Murder by Manicure (25 page)

Hunching forward, Eloise hesitated before responding. “I was upset talking about Sam. The lieutenant seemed to think I might have been involved with his ... accident. I know how it must have looked, my disappearing like I did. First Jolene, then Sam, and I'd suspected they were having an affair. Well, I got scared after what I saw in the parking lot."

Hoping to disguise her eagerness, Marla raised an eyebrow. “What was that?"

"I'll explain in a minute. After meeting you in the restroom, I had an argument with Sam over his involvement with Jolene. He wouldn't talk about it, and I was furious. I left the restaurant. We'd driven in separate cars, because I came directly from showing a client one of our properties. When I walked toward my car, I noticed a movement near his Chevy."

"You saw someone?"

She nodded. “Hank Goodfellow. I thought I saw your friend, too."

"Who?"

"Hortense, isn't it?"

"What was she doing?” Marla remembered Jill had excused herself from their table to retrieve a set of head shots from her car. She'd taken an inordinately long time in returning.

Eloise, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, lowered her voice. “I think she was spying on Hank. He was tinkering with Sam's engine. I just assumed Sam had a problem with his car, and he'd spoken to Hank in the restaurant. I thought Hank was fixing it, but instead he might have been fixing the bomb. Later, I started putting two and two together. Jolene was one of Hank's customers. Maybe she'd threatened to expose his little side business. As a result, he may have killed her and then Sam because they were close."

Marla's gaze widened. “Did you tell Vail this?"

Reaching for a pair of socks, Eloise tilted her head. “The lieutenant is aware of Hank's extracurricular activities. His bureau's been investigating the illegal sale of drugs from Hank's pharmacy. Vail believes Hank may have some connection but is not the murderer."

"So why doesn't he bring Hank in for questioning?"

"He's waiting for evidence against him, so he can use it as leverage to get the man to talk."

"Is Hank here tonight?"

"No, I haven't seen him.” Her eyes darted furtively about the room. “I wouldn't speak to him if I were you. He must be in cahoots with the killer."

"Doesn't Vail believe Hank set the bomb that killed your husband?"

"He mentioned something about trace evidence. I guess he's working on it but doesn't have solid proof."

"Hey, Marla, you getting changed or not?” Tally called, rounding a corner and peering at them.

"Where's Jill?” she asked. “Er, I mean Hortense. She prefers to be called by her middle name, you know."

"Hortense went upstairs,” Tally explained patiently.

"Eloise, be careful.” She felt the woman had been right to be afraid. Whoever killed Sam might believe his wife knew too much. “And if you have time, stop in at the salon tomorrow. I'll fit you into my schedule."

"What was that all about?” Tally asked while Marla threw on her gym clothes.

Quickly Marla reiterated what Eloise had told her. No one else was about, and they'd retreated to a distant corner of the locker room. “I'd like to get Gloria out of her office as we'd planned. Her files might tell us more about these people."

"Right. I'll tell her I'm considering a full membership, and I need her to go upstairs with me to answer some questions about the equipment. It won't give you much time."

Marla stuffed her bag into a locker and locked the door. After hoisting up her sweatpants, she pocketed the key. “Let's do it."

Waiting until she was sure no one else was about, Marla slipped into Gloria's office after Gloria left with Tally. Examining the clutter on her desk, Marla hesitated. She didn't want to displace items, but where to start? Stars rippled on a computer monitor as though a screen saver had activated. Personnel files might be listed there instead of in that locked file cabinet in the corner. It was a place to begin.

Seated at the desk, Marla swirled the mouse until the Windows desktop came into view. Looking under “My Documents” yielded unsatisfactory results. Perhaps she'd have better luck with a word processing program. Her heart rate increased when she hit the jackpot with a folder labeled “Staff” and another one, “Members.” Scrolling down the staff list, Marla noted Tesla's address given as the street number she knew to be Betsy's house. Well, that wasn't much help. The rest of the details were rather mundane, with names, addresses, contact numbers, positions, and vacation schedules.

Turning to the member file, Marla found a reference to a spreadsheet program. Hoping it wasn't anything complicated, she brought up another window and noticed a discrepancy between members’ initial fee dates and renewals.

She'd left the door partially closed, and when it was suddenly yanked open, she jerked upright in surprise. Slate's large form darkened the doorway. He glared at her with knitted brows. As he approached, amber eyes blazing like those of a tiger ready to pounce, Marla noticed those brows were unusually dark. They didn't match the medium-brown hair slicked back off his forehead.

Flushing guiltily, Marla clicked off the programs on screen, leaving the desktop icons displayed. Then she pushed herself up from the chair. “I, uh, was just admiring Gloria's computer system. I need to get a new one, and Gateway is one of my considerations."

"Liar.” He stopped inches in front of her, fists clenched by his side. “What did you find out?"

She thrust her chin forward. “What are you hiding? Tesla lives with you, but her address given is your friend Betsy's."

"That's none of your business.” A sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip.

I'm getting to you, pal.
“Tesla followed Amy one night. Did she tell you why?"

"I don't have to answer your questions.” Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her until her teeth rattled.

"You'd rather talk to Detective Vail? Get your hands off me, or I'll charge you with assault.” His height and shape merged with an image in her consciousness, and she gasped. “You're the one who attacked me with a broken bottle!"

Instantly, he stepped away. “I should've finished the job in the parking lot. A few cuts to your pretty face, and you'd have had a lot more to worry about. You're too nosy for your own good. I figured I could scare you off."

"Did you throw that Molotov cocktail through my window?"

"Huh?"

"Someone tossed a bomb into my house. The police have evidence. Would you care to confess now, or later in an interrogation room?"

"I don't know nothin’ about that."

"Did you kill Jolene? Is that why you want me to quit investigating? You're responsible for the deaths of three people?"

His smug superiority was replaced by a look of fear. “What the hell are you talking about?"

Hearing voices outside in the corridor, Marla spoke quietly. “Sam Zelman and Cookie Calcone. Whoever killed Jolene might have murdered them, too. You have a history of violence, pal. The cops will want to bring you in, especially when I tell them how you've threatened me."

He stumbled backward, his bravado dissipated. “I only tried to scare you in the parking lot, nothin’ else."

"Then what are you hiding?"

"Jolene knew. She knew a lot of things, like how Gloria rakes in extra money by manipulating commissions on the computer. Jolene figured it out when Gloria sent her repeated renewal notices."

"Is that what Jolene meant when she asked you if Keith was involved?"

"I never cut myself in for a share. Gloria would have broadcast what she'd learned about me."

Frustrated because he was revealing significant information, but not what she wanted to know about him, Marla shook her head. “What is that?"

"I can tell you,” Tally's voice rang out loud and clear from where she leaned against the doorjamb.
"He's
the man who comes into my boutique and changes into women's clothing!"

Striding into the office with Gloria at her heels, Tally pointed a finger at Slate. “I'll bet I know why such a mystery surrounds Tesla, the elusive massage therapist. You're looking at her. They even have the same letters in their names!"

Marla's mouth gaped. Gloria snickered, and Slate blanched.

"Is it true?” Marla croaked, even as the puzzle pieces mentally tumbled into place. Panty hose in the massage suite, lipstick smeared on Slate's mouth, Betsy's obvious distress. No wonder, if her boyfriend preferred to dress in drag! “Why were you following Amy?” she demanded.

Slate's face crumbled. “Keith would have told our boss if I didn't do what he wanted. He's hot on Amy, so he ordered me to follow her to see who she hooks up with. The jerk doesn't understand she's not interested."

"That's because Amy likes you, stupid,” said Gloria. “You're all a bunch of assholes. I'm the only one with brains around here.” Her crimson lips pouted. “Now Marla, explain what you're doing in my office."

It was Marla's turn to feel cornered. “I understand Jolene learned you were cheating on customers and boosting your commissions. Did she threaten to expose you? Is that why you killed her?” She'd learned to go for the gut reaction, but she didn't really suspect Gloria. The girl wouldn't stoop to making bombs.

Gloria laughed raucously. “She couldn't have hurt me. But there were others whose reputations she could damage.” Her glance flashed to Slate.

He raised his hands. “Hey, I didn't do it. I'd like to clear this up just to get the heat off. You were here the night Jolene drowned. Did you notice anyone other than Sharon and Amy in the lobby?"

"It was pretty quiet,” Gloria admitted. “You might ask Lindsay who was in the locker room. She didn't leave until after Jolene went in for her massage. Maybe she saw someone else."

"Why was Lindsay still here?” Marla queried. “Hadn't Dancercize been over for at least a half hour?"

Gloria gave an evil grin. She was the type of person who enjoyed relating sordid gossip, Marla realized. “Hank Goodfellow had checked in earlier. I've seen the way those two act together. You should talk to him about it."

"Yes, I should.” She signaled to Tally. “Let's get out of here. We've dug up enough dirt for tonight. These people need a shovel to cover up their sludge."

Marla didn't get a chance to follow through on her visit to Hank Goodfellow's pharmacy right away. Hectic days at work and evenings out with friends consumed her time until the weekend was nearly over. A frantic call from Hortense in Vero Beach gave her the impetus she needed to carry on her investigation.

"Have you seen Jill lately?” Dr. Crone inquired. “She left a message on my machine Friday indicating she'd found the link to Jolene. I called her back, but no one answered."

Working in the kitchen, Marla cradled the phone on her shoulder. She slid on a pair of mitts to remove a lemon bread pudding that had finished baking in the oven. “Jill was at the sports club Thursday. I haven't seen her since, but maybe Arnie's gotten together with her. I can ask him for you."

A pause. “Have you told him about me? I mean, does he know about Jill playing my part?"

Marla detected a note of apprehension in Dr. Crone's voice. Did she still care about Arnie? “My lips remain sealed. Why don't I trace Jill and get back to you? If you hear from her in the meantime, please ask her to call me."

Putting the pan on a rack to cool, Marla puzzled over Jill's silence. Maybe the girl had accepted an audition out of town. Or perhaps she'd wanted to confirm her findings before returning Dr. Crone's call. Either way, she might have told Arnie.

Bagel Busters was on the way to Hank's drugstore. It was four o'clock on Sunday; both places might still be open. Rushed for time, Marla let Spooks outside to do his business in the backyard while she refrigerated the pudding. Fishing for a treat, she grabbed a piece of chocolate-covered halvah for a quick energy boost. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as the sweet sesame-seed candy melted in her mouth.

Spooks yipped at the door to be let back in. Stooping, Marla spared a moment to scratch behind his ears. “I'll pay attention to you when I come home,” she promised, feeling guilty about leaving him alone again. After allowing him to lick her face, she straightened. Her purse was on the counter. Without bothering to check her appearance, she dashed out the garage exit. The denim jacket that matched her jeans should still be in her car. A chill wind whipped the air, and she shivered as she dove into the Toyota. Her long-sleeved silk blouse didn't provide much insulation, she thought, turning on the heater.

As she reversed from the driveway, she prayed under her breath.
Please don't let anything bad have happened to Jill.
Three people were dead so far. Even if Jolene's actions had brought about her own demise, that didn't explain why Sam or Cookie were targets unless self-protection was the motive. They might have uncovered Jolene's killer, which in turn made them a threat. Was that why a bomb had been tossed through her window? Someone feared she was getting too close to the truth?

Slate had admitted he'd attacked her in the parking lot. He'd been afraid her snooping would reveal his secret, but he'd seemed confused when she mentioned the Molotov cocktail. That indicated to her he wasn't the car bomber, either. He didn't possess the aptitude required to make explosives, regardless of how much instruction was available on the Internet.

Dr. Crone was a scientist, an inner voice whispered. And Jill worked at Stockhart Industries, albeit in public relations. Other than those two, someone had provided Jolene with lab reports she substituted for her own. Learning that person's identity was the key.

Wait a minute,
she thought. Hadn't Cookie said her ex-spouse used to work at Jolene's plant before he'd been fired? What could have happened to cause his dismissal? Jolene had been his superior. Could he have discovered her deception? Or was he the source of those fake reports?

Dear Lord, another avenue to follow,
Marla thought wearily. She wondered if the man had stayed in town, and considered how to find him. Relatives must have notified him about Cookie's death. Marla had been so wrapped up in her own concerns that she'd forgotten to ask about the woman's funeral arrangements.