Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (12 page)

Regina broke into a wide grin. “You’d be the talk of the town, but somehow it would be fitting for you to have dreads. Wonder what Hardy would say?”

I howled at that. “He’d say, ‘
Tisha
,
ain’t
no
sense in you looking like you got carpet burn in your hair.’ You know what I’ve always wanted to try?
Those micro-breads.
Shayna
got them done at Christmastime and looked real good.
A little head heavy—all them breads
swingin
’ and
dancin
’ about—but good.”

“You’d probably get a headache.” Regina snapped the pink plastic cape around my neck after I settled my bulk into the chair. “I just ordered a magazine of African-American Hairstyles. Why don’t you give it a look see?”

I followed the hairdresser’s path with my eyes toward the backroom. Regina returned in a wink with a glossy, pristine magazine in hand and dropped it into my lap. A close-up of a black woman sporting a natural look on the
front,
tempted me.

“I looked through it briefly," Regina said.
"Lots of Bantu Knots and Micro-breads.
They must be all the rage. See what you can find and we’ll schedule another appointment to get you your new look.”

“You sure it won’t be more than you can handle?”

“Nope.
I can figure out most anything. And when I go to visit my mother, they have a Hair Salon especially for African-American women right near mom's home. I can pop in and ask someone to give me some pointers if I need to.”

I spread the magazine on my lap and thought about the offer. I loved my hats and never gave too much thought to my hair.
Flattening it with a hot iron after a wash always seemed sufficient care.
Maybe I should try something new. With no kids to fuss after, I could afford to have a more high-maintenance type hairdo.

“My mom always said a woman should have a hairstyle that makes her feel like wow,” Regina said.

Yes. I’d heard Eloise make that comment before. “My hats usually make me feel that way.”

“Maybe because you’ve been trying to hide your hair.”

“Never thought of it that way,” I conceded.

Regina busied herself dabbing olive oil on my hair.

“I’m sorry to hear about your momma being worse, Regina.”

She flicked a smile and tilted the chair backward to begin washing. The warm water flowed over my head, relaxing me. “Maybe I’ll shake Hardy’s bones long enough to get him to haul me over to see her.” I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing under the soft spray of a warm waterfall, surrounded by woods and cute forest animals.

“I don’t know,
LaTisha
. Mom’s pretty bad.”

I heard the catch in the girl’s voice and my illusion dissolved.
Poor girl.
“
Shayna’s
coming to town. I’ll have her pop in.”

Regina cleared her throat. “I’d love to see her.
She dating
anyone?”

 
“Some guy she met her senior year of college. Apparently he works downstairs in her building and they ran into each other so frequently, they decided they might as well get to know each other better. It’s been three months.”

“She bringing him home?”

Regina massaged in another dose of shampoo.

I always forgot how much I enjoyed having someone else do my hair until Regina’s fingers started circular motions on my scalp. “She said she was. We’ll see.” I wasn’t sure, but it sounded a little like my words were slurring together.

“Any other children coming home this spring?”

“For Easter supper.
Shakespeare,
Bryton
and
FredLynn
, Mason,
Shayna
, and Caleb are the only ones able to come this time.”

“I imagine Lela is bogged down with her new classes. I sure miss that girl. How’s Shakespeare’s teaching?”

“Fine.
Know what I worry about most?
Him not dating anyone.
Ever since he got out of college and broke off his engagement, he doesn’t seem interested. But his teaching is going fine. Hardy’s mighty proud of him. They’ll probably go over to Payton’s and bang around on those pianos the entire time he’s home.”

“He sure has talent. Think he’ll go professional?”

“
Naw
.
His heart is more in teaching than playing on that level. I’d be happy with him settling down and giving me some grandbabies.”

“Cora doing okay?”

“That’s why they’re not coming. Tyrone’s afraid for her to travel so close to her due date. Says Cora’s exhausted all the time. I told that boy he’d better remember who got her where she is and take good care of her.”

“If all your kids get married and have as many babies as you did, you’ll have to hire someone to help you with
grandparenting
duties.”

“Nope.
I’ll love them all myself. When I get tired, I’ll have their
grandpappy
play them to sleep.”

Regina dabbed my hair dry and pushed my chair upright with a grunt. I blinked my eyes open. Reopening the magazine, I leafed through as Regina spun my chair to face the mirror and began the comb out.

“
Whoo
-wee, would you look at that. I lifted the magazine so Regina could see the picture of a stylish woman with an up-do. “That’s pretty.”

Regina leaned closer to get a good look at the picture. “I can do that,
LaTisha
.”

I tried to picture the style on top of my head. “No.
Probably too much work.
Looks like something Marion would go for.”

“May she rest in
peace.
”

“She surely didn’t hand it out to anyone while she was living. Heard about funeral arrangements yet?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” Regina said. “I told
Valorie
she should get you to sing.”

“Me?”

“Sure. No one sings ‘Amazing Grace’ like you.”

I lifted a hand to wipe a drop of water tickling on my forehead. “No one feels it like I do.” It was time to begin gathering some information from Regina. “What is the gossip on Marion’s death?”

“Most think Mark Hamm is a bit suspicious. I’ve thought it ever since he came to town. Weird with a capital ‘W.’” She shook her head. Her hands patted the towel over my hair to absorb water. “One day, I saw him hanging around outside the shop and wondered what he was up to. I was cutting
Valorie’s
hair at the time. He didn’t say anything to
Valorie
that I know of, but came in after
she
left looking real embarrassed-like. Of course, every eye in the shop popped when he came in. I’d just cleaned out the brushes I’d used on her and swept up the clippings. Was about to dump the dustpan when he got real close and asked me if he could have some. Can you believe that?”

She indicated the back room with a roll of her head. “He followed me back there and just as I lifted the lid to dump the stuff, he waved a fifty under my nose. I was shocked. Before I knew it he added another fifty. Well, with the cost of momma’s care, I can tell you that was way too much temptation for this gal. I let him pick some out of the dustpan. He stuffed it into an envelope.
Went straight for the door after that.”

“Hmm,” was all I
inserted.
This sister was on a roll and what she said really spun some questions around in my head.

Regina moved back and forth a few times, squirting and dabbing conditioners on my hair before she snagged a wide-toothed comb. She carefully sectioned my hair and began the comb-out. “You want to do braid-outs?”

“Sounds good.”
When her eyebrows came together in concentration, I decided to prompt her or she might never finish her story. “What happened next?”

“Well, I didn’t tell the girls what I’d done, but we sure talked over the strange request after he left. Most of the women thought he was some kind of stalker and, now, with the way he parades around with
Valorie
. .
. ”
She caught my eye in the mirror. “Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“I can assure you Marion didn’t approve. Most think it’s been going on for a while.” I tried to picture Mark Hamm in a fit of rage, pushing Marion.
Or
Valorie
doing the pushing. . .
Maybe
Valorie’s
grief was tinged with guilt? In light of this new information, her declaration that she had a place to stay seemed frightfully bold. But young girls lost their heads over older men every day.
If Marion had caused a flap and forbid
Valorie
from seeing Mark. . .

Regina’s hands stilled mid-comb. “Love is a powerful motive.”

Chills ran up my back. “I was thinking along those same lines.”

Were
Valorie
and Mark in cahoots? I’d have to shelve that information for a while and think on it later. While interesting to know, I reminded myself that I still had questions about Regina that needed answering. Was the story she shared about Mark a way to detour everyone’s suspicions from her?

Time to spill a little of the information I’d become privy to and test the waters a bit. “I heard there was an envelope of money on the counter at Marion’s. Heard anyone mention that? Chief collected it and is waiting the results of a fingerprint test.”

The easy rhythm of Regina’s comb out faltered. Her eyes flashed something akin to panic before she dipped her head and resumed combing. “Now that you mention it, the police did question me on the presence of an envelope. Wonder what it was?”

I returned to looking through the magazine, trying to decide exactly what had shaken up Regina and why she was trying so hard to act nonchalant. Bigger question—why hadn’t Chief mentioned that he’d questioned her about the envelope? Maybe he’d forgotten.

A gust of air signaled the arrival of another customer. I wiggled my fingers as Sasha
Blightman
blew in with the warm breeze that swirled through the shop.
“Howdy, ladies.
Saw you salivating as you drove by,
LaTisha
. Like that sweet little hat in the window?”

“That hat tempts me every time I see it. Surprised you didn’t sell it during your sidewalk sale.”

Sasha, ever the fashion plate, tugged on the pastel scarf that served as a belt and did a groan. “That was a fiasco.”

Regina smiled at Sasha in the mirror. “I did my best to help keep you out of Chapter 11.”

Sasha trilled a laugh. “Sales weren’t the problem. Hauling everything in and out is the tedious part. Since sales were so good, we extended it through Monday. You’ll have to hurry over and try on that hat,
LaTisha
. I’ll give you a good discount.”

She faced Regina as she slipped her perfect size eight form into one of the three chairs. “Olivia was disappointed you couldn’t fit her in today. We thought maybe something had happened to your mother when you canceled our appointments on Tuesday. It turned out to be a blessing though because a delivery arrived at ten and it took us until lunchtime to get everything put out.”

 
Ten o’clock until noon.
The timeframe of Marion’s death.
I forced myself not to react to the news and studied Regina. Her expression remained neutral, though I thought I saw a slight tightening of her lips.

She snapped a plastic cap around my head. “Sorry, Sasha, I had a long lunch date.”

Chapter Twelve

After dropping off
Shiny’s
pineapple upside-down cake, I backtracked to Mark Hamm’s restaurant. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes before the high school kids were let out for the day.

The biggest challenge lay before me. Standing there, smelling the grease, I wondered about the future health of the high-cholesterol patients inside. Lord
forgive
me for desecrating my body with greasy fast food. The only product on Mark’s menu I’d ever condescend to eat was his onion rings and salad—and lettuce settled worse in my stomach than tea.

I pulled open the door, imagining
myself
cutting through a cloud scented with grease and onions. A sign propped against the greeting station blared, in neon lettering: COOK WANTED.

Tammy greeted me. A tall, slender girl who graduated with Lela, Tammy remained in Maple Gap working to save enough to attend community college in the fall.

“How you doing, Mrs. Barnhart?”

“Fine, baby, how’re you?”

“Pinching pennies and saving dimes.” Tammy poised to slide a menu from the holder on the wall and stopped. “You have the usual?”

“Just some rings. I’d really like to talk to Mark.”

Tammy shrugged. “Okay. I’ll put in the order. You have a seat wherever you like.”

I had a tough choice. Between heavily varnished Americana furniture and green vinyl booths—I went against my better judgment and took the booth. Never did make the things wide enough for my liking, but it would be more private should other townsfolk come in for an early dinner.

As soon as my rear made contact, the vinyl let out an embarrassing squeal of air.
Didn’t even have Hardy with me to lay blame on.
With a push, I forced the table away to allow myself more room to maneuver into the narrow space.