Save Her Soul (Detective Josie Quinn #9)(45)
Josie felt a small thrill of excitement. A lead. She couldn’t recall the name of the salon Lisette referred to, but she’d driven past it plenty of times. What was more, if it was near the college, it was definitely not flooded. If it had always been a salon, then there was a chance that someone who still worked there would remember Vera. A slim chance, but she’d take it.
They finished the game and Josie stood to leave, walking around to give Lisette a hug and kiss. As she pulled away from her grandmother, Lisette gripped her and held her close. Into Josie’s ear, she said, “You know how much I love you, right?”
Josie felt Lisette’s curls tickling her cheek. “Of course, Gram. I love you too.”
“You’re mine and I’m yours, Josie. No matter what. Nothing in the world can change that. Don’t ever forget it.”
Josie’s heart skipped a beat and then stuttered back to life. She pulled back and looked into Lisette’s face. “You okay, Gram? Is there something you want to tell me?”
Lisette smiled and put a hand to Josie’s cheek. “I just did.”
Josie held her eyes for a moment longer. Her throat felt dry. “You’re not dying, are you?”
Lisette laughed and relinquished Josie. “No, certainly not. There’s nothing to worry about, dear. Now, I know you have to get back to work. I’ll see you soon.”
Twenty-Two
Lisette’s strange words swam through Josie’s mind on a loop as she drove through Denton, searching for the salon Lisette had mentioned. It was in a strip mall with large glass storefronts. The sign outside read Envy. Josie knew it hadn’t always been called Envy, but she couldn’t remember the name of the salon before it had changed over. She parked in the lot and walked in, immediately assailed by the smell of chemicals. The inside of the salon looked like something out of a magazine. The waiting room was filled with cushioned chairs, small tables covered in magazines, and even a table with complimentary snacks and drinks. Music played softly. Behind the receptionist’s counter was a large room with ten styling chairs on each side and a hair-washing station at the back. Three of the chairs were occupied. Stylists, dressed all in black, flitted about, sweeping, mixing hair dye, and chatting up the clients.
Josie waited at the counter until someone called out, “Be right with you!”
A few minutes later, a door to the right of the reception area opened and a woman in her sixties walked in. She seemed to float in her long black cotton dress, her smile wide and welcoming. Dangling gold earrings clashed against her short silver hair, cut in a chic pixie style.
“What’s your name?” she asked Josie, moving over to the reception desk and clicking away on the computer.
“Oh, I’m not here for an appointment,” Josie said. She introduced herself and gave the woman her credentials.
She smiled as she handed them back. “What can I do for you, Detective Quinn?”
“I was wondering if you or anyone else employed here worked here before this place was called Envy?”
The woman nodded and placed a well-manicured hand on her chest. “I’m the owner. I was the owner back when it was called ‘Bliss’. Actually, I was a co-owner of Bliss. I bought my partner out about ten years ago and rebranded. I’m Sara Venuto, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” Josie said. “I’m here to find out anything you could tell me about a former employee. Vera Urban.”
Sara’s smile faltered as she thought about it. “Vera Urban…”
Josie took out her phone and pulled up the driver’s license photo of Vera they had found. She showed it to Sara.
“Oh my goodness, yes!” Sara exclaimed. “Vera. We called her V. Wow. I haven’t thought about her in ages. Is she—” She broke off, the lines of her face deepening, sadness turning the corners of her mouth downward. Her voice lowered. “If you’re here asking about her, I assume it’s not good news.”
Josie pocketed her phone. “I’m afraid it’s not. You may have seen the news about the body found recently on Hempstead.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t. I haven’t been watching the news much lately. It’s been very sad to watch our little city decimated by the flooding. There’s only so much coverage I can take before I feel like I’ll have a nervous breakdown.”
“I understand,” Josie said. “The house where Vera used to live with her daughter washed away yesterday. Under the foundation we found Beverly’s body.”
Sara gasped and braced herself against the desk, finally drawing the attention of the room behind her. “My God,” she said. Glancing behind her, she gave the stylists a wave, and they carried on with their work. She turned back to Josie. “Why don’t we go into my office?”
She led Josie through the door she’d emerged from into a small office painted in gray tones with a simple desk and some filing cabinets. A guest chair sat before the desk and Sara motioned Josie to sit. Then she dragged her own chair around so there was no barrier between the two of them. Her face was still distraught as she sat down, hugged her middle, and leaned in toward Josie. “Please,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Beverly Urban was murdered. We haven’t been able to locate Vera.”