Creation In Death

“I’m looking for a man about seventy, short, pudgy.”

“We get that type, sure. Policy is to tactfully steer the pudge part into our spa or the body sculpting section. Barring, we talk up the fitness centers, and-”

“I’m talking specifically,” Eve interrupted. “A man of that basic type coming in, feeling out one of the consultants for a private. Within the last, let’s say, two months.”

“Lotta room, Dallas,” Trina said. “We get a lot of traffic, and being manager, most of the consultants aren’t going to mention a private to me, unless it’s sanctioned.”

“Sanctioned how?”

“Like we send teams or a solo in for special occasions, and the salon takes the big cut.”

“Long shot,” Eve muttered.

“But come to think of it, I had somebody like that. I guess.”

Eve set down her fork. “You guess or you had one?”

“Look, like I said, we get a lot of traffic. People tap me for private most every day. What’s the big…Oh, hey, hey!” Her wine sloshed toward the rim as she hastily set the glass down. “Is this the guy? Is this the fucking guy? Holy shit storm.”

“Just tell me what you remember.”

“Okay, Jesus, let me clear the decks.” Trina closed her eyes, sucked air through her nose several times. “This guy…walk-in. Manicure, I’m thinking. Don’t remember who had him. I’m thinking it was a Saturday afternoon, and we’re busting on Saturday afternoons. He waited a long time for the nail job, wandered over into the retail section. I think. I was busy. I just remember catching sight of him a few times. Then I took my break, went into the bar for a smoothie. Maybe a fizzy. No, it was a smoothie.”

“Trina, I don’t care what you had to drink.”

“I’m getting the picture.” Her eyes flashed open. “You want the picture, I need to get it first. So it was a smoothie. A banana-almond smoothie. We make killers. And he comes up, real polite. ‘Excuse me, Miss,’ like that. He noticed I was in charge, and since he’d had to wait awhile he’d noticed, too, how skilled I was.”

She smiled to herself. “So I didn’t tell him to flip, that I was on a break. He wanted to know how to arrange an at-home appointment. Not for him, though, not for him, wait a minute.”

Frowning, she picked up her wine, sipped again while Eve struggled not to just leap up and pound the rest of the details out of her.

“His wife? Yeah, yeah, yeah, at-home for his wife. She wasn’t well, and how he thought it would make her feel better to have her hair done, maybe a facial, a mani, pedi, like that. A package treatment.”

“Trina-”

“Wait a damn minute. Let me get a fix on it. I’m telling him how we arrange this, the fees, and so on, and he’s wondering if I’d consider doing this on my day off. So I wouldn’t have to rush back to work, but could give his wife as much time as she wanted. Whenever it suited me. He even showed me a picture of the wife. He’d be happy to pay whatever I think appropriate.”

“Did he give you an address?”

“You keep interrupting.” Obviously a

“He didn’t get back to you?”

“Nope. I thought maybe I saw him about a week later. Somewhere. Where was it? Oh, yeah, in this bar where I was having drinks with this guy I was thinking of doing. But I figured, nah. Not the kind of joint you see a suit with a sick wife.”

“He give you a name?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember. If I can pin down the mani he got, we’d have it on the books. First name anyhow. Is this the guy?”

Don’t rush it, Eve thought. Dot the i’s. “What color was your hair?”

“You gotta be kidding. It was, like, a month ago. Yeah, a month, like the first Saturday in February, because I remember thinking if we did business like that through the month, I was going to ask for a raise. We did, I did. And hey, thanks again,” she said to Roarke.

“Caramel Mocha,” Mavis murmured. “With Starfish highlights.”

“Yeah?” Trina turned to her. “You sure?”

“You did me Starfish with Candyland tips.” Mavis’s hand trembled a little as she reached for her glass. “I’ve got a memory for this stuff. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. I think I feel a little sick.”

“You? I’m the one he was pla

“You changed it.” Mavis took slow, deep breaths. “You didn’t stick with that shade even a week. You went straight to Wild Raven with Snow Cap streaks.”

“Just back up,” Eve demanded. “This mocha bit? Does that translate to brunette?”

“On a basic level,” Trina confirmed. “Of course, the way I work it’s way beyond anything basic.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think. But he was wearing a hair enhancer.”

“Meaning wig?”

“A good one, too, but you’re talking to the expert. Hey, hey, that’s why I didn’t think it was him in the bar. He wasn’t. I mean he was, the hair enhancer wasn’t. At least not the same one. I didn’t get a close or long enough look to tell if it was hair or enhancer.”

“I want you to describe him. I want you to give me every detail you can remember about him. Appearance, voice, body type, gestures, any distinguishing marks. Everything. Tomorrow morning, you’ll work with a police artist.”

“Really? No shit? I’m like an eyewitness. Frosty.”

“Let’s take this up to my office. Think. Get him in your head.”

She pulled out her ’link. “Peabody. I need you to contact Yancy. I want him ready to work with a witness tomorrow. Seven sharp.”

“Is that morning?” Trina demanded.

“Stow it.” Eve simply shot out a finger. “Got that, Peabody?”

“Got it. Is that…Is that Trina?”

“Yeah. She’s our wit. Small freaking world. I want Yancy, Peabody. I’m taking down her description now, and I’ll relay it to the team. Tell McNab I want him and the e-geeks ready to run with the description, then with the image as soon as Yancy’s got one.”

She was walking as she talked, moving briskly out of the dining room, through the corridor, the foyer, up the stairs. As orders and instructions rolled out of her, Trina glanced over at Roarke.

“She’s a little scary when she’s on the scent.”

“She can be a lot scarier. You go up. I’ll be along.” He turned back, brushed a hand over Mavis’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and Bella and Trina plan to stay here tonight?”

“Really? It’s okay?”

“Absolutely. I’ll have Summerset take care of whatever you think you’ll need.”

“Thanks. Boy. Thanks. I know it’s silly. Nobody’s going to bother us, but…”

“We’ll all feel better, under the circumstances, if you’re tucked in here. Why don’t you get in touch with Leonardo, let him know?”

“Okay. Good. Thanks. Roarke?”

“Hmmm?”

“If Trina hadn’t changed her hair…”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head now. “We’re all very glad mocha didn’t suit her.”