Philip worked in the Hotel Santa Sofia’s Zoe Stella Salon, a satellite location of the celebrity-favorite main salon headquartered in Los Angeles’s Brentwood area. From the hotel lobby, I ambled down the wide corridor until I came to the glass storefront with the salon’s name in white Helvetica letters painted on a small dark green rectangle. One of the double glass doors was wide open. I entered and immediately became more relaxed. Its interior design was minimalist, with clean lines and modern fixtures and furniture. The scent of gardenias hung in the air. The soothing ambience extended to the stylists and customers, who spoke in hushed voices as if cued by the soft strains of piped-in classical music.
The Zoe Stella Salon attracted Santa Sofia locals as well as hotel guests. Loyal customers flocked to the salon for its hip stylists and calm atmosphere. Hairdressers and their clients, in various stages of hairstyling, occupied all the stations. The knots in my neck and shoulders magically disappeared the moment I spotted Philip at his station. He was blow-drying a pretty woman’s hair that had light blond highlights similar to mine. He rolled a lock of her hair deftly around a round brush, pulling it taut like taffy, then straightened it into slick submission with a hot blast from the handheld dryer he twirled with the finesse of a TV cowboy spinning his six-shooter.
Philip burst into a smile when he saw me. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Nearly done.”
I grabbed the latest issue of People magazine from the coffee table before seating myself on the black leather sofa. I paged through it idly for a couple of minutes. Finding nothing new to hold my attention, I checked my phone for messages. Another missed call from Ernie Gomez. If he was anything, he was persistent. I flipped to my Notes app and jotted down some questions to structure my time with Philip. I wanted to make sure I remembered to ask him everything I’d wanted to ever since he revealed on the night of Jo’s murder that she’d been one of his clients.
“Tory, darling!” Philip threw open his arms and pecked my cheek.
“How’s it going, Philip?”
“The bigger question is how’s it going with you, my dear. So sorry again for what happened to your aunt. And not knowing she was your aunt—what a mess!”
“I’m hanging in there. Thanks.”
He steered me to his station and unfurled a black smock for me. “What are you having done today, my love?”
“Just a trim and blowout, with a side of gossip.”
He doubled over with a loud guffaw and grabbed my arm to steady himself as other customers and stylists looked at us. He muffled his giggles with his hand and his eyes danced with glee in the mirror.
“A side of gossip. Good one. What can I help you with?”
“Everything you know about my aunt. Whatever you can tell me will be helpful because I knew nothing about her.”
He straightened out my smock. “She was a very nice lady. She’d been coming to me for about seven years. I met her and her sister-in-law when I was volunteering to cut hair at a halfway house on Thanksgiving. They were residents there for about a year, I think. She loved the way I did her hair and when she left, she started coming to me here a few times a year for her highlights.”
“Hold up! Her sister-in-law? You don’t mean my Aunt Veronica, do you?” My head nearly exploded conjuring up my sweet, sedate Aunt Veronica having substance-abuse issues.
“What? No, no, no. Not Veronica Benning. Goodness no.” Philip clutched his chest.
“Thank God for that.”
“No. This woman was supposedly related to her ex-husband’s side of the family.”
“Oh, so actually her former sister-in-law. Why ‘supposedly’?”
“I guess. They used to be related by marriage somehow. Jo had a habit of calling everyone family, so I didn’t bother getting the exact connection.”
I was still trying to process the possibility that Aunt Jo and I might have crossed paths while getting our hair done. “Did she ever mention her own family?”
“If you’re asking me whether I knew she was your aunt, definitely no.”
“What about her ex-husband? Did Jo or her sister-in-law ever mention him?”
“No, not really. Follow me to the sink, love, so I can get you shampooed.”
He threw a small white towel around my neck while I reclined back in the chair. The warmth of the water on my head was soothing, purging all my worries down the drain, even if only temporarily. The scent of the coconut shampoo wafted up my nostrils and Philip’s fingers massaged my scalp with almost too much pressure, but it was effective as my tension melted away. He rinsed away the shampoo with the sprayer and warm water trickled down my neck, despite the towel. I closed my eyes as he applied a conditioner that smelled like citrus. He worked the conditioner into my hair, swirling it around with his hands, and then followed with a final deep rinse that caused more water to soak through the towel to my neckline. He wrapped my hair in a towel and marched me back to his station.
“Oh my goodness. Your back is wet. I’m so sorry.” Philip replaced the wet towel with a dry one and blotted the small damp area around my neckline before I sat down. “Jo told me she was married twice. I think she outlived both of her husbands, but I really can’t remember for sure. But it was after she’d split with them.” He removed the towel from my head and sprayed my hair with a vanilla-scented product.
I squinted to protect my eyes from the spray. “Did she ever mention having any kids?”
“She mentioned a son and a stepson. And that her son had recently contacted her since her family had raised him. But I had no idea she was referring to your family and that your cousin, Sam, was her son. But reconnecting with him made her really happy, and I was happy for her. Like I said, she was a sweet lady with a gentle soul.” Philip placed the spray bottle on the counter and blessed himself. “May she rest in peace.”
I was touched by his gesture. But that was pure Philip. I was sure part of his popularity with his clientele went beyond his skill as a hairdresser. He was such a kind, decent human being that going to get your hair done felt like less of a chore and more like a visit with a good friend.
He trimmed about a half inch from my hair, reminding me to keep my head straight as he did so. His concentration bubble was so strong while he cut my hair that I dared not disturb him and risk an uneven haircut. Once we’d passed that critical phase of my appointment, it was safe to resume questioning him about Jo.
“Can you remember anything else significant about my aunt?”
He cranked up the blow-dryer and grabbed a round brush. “Not really. She loved her work at charity events, and she was grateful to her friend Paloma, one of the other fortune-tellers at the fundraiser, for getting her all the bookings. What started as an occasional gig had turned into a steady income. She told me she also was involved with some online readings. She really felt she had a special power.”
“Yeah, I guess. But if she was such a good fortune-teller, why didn’t she predict her own murder and prevent her own death?”
Philip let out a hoot and bent over in laughter. “Tory, you’re so naughty. ‘Why didn’t she prevent her own death?’” He could barely catch his breath he was laughing so hard. “Oh, my God.”
As I giggled along with him, for the first time during my visit I noticed what he was wearing—a hipster plaid shirt and tight jeans. When I cast my eyes downward, I saw what he had on his feet—Wallington boots. Not Philip too. But Philip was with me during the time when Milo disappeared at the wedding. I needed to get a grip. I was beginning to suspect everyone. But then I remembered I didn’t know Philip’s whereabouts at the firefighter fundraiser between when I first saw him and afterward, when I’d found Jo in the maze.
“Philip, did you talk to Jo at the fundraiser?”
“Me? No. I saw her walking to her booth and we waved at each other. But that was it.”
“Was she alone?”
“No.”
“Well, did you see who she was with?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“Yes.”
I was flabbergasted and ready to bust a gusset. “Well, who was it?”
“It was her sister-in-law.”
Something was up with normally effusive and loose-lipped Philip. Prying this information out of him felt like he’d been instructed by a lawyer to only answer the question and not volunteer any additional information. Clearly, there was more to this than he was telling me. “Do you know her name?”
He stared into space. I figured he was either making up a story (very uncharacteristic—he might be a gossip but he wasn’t normally a liar) or trying to retrieve her name from his memory. “Cathy maybe? No, got it—Katie! You know her, the lady who takes care of Iris.”
My shock at receiving this news was palpable. My head spun into a woozy unbalance, thoughts sloshing around in my head like loose items on a ship’s deck in a storm. Luckily, I was sitting down or I might have stumbled. “What! You’re just now telling me that my neighbor and dog sitter, the person I entrust with my beloved Iris, spoke to Jo the night of her murder? I hope you mentioned this to the police.”
He kept his eyes down and his guilty silence told me he hadn’t.
“Philip, you’ve got to tell the police the connection between Jo and Katie. I’m going to call them right now.”
After I hung up from leaving Adrian a brief message, I turned back to Philip. “Hmm. I wonder if it was Katie who peeked through the curtain of Esmeralda’s booth while I was having my reading? Did she seem okay when she waved to you? Did she look angry or scared?”
“Honestly, Tory, I didn’t notice anything different about her. Except . . . Oops, I just remembered something else.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing related to that night.”
Philip was zoned out again, totally concentrating on my hair.
“What were you going to say about Esmeralda? She looked different?”
He held up a hand mirror for me to admire my glossy hair. “No, I just remembered I think I double-booked appointments for tomorrow and need to call my clients.”
Whatever he’d remembered, it wasn’t a booking conflict. But he wasn’t going to tell me now.
“Wow. It looks great as usual, Philip. Thank you so much. You always make me look so glamorous.”
“It’s not hard when you’re as gorgeous as you. With your hair, it’s easy. It’s so thick and has great body.”
Philip knew how to make me feel special, and I loved it. We hugged after I paid him. He refused any tip, as he did from time to time. This time I suspected it was because he had a guilty conscience for not being totally forthcoming about something.
“Fine. Have it your way. But now you’re obligated to meet me for a drink sometime soon, my treat. Deal?”
Philip held my hand. “Deal.”
“I’ll call you soon to set it up.” I’d get him liquored up and find out more then. Loose-lipped Philip couldn’t be repressed after a couple glasses of Chardonnay.
As I drove home, I was still blown away about Katie. I remembered how she’d denied that Iris had acted up as Milo’s text had implied. So, Milo hadn’t lied when he texted he was taking Iris home? Had Iris been acting up? This made a lot of sense, given Iris’s hyperactive nature. Was it Katie who’d lied about Iris being well behaved and that she hadn’t spoken to Milo? Why would she lie? If only Iris could talk! I was totally overwhelmed and could hardly think straight enough to drive, let alone fathom what this new development meant in terms of Milo’s and my aunt Jo’s murders.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d decided I was going to confront Katie about her relationship to Jo. Well, maybe not confront, maybe more hem and haw around the topic to see how she reacted. But first I was going to check on Iris. It was times like this that made me realize she and I were in pretty much a codependent relationship, but in a good way. I was so desperate to make sure she was okay, I almost forgot to turn off my ignition. I hurried out of my car and rushed to my front door. Hearing her bark hysterically from inside brought a smile to my lips and a wave of relief to every tense muscle in my body. “Iris! Hi! I’m back! Hold on. I’m coming.”
Of course, as I knew it would, my shouting through the closed door only amplified her frenzy. I think the correct term for us in psychology was folie à deux.
At last, after a nervous fumbling of my keys, I got the door open and Iris and I were reunited. I squatted down and scooped her into my lap, holding her tight as she frantically licked me. I walked outside with her in the backyard before scooping her up and heading over to talk to Katie. I lingered in my doorway for a second. I’d always had a good feeling about Katie, but discovering she never mentioned her relationship with Jo now cast her in a shadier light. I texted both Ashley and Adrian about what Philip had told me and told them I was going to pay Katie a visit.
It was starting to get dark, and I turned on some lights inside and the outdoor front entry light. I took a deep breath and locked the door. I crossed over my driveway to her front lawn, nuzzling Iris along the way. Katie had a couple of pumpkins in her entryway that made me feel reassured for some reason. There was a note taped on her front door. On it was written: I was called away unexpectedly for a family emergency. Sorry no time to contact everyone individually. Be back in a few days. Katie.
I was stunned. Based on the content alone, it was an odd coincidence that just when I needed to talk to her she’d left town unexpectedly. But what jolted me was the note itself. The paper and the printing were identical to the menacing note left on my windshield.