Permed To Death [Bad Hair Day Mystery 1] by Nancy J. Cohen Read Free Book Online

rested on a side table.
    "Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it.” Making the rounds of greeting her cousins, she plopped ice cubes into drinks that needed refreshing.
    "Tell us the details,” demanded Julia, taking a sip of white wine from a Waterford glass. Married to Alan, an accountant, she hadn't worked a day since they were married. Even so, she always looked hassled. Sitting on a plush armchair, she kept crossing and uncrossing her ankles. Her layered, shag-cut dirty blond hair could have used more care, as could her peach lipstick, blurred at the edges. She'd put more effort into choosing her wardrobe, a tailored beige-silk blouse and dark brown slacks.
    "There's not much to say,” Marla replied, putting down the ice bucket. Clearly, she wasn't going to get away with avoiding the topic. “I wrapped Bertha's hair for a perm, then gave her a cup of coffee. After a couple of sips, she was dead."
    "Wasn't she the head of Sunshine Publishing?” asked Alan, glancing at his watch. He checked the time at regular intervals, giving the impression that he compartmentalized his life into prescribed zones. “I seem to recall reading about the company in one of my journals. They were being investigated for tax evasion."
    "When was this?” Marla gave him a sharp glance.
    Anita strode into the room, bringing the chopped-liver platter and a bowl of pickled herring. “Help yourselves,” she said, placing the dishes on a cocktail table. She went to the bar to pour herself a wine cooler.
    "The incident occurred some time ago,” said Alan, stooping to smear a spoonful of chopped liver onto a wheat cracker. Stuffing it into his mouth, he frowned. “I don't remember hearing anything else about it. Maybe the case was dropped."
    Lucille might still have been working there, Marla thought. This might be worth following up on .
    "How's the beauty business?” crooned Cynthia. Seated beside Julia, she'd maintained her glacial aloofness until this point, buoyed by her husband Bruce, who stood stiffly by her side. The eldest of her cousins, their wealth provided an excuse to look down their schnozzles on the rest of the family. Marla tolerated them only because she liked going to their villa by the sea each year for the Passover seder. Her scornful gaze swept their coiffeurs before she replied. Cynthia's hair was teased so high it reminded her of a beehive, and Bruce's stood on end as though he'd been hit by lightning.
    "Business is fine, thanks,” she retorted. “Maybe you'd like to stop in at the salon and update your style. Besides, you could use a new color rinse to get rid of those brassy tones."
    "How's your love life?” Julia probed.
    Marla bristled. “I'm seeing a few guys, no one serious.” Not that it's any concern of yours . “How about yourself, sweetie? Now that tax season is over, are you and hubby getting reacquainted?"
    Julia ignored her barb. “I understand Stanley remarried.” Her singsong voice told Marla what a fool she'd been to let such a prize go.
    "Yes, he did. Kimberly is a real gem.” She didn't bother to hide her sarcasm. Living in a six-bedroom mansion at exclusive Mangrove Estates wasn't good enough for Stan's new wife. Kimberly insisted a house on the ocean would be more fulfilling.
    In order to finance this dream house, Stan had been nagging Marla to sell their jointly owned property, which generated steady rental income. The divorce settlement had given her funds to establish the salon, but that money was gone. Now she needed the extra income to maintain her lifestyle.
    Hopefully she wouldn't have to call Stan for legal advice as Detective Vail had suggested, because she knew he'd take advantage of her. She'd never sell her share of their property, not under any circumstances.
    I warned you to hold on to Stan,” said Anita, wagging her finger. “He was a good catch. Now look at you, Marla Shorstein! You have to work for a living, and none of the men you date are Jewish."
    "I like my work, Ma, and