Saturday, March 14, 2009

Relaxer Can Be Murder


Chuck wanted to throw his chair through the window. He’d had so much fun interrogating his suspects. But he never anticipated any of them being smart enough to bring a lawyer.
The two incredibly attractive women sauntered into his office. Suddenly the space seemed too small, too constricting. But he had a job to do. He had to remind himself that he was in charge, and these were women after all. How difficult could the interview be?
“Have a seat, ladies.” He motioned to the two worn chairs in front of his desk.
“Good morning detective. I’m Contessa Mendes of Lewis, Mendes & James.” She held the card between her index and middle fingers. “I’ll be representing Miss Mendes.”
Chuck dispensed with his usual intimidation tactics. He tried to size her up, but when he looked at Contessa, her dark eyes bore holes in his forehead, and he knew she would never cower. “Mendes? Are the two of you related?”
“Yes detective,” she smiled. “Lucinda is my daughter.”
He didn’t know what to do. Contessa made him nervous, and that never happened. Maybe it was the mama bear protecting her cub that made him uneasy, or the fact that she would know he was clueless when he began to question Lucy.
Chuck didn’t have a choice. He needed to ask Lucy a few questions. He looked down at his notepad and decided to start with a basic question. “Miss Mendes, what was your relationship with Macy?”
“She was my boss.”
“How did you feel about her after she fired you for not having paid booth fees for months?”
Contessa’s intense focus turned to Lucy. The detective had found a chink and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
“It says here,” he pointed to his notes. “That you owed Macy over $3500. Now, I’m not an expert in beauty parlors, but it seems that when business is good, it’s good. Why weren’t you paying her? I mean, I honestly can’t see why she didn’t get rid of you a long time ago.”
Lucy’s eyes studied the floor. “I didn’t pay her because I hated her. She was a greedy monster! But I didn’t want her dead. I---”
“That’s enough, Lucinda. Detective,” The Mendes’ stood. “If you want to ask my client any more questions, my number is on that card."

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