Killer Eyeshadow and a Cold Espresso (A Danger Cove Hair Salon Mystery) Read online

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Eyeshadow that looks like a stained-glass window. It's perfect for a home vow renewal. It'll give it that touch of church."

  And I thought the smoky lip was creepy. "Before you start soldering people's eyelids, we need to run that idea by Elise."

  She rolled her blue-shadowed eyes. "Fine."

  We went the way we came, down a hallway lined with portraits and the odd nude statue, passing countless bedrooms, and into a formal living area with a fireplace.

  George Fontaine stood near the entryway in a wide-lapel suit coat and pleated trousers with a centerpiece of calla lilies, hydrangea, and tea roses. "Katrina has already put the bouquet, corsages, and boutonnieres in the refrigerator, and I'll get the flowers on the tables and the altar."

  Elise took the arrangement and carried it to a coffee table between two white couches that faced one another. "They're exquisite, George. You've outdone yourself."

  He winked at Gia and me and glanced at a painting above a love seat at the far end of the room. "That landscape isn't bad either. Where'd you get it?"

  "Jesse bought it from some unknown artist. I don't remember where." She grimaced as though art by unknowns was distasteful.

  The front door opened, and Lilly Waters from the Smugglers' Tavern entered balancing a huge tray of crab puffs on one hand and a platter of salmon on the other. "These are the last of the hors d'oeuvres."

  "Let me help you with that." I took the tray.

  Her blue eyes flashed gratitude. "I'm on my way to the kitchen. The Rothmans' chef couldn't be here today, so I'm going to stay and serve these myself."

  I followed her through the dining room, and a cherry tomato fell from the tray to the floor. I watched as it rolled across the wood toward a closed door, and I willed it to stop before slipping out of sight. Fortunately, it did. I placed the tray on a formal dining table and hurried to the door. Then I knelt to retrieve the tomato.

  "I told them to back off, but they're looking for it."

  Jesse's raspy voice raised the hair on the nape of my neck, and his statement raised questions.

  Who were "they"? And what was "it"?

  I glanced around to make sure no one was watching and crouched lower, although my legs trembled from fear.

  "It doesn't matter if they do." Jesse's rasp had turned into a growl. "They're getting too close, so the two of them have got to be dealt with. A permanent solution, if you get my drift."

  Oh, I got it. And his drift wasn't good at all.

  * * *

  Gia spun in slow circles in the dressing room vanity chair. She did the same thing in our salon when she pondered a problem. "Jesse had to be on the phone, right?"

  I stuffed my hair products into a carrying case. "I didn't hear anyone else in the room. But Elise said he was showing her brother, Rhys, around his cabin, so maybe he was talking to him."

  "Or that manly mansion manager, Katrina. She could've been in there."

  "Whoever it was, he ordered a hit." I pointed a hairbrush at her. "We're leaving, and we're going straight to the police."

  "I'm from Jersey, and my boyfriend's a cop." She held up my curling iron like a baton. "He's not going to mess with us."

  I grabbed the curling iron and shoved it into my bag. "The police didn't matter to him when he killed his real estate partner. And our lives are worth more than a ten-thousand-dollar paycheck. Now let's go."

  She stopped the spin. "You can, but I'm doing this job."

  "Are you crazy?"

  "For the Ferrari. And I'm going to fight for my ride."

  I gripped the carrying case. "I can't leave you in this house."

  "Exactly. So let's find out where those bridesmaids are." She catapulted from the chair and exited the dressing room.

  I tossed the case onto the vanity and rushed after her. I always knew my cousin would be the death of me, but I didn't think she'd be willing to get me killed for a car.

  Gia pushed open the swinging door that led to the industrial-style kitchen. Katrina was putting coffee in the espresso machine, and Amy Spannagel stood at an island.

  I eyed her plate of crab puffs. "Why aren't you at the library? Are you attending the ceremony?"

  "No, Elise misplaced a book of poetry she needs for the reading, so she asked me to bring the library copy. Katrina told me to help myself to some food before I went back to work."

  Gia sniffed. "She didn't even offer us water."

  Katrina cast a cold stare over her shoulder, and the cold turned icy at the sight of Gia's strappy dress.

  "Well, Ben's docking my lunch for this. He considers anything that takes me from the library to be personal time."

  In some ways, Ben was as crooked as his bootlegger book-burner ancestor.

  Katrina headed for the door with the espresso and a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

  When she was gone, I sidled up to Amy. "Any chance you can sneak in some research this afternoon?"

  "I could use what's left of my lunch." She popped a crab puff. "What do you need?"

  "Information on Atlantic City Mafia and casinos."

  She coughed out the puff. "Harriet's connected?"

  "This is about my uncle, not the Gold Rush History Tours. I think he and Jesse owned a casino, maybe with other partners."

  "That industry disgusts me." Amy repopped the puff.

  I was disgusted too, but not by the casino. "Gambling isn't always corrupt, but in this case I'm sure it is."

  "I was talking about the cards and poker chips." She helped herself to some salmon. "Studies have shown that they're teeming with bacteria."

  "I know something else that's disgusting." Gia pointed to Amy's plate. "What are you eating?"

  "Gravlax."

  "Ugh." Gia stuck out her tongue. "Did you just throw up in your mouth?"

  "It's the name of a Nordic dish." Amy pushed up her glasses. "Raw salmon cured in salt, dill, and sugar."

  Gia gagged. "Thanks for the graphic description. I just threw up in mine."

  Jesse burst into the kitchen, white with rage and rigid, and the three of us cowered behind the island.

  "This swill is undrinkable." He held up the espresso cup. "You in the black dress. Since we're paying you so damned much, make me a decent espresso."

  Gia stomped to the espresso machine.

  "Bring it to the dressing room." His gaze flicked to me. "We need to get the hell on with this day. I've got business to take care of." He pushed the door so hard it swung long after he left.

  "Forget the coffee, cuz. We need to leave."

  Gia filled the portafilter with coffee, avoiding my eyes.

  Amy looked at her Swiss Army watch. "I'd better head out too. Ben's going to be as angry as Jesse if I'm not behind the circulation desk in twenty minutes. I'll be in touch with that research, Cass."

  She grabbed a satchel and hurried from the room, and I did the only thing I could. I stood near a knife block and monitored the door.

  It opened, and I gripped the handle of a cleaver.

  Alex Jordan appeared, looking lovely in a white pantsuit, and I dropped my hand, relieved.

  "Have you ladies seen George? He called and said his intern, Ruby, has to study for an exam, so he needs help with the flowers."

  Gia pushed the Brew button. "We saw him in the living room, but that was almost an hour ago."

  Alex's face lit up at the sight of her dress. "Oh, I showed Gram the picture of the cameo, and she said it's Diana, the goddess of the hunt. She's positive she's seen it before, but she can't remember where or when." She clutched her necklace. "She's a little forgetful these days."

  "I'm sure it'll come to her." A sound outside the kitchen window caught my attention, and the culprit caught me off guard. "There's George. In that yellow-flowered shrub?"

  "That man." Alex shook her head. "He really gets around." She slipped out the door.

  Gia poured the espresso. "It's go time, as in let's head to the dressing room."

  I followed
her into the long hallway, my dread increasing with every step.

  Jesse watched us enter via the vanity mirror, unblinking, reptile style. He took the espresso and swallowed it in one gulp. "It's cold."

  Like your blood.

  Gia picked up the eyeshadow palette. "Yeah, well, if you lived in a smaller house, it would still be warm."

  His face was impassive, but his gaze was steady and intense, like a lizard preparing to shoot out its tongue and pull her into its mouth.

  She brushed a neutral shade on his eyelids, and the tension was so thick I could have cut it with the cleaver, if I'd had the sense to bring it with me.

  I approached the vanity and opened my carrying case on the pretense of setting up my hair station. The first item I pulled out was a can of hair spray. In the absence of sheers, it was a stylist's best weapon, professionally and personally.

  Gia placed the palette on the counter and picked up a bottle of concealer.

  Jesse's eyes opened wide—à la horror movie actor.

  My cousin and I exchanged a what's-his-problem look.

  But Jesse didn't notice. He seemed transfixed by his reflection.

  I debated whether to say something, but I feared a trap was in the works. I picked up the hair spray.

  His back arched like he'd been shot.

  Gia leapt backwards, and I pressed the spray button.

  Jesse keeled over like felled timber and face-planted in the smoky eye palette.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Ah, the ladies of The Clip and Sip." Detective Marshall's tone was as slick as the oil stain on the lapel of his cheap suit as he towered over Gia and me in the Rothman entryway. "It wouldn't be a crime scene without you here."

  Gia glowered so intensely that her false eyelashes resembled tiny porcupine quills preparing to launch. "It's a coincidence."

  "You might want to consult a dictionary, Ms. Di Mitri, because you've been involved in more than two murder investigations."

  My stomach churned at the insinuation. "And as in those other cases, we had nothing to do with this."

  "Why don't you relax while I investigate that?" The detective pointed to the love seat beneath the landscape painting, and we entered the living room as though it were the gallows.

  "Dick Marshall's at it again." Gia flipped her hair and flopped onto the seat.

  I sat on the end closest to a window. "Don't let him hear you."

  "Well, it's true. There's a living room full of suspects, but as usual he zeroes in on us."

  She was right about the detective, and the roomful. George, Alex, and Lilly were on the couch with their backs to us, and they faced Elise and her stuffy fiftysomething brother, Rhys. Elise sobbed, but everyone else was silent from shock and probably fear. The crackling of a fire only added to the tension.

  Katrina entered with a glass and handed it to Elise. "It's tap water." She glared at Gia and sat across from Lilly Waters. "So we can be sure it's safe to drink."

  "What's the muscled manager implying? That I poisoned Jesse's espresso?"

  A terrifying thought prevented me from replying. Had Katrina or someone else in the house framed Gia?

  "It's so unfair, so unfair." Elise's voice had the pitch of a wail as she twisted the sash of her dragon robe. "Just when my Jesse was returned to me, I lost him again. Forever." She broke into a fresh round of sobs and crashed into Rhys's side.

  "There, there, love." He protected his ascot with one hand and patted her bicep with the other, but his arm never made contact with her shoulders. Nor did his styled white hair budge. "Stiff upper lip."

  Gia sniff-snorted. "He talks like Madonna when she lived in England."

  His accent did sound affected, and his concern insincere. I glanced at Detective Marshall to get a read on the situation. He contemplated Rhys with a gaze as impenetrable as steel.

  Catherine Cooper exited the hallway with the black medical examiner bag I'd seen too often. Her pencil skirt whipped around her calves, making her stride seem more brisk.

  The detective motioned for her to follow him to a corner near Gia and me. "What have you got for me, Doctor?"

  "I can't rule out a severe allergic reaction, but based on my preliminary examination, I'd say it's poisoning."

  I squirmed at the word. Poison was a cruel manner of death, and Gia and I had been falsely implicated in a poisoning during the holidays a few months before. Detective Marshall was inclined to make assumptions, and the murder method would fuel his hasty thought process.

  He pulled a notepad from his suit pocket. "Any thoughts on the source?"

  "My team has collected samples of the food and coffee, and we're taking the eyeshadow to the lab."

  My gut seized at the makeup mention, and Gia grabbed my arm.

  "But we'll analyze his stomach contents, and I'll be in touch when I have the full autopsy results." Catherine cast a sorrowful glance at Elise and headed for the door.

  Gia leaned in. "I know it looks bad, but my money's on the crab. If it's Dungeness, it can be toxic."

  My hand moved to my mouth. "No."

  "What? You think it was that revolting fish?"

  The detective spun around. "Are we interrupting your chitchat?"

  I rose. "Detective, I just remembered that Amy Spannagel ate the crab puffs and the gravlax."

  Lilly's body contracted like I'd hooked her with a fishing pole. "What are you suggesting, Cassidi?"

  "Not that you did anything wrong. But Dr. Cooper said they're testing the food—"

  "Eavesdropping, eh?" The detective's lips spread into a gotcha smile. "Is there something you were worried you'd hear?"

  Everyone stared, and I sunk onto the love seat. "I'm worried about my friend."

  Officer Richie Faria burst through the front door with his biceps flexed. "We've searched the grounds and the two buildings out back. Nothing out of the ordinary."

  "Did you contact Miss Spannagel?" The detective shot me a smug stare.

  "She ate both of the appetizers and drank a bottle of Evian. No sign of illness, but I told her to get checked out."

  Gia and I exchanged a look. I was relieved about Amy but more worried than ever about that espresso and makeup.

  "I'll contact her when we're done here." He scribbled a note. "What about the video from the outdoor security system?"

  "I pulled it from the hard drive."

  "Start reviewing it. I want the name of every individual who set foot on this property today."

  "Yessir." Officer Faria saluted and left.

  Detective Marshall sauntered over to George. "What kind of flowers did you deliver to the ceremony?"

  "Calla lilies, hydrangea, and tea roses."

  "To your knowledge, did Jesse Rothman come into contact with them?"

  "Not the arrangements outside, but I don't know about this one." He gestured to the centerpiece on the coffee table.

  Elise raised her head from her brother's shoulder. "My Jesse isn't allergic to flowers." She looked down and made a mucousy gargling sound. "You mean he wasn't, Elise."

  The detective did an over-the-shoulder double take at her private conversation. He turned and tightened his necktie, but the crease between his eyebrows gave away his consternation. "Are any of those flowers toxic to humans, Mr. Fontaine?"

  George's head retracted. "The calla lilies and hydrangea. But surely you're not suggesting he ate them?"

  "Not by choice."

  George rubbed the back of his neck.

  "Any other flowers you were in contact with on the grounds?"

  "None."

  The yellow flowers on that bush. Why hadn't George mentioned them?

  The detective put a hand on his hip and looked down. "Where'd you say you were from?"

  "I've been in Danger Cove for four years."

  "Before that."

  George hesitated. "London."

  "What do you know? Same as Mr. Ingall." The detective pointed to Rhys, whose head shot up.

  "I don't know this gentle
man." Rhys frowned at George, and his eyes widened slightly and shifted—to the painting above my head.

  But why? Did Rhys and George know one another? If so, what reason would they have to hide that? And what did it have to do with a landscape?

  A fiftysomething officer appeared in the hallway. "We need you in the dressing room, Lester."

  "Everyone stay put and off your devices." The detective aimed his index finger and scanned the room. "When I get back, we're going to split you up for questioning." He threw back his shoulders and strutted down the hall.

  My attention moved to Rhys. His leg bounced, and he looked everywhere but at George. He rose and grabbed the poker, and all eyes were on him. He was as tall as his sister, about six feet, and relaxed as he stoked the fire. The flame intensified, as did the tension simmering in the room.

  Minutes passed.

  Gia picked at the black polish on her coffin nails, and the creeps crept down my spine. When we returned to the salon, I intended to ask her to go with a different nail shape, like round or square.

  With a sigh, I turned to the window.

  And I stiffened.

  A black barrel was pressed against the lower glass pane—not of a gun, but of a camera lens.

  Duncan Pickles was crouched outside taking pictures for the paper.

  Anger rose in my throat and threatened to blow out my ears. He'd been humiliating my family with his salacious articles since I'd moved to Danger Cove, and I refused to allow him to victimize us again. "If the detective comes back, tell him I'm in the ladies' room."

  Gia nodded but didn't look up.

  I rose, aware of Katrina's eyes on my back, and hoped she hadn't seen through the fib. I went through the dining room to the kitchen. Behind it was a laundry room with an exit. I slipped out the door and went around the side of the house.

  Duncan stood near the window, camera at hip, waiting for me.

  "You need to leave."

  He flashed a sexy smile. With his blond hair and strong features, he was a handsome man, and he exploited his looks when necessary. "Not until I get the scoop. Katrina called the paper to cancel the vow renewal story, and the medical examiner is here." He scrutinized my face. "So someone's about to leave the mansion in a pine box. Or probably mahogany."