Sue Grafton - K Is For Killer

"I keep it with me all the time. Sometimes at the Palace I do haircuts in the ladies' room."

I ended up sitting on a kitchen stool with a hand towel pinned around my neck, my hair wet from a dousing at the kitchen sink. Danielle was chatting happily while she trimmed and clipped. Snippets of hair began to tumble around me. "Now don't get scared. I know it looks like a lot, but it's just because the whole thing's uneven. You got great hair, nice and thick, with just the tiniest touch of curl. Well, I wouldn't call it curl so much as body, which is even better."

"So why didn't you get your license?"

"I lost interest. Plus, the money's not that hot. My father always said it'd be a great fallback position if the economy went sour, but hooking's better, in my opinion. A guy might not have the bucks to get his hair blown dry, but he's always got twenty for a BJ."

I mouthed the term BJ silently. It took me half a second to figure that one out. "What are you going to do when you get too old to bonk?"

"I'm taking classes at city college in financial management. Money's the only other subject that really interests me."

"I'm sure you 11 go far."

"You gotta start somewhere. What about you? What will you do when you're too old to bonk?"

"I don't bonk now. I'm pure as the driven snow."

"Well, no wonder you get cranky. What a drag," she said.

I laughed.

For a while we were silent as she concentrated on her work. "What's the question? You said you had something you wanted to ask."

"Maybe I better check my cash supply first."

She pulled my hair. "Now don't be like that. I bet you're the kind who kids around to keep other people at a distance, right?"

"I don't think I should respond to that."

She smiled. "See? I can surprise you. I'm a lot brighter than you think. So ask."

"Ah, yes. Did Lorna mention pulling twenty grand out of a hank account before she was supposed to go out of town?"

"Why would she do that? She always traveled with a guy. She never spent her own money when she went someplace."

"What guy?"

"Anyone who asked," she said, still clipping away.

"You know where she was headed?"

"She didn't talk about that stuff."

"What about a diary or an appointment book?"

Danielle touched her temple with the tip of her scissors. "She kept it all up here. She said otherwise her clients didn't feel safe. Cops raid your place? They got a search warrant, you're dead, and so's everybody else. Quit wiggling."

"Sorry. Where'd the money go? It looks like she closed out the whole account."

"Well, she didn't give it to me. I wish she had. I'd have opened an account of my own just like that." She snapped the scissors near my ear, and seven hairs fell to earth. "I meant to do that," she added. She set the scissors on the counter and plugged in the hair dryer, picking up locks of hair on the bristles of the hairbrush. It's incredibly restful to have someone fooling with your hair like that.

I raised my voice slightly to compete with the noise. "Could she have paid off a debt or posted bail for someone?"

"Twenty G's in bail would be a hell of a crime."

"Did she owe anybody?"

"Lorna didn't have debts. Even credit cards she paid off before finance charges went on," she said. "I bet the money was stolen."

"Yeah, that occurred to me, too."

"Must have been after she was dead," she added. "Otherwise Lorna would have fought tooth and nail." She turned the dryer off and set it aside, stepping back to scrutinize her handiwork. She took a moment to fluff and rearrange individual strands and then nodded, apparently satisfied.

The doorbell rang, Mr. Pizza Man on the doorstep. I handed Danielle twenty bucks and let her conclude the deal while I ducked into the downstairs bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. The difference was remarkable. All the choppiness was gone. All the blunt, stick-out parts that seemed to go every which way were now tamed and subdued. The hair feathered away from my face in perfect layers. It even fell into place again if I shook my head. I caught sight of Danielle reflected in the mirror behind me.

"You like it?" she asked.

"It looks great."

"Told you I was good," she said, laughing.

We ate from the box, splitting a large cheeseless veggie pizza, which was tasty without causing all my arteries to seize up. At one point she said, "This is fun, isn't it? Like girlfriends."

"You miss Lorna?"

"Yeah, I do. She was a kick. After work, her and me would pal around downtown, find a coffee shop, have breakfast. I remember once we bought a quart of orange juice and a bottle of champagne. We sat out in the grass at my place and drank mimosas until dawn."

"I'm sorry I never got to meet her. She sounds nice."

At eight we folded the box and stuck it in the trash. Danielle put her jacket on while I got mine. Once outside, she asked me to drop her off at her place. I took a left on Cabana, following her directions as she routed me down a narrow alleyway not that far from Neptune's Palace. Her "hovel," as she referred to it, was a tiny board-and-batten structure at the rear of someone else's yard. The little house had probably been a toolshed at one time. She got out of the car and leaned back in the window. "You want to come in and see my place?"

"Maybe tomorrow night," I said. "I got some stuff to do tonight."

"Pop by if you can. I got it fixed up real cute. If business is slow, I'm usually home by one… provided Lester isn't bugging me to score. Thanks for dinner and the ride."

"Thanks for the cut."

I watched her clop off into the night, high heels tapping on the short brick walk to her front door, dark hair trailing down her back like a veil. I fired up my car and headed for the Keplers' house.

I parked in the driveway and made my way along the flagstone path leading to the porch. The porch light was off, and the yard was dark as pitch. I picked my way up the low front stairs, which were dimly illuminated by the light from the living room windows. Janice had told me they usually ate dinner at this hour. I tapped on the front door and from the direction of the kitchen heard a chair scrape back.

Mace answered my knock, his body blocking most of the light spilling out the door. I smelled tuna casserole. He had a paper napkin in one hand, and he made a swipe at his mouth. "Oh, it's you. We're eating supper right now."

"Is Janice here?"

"She's already left. She works eleven to seven every day, but some girl got sick and she went in early. Try tomorrow," he said. He was already moving to shut the door in my face.

"Mind if I talk to you?"

His face went momentarily blank, just a tiny flick of temper that wiped out any other expression. "Pardon?"

"I wondered if you'd object to a quick chat," I said.

"Yeah, I do. I work a long, hard day, and I don't like people watching while I eat."

I felt a flash of heat, as though somebody'd taken a blow torch to the back of my neck. "Maybe later," I said. I turned and moved down the porch steps. As the door closed behind me, he muttered something obscene.

I backed out of the drive with a chirp and threw the car into first. What a turd. I did not like the man at all. He was a horse's ass and a jerk, and I hoped he had itchy hemorrhoids. I drove randomly, trying to cool down. I couldn't even think what to do with myself. I would have gone to Frankie's to talk to Janice, but I knew I'd say spiteful things about her spouse.

Instead, I went to the Caliente Cafe, looking for Cheney Phillips. It was still early tor a Wednesday night, but CC's was already crowded, sound system blasting and enough cigarette smoke to make breathing unpleasant. For a place with no Happy Hour, no two-for-one deals, and no hors d'oeuvres (unless you count chips and salsa as a form of canapé), CC's does a lively business from the time it opens at five p.m. until it closes at two in the morning. Cheney was sitting at the bar in a dress shirt, faded jeans, and a pair of desert boots. He had a beer in front of him and was talking with the guy sitting next to him. When he saw me, he grinned. Lordy, I'm a sucker for good teeth, "Ms. Millhone. How are you? You got your hair cut. It looks good."