Ashes to Dust (Las Vegas Mystery)

broadly, offered a handshake to Alice and Snow, and then led them into her dining room, where she seated them at a cherrywood dining table. A matching hutch stood against the wall; the other walls were adorned with framed paintings of various flowers.
    “This is lovely,” Alice said, studying the pictures.
    “Thank you,” Charity said. “I did all the paintings myself, including the ones in the living room—although those aren’t flowers. I prefer painting flowers, but I didn’t want them in every room.”
    “They look professionally done,” Snow said, scooting his chair closer to the table. “Have you considered selling any of them?”
    Charity stood at the head of the table, her hands resting on the back of her chair. “I do, actually,” she said. “Though only to my customers. I’m a hairstylist. I converted one of my bedrooms upstairs. Had it plumbed for water and put in a shampoo sink, along with everything else I needed to turn it into a functional salon.” Charity smiled politely and then asked, “Would you like some pie and coffee?”
    Alice and Snow looked at each other. Alice turned her head back toward Charity. “Oh no, I don’t think so, but thank you.”
    “Are you sure?” she said. “I have a refrigerator full of pies. There is nothing I love doing more than painting—except baking pies. I have cherry pie, blueberry, pumpkin, and banana cream.”
    “Banana cream sounds good,” Snow chimed in.
    Alice smiled. “Alright, I’ll have the blueberry.” She started to get up. “Let me help you with it.”
    Crystal put her hand out. “No, you relax, I’ll get it. Anyone want cream or sugar?”
    They shook their heads.
    “Just cream in my pie,” Snow said, grinning.
    She brought out the pie and the coffee, and then she sat down.
    Alice put her napkin on her lap and took a sip of coffee. “Did you grow up in Las Vegas, Charity?”
    Charity began to cut a slice from her pumpkin pie with her fork. “No,” she said. “I’m from Green River, Wyoming. It’s a nice little town, but probably not a very good place to try to set up a beauty salon. I picked Las Vegas because it’s not too far from home, so I can visit my folks on a regular basis. And I like it here. Plus, it’s nice to know some of the water I use here flows past my hometown to get here.”
    “So, how did you meet Erin Potter?” Alice said.
    Charity had finished carving through her slice of pie and slid her fork under it. “She’s been a customer for a couple years now. One of my other customers recommended me to her.” She lifted the forkful of pie to her mouth and began to chew.
    “The two of you are close friends?” Alice asked.
    She set her fork on her plate and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “No,” she said. “The only time I see Erin is when she comes over to get her hair cut.”
    “Was she here last Tuesday?”
    “No. The last time I saw Erin was about three weeks ago.”
    “Erin told us she was here most of the day and spent the night here,” Alice said.
    Charity put her hands in her lap and looked Alice in the eye. “I know. She called me not long before you got here. She wanted me to tell you that story, and I told her I would, but I can’t lie about that.”
    “Why do you think she would need an alibi?” Alice said.
    Charity shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe she had something to do with that murder, but I doubt it. She doesn’t seem like that sort of person—and I hope nothing I tell you here will get back to her or anyone else.”
    “We’ll keep it to ourselves,” Alice said. “What sort of person is Erin Potter?”
    “She’s the type who lies about nearly everything—like it’s her hobby. She collects lies the way some people collect pressed flowers. Keeps them all filed away for easy access and brings them out whenever she can, to show everybody. I don’t understand why she does it, but then, I don’t understand why most people do the things they do.”
    She reached for her coffee cup, took a sip, and set it back on the table. “One thing that has remained consistent, though, is what happened to her parents. Apparently they both ended up in prison, and it sounds like their convictions had to do with her.”
    “When did they go to prison?” Snow asked.
    “She was nine, I think,” Charity said. “Her grandparents raised her.”
    “That’s too bad,” Snow said. “That could explain a lot.”
    Charity nodded. “Yes, it’s sad. Also, she’s had nothing but