Sinister Sprinkles Part 13

Wilma nodded in our direction as we walked in. A woman holding onto her forties with both hands, she was dressed in tight black stretch pants, and I could see hints of a leopard-print blouse under her smock. Her hair had been teased into a giant ball of henna, and I could see she didn't have to look far for her inspiration.

"As I live and breathe, it's the donut lady herself," she said. "Are you finally ready to get rid of that ponytail and grow up?"

My hand went to my hair as I said, "I thought I'd come by and look at some options today," I lied. "But I'm not ready for a drastic change yet. I need some time to come to terms with it. Could I still get a shampoo and a trim in the meantime?"

Wilma waved her scissors in the air, barely missing removing a chunk of her current customer's left earlobe. "Honey, we do everything here but change your oil."

As Grace and I took our seats, Wilma said, "What about you, darlin'? You need a touch-up, too?"

"No, I'm good. I just came along to give my opinion on her new hairstyle. Suzanne needs my advice on just about everything."

I kicked her foot, but n.o.body else noticed it.

Wilma looked carefully at Grace, then said, "That's fine, then. You're a little too trendy for my taste, if you don't mind my saying so."

I tried to bite back the laughter, and instead found myself choking. After a few seconds, I managed to get it back under control, but not before garnering some odd looks from everyone else in the beauty salon.

Grace said, "Do you want to know the truth? We can't all pull off your style, Wilma."

The salon owner nodded. "It's wise of you to realize it, dear. Don't sell yourself short, though. You do pretty good, with what you have and all, I mean."

I expected Grace to say something biting, but she managed to smile, then said, "Coming from you, that's a real compliment."

I had to look at her to check, but she didn't even roll her eyes as she said it.

Wilma took a few more snips with her scissors, then she removed the smock from the woman in her chair. After collecting her fee, she turned to me and patted her chair and said with a smile, "You're next."

"How about her?" I asked as I pointed to the woman who'd arrived before we had.

"Sally? She's waiting on Mary Fran. n.o.body else touches her. Come on, don't be shy, I won't bite."

No, but I was willing to bet her scissors did. I reluctantly climbed into the chair, and she draped the smock around me like it was some kind of cape.

She instructed me, "Now, you just lean back into the sink and we'll give you a good wash first."

"I washed my hair last night," I said in protest, suddenly wondering if this was that good an idea after all.

She sniffed it, then said, "If you don't mind my saying so, you smell like donuts, Suzanne."

"There are a lot worse things I could smell like," I said. In my head, I added, "like a Parisian nightwalker like you," but I kept that comment to myself.

She patted my shoulder, and as she did so, Wilma tilted me back until my neck touched the sink basin. "Just relax. You won't feel a thing."

That was kind of what I was afraid of.

As she doused my hair with warm water, I said, "It's a terrible thing about Darlene, isn't it?"

Was that sharp tug in my hair a comment on my question?

Wilma said, "Sorry about that, my fingers got caught in a knot. Yes, I thought long and hard about closing the shop all week in her honor, but Darlene would have wanted the show to go on."

"That's right," one of the other hairdressers said as she accentuated her point by stabbing her scissors in the air. "She was a real trooper."

Wilma said, "Excuse me for saying so, but I never thought I'd hear a word of sympathy from you towards her, Suzanne Hart."

I started to protest when she added, "I'm not saying I'd blame you. Darlene lost her head over that Max, and even you have to admit, that man could charm water from a dry well."

"He's got a way about him, I won't deny it," I said, trying to keep my temper in check. I was there for information, not to defend what little there was of my ex-husband's honor.

"Just between us girls, I knew that man was trouble from the first day he got his driver's license," Wilma said. "I tried to warn Darlene about him, but she just wouldn't listen to me."

I got a sudden whiff of the shampoo before she put it in my hair, and I smelled bananas and apricots, a powerful and pungent aroma. If I had my druthers, I would have kept the deep fried scent.

As she rubbed it into my scalp, she said, "There now, isn't that better?"

"Hmm," I said, not trusting myself to speak.

As she rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, I decided to dig a little deeper.

"Wilma, do you know anybody who had a grudge against Darlene?"

"Do you mean besides you, sugar?" she asked.

I fought the urge to protest my innocence again. "Yes, besides me."

"Funny you should ask. The chief asked me the same thing."

"What did you tell him?" I asked as I wiped a bit of the errant shampoo away from my eyes.

Wilma seemed to think about it, then said, "n.o.body's ever had a problem with her, and that's the truth. Besides her one little slip with Max, she was a good girl." Wilma hoisted me back upright, wrapped a towel around my wet hair, then studied my face for a few moments. "Let's see, I think the most attractive cut for you would be my specialty. I call it the Cascade. Isn't that lucky for you? Dear, it will do wonders for you, and you'll finally look your real age, instead of like one of the kids."

There was no way I was going to put up with that. I'd seen too many of Wilma's cascades walking around April Springs to ever want one myself. I glanced over at her clock. "Oh my gosh. Is that the time? Wilma, I hate to do this, but I've got to run. I've got a dentist appointment I forgot about completely. I'll come back another time, I promise," I said as I ran the towel through my hair a few times, then shoved that and the smock into her arms. "How's ten sound for the wash?"

"I charge twenty," she said coldly.

"Seriously?" I asked as I pulled another ten from my thin wallet. "Okay. Gotta run now."

Grace met me at the door, and once we were outside the shop, I used my fingers to scrub my still-wet hair back and forth in the cold. It was freezing, and I quickly regretted abandoning the towel.

Grace grinned at me and said, "You're going to get pneumonia, you know that, don't you?"

"That's still better than getting one of her specialty hairdos. She's got a lot of nerve calling it a cascade. It's more like an avalanche, if you ask me."

The salon door opened and one of the stylists, Cynthia Trent, came out with a towel in her hand. I'd gone through school with her brother, Tom, a nice guy who'd ended up going to Duke and was now a doctor in Charlotte. Most of the girls had been more interested in the bad boys at our school, and most of us regretted the choices we'd made back then. If I'd known then what I knew now, I would have dated more math majors and fewer aspiring actors and wannabe rock stars.

"I was hoping you'd still be here," she said as she handed me the towel.

"Thanks, Cynthia. You're a lifesaver," I said, then ran the fresh towel through my hair until it was dry enough to hold me until I could get home and finish the job.

As I handed the towel back to her, I said, "That was sweet of you."

"Wilma just lied to you," the stylist said, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was no one near but Grace.

"The shampoos are really just ten, aren't they? I knew it."

Cynthia shook her head. "They're twenty, all right. That's not what she lied to you about. Darlene had one enemy in April Springs, at least one that I knew about, and you deserve to know who it was."

BREAKFAST PUFFIN m.u.f.fINS.

These treats are a nice change of pace from deep frying everything, and bake in the oven. They're perfect for a quick snack or a bite on the run. Light in texture and flavor, these are a real hit at my house!

INGREDIENTS.

* 13 cup margarine or b.u.t.ter, soft * 12 cup sugar * 1 egg, beaten * 2 cups flour * 2 teaspoons baking powder * 14 teaspoon salt * 2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spices * 34 cup milk, whole or 2% * 1 teaspoon cinnamon * 1 teaspoon nutmeg * 2 ounces raisins (optional) DIRECTIONS.

Blend margarine, sugar, and beaten egg together until the mixture is smooth. In a separate bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt, pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, and nutmeg together. Add the dry ingredients and the wet to the milk, alternating and mixing as you go. If you'd like, now is the time to add the raisins to the batter.

Fill the m.u.f.fin cups halfway (I always use liners), then dust the top of each m.u.f.fin with cinnamon sugar (1 tablespoon granulated sugar for 1 teaspoon of cinnamon) before you put it into the oven, which should be preheated to 350F. Bake for 1822 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out of the center of each m.u.f.fin clean. Cool the m.u.f.fins on a rack for five minutes before removing them from the pan.

CHAPTER 7.

"Who are you talking about?" Grace asked.

Cynthia glanced back toward the door, then admitted, "Wilma herself. She thought Darlene was stealing from her here at the salon, and they had a horrible fight just before Darlene was stabbed. If you ask me, it's a little too much of a coincidence that she turns up dead just a little later, don't you think?"

"I do," I said. "Why tell me, though? Did you talk to the police?"

She looked at me like she thought I was crazy. "Are you kidding? The chief's not a big fan of mine, and I doubt he'd believe me. He still thinks I painted the town clock pink the night we graduated, and he's never let up on me since."

I shrugged. "Join the club. He doesn't really care for me all that much either, but that hasn't kept me from telling him what I know when it's important, and believe me, this matters."

The door of the salon opened, and Wilma stepped out. "Suzanne, I thought you had an appointment you had to rush off to make."

"I do, but my hair was still wet, and Cynthia was nice enough to offer me a towel. She's really sweet."

Wilma looked at her employee. "Yes, she's an angel in disguise. One who has someone sitting in her chair at the moment, I might add."

"Sorry, I'll get right on it," Cynthia said as she ducked back inside.

"We've got to go, too," I said.

"How convenient that Grace has the same appointment you do," Wilma said, the sarcasm dripping from her words like honey off a spoon.

"My boss asked us all to stay home until the roads are completely clear, so I'm shadowing Suzanne today. I even helped her make donuts this morning."

That was an outright lie, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. I just smiled and nodded. "Come on, Grace. After my dentist appointment, I'm getting a manicure."

"Finally, something I can do, too."

We headed off toward Dr. Frye's office, and as we neared his door, I looked back to see Wilma still standing there watching us. We had no choice; we had to go inside.

At the front desk, Vicki looked surprised to see us. "Ladies, I don't have either one of you on my books for today."

"We just thought we'd check to see if you had any open cleaning appointments."

She scanned the appointment book in front of her. "I have a few slots after July," she said.

"Seven months away? Really?"

"Really," Vicki said. "We're working four days a week, so it takes some time to get to everyone."

"I didn't know you worked a four-day week. Are you hiring?" I asked. "I work seven myself."

Vicki laughed. "No, we're good, but thanks for asking. Should I put you two down for August?"

Grace said, "I'll have to check my planner. I'm not sure I'll even be in town next August."

"Just let me know," she said, "but don't wait too long. Appointments have a tendency to fill up quickly around here."

I peeked out the door to see if Wilma was still watching us, but the coast was clear, at least for now. I pulled Grace outside with me, and we started back toward the donut shop.

"We're not done investigating, are we?" Grace asked.

"No, but I need to dry my hair, and I just remembered that Emma keeps a blowdryer in the bathroom."

"Why on earth does she do that?"

"Are you kidding? Sometimes in the summer she comes in with her hair still wet and she doesn't dry it until she gets to the shop."

"And you don't mind that?"

I shrugged. "Good help is hard to get. I let her do a few things I probably shouldn't, but all in all, she's a good worker, and she doesn't complain about the killer hours or the less-than-stellar pay."