STYLIST: A Psycho-Sexual Thriller Read online

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, please. My name is Sonia Lovello. I’m here to see Detective Terryfield.”

  “Just a moment, please.”

  Clarke walked to desk located a few feet from the counter-top-to-ceiling plexi-glass window which separated her from visitors, picked up a telephone and spoke quietly.

  Sonia looked around the lobby, then beyond Clarke toward the back of the records division work area. The wall at the rear of the reception desk was lined with metal shelves which held case files – thousands of them. Many of the files had different brightly-colored covers. Sonia stared, transfixed by the sheer numbers.

  Are those all crimes?

  Clarke placed the phone receiver back onto its cradle and returned to where the visitor waited.

  “He’ll be right up. I need to see some form of identification, please. Do you have a driver’s license?”

  “Yes.”

  Sonia removed her license from the purse she carried and put it into the steel-bottomed pass-through drawer which was placed directly beneath a circular opening at the center of the window. The drawer slid toward Clarke and she removed the license. The records tech retreated to her desk, sat down, made some hasty entries on a visitor log and returned to the window. A moment later the drawer slid toward the lobby again and Sonia picked up a visitor’s ID tag.

  “Clip that to your blouse. I’ll trade it for your driver’s license when you’re ready to leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A door opened to Sonia’s right. Miles Terryfield walked into the lobby and extended his hand.

  “Hello, Sonia. I’m Detective Terryfield. Thank you so much for coming in to talk with me.”

  He was looking at a forty-something woman of average height. Her dark brown hair was curled in large waves and fell to her shoulders. She had rather thin lips, a straight nose and bright green eyes. Her makeup had been flawlessly applied, her fingernails were perfectly manicured. She wore walking shorts, a short-sleeved white blouse and leather sandals. She’d been out in the summer sun, as her smooth, tanned arms and legs made obvious. Terryfield took in her entire persona within an instant as Sonia took his hand in hers.

  She had a very strong grip. Unusually strong for a woman. And she looked him directly in his eyes as they sized each other up.

  He released her hand. “Come with me, please.”

  She followed him through the same door from which he’d made his appearance, then walked beside him through a maze of hallways to a small interview room in the detective division.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “What do you take with it?”

  “A little creamer if you have it.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Sonia waited for him, somewhat nervously tapping her fingernails on the table top. A few minutes later Terryfield was back with two Styrofoam cups. He sat down at a chair across the table from her position.

  “Here you are. Hope that’s enough creamer. I drink mine black.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “Are you ready? I’m going to take notes, but we’re also going to be video recording the interview. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Okay. We’ll get started.”

  There was a soft tapping sound at a square two-way mirror which had been installed on one of the walls opposite Sonia’s position. It was Terryfield’s cue to let him know that the recording equipment was operating.

  He began with the standard self-introduction, the case number, the date and time of the interview, and reiterated that the conversation was to be in regard to the death of Emma Saunders. Lastly he introduced Sonia as the subject of the interview.

  “Tell me how you knew Emma Saunders.”

  “She was one of my hair clients. I did her hair for five or six years.”

  “Did you ever meet her husband, Jack Saunders?”

  “No. He never came into my shop.”

  “Did Emma talk with you about what was going on in her private life?”

  “Oh, yes. Stylists are sort of amateur psychotherapists. At least it seems that way. Our clients tell us everything. Or, mostly everything. They open right up. Their personal lives become an open book when they get to the salon. I don’t know why that is, but it just seems to be what happens.”

  “So I’ve heard. That’s why I asked you to come in today. Did Emma share with you what was going on in her private life? Any conflicts or problems she was experiencing?”

  “If you’re referring to her husband, Jack, yes. She was having troubles with him. Is that what you’re getting at?”

  “Well, I suppose that’s a part of it. Go ahead. What’d she say was going on in her marriage?”

  “She told me Jack is a drinker. A heavy drinker. She always talked about wanting him to quit. He’d stop for a while and then start again. Sometimes he got mean. She told me she’d go into the bedroom to get away from him when he was really drunk. A couple of times she actually left him and went to stay at her sister’s home in Denver.”

  “Why?”

  “She was afraid of him.”

  “Did he ever hit her?”

  “She never told me that. But she was scared.”

  “Did she say anything about him threatening her?”

  “No.”

  “What else did she tell you?”

  “She said they had no sex life. They hadn’t had sex for a couple of years. And that didn’t bother her. She really didn’t want anything to do with him in that way.”

  “Sounds like it was a troubled marriage.”

  “She was very unhappy. And she was such a sweet woman. She was so gentle and considerate. They have a son in the Marine Corps. He’s over in Iraq. Anyway, she went on this vacation in Portugal to get away from Jack and his drinking. She needed to escape for a little while.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oh, yes. She told me she thought he was having an affair.”

  What a surprise.

  “What did she tell you about that? Did she know who it was?”

  “No. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. He was out a lot at night – and on the weekends. She told me he’d cut off his phone calls when she walked in on him. But, no, she had no idea who he might be seeing. It didn’t matter any more. I asked her if the idea bothered her. She said it didn’t bother her in the least. And I believed her.”

  “Did she ever talk about divorce?”

  “She wasn’t ready to do that. I don’t know if she had some hope they could repair the damage his drinking had done or not. I just don’t know. But she was a very unhappy woman.”

  “Was she in financial trouble?”

  “If she was, she never told me about it.”

  “Did she ever tell you that she was in conflict with anyone else in her life, besides her husband?”

  “No. Never. Emma was a really good person. She had friends. I don’t know of anyone who would have wanted her to come to anything like this.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else you can think of that I should know?”

  “Mmmm. I can’t think of anything at the moment. But I’ll call if I do think of something.”

  “Is it possible for me to get a list of all your clients? I’d like to check some of your appointment records to see if there are any common connections with Emma among them.”

  “I don’t see why not. When would you like me to give that to you?”

  “Perhaps I can stop by your shop early tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure. That’ll be fine. I’m in by seven-thirty. My appointments start at eight.”

  “I’ll be there at seven-thirty. I don’t want to disrupt your business day.”

  “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you, Sonia. I’ll end the interview.”

  Terryfield escorted her back through the
maze and out to the lobby. At the plexi-glass window she traded the sheriff’s visitor ID tag for her driver’s license and turned back to face Terryfield. He extended his hand and again noticed the strength in her grip.

  “Thank you for coming in.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope I gave you some help.”

  “Well, we never know what’s going to be important later on in the investigation. Remember to call if you think of anything else.”

  “I will. Oh. Wait. I just thought of this. You’ll probably think this is funny. Or stupid.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, one of your fellow officers is also my client. Tammy Lenkovsky. Do you know her?”

  “Yes. I know Tammy.”

  “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything. I don’t even know if it’s worth mentioning.”

  “Well, tell me, anyway.”

  “Tammy was gone for a couple of weeks at the same time that Emma was on her cruise. I don’t know where she was. She didn’t come in for her regular appointment. That’s the first time that’s ever happened. She’s always been very much on a schedule to have me cut her hair. And she’s been a client for two years now. I just thought it was odd. Isn’t that funny? I wondered if she could have had something to do with this. I have no idea why that popped into my mind. What a twist that would be. A cop. I know. I know. You think I’m nuts, now, don’t you.”

  Terryfield laughed.

  “That’s a good one. No, I don’t think you’re nuts. Sounds like a good Lifetime TV movie mystery.”

  “I know. I should have been a detective, huh?”

  “Keep trying.”

  She turned away and walked out the front door to the parking lot. Terryfield stood where he was for a moment before opening the door and going back to his desk.

  That’s interesting. But a little far-fetched.

  10

  Search

  Terryfield was at his desk, thinking about where to go next with his background investigation. He’d meticulously combed through the list of Sonia’s clients, looking for any obvious links among them. He’d checked their neighborhood address locations and all of their appointment times at the salon. There were no patterns to be found. He didn’t have enough to ask a Deputy District Attorney for a search warrant for their telephone records. That required probable cause. He didn’t even have enough to prove reasonable suspicion to a Court of Law. He had nothing – except his police detective’s intuition and his observations of Jack Saunders.

  None of Sonia’s customers was on the list of Emma’s friends that Jack Saunders had provided. Not one of them. Now, Saunders the aggrieved widower was in Portugal, supposedly trying to gather some information about Emma’s death from the Portuguese Navy and the cruise ship company. Terryfield wasn’t impressed.

  It’s always the spouse.

  Saunders’ statement to the Sheriff’s Office after receiving the news that his wife was missing and presumed dead was not at all convincing. To Terryfield the bereaved husband’s expression of grief was entirely manufactured. While Saunders’ face showed some forced emotion as he spoke during the recorded interview, and his voice sounded strained, the entire show somehow seemed rather factitious. Terryfield wasn’t buying any of it. There were no tears. That wasn’t a surprise, given what Sonia Lovello had said about Emma’s loveless, sexless marriage.

  This detective was sure that Jack Saunders knew more about his wife’s death than he had thus-far revealed. Terryfield began to prepare affidavits for search warrants which would give him access to all of the Saunders’ credit card reports, as well as their bank and telephone records. With Emma’s phone records in hand, he could begin to get listings of her received and outgoing calls. He would soon enough see if any of Sonia’s clients was among her contact numbers. It promised to be onerous, tedious work, but it had to be done.

  Terryfield was pretty sure that Jack Saunders was his strongest suspect. And he was going to look at the man’s entire life with a microscope. In fact, he intended to take that microscope and crawl right up Saunders’ ass.

  Miles Terryfield had no idea where this investigation would take him. And he wouldn’t have believed where it would end if someone had told him.

  11

  Windfall

  As events unfolded Jack Saunders came into a rather large sum of money. There was a sizable insurance policy on Emma’s life. So sizable was it that one morning a representative of the underwriting company contacted Detective Miles Terryfield to inquire about the status of the police investigation.

  “Detective Terryfield.”

  “Hello, Detective. My name is Stephen Brundheim. I’m an investigator with the Clendennon Life Assurance Company of Rhode Island. I’m calling in regard to a claim we’ve received on the life of Emma Saunders. I understand you’re the local detective assigned to that case.”

  “Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

  “Well, you probably already know that any time there’s a death at sea, particularly aboard a cruise ship, it raises some red flags for our claims division. Our investigators are looking into Emma Saunders’ death. So far we’ve found nothing to suggest it’s anything other than what’s been reported by the claimant and the Portuguese Navy – an accident.”

  “So, Jack Saunders already filed a death claim?”

  “Yes. He did.”

  “When did he file?”

  “About two days after he received the notification from the cruise line.”

  “He didn’t wait very long, did he. Huh. This is the first time I’ve heard anything about a life insurance policy. But, then again, I hadn’t gotten around to checking to see if there was one. I’ve had a lot of other things to do. The Portuguese Navy didn’t include any of that in the information they sent to me. Are you at liberty to tell me the amount of the policy?”

  “No. But I will, anyway. The face value is two million dollars - with a five million dollar accidental death rider.”

  “Wow. That is a lot of money, Mr. Brundheim. How long ago did you write the policy?”

  “Two years.”

  “Interesting.”

  “That’s why I’m calling you.”

  “I wish I could help you. Of course, in the death of any spouse, whether it’s an accident or a homicide disguised to look like it was an accident, the spouse is always the prime focus of the investigation. This case is no different. I’m not at all convinced he’s innocent by his expressions of grief. I’m a long way from that. But, that’s my subjective observation. At the moment I have absolutely no solid evidence that leads me to think Jack Saunders was involved in her death. It doesn’t look like anything more than an accident. It looks like she just disappeared in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.”

  “I was afraid you’d tell me that. We’ll probably end up paying the claim.”

  And the Clendennon Life Assurance Company of Rhode Island did pay that claim. One month to the day following Miles Terryfield’s conversation with Steven Brundheim, Jack Saunders received a check for seven million dollars – exempt from income taxes.

  12

  Wellie

  “So, how’s my favorite fifth grader today?”

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Well, I’m still here cutting your hair, aren’t I. So, I guess I’m doing pretty well. You want anything different this time?”

  “Nah, I think what you did last time was good.”

  “Well, I’m glad you liked it. How about your friend Karen? Did she like it?”

  “Jeez. Why are you askin’ about her?”

  “Oh, come on, Wellie. You told me all about her. Remember? She’s the best four-square player at your school. Right? You asked me to not tell anyone. Big secret. Remember? And I didn’t. I kept your secret.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, have we made any progress with her? Did you introduce yourself?”

  “Sort of. I asked her to shoot some hoops. Walter was absent last Tuesday.”

  “Wow.
So, what happened? Did she play basketball with you?”

  “Yeah. And she’s really good. She beat me at Horse.”

  “Oh, my. Were you upset about that?”

  “No. I was so happy she played basketball with me, I didn’t care.”

  “Did you tell her your name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she play again?”

  “Not yet. Walter came back to school the next day.”

  “Well, you’ll have to ask her again. Right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You guess so? How can you not? You’re in love with this girl.”

  “Sonia. Quit it.”

  “Okay. I guess I’m just kidding with you. But you do like her a lot, right?”

  “Yes. But like is a lot different from love.”

  “Oh, is it, now? How is that? Explain that to me.”

  “Love is for married people.”

  “Ah. I see. Tell me more.”

  “I like her a lot. But I haven’t told her.”

  “Don’t you think she already knows?”

  “No. How would she know?”

  “Oh, a girl can tell when a boy is interested. By the way he looks at her. She just knows.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, you can take it from me. It’s not something a boy can hide for very long. Has she ever caught you looking at her?”

  “Yeah. I guess. A few times.”

  “See? She knows. And she must like you, too, or she wouldn’t have shot hoops with you.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Yes. Really. If she didn’t like you she would have found some reason to say no. She’d have gone to the foursquare courts with her friends.”

  “Really?”

  “Trust me. I’m an expert in this stuff.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes. Wow is right. There you go. And here comes your mom. Good luck. Keep me posted next time.”

  “I will.”

  13