Trimmed to Death Page 7

  “Marla, what brings you in today? I already gave your daily order over to Robyn.”

  “I know. I’m here to give you an update.” They sat at an empty table and she offered him a brief summary of their findings within Dalton’s allowable parameters.

  “You should talk to Rory. Has your husband interviewed him yet?”

  “Yes, but Dalton has more questions.” She hadn’t mentioned the other owner’s name on the property records. There could be an explanation, and she didn’t want word to get around in the meantime.

  “I’ll set up a meeting. When are you available?”

  “Thursdays are my late day at the salon. I don’t go in until one o’clock, so tomorrow morning would work for me. Make it sound as though I’m doing you a favor by talking to him. Dalton will come along as a matter of form.”

  “Let me see what I can arrange.” Arnie withdrew a cell phone from his pocket and sent a text message. A few minutes later, he got a response.

  “Rory will see you and Dalton at his house if you can come at eight sharp.”

  She winced. That would give her hardly any time to get ready for the day. Never mind. She knew farm hands started work at the crack of dawn. This was a concession on his part, and Dalton shouldn’t have any trouble with the early hour.

  “Okay. At least traffic will be headed in the other direction.” And if her husband couldn’t make it for some reason, she’d go alone. Dalton would know her whereabouts. Then she’d have the rest of the morning free for other errands.

  Arnie gave her the address and thanked her for taking action that would help his friend.

  “Sorry I don’t have more news to share,” she said.

  “No worries. I’m glad you were able to speak to Zach, even though you didn’t clarify what Rory overheard him say on the phone. I appreciate your efforts and hope you can clear up the issues with the farm. It’s Rory’s livelihood, and I don’t know what he’d do if it was taken from him.”

  “There’s always the hotel business,” she replied in a wry tone.

  Arnie’s expression soured. “After our spectacular failure? I don’t think so.”

  “Neither of you had any training. These days you need education in the hospitality industry. Maybe Rory could get a scholarship and attend college if that’s his dream.”

  “You can talk to him about it.” Arnie rose, his attitude clearly one of dismissal.

  Back at the salon, Marla took Nicole aside in a free moment and gave her friend a quick rundown on the case. She cut their conversation short when her next client walked in. Laurianne was a new customer with medium blond hair who wanted to do something different.

  “I can see you with bronze lowlights,” Marla told the young woman after studying her facial structure and hair texture. “They’d complement your natural shade. I’d also give you more lift with some added layers. However, if you don’t want to mess with the color, we’ll just do the cut for now.”

  Nicole butted in from the next station. “Marla is not known for what she cuts out of hair, but for the love she puts into it. I agree with her assessment. You’d look stunning with a touch of bronze, but it’s your call.”

  “All right, I’ll give it a try,” Laurianne decided. “You’re the experts.”

  Robyn approached, a frown on her face. “Marla, I forgot to tell you a wrong order came in. They sent us the shampoos with sulfates instead of the sulfate-free ones.”

  “Did you send it back?” They needed the latter to use with chemically straightened hair.

  “Yes, and they’ll expedite the next shipment.”

  “Good, our stock is getting low so we need that delivery.” Marla got busy with her customer and soon the afternoon had zipped by.

  She scurried out of the salon as soon as she finished her last client. While ferrying Brianna to her debate team practice, she told the teen about their dinner reservation.

  “I can’t go with you on Saturday. I have plans with friends.”

  “Oh? Which friends?” She didn’t like how Brianna was sharing less than in the past. Was this normal when kids become independent?

  “It’s the usual gang. We’re going to Las Olas to hang out,” Brianna replied in a defiant tone.

  Marla pursed her lips. “Your dad will want more details. Where are you going exactly? You can’t go to a bar.” Not unless you have a fake ID. Marla had played a few tricks like that in her youth. But she had to trust her stepdaughter or she’d end up suspicious about everyone, same as Dalton. Brianna was a bright girl who knew right from wrong. And while she’d had a rebellious streak earlier in their relationship, she’d mellowed considerably. Marla would do her a disservice to lose faith in her character now.

  “There’s a new jazz club we want to try,” Brianna admitted while staring out the side window. “Jason’s older brother plays in the band. They serve coffee drinks, not liquor.”

  “It sounds like an old-fashioned coffee house. Who’s driving?”

  “Cassie is picking me up. You know, if you loaned me your car, I could drive myself places. You wouldn’t have to chauffeur me around.”

  “Uh huh. Talk to your father about it.”

  “I’m going to save up for my own car. You’ll see.”

  “Oh yeah? How do you propose to do that unless you get a job? You’re too busy with extracurricular activities. If it’s not softball or acting class or drama club, your debate team has a big competition coming up this year.”

  Brianna’s face turned sullen. “So I’ll get a job when I’m in college.”

  “You won’t need a car if you get into the school of your choice in Boston. So who’s Jason?” she asked, hoping to catch the girl off-guard.

  “He’s a friend. Who’s going to take me to the school bus stop tomorrow if you and Dad have to leave so early?”

  Marla smiled inwardly. The girl was adept at changing topics. “There is such a thing as walking, you know.”

  Brianna rolled her eyes. “You’re becoming as old-fashioned as Dad.”

  ****

  When Thursday morning arrived, Marla took care of the dogs and waved to Brianna before she and Dalton got in the car. They headed west toward the development where Rory Kinsdale lived with his family. The address wasn’t far from where his parents resided, although his gated community had newer homes and plots of land packed closer together.

  “Detective, it’s good to see you,” Rory said, greeting them at the door. He shook Dalton’s hand and waved them inside.

  Was it really good to see them, or did he hide his true feelings? Most people weren’t pleased to see a homicide investigator on their doorstep. She studied the tall man with muscled arms, broad shoulders, and rust-colored hair. Now where did that come from? She remembered his dad’s sandy brown shade and his mother’s brassy blond tones.

  “You have a lovely home,” Marla said in a friendly voice after Dalton introduced her. They took seats in the living room. She noted the high ceilings, tasteful paintings on the walls, and screened-in pool patio facing a lake in back. Someone had an artistic touch, judging from the expensive knickknacks placed strategically throughout the room. Laughter and children’s voices came from a bedroom wing.

  “Thanks. We’re lucky to be able to afford the place,” Rory said with a sheepish grin. “It’s mostly thanks to my wife who’s a corporate litigation attorney. Hey, Sherry, come out here and meet our guests,” he hollered.

  A brunette strode into the room. She wore a black pencil skirt, cream shell, and royal blue blazer. Gold jewelry completed her outfit. “I have to get the kids ready for school.”

  “Detective Vail is here about the woman who died at the farm. This is his wife, Marla. She owns a beauty salon in the same shopping strip as Arnie’s deli.”

  “Is that so?” Sherry’s interested gaze swung toward her.

  “I was also present at the festival that day,” Marla explained. “I’m the one who found Francine’s body.”

  Sherry gave a visible shudder.
“How horrible. Why did you come to see Rory? Haven’t you already interviewed him, Detective?”

  “Marla is friends with Arnie Hartman. He wanted her to have a chat with Rory.”

  “Well, unless I’m needed here, I’d like to finish with the boys. Please excuse me.”

  After ten minutes or so of letting Dalton lead the conversation, Marla rose and asked for restroom directions. But when she got to a junction in the hallway, she couldn’t remember which way to go. Hearing voices down the hall, she wandered in that direction.

  The voices emanated from a kids’ room with twin beds. Toys, shoes, and clothing covered every surface. Two young boys stuffed items into their backpacks while their mother supervised. Sherry glanced up at Marla’s entrance and flushed beet red.

  “Hello again. Can I help you?”

  “Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom.”

  “It’s down the hall in the opposite direction. Forgive the mess. I haven’t straightened up in here yet.”

  Marla chuckled. “No problem. You should see my salon storeroom after we get in a new load of supplies.”

  Sherry stooped to tuck in one of her boys’ shirts. “This is Gary, and that’s Andrew. Do you and the detective have children?”

  “It’s a second marriage for us both, so I have a teenage stepdaughter. We’re trying for our own, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “You’ll get pregnant when you least expect it. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.”

  “You seem to be doing quite well managing a career and a family. Do you mind my asking how a farmer’s son and a lawyer hooked up together?”

  Sherry straightened, her face easing into a wistful smile. “Believe it or not, I’m a country music fan. We met at a concert through a mutual friend. When Rory told me what he did for a living, I wanted to run in the opposite direction. I’d always pictured myself marrying another attorney. But he had a romantic streak and persisted in pursuing me. In the end, it’s the man that matters and not what he does.”

  “So true. Did he mention to you his dream of operating a hotel?”

  “Hell, yes. I’ve offered to help him get financial aid if he wanted to get a degree in hospitality management. But he doesn’t have enough confidence in himself. It breaks my heart, because he’d be much happier than he is now.”

  “Oh? He doesn’t like working on the farm?” The air-conditioning kicked in, sending a cooling blast her way and dispersing the dirty socks aroma from the kids’ room.

  “He’s never been cut out to be a farmer like the rest of his family. But I can’t get him to break away from his heritage, as he calls it. And he doesn’t care to disappoint his father again.”

  “That’s understandable. Hey, I have an idea. Has he ever thought of opening a bed-and-breakfast? It wouldn’t require extra training and he could be his own boss. It’s not that far removed from a small boutique hotel.”

  Sherry shooed the boys off to pack their lunches. “That’s an interesting possibility, but it would require a huge investment on our part. Besides, Rory would need someone to handle the business aspects. He doesn’t have a detail-oriented bone in his body.”

  “No, but you do. Maybe you’ll think about it after your kids are grown.” She paused. “In the meantime, is Rory concerned about his future on the farm? Arnie had indicated your husband was worried because of a phone conversation he’d overheard.”

  Sherry’s mouth compressed. “Rory heard his father make a remark about the farm, but he might have taken it out of context.”

  “Has Rory ever seen a deed to the place? Like, who is listed as the actual owner?”

  “Zach and his siblings are equal partners. As for a deed, Zach would know where it’s kept.”

  “Has Rory shared his concerns with his uncles?”

  “He’s talked to them, plus his cousins and brothers. Nobody knows about any threat against the farm. The business is doing well financially, and there aren’t any debts to my knowledge. Any mortgage has been paid off by now. I suppose Zach might have borrowed against the equity. That’s something your husband could determine, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll mention it to him. Who does the bookkeeping for the farm?”

  Sherry stuck the worn clothes into a hamper. “Zach works with an accountant, plus his brothers have access to the accounts. I’m not worried about the financial end of things, though. Rory should think about leaving the farm for other reasons. I’m always afraid for him when he goes to work there. Farms can be dangerous places with all the hazards on the property.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What kind of hazards?” Marla asked Rory’s wife. Did Sherry believe a murderer hid among the farmhands? Or was she talking about something else?

  Sherry waved a hand. “Oh, you know. Accidents happen all the time on farms. And there was that one incident... but I don’t want to bore you. You should rejoin the men. I’ve got to drop the kids off at the school bus stop and head to work.”

  Marla waggled her brows at Dalton as she reentered the living room. He gave a subtle nod indicating he understood she’d had a productive conversation.

  “Rory has been telling me about his family,” Dalton said with a welcoming grin. “They have quite an extended group.”

  “Does everyone work on the farm?” she inquired, taking a seat on the couch next to her husband.

  Rory’s forehead wrinkled. “As I explained, we like to keep things in the family, so my answer is yes. Except for Aunt Janet, of course.”

  Marla folded her hands together. “I understand she’s married to Tony Winters. His firm sponsored our bake-off contest. It was most generous of him to get involved.”

  Rory gave a low chuckle. “Aunt Janet loves planning social events, so I’m sure it was mostly her idea. She coordinated the whole thing. But yes, Tony is vice president of Amalfi Consolidated. He sells their imported olive oils and other goods to us for our fresh market.”

  “If he’s the VP, who’s in charge?” Marla asked.

  “His relatives from Italy. Every now and then, he’ll come around with a bunch of them. They’re a lot less polished than Tony.” Rory stroked his jaw. “If I had to guess, I’d never see them as being related. Let’s say they’re not people I’d want to meet in a dark alley at night.”

  “Do they stay with Tony when they come to visit?”

  “I don’t think Aunt Janet would put up with them, but you can talk to her about it. She’s reluctant to discuss the subject. It makes her uneasy.”

  “If they’re coming to evaluate her husband’s work, I can understand her discomfort. Or does it stem from another reason?”

  Rory gave her a frank stare. “My aunt avoids the topic when I ask her how things are going at home. She loves doing her society events and rattles on about their kids, but I get the impression she’s not being entirely truthful.”

  “How do you feel about her husband’s import company?”

  “People like their products, so I guess that counts for something. As for the guy himself, I’ve always gotten an odd vibe around him. I mean, he loves his kids, and he treats Aunt Janet with respect. Maybe it’s me, because I’m just a farmer and he has money. Rich people tend to look down on folks like us who labor for a living.”

  “We wouldn’t have food without our agricultural roots,” she said in a soothing tone. “Has your farm ever been featured in Alyce Greene’s blog?” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dalton’s piqued interest. He seemed content to allow her to guide the conversation.

  “Alyce is a true friend to our family. She mentions our sustainable farming techniques and the value of local produce on her site all the time.”

  “Not everyone likes her. Carlton Paige, the food critic, implied she’s stealing his readership.”

  Rory snorted. “Carlton’s reviews have gone downhill. We’ve eaten at some of the restaurants he recommends. They’re not worthy of four or five stars.”

  “How about The Royal Palate? Have you been there? We
have a reservation for Saturday. That’s where Tristan Marsh works as pastry chef. He was a contest judge at the bake-off.”

  “We like the place, although it can be expensive. You have to try Tristan’s desserts. Each one is an artistic creation.” He frowned as he glanced at his watch. “You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s getting late. I’m needed at work. Honey, are you still here?” he yelled to his wife.

  “We’re leaving now. Bye!” Sherry shouted back from the kitchen. A door slammed, and the garage door rumbled open.

  Rory stood, and Marla and Dalton followed suit. Marla slung her cross-body purse strap over one shoulder. This visit had been fruitful, but she was ready to move on.

  “Thanks for seeing us.” Dalton offered his hand to Rory for a firm shake. “I’ll let you know if anything significant turns up on the case.”

  “Ask your wife about an idea I gave her,” Marla added. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. You have a lovely home and family.” She pointed to his hair. “By the way, where did your unusual shade come from? Your dad has sandy brown hair and your mom is a blonde. Does anyone else in the family have red hair like you do?”

  Rory laughed and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Mom says it’s our Irish ancestry. Seems I’m the only lucky one in the family to have a carrot top, not to mention these freckles. I have to be careful in the sun since I burn more easily than my brothers.”

  “I’m sure you wear a hat when you’re working the fields.” Marla shook his hand on the way out. The day had warmed, and the sun was already heating the pavement. She sniffed the chemical scent of insecticide from a neighbor’s lawn.

  Once she and Dalton were ensconced in their car, he shot her a glance. “I have to go into the office. What are you planning for the rest of the day?”

  “I’d like to pay a visit to Janet if she’s home. You have her address, yes? Then I’ll grab a bite to eat and head to the salon.”

  “What were you and Sherry discussing? You took a long time to return from the restroom, so I assume you chatted her up.”

  She sank back into the seat cushion while they drove east. “I asked Sherry how she’d met Rory. They were both at a country music concert. She seemed to feel bad for him that his dream of owning a hotel didn’t work out. She’s offered to help him get financial aid if he’d like to apply to hospitality school, but he won’t risk disappointing his father again.”