse."

How? By dealing in cocaine traffic?
Disgusted with his attitude, she watched Hank drive away while contemplating her next move. The New Wave wasn't likely to be open on Sundays, so her visit to the manicurist would have to wait. Realizing she was close to the truth, she bit her lower lip. If only Jill were here, they could compare notes.

Walking along the deserted shopping strip, Marla found a pay phone and dialed Vail's house to see if he was home yet. No one answered, not even Brianna. The girl should be there doing her schoolwork. Vail's daughter needed a guiding hand, she thought, but that wasn't her job.

Feeling forlorn, she decided to head for home. Dusk invaded the winter sky, and she didn't relish being caught in another empty parking lot. Storefronts receded like so many frozen sentinels as she marched forward, footsteps echoing on the pavement. A prickly sensation ran up her neck, making her hesitate in front of her Toyota. Should she look for stray wires beneath the hood? She'd been occupied with Hank for nearly a half hour, enough time for someone to tamper with the vehicle.