Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (the false prince .TXT) 📗

This, being my head.

It didn’t take long to get the clientele talking about Hilda Collins’s death and Parker’s potential money problems. Jackie, Parker’s wife, drove to Lexington to get her hair done, a big mistake in my opinion. Small businesses in small towns needed the residents’ support, and Jackie’s snubbing of the town didn’t go unnoticed.

“Can you imagine the two of them rattling around in Hilda’s big house?” Sam asked as she washed my hair.

“They don’t even have a dog,” Diane, the woman at the sink next to me said. “And I can’t imagine Parker doing yard work. There’s a reason they live in those condos at the country club. The two of them wouldn’t know how to work with their hands.”

Hannah, another stylist, said, “It’s not just that. I mean, lots of people aren’t handy. It’s their distaste of working that gets me. Do you know that Pastor Abe asked Jackie if she could bake some cookies for the bake sale and she gave him a twenty and told him to just buy some?”

“That’s just rude,” Diane said.

“It’s fine if she can’t bake, but to tell Pastor Abe to buy them? That’s so wrong. And what does she do, anyway?” Sarah, seated next to Diane asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Does she work outside the home?”

“Outside the home? She has a housekeeper, no pets and no children. She’s not even working inside the home,” Mildred, a Sunnyview resident, said from her chair. She was patiently sitting while Dinah rolled her short hair into tiny curlers. Dinah was probably somewhere between seventy and ninety, but she had a few loyal customers who refused to accept her retirement, so she came every Tuesday morning and saw one or two clients.

Mildred clacked her dentures. “Hilda was a saint, putting up with that woman. Jackie insisted on having Thanksgiving at the Country Club this year. Couldn’t be bothered to cook in her pristine kitchen. Why, Hilda doubted the oven had ever been used.”

I frowned, unable to imagine a holiday that wouldn’t be spent with the family overflowing someone’s house and the dining room table filled with dishes. The Sanders had switched to holiday potlucks after the thirteenth grandchild was born and sitting down together in one room had proven impossible. A Country Club Thanksgiving seemed so impersonal. It was a depressing thought.

“That’s so sad,” Sarah said. “What about her sister?”

“She’s in a nursing home in Florida. She fell last month and will be laid up, so her kids are having it there. Hilda said they invited her, but she felt her place was with Parker.” Mildred’s mouth turned down at his name.

“Did they ever want children?” I wondered aloud.

“No. Parker’s still a child, anyway. That boy plays on his computer all the time,” Mildred said. “Hilda said he even dresses up in costumes and they go to conventions.”

“No…” Sam breathed. “He’s so… so… boring looking. What games?”

“I don’t know,” Mildred said tersely. “It’s not right. A grown man, dressing up and playing games.”

“He’s not hurting anyone,” I murmured.

Diane cleared her throat. “Well, it’s a thing now, Mildred. Comic-Con is huge. People all over do it. It’s like the Civil War re-enactments.”

“Didn’t Parker’s dad do those?” Sarah asked.

“He did,” Mildred conceded. “Still, I think it’s different.”

“Parker was always different,” Sam said. “I remember him in high school. He never dated, or did sports, or any clubs. We thought he was going to be a CPA or something. He was so good with math and science. I was shocked when he chose pharmacy and moved back home. I thought for sure he’d be doing research at some big pharmaceutical company or something.”

“Did he have friends?” I asked.

“A few. Chess-club types. Not sure where they ended up,” Sam said.

Mildred sighed. “His best friend, Ed Perkins, is now living in San Francisco and runs some kind of computer company thing. Trust me, if you see Ed’s mother, she’ll be happy to tell you all about it.” Mildred’s smile grew. “Speaking of bragging, Jeremy and Lisa are expecting again!”

The women all congratulated Mildred, and the discussion turned to the best presents for a second baby. All thoughts of Hilda were gone, and while I admitted Mildred may not have liked Jackie, she hadn’t mentioned that the woman was responsible for Hilda’s death.

I still didn’t have any answers to Parker’s sudden spending habits, but, I did have glorious curls and a new hair dresser.

Chapter Thirteen

Wowza, you look fabulous. Joe’s reply to the selfie I’d sent him after my stint at the salon made my smile huge.

Carole, my regular stylist, would forgive me, eventually. Maybe.

The new ‘do gave me the confidence of a much younger, much feistier me, and I decided to drop by the pharmacy and chat up Parker Collins. Perhaps my coiffed curls could convince Collins to confess to killing his mother and Oscar or at least tell me where the cash came for his new cars.

I parked on the street in front of the 1940’s pharmacy. Parker had renovated the old building, taking out the charming soda fountain counter and putting in more shelving. I checked my appearance in the pharmacy’s mirrored windows. My hair looked phenomenal with glossy curls framing my face. I considered getting a new driver’s license and passport today, too.

I pushed through the door and made my way to the magazine rack looking for something that might spark a conversation with Parker. The aisles were close together, and stocked with everything from medicine to movies. Snatching a bag of pretzels and a PC Gamer magazine as a possible conversation starter, I headed back to the pharmacy desk. My opener needed to be health related, and part of me wanted to stir some crazy into the gossip of Forest Forks, so I weighed asking for a natural hemorrhoid cure for Joe with his recent purchase of three gallons of peanut oil. My respectable self chose a safer solution and grabbed three different kinds of remedies