“I’m coming, too,” Marla said. “You and I need to talk, uh, Hortense.” Aware of Dalton trailing behind them, she accompanied Arnie and the actress outside. Cookie, who’d taken a break, had resumed parading in front of the salon.
“Don’t I know you?” Cookie stopped to stare at the tall blonde. “Oh, yeah, you’re a member at Perfect Fit. Are you Marla’s customer?” Her green eyes narrowed. “This salon goes against SETA standards in using products from companies that do cruel animal tests. Do you know about the Lethal Dose Fifty? Rabbits, mice, and guinea pigs are force-fed or injected with household substances until half of them die. Cosmetic companies drip shampoos and hair sprays onto rabbits’ eyes using the infamous Draize test that leaves many of them blind. More humane alternatives are available.”
Jill gave a patronizing smile. “I’m aware of the options. They include computer assays, live cell cultures, and mass spectrometry, to name a few.”
Cookie paused to give her a penetrating glare, then continued her tirade. “If you support those poor, helpless creatures, you’ll shun this salon. SETA has been effective in causing cosmetics industry leaders to observe a moratorium on animal testing, but we still need your support. Only by speaking up and boycotting involved businesses can we heighten public awareness. Here, you can read more about it.” Reaching inside her backpack, she pulled out a stack of pamphlets.
Jill squinted. “Hey, you’re not involved with that animal rights group whose members sent booby-trapped letters to scientists, are you?”
Cookie planted a hand on her hip. “I don’t hurt people, darling. I read about that in the newspaper, and it wasn’t my group who claimed responsibility on the Internet. I would never condone hiding razor blades inside the top flaps of letters as a means of persuasion. It was a dumb move if someone thought that would force the release of monkeys held captive in laboratories. I demonstrate against suffering; I don’t cause it.”
“Good, then I’m already on your side. Listen, Arnie, I have information. Can we go somewhere private?”
“Hell, no,” Marla snapped. “If this is about Jolene, I want to hear what you have to say.”
Dalton inserted himself into their group. “This case is my jurisdiction.”
“What’s this about Jolene?” Cookie asked.
Jill raised her hands in capitulation. “I give up; you can all listen. I managed to get inside Jolene’s office. In one of her drawers, I found an old newspaper article about Sam Zelman. Apparently, he’d been engaged in mortgage fraud on the West Coast a number of years ago. He’d put over fifty families into foreclosure. Sam offered people with bad credit a chance to buy homes through something he called an agreement for deed. Unknown to the homeowners, he never filed the deeds with the county clerk. Meanwhile, he falsified mortgage applications. When he defaulted on payments, lenders began foreclosing on the homes. Sam was charged with grand theft.”
“He must have made lots of people angry,” Marla said dryly.
“That’s old news,” Dalton commented, “and it doesn’t explain why Eloise vanished.”
“Unless someone who was seeking revenge caught up to Sam, and Eloise is afraid she’ll be next,” Marla suggested.
“Did I hear you mention my name?” trilled a woman’s voice from the parking lot.
Marla twirled around, her heart lurching. “Eloise, where have you been?”
Eloise appeared none the worse for wear in dark Capri pants, a rust cotton blouse, and low-heeled sandals. Her disheveled hair appeared the only thing out of place. “I have a hair appointment today. Did you think I would miss it?”
“Your husband,” began Dalton, his face somber.
Eloise’s mouth tightened. “Sam’s accident was unfortunate. I drove separately and left just before it happened.” Her jaw trembled, the only sign of distress. “I got scared.”
“Why?” Jill’s voice was strong as she moved close to Eloise. “Because you knew Sam was meeting Jolene, and you were afraid you’d be accused of murdering them both? Why did you do it, Eloise? Were you jealous?”
Arnie interceded, clutching Jill’s arm. “Let it go, honey. This is Vail’s case.”
For once, Dalton gave him a grateful glance. “I need to ask you some questions,” he told Eloise.
“She didn’t do it,” Cookie said in an undertone to Marla. “You get rid of those bad products like I advised you, and I’ll fill you in on what I know. I’m going to check back here every day until you comply. But you’d better hurry, before someone else ends up dead.”
As Cookie marched off, Marla stared after her. Before she could consider the implications, Jill swatted her on the shoulder.
“Is it over between you and Arnie?” Jill asked, a hopeful gleam in her sapphire eyes.
Dalton had taken Eloise aside to speak to her. Marla focused on her rival for Arnie’s regard. “Arnie and I are friends,” she confessed. “We’ll always be fond of each other, but that’s where it ends. Just keep this in mind: honesty should be the basis for your relationship. I know who you are, Jill. Your mentor and I had a nice chat in Vero Beach. I hope you’re no longer using Arnie as part of your act.”
With those parting words, she turned to reenter the salon. Checking her schedule, she noticed Eloise was her next customer. With so many distractions, she hadn’t given the name a second glance earlier. No matter. When Eloise departed with the detective, Marla had other chores to do until the next client arrived.
The shop kept her busy until the evening, when it was time to pick up Brianna and take her to dance class.
She began their conversation in the car. “I saw your father this morning. He came by the salon.”
“Really?” Brianna faced forward, clutching a bulging dance bag in her arms. She’d swept her stick-straight dark hair into a high ponytail. Beneath a pair of jean shorts were tan tights that covered her long limbs like a second skin. An oversized T-shirt hung below her waist.
“When do you think he’ll be finished with his night duty?”
The girl shrugged. “Who knows? If it’s too much trouble for you to take me, I’ll find someone else to give me a ride on Tuesday nights.”
“I’m happy to help you.” Marla glanced at Brianna’s sullen expression. “I wish you’d trust me.”
Brianna’s lower lip quivered. “You’ve got your life. Why bother with mine?”
Smoothing a length of bobbed hair, Marla gave a short laugh. “Good question. Guess I’m a masochist, if you know what that means.” Traffic heading south on University Drive was especially heavy. Usually it calmed down after seven, but the light at Peters Road was holding things up. She should have taken another route. Annoyed as a driver cut in front of her, she gripped the wheel tighter.
“I’m not stupid,” Brianna retorted, anger flashing in her eyes. “I get decent grades, and I’m in honors English.”
“That’s wonderful,” Marla said quickly. “I’ll bet your father is proud of you.”
“That’s why he discusses his cases with me.” The girl jutted her chin forward. “We’re a good team, and we don’t need anyone to interfere.”
Marla bit her lip, concentrating on driving. Talk about tough nuts to crack! Like father, like daughter. Dalton didn’t trust her yet, either.
“Hopefully, he’ll discover who killed Jolene so he can close the case and return home in the evenings. Is he hanging his suspicions on anyone in particular?”
Brianna smirked. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
Marla kept her tone casual. “I’ve learned that Jolene was tampering with lab test results.”
“Someone named Cookie told my dad about that. Cookie said she’d find the real source of Jolene’s data.”
“Has she?”
“Nope. Daddy thinks it’s important. Actually, he’s fairly suspicious of Cookie herself. She knows an awful lot, plus she hated Jolene for personal reasons.”
Nodding, Marla felt compelled to explain. “Jolene fired Cookie’s husband from his job, and their marriage broke up as a result. Cookie blamed Jolene.” She paused. “Cookie may be a big talker, but I don’t think she has it in her to murder someone. She’s too compassionate about animals.”
“Daddy says people who are devoted to causes sometimes kill in the belief it’s their calling.”
“That’s right, but I don’t believe it applies in this case.” They arrived at the shopping center where the dance studio was located, and Marla put aside further musings.
“You don’t need to come inside,” Brianna announced.
Instead of dropping her off, Marla pulled into a parking space. “I’d like to say hello to Lindsay. My friend Tally and I enjoy her Dancercize classes at the sports club. I don’t see how she has any free time between teaching sessions here and working there as an instructor. Her evenings and weekends must be fully occupied.”
Brianna cracked open her door. “She’s a great dance teacher, but I don’t think it’s all she does. Lindsay may work somewhere else during the day before the studio opens.”
“That’s possible.” A frown creased her brow. If she recalled, Dancercize was not listed on the club’s daytime schedule.
Brianna slammed the car door shut and headed toward the brightly lit studio entrance. Slinging her purse strap over one shoulder, Marla hastened after her. The air felt chilly, and she shivered in her long-sleeved knit top. Darkness had fallen, bringing a cadence of insect sounds and a cool breeze.
“Hi, Brianna. Marla, it’s great to see you again,” Lindsay’s cheerful greeting rang out when they entered. She straightened her leotard, which clung to her form like cellophane wrapped around a sculpture of the human body.
“Lindsay, how are you?” Marla spoke loudly to be heard over the pounding music and staccato sound of tap shoes coming from one of the classrooms. “You sure keep busy with all these dance classes. Do you teach here during the day, too?”
Lindsay’s expression clouded. “The studio only opens when the kids get out of school. Brianna, you haven’t turned in your ticket order for the recital yet. If you don’t hand it in by next week, you won’t get the seats you want.”
Brianna plopped on a bench to change her shoes. “I don’t know who can come. My dad might be working.”
“When is the recital?” Marla asked, stepping toward her.
“May twenty-fifth. We have it earlier than most other schools. It’s held at Parker Playhouse.”
“Our performances are always fully booked,” Lindsay explained to Marla. “Will you be attending?”
Marla glanced at Brianna, who was taking an inordinately long time to tie her jazz shoes. “Am I invited?”
“Anyone can buy a ticket,” the girl snapped, but Marla detected a plaintive note in her voice.
“I’d really like to come. Let me know how much it costs, and I’ll reimburse you for the seat.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind being bored all evening.”
“I won’t be bored. I took ballet lessons in my earlier years, so I’m familiar with the routines. Besides, I like dance performances. My mother has a subscription to Miami City Ballet, but she goes with a friend. If I get tickets to one of their shows, will you keep me company?”
Brianna examined a spot on the floor. “Wouldn’t you rather go to a cool dance club with your fiancé?”
Touché, Marla thought. “We broke up this morning. Arnie and I are just good friends. He’s already got his eye on someone else. Didn’t your father tell you our arrangement was, uh, temporary?” She glanced at Lindsay, but the instructor was already moving down the hall.
“Dad said you were playing dangerous games.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dangerous from whose viewpoint?
“Class is starting,” Lindsay announced.
Brianna leapt up. “You don’t need to wait around.”
Before Marla could reply, Lindsay yelped. The dance instructor staggered to the side, her torso bent.
“What’s the matter?” Marla called, rushing forward.
“Old back injury,” Lindsay rasped. Her pale complexion indicated she’d never fully recovered.
Marla offered a steady arm. “Lean on me,” she said while Brianna stood by, uncertainty written on her face.
Lindsay shook her head. “I’ll be all right. Pills in my bag. I keep them with me, just in case. I can ask Tamar to start the warmups.”
“Are you sure?”
Nodding, Lindsay compressed her lips.
“Nice nails,” Marla commented, observing the teacher’s fancy acrylics. “Who do you go to?”
“Denise at the New Wave.”
“If you ever want to switch, we have a great manicurist at Cut ’N Dye.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
Hunched over, Lindsay shuffled into the studio, gestured for Brianna to join her, and then shut the door.
Lindsay’s mention of pills reminded Marla that she’d never followed up on Hank, the pharmacist. Maybe his place would still be open. It was possible Jolene was one of his customers, and if so, she might have confided in him.
Unfortunately, when Marla passed by, the storefront was dark. She’d look for him at the club tomorrow night when she met Tally there.
Her plans got waylaid Wednesday afternoon when she got home and found a voice mail message from Cookie.
“I have information that can’t wait,” Cookie said. “I’m working tonight. If you want to meet me, take the Royal Barge dinner cruise. I look after the birds on the island. It’s crucial that you come if you want to know who killed Jolene. I’ve already made a reservation in your name.”
Marla listened to the message twice more before phoning Tally.
“I thought you wanted to snoop in Gloria’s office tonight,” her friend said in dismay.
“This is more important. If Cookie’s information is valid, I won’t need to sneak around the club. Wanna come along?”
“Me? Why don’t you ask Dalton Vail? He’s more appropriate as an escort. If he can’t come, then I’ll join you.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you.” Disconnecting from Tally, Marla dialed the detective’s direct number at the police station.
“Marla, what is it? You know I’m busy,” his gruff voice answered.
Her pulse accelerated at the sound of his low, masculine tone. “Cookie wants to see me tonight, and I thought you might like to come along. I believe she knows who killed Jolene.”
“I wish I could get away, but I’m stuck here for a while,” he said, regret filling his voice. “Don’t you dare see that woman alone. If you can wait—”
“Thanks, Dalton, but I have to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. I’ll let you know if I learn anything important.”
Disappointed, she hung up and redialed Tally’s number. “Dalton can’t come. You still want in?”
“Right on, girl. Dinner cruise, huh? Believe me, I’d rather eat than exercise any day.”
****
Traffic along Route A1A was heavy as Marla headed south toward Bahia Mar. On the left stretched an expanse of beach ending at lapping waves. A veil of gray in a darkening sky blurred the horizon, but Marla wasn’t interested in the scenery. She was anxious to discover what Cookie had learned. Signs directed her to the tourist cruise parking lot behind a hotel.
“I called ahead to add your reservation,” she said to Tally after they had parked. Outside, they strolled past a glass-bottom boat charter. Her skin chilled in the nippy air, and she buttoned the suede jacket she’d worn over a cashmere sweater and dark pants. Tally looked stylish as usual in a designer ensemble, her wavy locks fastened off her face with a tortoiseshell comb.
As they approached the ticket window, Marla examined her reflection. Her chin-length glossy brown hair curved inward at the edges, with wispy bangs gracing her forehead. She’d applied apricot lipstick and mud shadow to complement her toffee eyes. Too bad Dalton isn’t here, she thought regretfully. Tally was a good friend, but cruising down the river with the handsome detective would have been romantic. And in case things got rough—not that she anticipated any trouble—he would have been handy to have around.
The inside of the boat consisted of two rows of vinyl-strip chairs, six on each side of a center aisle. White overhead racks stored a supply of orange life vests. As Marla took a seat, she scanned the worn linoleum floor and faded blue paint peeling off the side walls that ended midway at a black railing, providing an open-air view of their surroundings.
“I hope it won’t be too windy,” Tally remarked, glancing at the family of tourists occupying a row in front. Seats were rapidly being filled, which surprised Marla since it was a weekday night. Then again, this was tourist season, so all attractions were bound to be crowded.
“Do you think Jolene’s killer is on board?” she whispered.
A frown creased Tally’s brow. “That seems unlikely.”
“You never know.” Marla gave a furtive glance to the boat’s occupants: a mix of families, couples, and prearranged groups. People chattered in French and German while seagulls soared past.
A lady in nautical attire sat next to Marla. The woman wore a red, white, and blue striped shirt with a gold embroidered anchor; navy pants; gold button earrings; and assorted necklaces that clinked when she moved. Great, thought Marla, now she and Tally wouldn’t be able to talk in private.
The ship’s horn blew, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Slowly, the boat backed away from the dock. Over a loudspeaker, Captain Randy introduced himself and the crew, mentioning there were three hundred people aboard. Heading west, they cruised by a yacht basin and into the Intracoastal Waterway.
“When will we reach the island?” Tally asked, checking her watch. “I’m hungry.”
“You can enjoy the barbecue while I look for Cookie. If I recall from a previous visit, there’s a number of parrots in cages hanging from trees around the walkways. Then again, maybe Cookie tends the animals in the show. She didn’t give a specific place to meet her.” Her gut clenched. “If Cookie uncovered a new piece of evidence, it’s possible she tipped off the bad guy. Two people have died already. Someone is going to extremes, and I’m not even sure why.”
Tally’s attention centered on the million-dollar mansions facing the water shaded by sea grapes, queen palms, and spindly Schefflera. Banana plants hung over the river’s edge. Descriptive commentary by their guide contributed to the background clatter of the ship’s engine and the passengers’ babble.
“What did Eloise tell Detective Vail?” Tally asked.
“I’m not privy to that information. He doesn’t confide in me. I should have asked Brianna. His daughter knows more about the case than anyone.”
“Smart kid.”
Tally’s comment was meant to draw a reaction, but Marla merely stared at historic Stranahan House as they cruised by downtown Fort Lauderdale, known as the Venice of the South for its system of canals. Fortunately, the drawbridge was open, or they’d have been delayed. In her mind, an imaginary clock ticked away the minutes leading toward another disaster. The sooner they reached Cookie, the better.
Passengers exploded off the boat when they reached the island on the New River, where a barbecue dinner and a variety show awaited them. Marla veered away from the mob, spotting a beautiful white cockatoo in a cage. Raucous bird cries blended with songlike chirps as she found a pair of lovebirds and a toucan further along the path. No sign of Cookie.
Once everyone had herded into the main corral for the all-you-can-eat feast, Marla scoured the island. She and Tally split up to search the twisting gravel paths littered with dead leaves. Stars glinted in the night sky overhead, providing scant illumination for the heavily shaded trails. Skeleton-like branches stretched toward her, competing with thickly rooted ficus trees for domination.
Maybe she’d have better luck looking backstage where Cookie might be preparing for the show. Wait, there’s a sign partly hidden by that bougainvillea plant. It led to an alligator pit. Wouldn’t it suit Cookie’s nature to feed the creatures?
With a purposeful stride, Marla ended up at the fenced-off crater. Peering over the edge, she gasped at the sight that greeted her. A woman’s body sprawled face-down on the ground.
Even in the dim light, she could identify Cookie’s strawberry blond hair.