Bad Hair Day 4 - Body Wave by Nancy J. Cohen Read Free Book Online Page B

trusting individual she used to be?

"Lacey likes me, and she'll get jealous if she knows we were talking about Kimberly."

"But Kim is dead." _And why would Lacey be jealous if you haven't seen Kimberly for two years, pal? Something doesn't ring true here_.

"Lacey and Kim were friends. You should tell Lacey what you've told me."

"Sure. Can you write down her phone number for me?"

He scribbled the woman's address, handing Marla a grease-stained paper. "Have there been any arrests?" he asked.

"Stan has been detained for questioning."

"Figures he'd do it, especially if he knew." His glance darted nervously toward the door. "You didn't tell him you were coming here, did you?"

"No, I didn't. You seem anxious."

"Kim told Lacey about his temper. Wouldn't want the man coming after me next!"

"Stan wants to find the person who killed his wife, that's all. I promised to help him."

"Good luck. You may not have far to look."

As she left the shop, Marla hoped her faith in Stan was not misplaced. Doubts assailed her, not only about Stan, but also about her own motives for wanting to prove him innocent. She hadn't heard from him after their last encounter, but that was expected. Kim's funeral was Thursday, and he'd been sitting shivah since then.

Driving home from Dania, Marla felt an urge to confront Stan but resisted the impulse to stop at his house. If any of Kim's relatives were there, she'd ruin her cover story before getting the chance to present it.

Opportunity arrived on Sunday morning when she went for the interview with Florence Pearl. Kim's family lived in a reclusive compound located in an older section of East Fort Lauderdale. After finding a mailbox with the address, Marla turned down a heavily wooded road. She arrived at a circular driveway curving in front of a two-story mansion of antebellum motif. Painted white, with tall columns, the house featured a wraparound brick porch; wide, curtained windows; and mahogany doors. A separate guest cottage stood off to the side along with two garages, each holding four bays. Live oaks, sea grapes, and Queen palms graced grounds enhanced by bougainvillea and hibiscus bushes.

Fragrance from a Hong Kong orchid tree reached her nostrils as she emerged from her Camry into the cool February air. After putting away her keys, she smoothed down her navy suit, hoping she looked adequately professional. Glimpsing her reflection in the car window, she checked her apricot lip gloss. Her hair remained softly curled inward at the ends.

Marching resolutely forward, she pushed the doorbell and listened to chimes cascading through the house. Barely moments later, the door swung wide, and a middle-aged man wearing a black sport coat and tie bid her to enter.

"You must be Miss Shore. I'm Raoul, one of the staff." He spoke with a clipped accent that she couldn't quite place. "Please follow me to the library. Your interview will take place there."

Marla followed his stately figure, her gaze inadvertently drawn to the bald spot on his head. _Sorry, not much I could do about that, unless you parted your hair on the other side where it's thicker._

She shook herself mentally, remembering she wasn't here in her capacity as a hairdresser. _You're a nurse's aide,_ she admonished herself silently. _You take care of old people for a living._ That was partially true, considering her elderly clientele. Young professionals mostly populated the area in Palm Haven where her salon was situated, but she took care of her share of senior citizens. That was why this shouldn't be such a tough job, assuming she was offered the position.

They entered a room lined with bookshelves stretching from a cherry inlaid floor to a bead-board and tray ceiling. Furnished with leather armchairs, a massive desk, and assorted lamp tables, the library had a cozy, warm atmosphere. It smelled like furniture polish, pine, and wood smoke, the latter coming from a fireplace blazing at the opposite end.

She'd