Murder By Manicure Part 7

"What are you trying next?" Keith asked, his expression reverting to one of open friendliness. "Want to take a turn on the treadmill? I'll show you how to set the controls."

Marla glanced at the row of treadmill terrorists. Eloise and Sam Zelman were going at a furious pace. She wouldn't want to compete with them. "No, thanks, I've got a ma.s.sage scheduled. Say, do you know Tesla, the ma.s.seuse? I was wondering if Jolene had arranged an appointment with her."

An odd light sprang into his eyes. "Yeah, I know Tess. She doesn't come in too often. Don't know if Jolene ever used her."

"Well, I've got to go. I'll see you again, Keith." She whirled around to find herself facing Lindsay. "Oh, I enjoyed your cla.s.s today," Marla told the lithe blonde, whose makeup wasn't even smudged one whit after the strenuous workout.

Lindsay's blue eyes twinkled. "Thanks. I heard you talking about Jolene. She was your customer, wasn't she?"

Marla studied her, wondering why the girl's inflection sounded so insincere. "Yes," she admitted. "Jolene recommended your cla.s.s to me. Had you known her well?"

"Not as well as you, I'm sure. Don't women confide in their hairdressers? I'll bet she told you all her secrets."

"Secrets?" screeched a voice from the stairs. "Wait for me!" Cookie scrambled into view. A red-and-black bandanna circled her head, and she wore a Spandex top with bike shorts that made her look like a wide version of a rubber band.

"I've got to go," Lindsay said, smiling apologetically at Marla. "See you later."

Marla decided to take the offensive. "You know, Cookie, I was thinking about Jolene and her work. Maybe someone in her laboratory wasn't happy with the way she handled things. Didn't you say something about falsified reports?"

Cookie glared at her. "Why should you care? I thought you weren't interested. Or maybe Jolene had told you everything like she suggested." Cookie nodded at Lindsay, who'd paused on the steps. At her accusing tone, Lindsay hastily proceeded downward.

"Jolene didn't talk much about herself," Marla admitted. Hesitating, she wished it were possible to reveal what she knew about Jolene's death. The woman had obtained sedatives somewhere, but no other similar drugs were found in her purse. An alternate explanation was that she'd obtained them from someone present at the club.

She glanced at Keith, ostensibly filling out a form at the trainer desk. Vail must be obtaining background information on these people, she surmised. That wasn't her job, but it wouldn't hurt to learn all she could by casually questioning them.

"I'd be interested in hearing more about animal testing," she said sweetly. "I'm not really familiar with the topic, and you can help to educate me. Certainly, I don't want to carry products in my salon that derive from such cruel techniques." That's right, Marla, lay it on thick. b.u.t.ting heads with Cookie will only make things worse. Playing her tune might get better results.

A smug grin lit Cookie's elfin face. "Okay. Where are you off to now?"

"I'm getting a ma.s.sage. Want to go out for coffee later?"

Cookie grimaced. "You drink that poison? h.e.l.l, no. Let's get some yogurt ice cream. You can eat a sundae while I give you the scoop on Jolene."

Chapter Seven.

"Do you want to come with me when I meet Cookie?" Marla asked Tally. Having her friend along as moral support would make the interview easier.

"I'd love to hear what that witch has to say," Tally said, giving Marla a sideways glance, "but Ken is expecting me home by ten. You go ahead. Call me tomorrow and fill me in."

"Okay. Maybe Slate will be talkative. I'd like to get some information to pa.s.s on to Dalton. The sooner he solves this case, the sooner he can resume taking Brianna to dance cla.s.s. Oh, my G.o.d. I forgot to tell you about Arnie!"

Cycling at a steady pace, Tally gestured to the adjacent machine. "You've still got extra time before your ma.s.sage. Try this while you're talking."

Marla eyed the row of Tectrix VR bikes. At the end was a young guy wearing earphones, swaying his head, and smiling. Presumably, she wouldn't have to worry about him listening in.

"All right, I can do this." Straddling the seat next to Tally's, she placed her feet on the pedals. "Now what?"

"See that blue handle on your right?" Tally instructed. "Use the plus and minus signs to select your scene on the monitor."

Glancing at Tally's screen, Marla saw her friend cycling through a virtual town. "What are you doing?"

"This one takes place in New England. You can pick Penguin Peak, which is a winter adventure; Tank, a military game; Aztec 2000, which is a futuristic compet.i.tion; or a Caribbean island."

"That's for me." Marla made her selection, then set the speed with the controls on the left handle. She set the timer for ten minutes. Any longer and she'd be late for her ma.s.sage appointment. Soon she was pedaling along a path lined with tropical flowers. Steel drum music played from speakers built into the chair at head level. Pulling on the handles tilted the machine and let her steer around trees.

"Hey, this is fun," she cried, adding pressure to push her bike up a virtual hill. Over the horizon was a beautiful expanse of azure ocean. It wasn't long before her thigh muscles ached in protest and her heart raced. A panel display showed the time elapsed, miles ridden, difficulty level, and calories burned.

While she zoomed down the hillside, Marla proceeded to inform Tally about her plans with Arnie.

Tally's face broke into a wide grin. At the end, she laughed aloud. "I wish I could be there to watch Dalton pretending to be this girl's date. You've got to call me the next day! Oh, Marla, you do get yourself into the strangest situations."

"Help! I'm cycling into the ocean!" Unable to steer around a sand dune, Marla ended up in the sea. Afraid she'd virtually drown, she was relieved when a vast underwater vista opened before her eyes. She'd barely had time to study the iridescent fish when the timer went off.

Strange didn't adequately describe her encounter with Slate. After rus.h.i.+ng into the locker room for a quick shower, she changed into jeans and a cotton blouse before heading for the ma.s.sage suite. No one was present at the sign-in desk, which seemed to be a normal occurrence, so she knocked on the nearest open doorway and strolled inside.

Slate whipped around, his matinee-idol face sporting an embarra.s.sed grin as she spied him stuffing a pair of panty hose into a drawer. His light-brown hair was cut short and gelled away from his face in a spiky style. Amber eyes widened in recognition. "Miss Sh.o.r.e?"

"Call me Marla. This is my first time having a ma.s.sage, so I'm not sure what to do. Shall I lay down on that table?" She nodded to a treatment table covered with a clean white cloth. It had a hole where her head would rest.

"Not yet. You need to remove your clothing and wrap this sheet around yourself, then lie down on your back. I'll give you a few minutes."

"Wait! I, uh, only need my back and shoulders done." d.a.m.ned if she was going to completely disrobe.

Slate didn't change his expression. "Well, then, just take off your s.h.i.+rt and bra, honey."

Bless my bones, the things I do to gather information, she thought wryly as she lay face-up on the table, her nude upper body wrapped in a sheet. She'd found a closet to hang her clothes in, although it appeared as though another woman had left her outfits there. A couple of dresses, heels in an awkwardly large size, and various undergarments took up most of the tiny s.p.a.ce.

After a brief interval during which she counted dots on the ceiling, Slate reentered. He'd donned a white jacket to make himself look more professional.

That won't help, pal. You still look like you belong on a marquee. Embarra.s.sed by her half-naked state, albeit covered by a cloth, she gritted her teeth. He probably regards female bodies like a gynecologist does, she told herself rea.s.suringly. Merely a day's work.

Slate advanced to a panel on the wall and turned a dial. Soothing New Age music filtered into the air. He flipped another switch, and Marla could swear she smelled orange blossoms. Her heart quickened when he approached. Pulling out a stool, Slate sat himself at her head and put his thumbs on the base of her neck.

"Relax, honey, you're here to relieve tension. Do you have any physical problems we need to work on?" he said. His low voice rippled over her, buoying her like a wave. She felt his fingers press on a tender area at her nape.

"I feel knotty after a long day at work," she confessed. His thumbs began a gentle ma.s.sage, and she could feel the coil of tension dissolving. This wasn't so bad. If she weren't careful, she'd get too relaxed and then she wouldn't accomplish anything.

"Slate, I understand there's another therapist whose name is Tess. When does she come in?"

His hands paused, then resumed their motion. "She works during my off-hours. I don't see her much."

Marla detected a strain in his voice. "Jolene had an appointment for a ma.s.sage the night she died. She'd scheduled it with Manny, but he was out sick. Do you know if Jolene switched to Tess?"

His fingers stretched to stroke her neck. They pressed lightly on her carotids, making Marla imagine how easily he could encircle her throat. "Tess wasn't here. I took Jolene's appointment."

She squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly uneasy. "I thought Jolene and you, uh, were not on the best of terms."

"There wasn't any ha.s.sle. Jolene agreed to let me do it. She stayed for her session and then left to change into a swimsuit. That's what I told the cops when they asked me."

"I see." She didn't understand the reticence in his tone. Was there something more he was leaving out? "Did Jolene feel all right when she was here?"

Again his hands paused. "Sure. Why wouldn't she? What do you know about her accident, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, no more than you do. Tell me, how would you describe your relations.h.i.+p with Amy?"

"Who told you about us?"

"Amy did. Apparently, she considers you her territory. Do you think she was jealous of your interest in Jolene?"

"There was nothing for her to be jealous about. Jolene thought she was too hot for me." His voice rose. "She didn't realize she was turning down the best jock in town. Babes usually ask me out."

Stepping away, he flexed an arm muscle to prove his point. "Now turn onto your stomach, please. You'll see how good I am."

He waited while she flipped over and resettled her position. It felt peculiar to hang her face through the hole in the table.

"If you want to see who's really the jealous type, check out Keith upstairs," Slate said. "You won't believe the lengths that guy will go to protect his turf." s.h.i.+fting his position, he kneaded her shoulders. Her muscles relaxed as he dug into the sensitive areas below her clavicle. Immersed in the process, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations.

Gloria had a different take on matters when Marla ran into her outside the ma.s.sage suite a half hour later. "What time did I leave on Friday? Let me see." The sales a.s.sociate tapped a manicured fingernail to her chin. "After you left my office, I stayed to finish some work on my computer. Jolene must have been at her appointment with Slate, because I heard them arguing."

Marla's ears perked up. "Could you make out what they were saying?" she shamelessly asked.

"No, they were inside one of the ma.s.sage suites. What's it to you, anyway?"

She smiled as though it didn't matter. "Just curious. How did you know they weren't getting along if you were unable to hear them?"

Gloria raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Do you think I'd make things up just because Jolene found out about my-" She broke off what she'd been about to say, her cheeks flaming. "Their voices were raised, and I heard a slapping sound. Slate probably made a move on her, and Jolene retaliated. You should've seen the look on Amy's face."

"Amy could hear all the way from the snack bar?"

"h.e.l.l, no. She was standing right outside the suite. She'd seen Slate show Jolene into a treatment room."

"Did you see Jolene leave?"

"No, Lindsay wanted me to check on one of the customer records."

"I didn't know Lindsay was still here." During her conversation with Jolene in the locker room, Marla had understood that the Dancercize cla.s.s was over about a half hour before, because Jolene had gone after cla.s.s to get a snack. Lindsay hadn't been upstairs when Marla met Keith. So how long had she hung around?

Eloise was in the club, Marla remembered. Maybe she had noticed staff members playing musical chairs. Putting Eloise, as well as Amy, on the list to interview, Marla thanked Gloria for the information.

"You want to thank me properly? Sign up for a full club members.h.i.+p. I need to make my quota this month."

That's not my problem, pal. "I'll think about it," she hedged.

Gloria followed her as she headed for the front door. "I'll get the papers ready. You can sign next time you're here."

Muttering under her breath about obnoxious salespeople, Marla hurried to her car. She didn't want to be late for her talk with Cookie. It was dark out, and she walked with her keys in hand. The parking lot was fairly full, but no one else was around. A chilly breeze ruffled her skin.

She barely heard the revving engine before twisting her head. A car, headlights off, charged straight at her. With a shriek, she threw herself to the side just as the vehicle whizzed past. Banging against a parked SUV, she experienced a sharp pain in her side, but that was the least of her worries. Screeching tires grazed the pavement, and she saw the car rus.h.i.+ng back, aiming to crush her against the sport-utility vehicle.

Heart thumping, Marla ran between cars. She'd parked her Toyota Camry near the end of the row. Gasping for breath, she reached the driver's side and halted. Her mouth dropped open. One of the tires had a flat. d.a.m.n.

Wildly, she glanced over her shoulder, confused by the sudden silence. The car's engine had cut off, which might mean one of two things. Either the driver had left the parking area, or he'd cut his ignition and was proceeding on foot. Since she hadn't noticed a vehicle burning rubber to leave the lot, the latter seemed more probable.

With trembling fingers, she fit her key into the lock and twisted it just as a body hurtled out of the darkness. Moonlight gleamed off the jagged edge of a broken bottle aimed at her face. She couldn't identify her a.s.sailant, who wore a mask over his head. Dodging the makes.h.i.+ft weapon, she jerked sideways, twirled around, and lashed out with her foot. She was satisfied to hear a grunt of pain when she hit his s.h.i.+nbone.

Using the distraction to her advantage, she threw open her car door and slid inside. Slamming the door and pus.h.i.+ng the lock, she started the engine. Her a.s.sailant pounded on the window, looming like a ghoul in the night. Curse the flat tire. She'd ruin the wheel if necessary to get out of there!

Lurching into reverse, the car halted while she s.h.i.+fted gears. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Would the man follow in his vehicle? She careened from the parking lot, her pulse racing as she drove to the nearest gas station.

While a service attendant jacked up her wheel, she succ.u.mbed to an attack of nerves. Chills racked her body. She'd nearly had her face slashed, or worse! Knowing she should notify the police, Marla hesitated. Vail's disapproving frown surfaced in her mind, and she decided against it. What could anyone prove? That she'd been attacked and was a fool for setting herself up? Thankfully, she hadn't been harmed. Now that she'd been forewarned, she would be extra cautious.

As she steered toward the ice cream parlor where she was overdue to meet Cookie, Marla wondered what she might have done to provoke an a.s.sault. Had someone at the health club been angered by one of her conversations? Or did this relate back to the episode between Hank Goodfellow and Wallace Ritiker at the pharmacy? They'd been on Vail's member sign-in list along with the Zelmans. Then again, Sam and Eloise could easily have eavesdropped on her conversation with Cookie outside the dance studio. Keith was in the vicinity as well. Or had it been something she'd said to Slate? He could have grabbed that pair of panty hose in his drawer, yanked it over his head, and run outside to nab her.

If there had been any notions in her mind that Jolene's death was purely an accidental drowning, tonight had dispelled them.

Turning into the parking lot at The Fountains shopping center, Marla was glad to see a crowd hanging out at TCBY. Cookie was smart to have chosen such a public venue for their meeting.

Her knees wobbled when she approached the brightly lit store, where she glimpsed Cookie pacing inside. Drawing a deep breath, she attempted to put a benign expression on her face. It wasn't easy with her heart still beating at a fast rhythm, but she didn't want Cookie to notice her distress.

No such luck. As soon as she spotted Marla, the activist marched over, a determined gleam in her eyes. "You're late. I thought you'd stood me up." Cookie peered closer. "What happened to you? You're white as a sheet."

"My car had a flat tire."

"Your voice is shaking. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Too much exercise tonight. Guess I need to get in shape."

Cookie gave a snort of disbelief. "Whatever. Do you want to order? I'm going to get a cone."

Marla decided to splurge on a high-calorie dessert and ordered a hot fudge sundae. The sugar dose would help restore her composure. Cookie stuck to a traditional scoop of vanilla. With her short stature, capri pants, and animal-print top with the ends tied at her midriff, she almost blended in with the teen crowd. She'd applied more makeup than usual, as though wanting to impress Marla with her professionalism. You look good when you dress up, pal, Marla admitted silently. With her tousled hairstyle, Cookie could be stunning in the proper wardrobe. The dog hairs on her s.h.i.+rt would have to go, though.

"I'm glad you've decided to let me help you," Cookie began, seated across from Marla. A dribble of ice cream rolled down her chin, and she dabbed at it with a napkin.

Savoring a mouthful of rich fudge sauce, Marla sought a diplomatic reply. "You've awakened me to the issue of animal testing. I've really never thought about it before."

"Neither have most people. You don't consider how the cosmetics and household products you use are the source of suffering and death for thousands of laboratory animals."

"Aren't those tests necessary to make certain the chemicals are safe on people?"

"Not necessarily. Even when tests show that a product is dangerous, it may not be kept off the market. It'll simply bear a warning label telling you to call a doctor if you ingest the product or if it splashes on your skin."

"I don't see how that relates to the hair care products I use in my salon."