Trimmed to Death Read online

  They discussed canines for a bit, and then Marla steered the conversation to the harvest festival. “It’s a shame what happened there. We were having such a good time until Francine was found.”

  “Weren’t you the person who discovered her body?”

  “Yes, it was horrible. Would you like a seat on the bench? There’s plenty of room, and our dogs don’t want to leave anytime soon. Your lab is getting quite friendly with our golden retriever.”

  “Thanks, and please call me Carlton.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Francine?” she asked him, wishing she’d worn a hat. The scorching sun warmed her scalp.

  “Beats me. Her magazine is popular. You’re married to that police detective, aren’t you? What does he say?”

  Dalton is wondering if Francine was meant to be the target. She’d been wearing Alyce’s jacket and got hit from behind. Maybe the killer attacked the wrong person.

  “He doesn’t share those details,” she replied. “I noticed how you were startled to see Alyce at the festival bandstand. Didn’t you expect her to be there when the winners were announced?”

  Carlton’s face blanched. “I thought she would have left already.”

  “Really? When the judge’s verdict had yet to be shared with the crowd?”

  “I’d told my wife about her, you see. Sally was supposed to get her off my back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His lips thinned. “Can I count on you to keep this confidential?”

  “Aside from sharing it with my husband, yes.”

  “Thanks to bloggers like Alyce Greene, my readership is eroding. Her online site is so popular that it’s stolen my audience. I’m aiming to become editor of the newspaper’s entertainment section. That won’t happen unless I can increase my followers.”

  “So you begrudge Alyce her success?”

  “She’s undermining my ratings. Now I know this doesn’t sound nice, but my wife figured out a way to discredit Alyce. She knew something about her. Francine and Sally are acquainted from the gym. I suggested that Sally put a bug in Francine’s ear about Alyce.”

  “What did you hope to accomplish?”

  He avoided eye contact, staring at the ground. “I thought when Alyce heard the rumor going around, she’d get upset and would leave the festival early.”

  “What information does your wife have on Alyce?” Marla asked, appalled by his intent.

  “She didn’t share it with me. You can talk to Sally if you want to learn more.”

  “I will, thanks. Do you have any theories about who might have bashed Francine on the head?”

  Her mild tone didn’t fool him, because he stiffened. “I hope you don’t think it was me. I’m not a violent person. My talent is using words, not implements, to get my points across.”

  Implements? Did he know a shovel was used as the murder weapon? Or was it a guess, since the police had issued a public statement that a blunt instrument was involved?

  Or perhaps his wife, fearful of him losing his job, took matters into her own hands. A visit to the woman rose to the top of her to-do list.

  “What gym does Sally attend?” she asked.

  Carlton stroked his double chin. “She goes to Perfect Fit Sports Club.”

  Doesn’t everyone? Marla thought with a cynical twist to her mouth. She’d had dealings there before.

  “Which days?”

  Carlton rose to his feet and whistled for his dogs to return. “She’ll be at the club on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She likes to go from ten until noon, and then she’ll often head out to lunch with a friend.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, Carlton. This has been helpful.” He wasn’t a nice person to urge his wife to start a malicious rumor about a rival, but would he resort to murder? Or was he not the violent type as he’d claimed?

  She stood to allow a couple of newcomers to take their seats. “If you become editor of the entertainment page, does that mean you’ll give up your food critic column?” He must enjoy his job, judging from his pudgy figure. And even though his remarks might offend some people, he had his loyal fans.

  “I’d assign it to someone else,” he replied with a frown. “In truth, I’m at the stage in life where I’d rather go out to eat and enjoy myself without analyzing every item on the menu. If a particular place strikes me, I can still write it up for the syndicates.”

  “I hope you achieve your dream, Carlton.”

  “Me, too, but I also want your husband to catch the bad guy so Francine can find peace.”

  They parted ways, and Marla took her pets home. She did a quick check for voice mail and other messages, grabbed a snack, and then headed out again.

  Her stomach clenched as she approached Perfect Fit Sports Club. Memories surged of unpleasant encounters from the past. Nonetheless, based on prior experience, she knew the staff.

  It wasn’t long before she located Sally Paige at one of the machines. A hunky guy in a logo shirt and shorts appeared to be showing her how to operate the controls. He had a hand on her butt and his other one stroked her arm. Sally laughed and muttered something into his ear and then she flicked her tongue at his lobe.

  They broke apart as Marla approached.

  “Hi, I’m Marla Vail,” she said, introducing herself. “Your husband said I should talk to you about Francine Dodger. Francine and I were entrants in the farm festival bake-off contest.”

  “Really? Oh, I’m sorry, this is Jorge, my personal trainer. We’ll just be a few minutes, dear,” she told him.

  He gave Marla a nod and strode toward another lady wrestling with a torture device, as Marla perceived the machinery.

  “I can’t believe Francine is gone. What a horrible tragedy.” Sally wiped her neck with a towel. She wore her acorn brown hair in a short bob as Marla had done before she’d grown her hair longer.

  “Dying in an accident is a tragedy. This was murder,” she stated.

  “What’s your interest in the case?” Sally asked in a curt tone.

  “My husband is the lead investigator. I’m making inquiries on his behalf.”

  “What is it you want to know?” Sally gestured for Marla to accompany her to a padded bench against the wall.

  Marla waited until Sally took a seat and then followed suit. “Carlton mentioned you knew something about Alyce Greene that could discredit her, and you were going to give Francine this information.”

  Sally shook her head. “I decided it wasn’t a good idea to speak to Francine at the fair. She knew things about me, too, you see. If I wanted to spread gossip, I’d have to be prepared for it to lash back in return.”

  Marla’s glance flickered to the personal trainer who kept looking their way. I can see what it is you have to hide, pal. “What is it you know about Alyce? I’ll keep whatever you tell me in strict confidence except for my husband.”

  “It’s not so much about Alyce as the woman’s brother.”

  “What about him? Was he present at the festival?”

  “We’ve never met, so I wouldn’t know.” Sally wrung her hands together. “Look, I love Carlton, but I don’t want to spread rumors that will cause trouble. I know he blames the food blogger for his falling ratings, but I’m not so sure that’s the root of his problem.”

  “Do you think newspaper readership is down in general, and that’s the reason? More people are going online for news and entertainment these days.”

  “That’s true, but Carlton’s posts are available on the newspaper’s website. He has his fans. Lately some of his reviews have been—how can I say this tactfully—not quite up to par.”

  “Can you elaborate?” Marla gritted her teeth. Gaining information from Sally was like coaxing a stubborn curl into place.

  Sally leaned forward. “At the last restaurant where we ate, I thought the food was mediocre. And yet Carlton gave it five stars.”

  “So you’re saying his judgment is unreliable?” Or were his palms getting greased by restau
rateurs who wanted better ratings?

  “I’m saying readers might be looking elsewhere for an honest opinion.”

  “And Alyce Greene fills that void?”

  “She supports the farm-to-table movement that is wildly popular right now. Her posts mention sustainable farms and organic food sources, among other topics.”

  “Does she do restaurant reviews?”

  “Only on occasion, and her slant differs from what Carlton does. He used to be more discerning in his tastes. That’s what gave him his reputation.”

  “Do you believe people like Alyce threaten the existence of food critics?”

  “Not necessarily. People are more conscious of conservation efforts and green grocer practices. Organically grown and locally produced foods are popular and so are restaurants that use these resources. Maybe Carlton just needs to change his focus.”

  While Marla paused to consider what to say next, sounds from their surroundings impinged on her awareness. Chatter from the mob of exercise enthusiasts mingled with clunks and clanks from the machinery.

  “Francine was wearing Alyce’s jacket that day,” Marla ventured, watching Sally for a reaction. “Do you suppose her death could have been a case of mistaken identity?”

  Sally’s brows arched. “How should I know? It could have been a piece Francine was working on for her magazine that riled someone. Or maybe a colleague at work had a grudge against her. What does Alyce say? Have you spoken to her?”

  “Not since the festival. Would it have been within Francine’s range to challenge Carlton about his reviews? Were they on friendly enough terms to talk openly that way?”

  “They met at industry functions as far I know. Their relationship didn’t go any further.” Sally’s mouth compressed. “I know someone else you should interview. At the festival, I overheard Zach and Francine talking near one of those tractor sheds. Francine said she’d learned something about the farm that could cause Zach to lose the property.”

  Chapter Six

  “Sally’s statement corroborates what Arnie told me,” Marla said to Dalton that evening after dinner. “And yet, Zach denied anything being wrong with the farm’s ownership. Maybe we should talk to Rory, his oldest son. I could ask Arnie to set up a meeting since he’d mentioned Rory to me in the first place. Or have you already interviewed the guy?”

  “I’ve asked him some preliminary questions, but I have more to follow up on.”

  “Would you mind if I tagged along?”

  He gave her a thoughtful glance. “It might disarm the fellow to bring you with me. Speak to Arnie and see what he can do. In fact, tell him to make it seem as though you’ll be interviewing Rory as a favor to him. I’ll come along as escort. That way, my questions will seem less like a planned interrogation.”

  “Great, I can ask Arnie tomorrow. Did you learn anything new about the property today?” She hadn’t wanted to bother Dalton at work earlier, waiting until they were seated at the kitchen table and had finished dinner. She’d chatted instead about her visit to the vet and the other Monday errands she’d accomplished, while Brianna had described her school day. Once the teen had left the kitchen to do her homework, Marla told Dalton her findings.

  His brow creased as he regarded her from across the table. “Interestingly enough, there’s another man’s name listed as the farm owner. I had to dig deep to find the information. But locating this person is a dead end. I’m not even sure he exists. Zach has been the one paying property taxes, and his father before that. So there must have been a change of ownership somewhere along the way that failed to get recorded. I have my staff researching the item.”

  “Let’s ask Rory about it when we speak to him. He can see if there’s a deed in his family’s vaults. Otherwise, Dr. Nelson mentioned Janet Winters to me today. She said Janet is worried about her husband in some way. He’s the guy who sponsored the bake-off competition,” she reminded Dalton.

  “Yes, I’ve spoken to Tony Winters but not to his wife. You might work that angle.”

  “Okay, but I won’t have time until later in the week. My schedule is full.”

  Her schedule got fuller when Becky Forest walked through the salon door on Wednesday. Marla recognized the history museum curator and put down the spray bottle in her hand. While waiting for her next client, she’d been cleaning her station. She hastened over to the reception desk to meet the new arrival. Becky looked smart in a tailored jacket dress and subtle makeup.

  “I have a great idea for your salon if you’re interested,” Becky said, after they’d exchanged greetings. “Since this is Pioneer Women’s History Month, it would a perfect time for you to participate in a fundraiser benefitting the museum.”

  Marla stared at her. “You must have been reading my mind. I’ve been thinking of doing a bad hair day clinic as a charity benefit. Here’s how it would work. Our stylists would give free consultations to people on their hair problems. New customers would get twenty percent off any services they book that day. We’d give the museum thirty percent of proceeds from those bookings.”

  Becky clapped her hands while Robyn, the receptionist, listened in to their conversation.

  “I could help with the promotional end of things,” Robyn offered, her prior experience as a marketing executive kicking in.

  Marla grinned at her good fortune in snagging Robyn to work at the salon. After she’d been laid off from her high-paying position, Marla’s neighbor had decided the corporate world could live without her. She’d snapped up the offer of a receptionist job at Marla’s salon as a fun place to work with less pressure. An inheritance meant she didn’t have to worry about the mortgage.

  “Can I leave you two to work out the details?” Marla said, ready for her next client who had appeared in the parking lot.

  “Wait, Marla, there’s one more thing,” Becky replied. “Did you ever speak to Carlton?”

  “Yes, I did. Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention your cookbook to him. Did you want me to put in a good word for you?”

  Becky propped a hand on her hip. “It would certainly help if that lout reviewed my books in his column and mentioned our rotating museum exhibits.”

  “Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t mention you. I’ve heard his ratings are down, although it may be a rumor going around. He’s still widely respected.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. That guy is out for his own gain.”

  Oh, and you’re not? Why are you really here? “I know you wanted me to talk to Raquel, but I haven’t had the chance. I’m leaving the interviews to my husband.”

  “And what has he learned? Is he any closer to identifying Francine’s killer?”

  “He doesn’t share that information with me.”

  “I suppose not.” Becky surveyed the salon. “Hey, as long as I’m here, maybe I should do something to cover up my gray hair.”

  Marla gave her a genuine smile. “Now you’re talking my subject. I’d love to help you, but I’m fully booked today. However, Nicole might have a free spot.”

  “That would be awesome. I’ve been meaning to make a hair appointment.”

  “Robyn will set you up.” Marla gestured toward the receptionist. “Now please excuse me, but my next customer has arrived.”

  Marla ruminated on their conversation while cutting the client’s hair. She’d wanted to offer a bad hair day clinic for a while now, thinking it could support the Safety First Alliance. But this being Pioneer Women’s History Month made the museum a good cause.

  Was that the only reason Becky had stopped by? The curator had sniffed around for information on Dalton’s case. Was she afraid he might discover something shady about her? Becky certainly had it in for Carlton Paige. Was it mere professional resentment as she implied, or were deeper roots involved?

  At their earlier meeting, Becky had also urged her to see Raquel in person. Marla would have to make it a point to visit the celebrity chef as well as Alyce, the food blogger. If only she had more free time. After work, she drove B
rianna around to her various after-school activities. And Saturdays were out of the picture, since she worked all day.

  Hey, wait. She hadn’t spoken to Tristan Marsh, the pastry chef, since the bake-off event. Maybe she and Dalton should make a reservation to dine at The Royal Palate. They could bring Brianna along, ostensibly to celebrate her dad’s birthday, even though it wouldn’t happen until next month. Marla had other plans in mind for Dalton’s special occasion, but nobody said they couldn’t celebrate twice.

  When she had a break in her schedule, Marla opened the restaurant reservation app on her cell phone and booked a table for Saturday night. They’d meant to spend a quiet evening at home, but it would be fun to go out and try a new place.

  “Marla, thanks for giving Becky over to me. She liked the way her hair turned out,” Nicole said later from the next station. The cinnamon-skinned stylist looked as sleek as always in a maxi-dress with her hair clipped back from her forehead.

  “You did a great job. That color was perfect for her. I like the cut you did, too.”

  “She said you two had met at the bake-off contest. Was she there that day when you found the body?”

  “Yes, Becky had entered the competition. She’s curator of the history museum and a scientist who studies food practices of early Florida natives. She’s written several cookbooks based on pioneer recipes.”

  Nicole’s eyes brightened. “Do tell what you’ve learned about her, girlfriend. Is she a suspect? Why would she need the award money?”

  Marla laughed at Nicole’s expression. It reminded her of a squirrel that had just discovered a stash of acorns. Her mystery-lover friend wouldn’t let this go.

  “Look, I need to head over to Bagel Busters for a few minutes. We can talk later. Do you want anything to eat for lunch?”

  “No, thanks, I brought my own today.”

  “Okay, I’ll fill you in when we get another break.”

  Marla hustled over to Bagel Busters to speak to Arnie. He grinned at her when he caught her arrival. Signaling for one of the staff to take over the cash register, he hurried in her direction. His moustache quivered as he gave her a quick hug.