One of Us Is Dead(56)

“Why did you come to Buckhead in the first place?” he asks. I’m not sure if he’s just filling in the lulls in our conversation or he’s generally curious; or perhaps he thinks I had something to do with all of this.

“Just needed a change in scenery,” I say. “I always liked the South. I was born in the Midwest. Couldn’t stand the cold weather any longer. When I decided I was going to open up my own salon, I knew it’d be somewhere south.”

“Where in the Midwest?”

“Wisconsin.”

“Brrrrr. I feel cold just hearing the word Wisconsin.” He laughs.

I gave a small smile.

“And what do you do when you’re not working?” Detective Sanford finishes up his slice of pizza.

“Not much. I’m typically always working.”

“Glow is your whole life?” He leans back in his chair, and his eyes bounce all over me as if he’s trying to figure me out. Trying to put me together like a puzzle.

“It’s a big part of it.” I lean back in my chair, matching his demeanor.

“It must have been rather aggravating to have these women stirring up drama and bickering over everything. Then to have their husbands physically fighting in your salon, the place you worked so hard to make successful.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I knew it came with the territory, so it didn’t bother me. I found it more annoying than anything that these grown men and women couldn’t act like adults.” The corners of my lips perk up.

“Right . . .” he says.

“These women paid well. They tipped well. They made me very comfortable, financially. So, as long as they weren’t killing each other in my salon, I didn’t care what they did.” I grab another slice of pizza and plop it on my paper plate.

“Well, lucky for you the murder didn’t happen at Glow then.” Detective Sanford raises his brows.

“You know what I mean.” I fold my arms in front of my chest.

He lets on a smirk.

“We’ve determined the murder weapon was a Glock 19. Do you know anyone that would have access to that?” he asks.

“Any one of them could have had access. Guns are easy to come by in this country, especially in Georgia,” I say, twisting up my lips.

Detective Sanford nods and grabs another slice of pizza.





46

Jenny


I refilled the spray tan machine and set out a pile of folded, freshly cleaned towels. Exiting the room, I returned to the main salon area. Shannon had left a few minutes before, and Crystal was gathering her things, while Karen and Keisha sat on the couches socializing.

“Spray tan room is all set to go. It shouldn’t malfunction again,” I said to Keisha. She nodded and thanked me.

“Thanks so much for fitting me in today,” Crystal said as she admired her fresh hairstyle in the mirror. Like Shannon, she had also come in for a deep conditioning treatment.

“Not a problem.”

She gave me a hug and said goodbye to Keisha and Karen, disappearing behind the black curtains. Keisha and Karen stood from their seats.

“I’m going to catch up on some cleaning and take a nap. Are you okay to cover the salon for a couple hours?” I asked Keisha.

She waved her hand at me. “Take all the time you need. You look exhausted.”

“Are you sure?” I cocked my head at her.

“I’m positive. Besides, if I need you, I’ll just bang on the ceiling with a broom.” Keisha laughed.

I smiled and said goodbye to both of them and walked through to the back of the salon. I had had four additional locks installed on the back door—a chain lock and three dead bolts. I slid the chain over, and after three clicks from the bolts, the door was open. I could never be too safe now. Out in the alley, I climbed a flight of stairs and unlocked the door to my apartment. There were three dead bolts there too. No one had ever seen my apartment, except Keisha. I was rarely up here myself—just to sleep, basically. My whole life was the salon.

The sound of the door closing echoed throughout my apartment, thanks to it being barely furnished. There was a small table with two chairs in the kitchen. The living room had only the essentials: a couch, a coffee table, an area rug, a couple of pillows, one throw blanket, a laptop, and a stack of books and magazines. I didn’t even have a television.

I had one framed photo on the wall. I walked to it, admiring the smiling faces in the picture and the gold frame that outlined it. It was a photo of my sister, her husband, and their two young kids. She looked like a younger version of me by a couple of years. Her children were blond with big blue eyes and even bigger smiles. Her husband towered over her petite size with light-brown hair and green eyes. I had never met the children, my niece and nephew. It was difficult for me to take time off from the salon. She hadn’t been down to visit me since before she started her family. It was challenging for her to travel with young kids. We were sisters, connected by DNA and a shared upbringing, but other than that, we were strangers. I guess that’s what happens when a person makes work their whole life. I pressed my fingertips to the glass, touching it for a moment. Letting out a deep breath, I allowed my hand to fall back to my side and made my way to the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of red wine from an already opened bottle. Prior to the break-in, I wasn’t a big drinker. Well actually, prior to the break-in, I wasn’t a lot of things. I wasn’t scared, jumpy, or anxious. I didn’t wake up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. I didn’t double-and triple-check that doors were locked. I didn’t tense up every time the bell chimed at the salon. That night had taken a piece of me, and I wasn’t sure I was ever going to get it back.