TWELVE

Why Dora needed her hair done at nine in the morning was beyond me. I hit the snooze button on the alarm clock and pulled the blanket over my head. It was still dark out. To my mind, no one should be forced out of bed to cater to the whims of the widowed rich. If I was this grumpy about waking up, Ade, morning person that she wasn’t, would be twice as cranky.

I hit snooze two more times until I finally convinced myself that it was absolutely necessary to pry myself out from under the covers if I wanted to look relatively awake when Adrianna picked me up. It took me twenty minutes to pick out what I thought a hair stylist’s assistant should wear. I ended up settling on simple black pants and a white top: universal employee attire.

I opened the fridge to check for something to eat and found nothing that interested me. I wasn’t a fan of most breakfast food, and unless I could arrange for fresh pastries and muffins to be delivered to me daily, my interest in breakfast wasn’t going to increase. I did love eggs Benedict and overstuffed omelettes, but the odds of my making hollandaise sauce or whipping up an omelette early in the morning were slim. Besides, my homemade omelettes were never as good as the ones I got eating out or the ones I used to get at my college cafeteria. As absolutely terrible as most of the food was in college, the omelettes were outstanding. Unfortunately, hot breakfast was served during the week only until eight thirty—eight thirty in the morning—and since I never scheduled a class before ten, I had to be desperate for food to get up early. Lunch and dinner had bar themes: a gas-inducing taco bar, a dried-out baked potato bar, an overcooked-pasta bar, and sometimes a who-the-hell-wants-waffles-for-lunch-or-dinner bar. The food was so bad that I started going to the salad bar and microwaving weird combinations in the hope of creating something edible. My greatest success, or so it seemed at the time, was cold rice mixed with ranch dressing, curry powder, and peas, the whole concoction microwaved to a blazing temperature to suggest an Indian dish. In retrospect, it sounds pretty gross, but at the time, it wasn’t half bad.

Adrianna beeped her horn at eight forty-five, just as I was fitting the top on my to-go coffee cup. I raced downstairs.

“Morning,” Ade grumbled.

“Too early for you?” I asked as I settled into the passenger seat.

“You’re not kidding. What’s Dora going to do after I do her hair? Sit around all day and pose? Stupid woman.” Oh, she was grumpy. Not that I enjoyed being roused at an early hour, but Ade was resentful; she was working at this hour only because she needed the money. “Anyhow,” she said, grabbing my coffee out of my hand, “what’d you do last night? And is this caffeinated?”

I cleared my throat, ready to be reprimanded. “Yes, it’s caffeinated, and I saw Sean last night.”

Since my dear friend was, at best, a terrible driver, I should’ve known better than to break the news about seeing my ex-boyfriend to her while she was behind the wheel. While she stared at me, I stared at the road with the intention of alerting her to the presence of random obstacles, like other cars or human beings. “It’s not a big deal. Could you just try to drive, please?”

She swerved to avoid barreling into a parked car and turned right onto Beacon Street. Thank God, there was barely any traffic. On the morning of New Year’s Eve, the whole city seemed like a ghost town.

“Why would you see Sean?” she demanded.

I explained his Hannah dilemma and why he’d called me.

“He couldn’t have talked to you over the phone? He had to see you in person? Please, Chloe, he’s still hung up on you.”

“What? No, he is not,” I insisted. “He just, well … Oh, shit. Do you really think so? He wasn’t acting like it.”

Adrianna smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t he be, right?”

“Shut up. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’ll see him again, and I’m glad we can at least be friendly after I dumped him so hard.”

“Hm-hmm. Should Josh be worried?”

“No, Josh should not be worried! How can you even ask that?” Now I was getting grumpy.

“I’m just checking. Relax. Josh is great. I’m just making sure there are no lingering feelings. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I stopped into Simmer last night.”

“You did?” I grabbed the dashboard as we peeled a corner.

“Yeah. I got a little tour. It looks great.”

“Where was Owen?”

“He had a gig, as he said. A puppeteer gig, if you can believe it. Some show for kids or something. It’s ridiculous. So I wanted to get out of the house, and I figured I’d go down and check out the new place.”

“And Josh was there?” I asked hopefully.

“Of course he was there. Where else would he be?”

“I don’t know. Cooking a late-night dinner for Hannah?”

“You’re crazy. He was working like a dog when I was there. Oh, here’s Dora’s street.”

We got to Dora’s house—or should I say palace?—and parked next to a Bentley. Yes, I swear to God, a Bentley, which mercifully, Adrianna avoided hitting. She popped her trunk and grabbed the two bags with her styling supplies. I followed her up a cobbled walkway to a medieval-revival monstrosity complete with steep roofs and half-timbering that had patterned brick in between dark beams. Even on the last day of December, it was obvious that the grounds were heavily manicured. Evergreen shrubs had been pruned into lifeless-looking cones and orbs. Ick. My landscaping parents would have turned up their noses at the display of vegetative geometry.

As if reading my mind, Adrianna turned to me and said, “Is this not the ugliest house you’ve ever seen in your life? Money does not buy taste. Wait until you see the inside. You’re going to want to throw up.”

“Hello, dear,” Dora said as she opened the oversized front door. Dora’s face was as taut as it had been at the gallery the night Oliver had been murdered. As a budding social worker, I felt a strong desire to sit this woman down to discuss her need for incessant Botox treatments, but I reminded myself that I was here as Adrianna’s assistant.

“Hi, Dora. This is my new assistant. She’ll be helping me out today.”

Dora barely glanced at me and didn’t seem to recognize me or to care that Adrianna hadn’t told her my name. Her lack of interest was going to make my undercover operation easy. “Let’s go to our suite. My suite now, I guess.”

As we followed Dora up a winding staircase to the second floor, my stomach churned at the gaudy decor. The dominant colors were nausea-inducing mauves and greens. Pastel furniture filled the large rooms. Dora wore a hot-pink silk robe with a lacy negligee peeking through the top, and slippers with miniature feathery boas fluffing out of the straps. Ade turned to me and covered her mouth as she made silent retching motions. I smacked her arm away and willed myself not to have an attack of the giggles.

We settled in the master bedroom, which was all pale chartreuse and at least the size of my entire condo. Dora seated herself in a chair she’d placed in the center of the room so that it faced the television. To keep myself out of Dora’s eyeshot, I stood behind her—not that she noticed people like me.

“So how are you doing, Dora?” Adrianna said with fake concern as she wrapped Dora in a nylon cape. “I am so sorry to hear about Oliver. You must be devastated, you poor thing.” I loved watching Ade kiss some ass.

“It’s the worst week of my life, without a doubt,” Dora agreed. “I’ve been with Oliver forever, and now he’s just gone.”

She grabbed the remote and started flipping channels. Oh, good. Perfect Strangers was on. And coming up next, Shannen Doherty’s brilliant made-for-TV movie Friends ’Til the End, in which Shannen stars as the lead singer of a rock band who acquires her very own stalker. Unbeknownst to the other women in the room, I’d seen this movie a few times and considered it one of the best guilty pleasures of all time. By exerting superhuman self-control, I might be able to refrain from humming along to ex-Brenda singing the idiotic “Does Anybody Hear Me?” I seriously hoped that Dora wasn’t planning to start flipping channels again.

Adrianna began combing Dora’s hair and clipping up sections in preparation for foiling in highlights. “What’s going to happen to Oliver’s business now that he’s gone?”

“Oh, the Full Moon Group will be fine. All their businesses run themselves at this point. Truthfully, I’m a little relieved that I don’t have to listen to any more talk about Oliver’s unfailing sense of brotherhood with that goddamn group. I loved him, but I didn’t love his work. Especially Barry and his ridiculous desire to convince people that he’s some kind of aristocrat. A gourmet restaurant is nothing but a silly, expensive hobby. Oliver was the one who knew how to make the money, and all Barry wanted to do was throw it away by opening a fancy new place with great food and no profits. Don’t get me wrong. I like to eat out at nice restaurants as much as the next person, but I don’t want to own one. But they’d known each other for years, so Oliver could take Barry’s irritating whims better than I could. I don’t know how Oliver was so patient with Barry, but he thought of him more like a brother than a partner, so those two had a sibling love-hate relationship. They’d be fighting one minute, and the next, everything would be fine.”

Adrianna held her hand out, and I handed her more hair clips. “Can you grab the foils out of the bag while I finish this?” Her tone of voice was meant to make her sound like a master speaking to an apprentice.

“So you’re going out tonight, Dora? I’m glad you’re getting out of the house.”

“Yes, Sarka insisted that I join her and Barry tonight at some new restaurant.” Oh, great. She was going to be at Simmer for the grand opening. “I’m only going because Sarka is truthfully a very nice woman, and she doesn’t want me to lock myself in the house forever.” In this case, “forever” meant the entire three days since her husband had been murdered. Three days, and this woman was actually going out to dinner to celebrate New Year’s Eve!

“Dear,” Dora continued. “I’ve forgotten to ask you. Would you be able to stop at Sarka’s to do her hair for tonight? Barry called me last night to see how I was doing, and when he found out I was having you come by today, he thought it might be nice for Sarka to have some pampering, too. She’s been upset about Oliver as well.”

“Not a problem,” Adrianna assured her. “I’ve got some time before my next client. Does she live far from here?” Ade eyed me, silently asking if that would be okay. I quickly nodded a yes.

“No, they only live a few blocks from here. She won’t want anything too fancy, so it shouldn’t be a long appointment. I think Barry just wants to do something nice for her. Sarka’s expecting you. I said that you’d go there as soon as you were done here.”

Ade showed no reaction to Dora’s high-handedness. She quickly mixed up a smelly bowl of hair color and started weaving a comb handle through thin sections of Dora’s hair, separating strands into the foil sheets I was now handing her. “I’m glad you have friends to help you out. What restaurant are you going to?”

“Some place on Newbury Street. Simmer, I think it’s called.”

“Oh, how funny! We’re going to be there tonight, too,” Adrianna said.

“Oh.” The fact that mere folk like us would also be at Simmer seemed to lessen the upscale factor. “Well, we just wanted to go somewhere simple for the evening. I’m not really up for much more, obviously.”

I refrained from kicking Dora for referring to Simmer as “simple” and kept quiet as Dora and Adrianna made small talk. I disliked this woman, but I couldn’t find any obvious reason to think she’d killed her husband. She wasn’t a sobbing wreck right now, but her composure wasn’t proof of guilt. And why kill off the man who was supporting her and her awful taste? Unless she was unimaginably tired of dealing with the tumultuousness of the business? But if she was going to get rid of half of the Full Moon Group, why not destroy the partnership by taking out Barry? My reasoning made no sense, even to me. In searching for motives, I was inventing weak possibilities.

That still left Naomi as a likely suspect. Would she have done something so stupid? And so violent? The Avenging Harassment Angel, she’d be called in the headlines. And when I needed a job reference, what would I do? Have her compose one from prison?

When Ade went to the bathroom to mix some more color, I followed her. “Ask her if she killed Oliver,” I demanded.

“Are you nuts? I’m not asking her that. Besides, she’s obviously in a state of shock and trying to go about her life as though nothing has happened.”

“Okay, well, ask her about Oliver’s life insurance policy. And the key man thing Owen told us about. Maybe she’s getting a huge settlement of some kind.”

“Fine, I’ll try,” she agreed, going back into the bedroom. “But I’m not saying key man. She’ll think we’re investigating her.”

“Well, we are.”

Adrianna waited until Dora was bent over the sink having the color rinsed out before broaching the subject. “So, are you going to be fine moneywise, Dora? I don’t mean to be nosy. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Dora shouted above the noise from the faucet. “Oh, I’m fine. Oliver had a standard life insurance policy and all that.”

I nudged Adrianna, and she nudged me back harder before asking, “What about the business? Do you get anything from that?” she asked.

“Barry is signing over that part of the insurance money to me.” Before I could shout “J’accuse!” and point my finger at the murderer, she continued, “But I don’t need it. I have my own money. I’m going to donate all the money from the business somewhere. I don’t know which of my charities needs it most, though. Maybe I’ll divide it up and give some to each.”

I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Why doesn’t Barry want to keep the money and put it back into the business?”

Adrianna glared at me for overstepping my bounds.

“He says he just can’t keep money that came from Oliver’s death. All their places will keep making money, and Barry and Sarka are well enough off. They just don’t need it.”

With all these people tossing aside large sums of extra money, I was starting to feel slightly bitter that no one was handing any over to me. Or to Josh, whose salary was barely going to cover his bills.

It took most of Friends ’Til the End to finish Dora’s hair. Adrianna wasn’t kidding when she’d said Dora liked elaborate updos. Her newly highlighted shoulder-length hair seemed to take forever to pin up with individual sections twirled and then rolled into flattened circles and with the rest of her hair pulled tightly back into a mess of curls that stood in a perky mound on the top of her head. The style, perfect for a prom, was by no means suitable for a middle-aged widow, and the new light color seemed to mirror and even to mock the yellowish hue of the woman’s skin.

“Okay, just how you like it,” Adrianna announced after jabbing one final bobby pin into Dora’s hair disaster. I couldn’t understand how Ade could stoop so low until I saw how much cash Dora handed her. And me.

After getting directions to Sarka and Barry’s house, we left Dora alone in her cavernous mansion and packed up the trunk with Adrianna’s bags. As I walked to the passenger door, I noticed a tremendous trash pile by the driveway. Next to a mountain of garbage bags was an oversized aquarium tank complete with a screened lid and a fluorescent light fixture.

“Hold on!” I stopped Adrianna before she got into the car. “Look what Dora is throwing out! A perfectly good tank. This would be perfect for the hermit crab Walker gave me. Help me move it into the car.”

“You are not trash-picking from one of my clients, Chloe! That is disgusting. What if she’s looking out the window and sees us rooting through her trash? No way. Get in the car.”

“Fine. But there’s no reason that I shouldn’t take it if she’s getting rid of it.” I buckled my seat belt and sighed. “Dora’s husband just died, and apparently her pet something just died, too. She’s not having a good week at all.”

“I can’t believe it’s already eleven fifteen.” Ade sighed as she started up the engine. “So what did you think of Dora?” she asked.

“If she did kill her husband, it obviously wasn’t for the money. But that is certainly a lot of trash outside today. I wonder if she’s throwing out some of Oliver’s stuff. Seems pretty quick to be cleaning out his closets, don’t you think?”

I avoided telling Adrianna that Oliver had been after Hannah. To pass on Sean’s account would have been to raise the specter of Naomi as an avenging angel. Out of loyalty to Naomi, I didn’t want anyone, even my best friend, to know of my fear that my supervisor had radically violated the principles of the Code of Ethics of the National Association of Social Workers by murdering a harasser. Still, I might be able to glean a little information about Dora and Oliver without betraying Naomi. I wondered whether Oliver had made a habit of pushing himself on other women and whether he regularly had affairs. Could Dora, like Sean, have caught Oliver and Hannah together in the gallery office? But we could hardly have probed by asking Dora whether she’d enjoyed Food for Thought: Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

“Do you think they were happy together?” I settled for asking. “I mean, you’ve been in their house a bunch of times, so you must have a feel for their relationship, right?”

Adrianna nodded. “Well, Dora is stuffy and snobby and not my most favorite person, but she’s always spoken highly of Oliver. She seemed very off today. I almost feel bad leaving her by herself in that mansion. She and Oliver had been together for years, and she must be totally lost. Like I said, I think she’s in a state of shock and has no idea what to do with herself.”

Throughout the short drive to Sarka’s, I continued to press Adrianna about Dora and Oliver’s marriage, but nothing I heard suggested a motive for Dora to have murdered her husband. Oliver had clearly been an ass of some sort, but whether or not Dora knew it was questionable.

“Why are you so interested in her?”

“No reason. Just wondering about the lifestyles of the rich and widowed,” I said innocently. “And we’ll see about Sarka.”

“So now you think Sarka killed Oliver?”

“No, but maybe we’ll get some juicy information from her,” I said.