spikey energy. “Sometimes I get so interested in what I’m doing, I forget to eat. Anyway, I’m really proud of the scrapbook I’m working on now. Do you want to see it?” When we said yes, she took us both by the hand and drew us towards the table. “Did you know that this year will be the twenty-fifth anniversary of Cut ‘n’ Curl?”
Margot was pensive. “I guess that’s about right. Rhondelle gave me my first dye job there. My mother just about killed her – and me.”
“If you can find a picture, I’ll make a page for you. We’re having a surprise party for Rhondelle at George’s Steak House on the long weekend. I’m going to present her with this scrapbook.” Mandy picked up a page from the table. A photo was already glued into place in the upper left quadrant of the page. “That’s Cristal getting a spiral perm for grad.” The photo was of a very young Cristal, draped in a plastic cape, half her hair wound around medieval-looking rods, looking nervously into the beauty shop mirror as a generously proportioned redhead wound another strand of her hair around yet another rod.
Mandy picked up another picture, one of Cristal in her prom gown. Rhondelle had triumphed. Cristal’s hair was an explosion of curls. “Remember what Rhondelle used to call this style?” Mandy said.
Margot chortled. “Jacked-up-to-Jesus hair.”
“I was going to write that on the page,” Mandy said. “ ‘Cristal with her Jacked-up-to-Jesus hair,’ but I was afraid it was sacrilegious.”
Margot touched the photograph of Cristal gently. “Put that on the page,” she said. “It’s not sacrilegious. It’s just Rhondelle being Rhondelle.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Mandy said.
“I’m sure,” Margot said. “Look, Mandy, I’m sorry. We can’t stay very long, but I wanted you to know where things stand with Cristal’s estate. I’ve just discovered the name of the law firm that drew up the will. I should have some information for you tonight.”
Mandy bit her lip. “I really appreciate this. I don’t have a clue how these things work.”
“Well, I do, but I don’t know how to cut hair, so we’re even.” Margot said.
Mandy looked down at the photo of her sister. “If Cristal’s boyfriend gets involved, I won’t have to deal with him, will I?”
Margot stiffened, suddenly alert. “I didn’t know Cristal had a boyfriend.”
“Oh yes. Those other men – that was just her business. He was the one she loved.”
“Do you know his name?” I asked.
“She never told me. He didn’t want anybody to know who he was.”
“Was he married?” Margot said.
Mandy looked miserable – trapped. “I don’t know. All I know is she said she loved him, but she was afraid of him” – suddenly, the old bounce was back – “and you should never be afraid of the man who’s supposed to love you.”
“Did you and Cristal talk about this?” I asked.
Mandy placed the scrapbook page back on the table, positioned the photograph of Cristal on her prom night, then laid a paper frame carefully over it. The frame was the same shade of foam-green as Cristal’s dress. “The frames just came in the mail today,” Mandy said. “I was afraid the colour wouldn’t be right.”
“It’s a perfect match,” I said.
Margot swept her hand across her eyes. “Goddammit,” she said. “Mandy, this is important. Did Cristal never tell you her boyfriend’s name?”
“She said if it got out they were together, it would hurt him professionally.”
“And that didn’t worry her?” Margot’s hands were at her sides, balled into fists.
“It worried me,” Mandy said simply. “And I must have asked her a million times to tell me his name. She’d never tell me. She’d just laugh and say he was her perfect three.”
I felt my nerves twang. “And that meant something to you?” I said.
Mandy’s brown eyes were guileless. “Sure. It was a game the girls at our school played. It’s been around forever.” She looked at Margot. “You must remember.”
Margot nodded. “The girl subtracts the number of letters in the name of the boy she likes from the number of letters in her name. The difference is supposed to be the number of kids they’ll have when they get married.”
“And Cristal wanted three children,” I said.
Mandy shot me a grateful look. “That’s right,” she said. “Cristal always wanted three kids: two girls and a boy. I guess when her life turned out the way it did, she had something done so she wouldn’t get pregnant.”
Margot sat down in the chair opposite Mandy and leaned forward with her chin cupped in her hands. “Do you have any idea why your sister ended up the way she did?”
“As a prostitute? You can say the word. Cristal knew what she was, but she wouldn’t talk about how it happened. I think it was because of her boyfriend.”
“He made her do it?” I said.
“I don’t know for sure. All I know is that the last time I talked to her, Cristal said she did everything he wanted, but it was never enough.”
Margot couldn’t seem to get out of the house quickly enough. She embraced Mandy and told her she’d call her that night, then she sprinted to the car. I barely had my seat belt buckled before she backed her BMW out of the driveway and hit the road. We didn’t get far. As soon as we were on the outskirts of town, Margot drove onto the lot in front of an Esso gas station.
“Is there a problem with the car?” I said.
“No, there’s a problem with me. I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I was going to spontaneously combust. Why would any woman let a man do that to her life? What was the matter with Cristal? God damn it to hell. What was going on in her head?” Margot banged her fists against the steering wheel until the tears came. Then she blew her nose, checked her lipstick, and turned to me. “I’m okay now.”
“Are you okay enough to do a little elementary math?”
Margot narrowed her eyes. “Shoot.”
“There are thirteen letters in Jason Brodnitz’s name and there are thirteen letters in Cristal Avilia’s name. Thirteen minus thirteen is zero.”
“Jason’s not Cristal’s perfect three.”
“Apparently not.”
I called Zack when we were on the outskirts of the city. “We’ll be home in ten minutes,” I said. “You can open the Bombay Sapphire.”
“Hallelujah.”
I closed my cell. “The martinis will be waiting,” I said. “Are you going to claim Zack’s tie?”
“On the basis of a game Cristal played with her boyfriends’ names? I may be a cockeyed optimist, but I’m not stupid. I have to tighten my case before I take Zack’s tie.” She gave me a sidelong grin. “But I will take immense pleasure in drinking his martini.”
When Margot turned onto our street, Sean Barton’s blue Camry Hybrid was in our driveway.
“Company?” Margot said.
“Sean Barton.”
“As ever, eager to serve,” Margot said tightly. “Joanne, I’ll come in to get my file, but I’m going to take a rain check on that drink.”
“You don’t like Sean.”
She shrugged. “I’ll learn to get along with him. I just don’t want to start today.”
Zack and Sean were in the office. They both had their laptops open, and the dogs were with them.
I went over and kissed Zack. “Good day?”
“Profitable,” Zack said.
Sean stood and offered Margot his chair, but she refused with a smile, then bent and put her arms around Pantera’s neck. “How are you doing, big boy? That remote you ate giving you any problems?”
“So far so good,” Zack said. “I called Peter, and he said to let it pass.”
“Oldest vet joke in the book,” I said.
“But good advice,” Margot said, scooping up the sealed envelope that contained her client’s file and dropping it in her briefcase.
