Murder by Manicure (13 page)

Hortense's glance flickered toward the entrance. “Up north. Wait here, and I'll get something from my car to show you."

While she was gone, Arnie excused himself to attend the men's room. Marla was grateful for the interval alone with Dalton.

"You don't have to be so nice to Hortense,” she gritted. “I thought you were going to pay attention to me."

"What's the matter, Marla? Is your little scheme backfiring? It doesn't always work out when you attempt to manipulate people.” His frank gaze made her flush with guilt.

"We're supposed to be doing Arnie a favor, but the way things are working out, Hortense barely notices him."

The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Do I detect a hint of the green-eyed monster?"

"The hell you do. Arnie wants to score with Hortense, so please keep your hands off."

Raising his palms in supplication, he leaned across the table. “Where would you like me to place them instead? On your shoulders, perhaps?” His gaze intensified. “Or elsewhere. I'd be happy to provide ... satisfaction."

Marla's breath hitched. “I—I don't know what I want,” she stammered.

"You'd better make up your mind. I'm a patient man, but I can't wait forever."

Arnie returned, frowning when he saw the empty seat beside Vail. “What's taking Hortense so long?” he said, glancing at the door. The waitress had cleared the table, and while they sat in awkward silence, she brought over a dessert menu.

"Maybe I should see if anything is wrong,” Marla began, but just then Hortense breezed through the entrance.

Her face looked flushed as she swung into the seat beside Vail. “This is what I've been doing parttime,” the buxom blonde said, withdrawing a sheaf of papers from a portfolio. Spreading them out on the table, she pointed at two large black-and-white photographs. “My head shots, see? This is my résumé, and this is the last script I worked on. In my spare time I'm an actress."

"Hortense, that's wonderful!” Arnie gushed, fascinated by the sexy pose in one of the photos.

She smiled at him. “You think so? I figured, why let this beautiful body go to waste? I worked hard enough to look this way."

"You're absolutely right,” Marla said firmly. She held up one of the dessert menus. “Sweets, anyone?"

"You heard her,” Marla said to Arnie later in the parking lot on the way to his car. “She's an actress. Maybe Hortense returned to town at this particular time for a reason she isn't sharing with us. She could be cozying up to Dalton to sound him out."

"On what subject?” Arnie's shoulders slumped, and his stride lacked its usual spring.

"She seemed almost to know about Jolene. From the things she said to Eloise, I got the feeling Hortense was interested in the case."

"She might have known Jolene. Most of us went to the same high school.” He gave a long sigh. “Maybe that's the problem. Now that Hortense has seen me, I've disappointed her."

Guests no longer waited outside the restaurant. The shadows of trees fell across the road, strange shapes that crowded the dim streetlights. An eerie orange glow from downtown pierced the darkness to the east. Marla's pumps clacked on the asphalt as they proceeded through the parking lot. Her recent experience outside Perfect Fit Sports Club came back to haunt her, and the hair on her neck prickled. Was that same person lurking here?

Glancing back for reassurance, she caught the low murmur of voices. Hortense and Dalton hovered beside his car, making jealousy rear inside her.

"Don't feel bad,” she said to Arnie. “Dalton is only paying attention to her to get back at me."

Giving her a forlorn look, he said, “I wouldn't count on that if I were you. Her bazongas are enough to make a man drool."

"Yeah, and she paid enough for them! Arnie, looks are only skin deep. If she doesn't like you just because you're not so young anymore, she isn't worth your energy.” As a stylist, Marla strove to make her clients look their best, because creating an image of beauty was important for a person's self-esteem. But when it came to making character judgments, she relied on intuition and not just appearances alone.

Anger brought spirit back into his expression. “What do you mean, I'm not so young anymore? I don't vegetate in front of the TV like a lot of other schmucks my age. I work out at home and watch my diet.” Patting his lengthening forehead, he glared at her. “I can't help my hair, but least I've still got some!"

Marla stopped in her tracks. “Arnie, I love you, and any girl who doesn't has blinders in front of her. You're a sweet man, and I've always found you attractive."

"You have?"

She chuckled. “Don't look at me that way. We're good friends, and let's leave it there."

"At least you're honest. So if you like Vail, why don't you go after him?"

Glancing in Dalton's direction, she was glad to note Hortense heading for her own car. “I'm not ready,” she confessed, wrapping her arms around herself. It was cool out, and she'd forgotten to bring a sweater. Darkness surrounded them, encouraging confidences. “He might try to control me, like Stan did."

"Come on, Marla, you don't believe that. Vail is used to taking charge, but he strikes me as a decent guy. Stan was a putz who needed to dominate you."

She shivered. “I know, but I'm scared to get that deeply involved again."

"You're not getting any younger either, babe. You're still a looker, but do you really want to be alone the rest of your life?"

"I'm happy being alone,” she retorted, stung by his words.

"No, you're not. You keep yourself so busy that you don't have time to think about it. What Jewish girl isn't raised with home and family ingrained in her mind?"

She resumed a quick stride to his car. “A family is the last thing I want."

"A husband, then. You won't have to run around solving murders if you have someone at home waiting for you."

"Dammit, Arnie, don't tell me what I need."

"Shayna madel,
I just want you to be happy.” He kept pace beside her, dark eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight. “You're a rare find, a woman who is beautiful and sincere. You care about others, but you don't let anyone care for you."

I don't need anyone!
an inner voice shouted. “There's my mother,” she offered. “Ma is always telling me what to do."

"Anita is a sweetheart.” Arnie paused before opening the passenger door for her. “If you like Vail, don't let him get sidetracked by a pretty skirt."

"Oh, so now you're not bowled over by Hortense? Your eyes bulged out when you first caught sight of her at my salon."

"Maybe I was too hasty. I should get to know her better. She could be all frosting and no cake."

He reached over to unlock her door when a loud concussion ripped the air.

The ground under her feet shook, and a wave of heat blasted the left side of her face. Stumbling, Marla felt Arnie's arm steady her around the waist.

"What the hell was that?” he cried, the keys in his hand forgotten.

Together, they peered in the direction of the explosion, where several vehicles had ignited in a fiery conflagration. Vail, apparently knocked off his feet, stirred on the pavement.

"It wasn't his car, thank God,” Arnie rasped, as they hastened toward him. Patrons, responding to the disaster, flew out the doors of the restaurant to see what had happened. Cries of horror mingled with the crackle of flames.

Vail stood and brushed himself off, his face paler than she'd ever seen it. His mouth set in a grim line, he yanked a cell phone from his belt.

"Where's Hortense?” Marla said, suddenly noticing the girl's absence. “I hope she wasn't ... oh, Lord save me. No, it can't be.” She trembled violently.

"Detective, what happened?” Arnie asked urgently. “Where's Hortense?"

Vail's eyes were hard as nails. “She went toward her car. I couldn't quite see...” His mouth tightened. “No one could have survived that blast. You can't even get near; it's too hot."

"It's not your fault,” Marla said hastily.

"I should've gone with her. Maybe I would have noticed something."

She didn't understand what he meant. Stunned, she stared at the blazing vehicles. “How do you know for certain it was her car that blew up?"

"You don't see her anywhere, do you? All right, everyone, out of the way.” His training took over. Creating an imaginary line, he kept onlookers at a distance until rescue personnel arrived.

"I don't believe it,” Arnie repeated several times, shaking his head.

They watched firefighters attack the smoldering ruins while Vail directed his backup team. There would be witnesses to interview, detailed reports to file. He could be stuck here for hours. Questions plagued her, but she wouldn't bother Vail with them now. Foremost in her mind were the ones regarding Jolene's death. And now this. What, if anything, connected the two events?

Her face reflecting the glow from the emergency lights, Marla clutched Arnie's arm. “Look, over there!"

A familiar figure staggered into view from the edge of the spectacle. A bedraggled and dazed Hortense stumbled toward them.

"Hey, guys!” she called in a trembling voice.

Vail whirled around, did a double take, then marched in her direction.

Arnie reached her first. “Are you okay, babe? We thought it was
your
car."

Hortense ran a shaky hand through her hair, which had tumbled from its upsweep onto her shoulders. “I—I'd unlocked my door. Then I got slammed to the ground. I don't know what happened.” Her gaze darted like that of a trapped animal.

"Bless my bones, you're bleeding,” Marla said, pointing to Hortense's skinned knees. “Maybe you should see the medics."

"N-no. I'll be all right."

Vail reached her side, a concerned expression on his face. “Did you see anything unusual?” he asked in a quiet tone.

"Isn't that
your
job?” Marla retorted, shaken by Hortense's near miss. “You're a detective. Didn't you record every detail while the two of you walked to your car?” He'd probably noted every contour of Hortense's outfit, she thought shrewishly. If Vail hadn't detained her so long, Hortense might have driven away before the explosion.

Hortense lifted her glazed eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, Sam was just starting his car, which was a row ahead of mine."

"Sam?” Marla queried in a high-pitched voice. “Do you mean Sam Zelman?"

"Yes,” Hortense whispered.

How would Hortense recognize Sam unless they'd met earlier? Maybe she'd spotted him at Eloise's table, Marla surmised.

"Hortense needs to go home,” Arnie stated, taking Hortense's arm. “She's shaken up."

"I'll have to get a statement,” Vail told the shaken blonde, “but I can catch you later after this mess is cleaned up. Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?"

"No, I didn't. Sorry.” Hortense stared at her shredded hosiery. “I didn't expect this to be dangerous."

"Stick around Marla, and trouble will find you,” Vail muttered, exchanging a knowing look with Arnie.

Arnie grinned, dimples creasing his cheeks. “Look, Hortense needs a ride. I'll take her home. You can keep each other company."

Marla stared after them as they walked away, arm in arm. “Dear Lord, if Sam was in that car, then where's Eloise?"

"Good question,” Vail told her. “Let's see if any witnesses saw them both leave the restaurant."

"Eloise can't be dead.” She shook her head in disbelief. Vaguely, it occurred to her that Arnie's plan had worked. He'd gone off with Hortense while she remained with Vail. Except this disaster hadn't been part of their scheme. So who had orchestrated the blast?

"Was it a car bomb?” she asked Vail, walking fast to keep up with his long-legged stride. His stern profile revealed nothing of his feelings. She had no way of knowing whether this was just routine to him, or if he cared about the victims. His mouth was pinched into a tight line; his eyes were flat as a metal plate. From the determined set of his shoulders, she understood he meant to get answers, but that was his job. Actually, investigating this accident might not be in his jurisdiction. But since at least one of the casualties was a suspect in his case, she supposed that authorized involvement.

"You don't think this had anything to do with Jolene's death, do you?” she ventured.

"I have no theories at this point—only questions."

"How can you tell if Eloise was in that car?"

He paused, glaring at her. “Normally, a wife leaves a restaurant with her husband. Did Eloise say anything to you to indicate they'd arrived here separately?"

"Not really."

The firefighters were putting away their equipment. Tow trucks would need to clear away the rest. She waited while Vail rattled off orders to his team. A nauseating smell permeated the air: burning tires, gasoline fumes, and something else that reminded her of barbecued meat.

Her dinner rose in her stomach. Going home seemed like a good idea for her, too. “Dalton, could they tell how many people were in the car?” she asked him when he had a free moment. “Was anyone else hurt?"

He gave an exasperated snort. “If you'd let me get my job done, maybe I can find out."

Thanks, pal. That's just what I needed to hear.
No one wanted her—not Arnie, and now Vail. She knew when to leave. “Fine, I'll call a friend to pick me up. I left my car at the salon, remember?"

Remorse flickered briefly in his eyes. “That's right, you drove with Arnie. If you'll wait—"

"No, I can see you're busy. Tally doesn't live far from here. She'll come get me."

Fortunately, Tally was home when Marla called from inside the restaurant. Within fifteen minutes, Marla had settled onto the seat cushions in her friend's black BMW.

"I'm so grateful,” she said, shooting Tally a weary glance. The tall blonde had been watching a movie with her husband. Her casual slacks outfit fit as elegantly as on a mannequin. In contrast, Marla's clothes felt rumpled and grimy. A hot shower and a cup of coffee seemed like a piece of heaven.

Tally drove steadily, hands on the wheel. “What happened at the restaurant? And why were you and Vail there?"