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“Yes and yes,” Denise replied with an emphatic nod as she adjusted the temperature of the water. Color me impressed. She’d offered the truth. “Tom and this gentleman guy were all he discussed. It was a true obsession. I had no choice but to kick him to the curb. Do you know how frustrating it is dealing with nonstop blabbering over secret plots, hidden agendas, and crime networks? His paranoia was over the top.”
Hmm. Usually people found one nice thing to spout about a deceased partner. Even a former partner. But Denise could only scrounge up a desire not to see the deputy die?
Conrad did like to say a significant other was most often responsible for a murder. Or he’d mentioned it once. Whatever. It had certainly turned out to be true when Jane’s lawyer wound up murdered on her property, killed by his ex. And look at Ana Irons, offed by someone she’d dated for a story.
So, what would be Denise’s motive for killing Gunn? Had he caught her doing something she shouldn’t and threatened to expose her? Maybe he was the one who’d broken up with her, and she’d exacted revenge.
Warm water soaked Jane’s hair. As the hairdresser’s long, blunt-tipped nails massaged shampoo into the drenched mane, a floral fragrance filled her nostrils, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Mmm, this was heavenly. Maybe Denise was innocent.
“Did the deputy mention his feelings for Tom?” Jane asked, barely stopping herself from slurring the words.
“Oh yeah. Plenty. Joshie hated Tom with every fiber of his being,” she said, rinsing out the shampoo and replacing it with coconut-scented conditioner. “Called the guy a jackal and swore to prove it to the whole town, especially his daughter.”
Well, well. Hello motive. For the deputy and Tom and Madeline Gunn. “Did the deputy hate Tom enough to plant evidence and arrest him?”
“That, I’m not sure of.” Denise wrung out her wet hair, wrapped the locks in a towel, and led her to a spinning chair. “He had a moral compass, but he didn’t always consult it, if you know what I mean.”
In other words, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Jane tried a different route. “What crimes did he claim this Gentleman committed?” Racketeering? Extortion? Loan sharking? Tax evasion? Something connected to Tom? “And did he ever describe the Gentleman’s appearance?”
Denise’s expression scrunched up as she combed out Jane’s wet hair. “To my recollection, he never mentioned specific details.” She pinned locks up and tugged hunks straight. Then the cutting began. “Joshie—guess I should call him Josh now, huh. Anyway, he always spoke in generalities. Major up-and-coming bad guy. Breaks the law. Illegal activities. Blah, blah, blah. But I do think I have a file he worked on at the house. I’ll send it your way if I find it.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Jane cut off a squeal of delight. When a long, dark lock fell to the floor, however, she gaped. Um, was she going to leave bald? “Is there anything else you’re willing to share?”
“Maybe,” Denise said after a moment of thought. “After I spoke with the inspector detective guys, I remembered Josh did tell me Tom was higher up in the cartel than he’d originally believed.”
Ohhh. A detail Conrad needed to know. But was sharing case elements as if they were candy something Gunn did often? “Did the deputy discuss any other cases with you?”
“Nope. But then, he wasn’t obsessed with anything else.” Finally, Denise sheathed the scissors and grabbed the hair dryer. When she spun the chair, Jane lost her view of the mirror. Beau was no longer in sight.
Had he left, or was he trying to hide now?
As the other woman applied the finishing touches on her new style, Jane texted Conrad her hot tip.
Jane: Tom Bennett might be higher up the Gentleman’s food chain than we thought!
“Ta da! All done,” Denise said, dramatically whisking off the poncho and spinning the chair for the big reveal.
When Jane caught a glimpse of her reflection, she forgot about her phone. Oh. Oh wow. Okay. This was kind of, well, amazingly awesome. She brushed her fingers through the silken locks. The layered pieces brought a delicacy to her features she’d never noticed before.
“Jane owes us both a huge tip,” Tiffany said with all kinds of satisfaction.
“And yet Denise is the only one who’s getting a dime,” Jane replied. “You also get smiles and hugs. I’m rich in those.” She popped up to hug the stylist, who merely patted her back. “Oh! Don’t forget to vote Conrad Ryan for sheriff.” Her phone dinged, signaling a text.
Remembering her message to Conrad, she read over the screen, stiffening.
Agent Spice: Bennett left town. We can’t find him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thou shall always note the exits of any building in case you need to make a speedy escape.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
