In Death 38 - Thankless in Death

kiosks, the shelves, the customers who, like Peabody, played with samples or loaded up silver baskets with products they figured would make them sexier, prettier, softer, smoother, younger.
    Feeling Peabody’s attention wander, Eve bared her teeth. Peabody quickened her pace.
    “Marsella? I’d like you to help these women.”
    “I’d love to.” Marsella, her short, sharp cap of raven black edged with candy pink, beamed a welcoming smile. “What a stellar and interesting cut,” she said to Eve. “So few could pull that off. I have a wonderful product that would punch out your highlights. And I love the casual day-do,” she said to Peabody. I bet you’d look
mag
in hot curls for an evening bounce. The home-care kit is incredibly easy to do. And you could—”
    “Fascinating,” Eve interrupted in a tone that said otherwise. “But we’re more interested in him.”
    She flashed the photo of Reinhold, and her badge.
    “Oh. Oh.” Marsella shot a wide-eyed—smoked lids, heavily kohled—glance at her manager. “I don’t understand.”
    “Do you recognize him?” Eve demanded.
    “Well, yeah. I don’t understand,” she repeated.
    “How do you recognize him?”
    “From yesterday, when I served him. I don’t—”
    “Understand,” Eve finished. “What time did you serve him?”
    “Um, um. He came in maybe around one-thirty. I’m not sure, but it was right after I got back from lunch.”
    “I need your surveillance discs from yesterday. Open till close.” After ordering the manager, Eve turned back to Marsella. “Do you remember what you … served him?”
    “Tropical Blond Hair Color, with a caramel lowlights add-on kit, Drenched shampoo and conditioner—color bond—the Master of Your Own deluxe styling kit.”
    She rattled them off as if itemized in her head.
    “He wanted other products from other sections, so I stuck with him, recommended the Sun Blast Bronzer—face and body in number four. Um … the Solie Quench, again face and body, and the Lightning Blue Eye kit by Francesco. He wanted the top of the line. I suggested he apply for the store credit service, which would give him ten percent off on his purchases, but he wanted to pay cash.”
    She bit her lip. “I offered him the free consult, and recommended Aly do his eye change here on site for a very reasonable fee, but he blew that off. If done incorrectly, it can cause swelling or redness, but he insisted on pay and go. He signed the waiver, so if he had a problem, I don’t understand why he called the police.”
    “Don’t watch much screen, Marsella? Don’t keep up with current events?”
    “I’ve been pretty busy. My sister and her fam’s coming in for Thanksgiving, and I’m helping my mother … Why?”
    “If you had I think you’d recognize him from media reports. His name is Jerald Reinhold, and he killed three people in the last couple days.”
    “He—I—
God
!” Taking a quick step back, she slapped a hand to her heart. “Oh my God! He was right here, and I worked with him for at least a half hour. Am I in trouble?”
    “Why would you be?”
    “I don’t know. I sold him all those products. It was a really nice commission. I even did the comp morph to show him how he could look after using everything.”
    Now Eve smiled. “Can you still call that up?”
    “I—Yes! I can. I think. I just feel so … Can I get some water? I feel a little shaky. He seemed so
normal
. Kind of clueless and trying to act like he knew all about it. Oh, oh, he bought a piercing kit, too. I forgot.”
    Pausing just a moment, she fanned a hand in front of her face. “He bought the A Hole in One kit, and a gold hoop from accessories. I forgot.”
    Sympathetic—and impressed with her memory—Eve tried to calm her. “No, you didn’t, and this helps us a lot. Get your water, Marsella, take a breath, then show us the morph.”
    “Thanks. I feel kind of sick. Who did he kill?”
    “His parents and his ex-girlfriend.”
    Her exotic eyes filled. “Come on! Not really.”
    “Really. Let’s move it, Marsella.”
    “Okay. Okay.” She scrambled away, wobbling some on her towering heels.
    “Good call on this place, Peabody.”
    “Jackpot.”
    “I can’t figure out why he didn’t spread his purchases out, other venues, the way he did for the clothes, the tools, the selling his loot.”
    “Because you don’t get the lure.” On a lusty sigh, Peabody turned a little circle, scanning with eyes full of reverence and desire.