“It’s a beauty salon.”
“And you’re asking about a murder,” he reminded her. “Just don’t take anything for granted.”
Armed with that advice, she squared her shoulders and headed to the door. She had been referred by Trish Ford. She couldn’t remember who she saw, but she’d been in for an appointment on Saturday. Could the receptionist look up who she saw that day? And, how long it took? She wanted the same cut and style but had to fit it in between real estate showings. That should be enough of a story to get what she needed. If she needed to prime the pump any more, the guy’s name had been Roger Kamp. Maybe she could ask for an appointment with Mr. Camper? She shook her head. She’d leave that in case the woman couldn’t find Trish’s appointment. Trish had looked like she had a regular cut and at least highlights put in her hair.
Rarity glanced at her clothes. Maybe she should have upgraded a bit. But at least she had her high-end purse. That got a lot of attention from women wanting an upscale look. She was always being asked if it was real or not. She’d bought it as a birthday present for herself just before she’d left St. Louis. And, yes, it was real and had a real price tag. She’d had sticker shock for a while after she’d bought it, but she had to admit, she loved the look and the feel of the purse.
She moved the purse closer to the front of her body and pushed the door open. The spa smelled like she’d walked into a secret garden of flowers. She moved toward the Queen Anne–style table where a woman sat with a laptop. She wore a name tag. Fay looked up from her work and smiled. “Are you here for an appointment?”
Rarity took a breath. “Actually, no. I’m here to try to get an appointment. One of my friends had her hair cut and highlighted here. I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember who she said did it, but I met her and a few others for lunch two Saturdays ago, and she’d just had it done. I really want something like her cut done to my hair.”
“Oh, what’s your friend’s name?” The woman didn’t look up, but Rarity could see that Fay was looking at a calendar on her computer.
“Trish Ford. I’d call her, but she just lost her sister, and I don’t want to intrude on her at this time.” Rarity leaned over to watch the woman search appointments.
“Here it is. Trish Ford saw Roger Kamp at eight that morning. He’s one of our most popular stylists. I’m not sure I can get you in this week.” She looked up at Rarity. “When did you want your appointment?”
Rarity pulled out her phone and pretended to be scanning her calendar. “Not this week, darn. How long of a session do I need to have something like Trish’s hair. Not that I want to copy her, you understand.”
“Your hair is a different texture from Miss Ford’s, so it will look different, even if Mr. Kamp does exactly the same process.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell her.”
“That’s a huge relief. Anyway, how big of a block am I looking at?” She held a finger on her phone, pretending to be waiting.
“Let’s see.” Fay scrolled back and leaned in to look at the appointment. “Miss Ford was here from eight to eleven thirty. She must have had a nail treatment or facial as well. I would block off at least two hours.”
“Okay, what’s your first appointment with Roger?”
“Saturday at seven.” The woman wrote down the time and date on a card. “Now, what is your name?”
“Rarity Cole.” She took the card. She needed to get her hair done anyway. And with her luck, if she’d said her name was something else, she’d run into someone she knew who would rat her out. She might not be done asking questions anyway.
She left the spa and went to sit next to Jonathon. “She was here from eight to eleven thirty that day. At least that’s what the receptionist said. I have an appointment next Saturday with this Roger guy, so if we still need more information, I can ask him then.”
“If not, are you still keeping the appointment?” He linked her arm in his, and they walked back to the car.
“Maybe. Probably. Hairdressers love to talk. Especially when there’s drama involved. If I throw Trish’s dead sister into the conversation, you know he’s going to blab about something or someone.” Rarity climbed into the car. “I’ll let Drew know what we found, and you drive us to the milkshake place. Maybe they have fish burgers too. I’m starving.”
* * * *
When Jonathon dropped her off at the house, he offered to wait and drive her to the shop.
“No, go on about your day. Killer will need the walk after being cooped up this morning without me.” Rarity shut the door and waved as he drove away. Drew had been quiet when she gave him the details about Trish’s appointment. If what she’d found out was true, her hair appointment gave Trish an alibi that cleared her from being charged with killing her sister. At least with her doing the deed. She still could have hired someone. Then Drew had told her to cancel the hair appointment. But she hadn’t.
And as she gathered her things for a half day at work and clicked a leash onto Killer’s collar, she didn’t think she would. She might not find out anything new about Janey’s death, but people talked when they were getting their hair done. Maybe she could find out how Trish felt about her sister. And if Trish was involved with anyone. That could be the person who actually killed Janey. Rarity wasn’t ready to give up on Trish being responsible for Janey’s death. Even if she’d been getting her hair done an hour away at the time.
Killer was ready to go, and Rarity realized they’d been standing at the door for several minutes as she thought out her plan to keep researching Trish. She leaned down and gave him a pat on the head. “Sorry, boy. I’m a little distracted today. Let’s go to work.”
He pulled at the leash until he found a spot of grass he liked. Then he was ready to go. Luckily, this time she didn’t need a bag, but she always had one on hand, just in case. They walked into town, Rarity’s head in the clouds thinking about this morning’s field trip, and Killer sniffing at every street sign and light pole on their way.
She was about to walk over and unlock her bookstore when she saw lights on at Sam’s crystal shop. Rarity still had the card from the woman who wanted a necklace, so she kept walking past the bookstore and over to Sam’s. Killer, confused, kept trying to turn around to go to the store. Finally, she picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to Sam’s shop.
She opened the door, and bells went off. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Rarity called out, “Sam? Are you here?”
No answer.
Rarity went around the counter and into the back room, where Sam worked on her jewelry. “Sam?”
A sound came from her left, and all of a sudden, Rarity found herself falling to the floor. A blinding light flashed in front of her eyes, and a sharp pain seared the back of her head. Killer started barking, and then everything went black.