Kara followed, stepping inside just as the lights came on, and Celeste, who had discarded her jacket, was turning over an OPEN, WALK-INS WELCOME sign that hung at eye level on the door. “Oh, hi,” she said. “I’m sorry. I have a nine o’clock who must be running a little late . . . Oh.” Her bright smile disintegrated as their eyes met. “Kara.” Celeste sighed. “Kara McIntyre. Dear Lord. I heard you’ve been calling my husband.” She moved to a small coffee stand pressed into a corner in the back, near a door marked RESTROOM and boasting a unisex door sign.
“Merritt hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
With a shrug, Celeste pulled the glass carafe from the coffeemaker and threw the remains of yesterday’s brew down one of the sinks lining the opposite wall. Between the mirrors mounted over the individual basins were shelves filled with hair care and skin products, even candles and herbal teas, the floral scents mingling with that of day-old coffee. “I kinda knew that. But we have a deal, my dear husband and me. He doesn’t interfere in my business and I do the same.” She glanced up as she refilled the pot, again from the faucet of one of the aligned basins. “It’s called giving each other space. It happens in marriages. If you ask me, it’s a necessity.”
“Jonas was released yesterday.”
“I heard.”
No news there. Anyone who watched the news or read a morning paper had been apprised of the fact that the McIntyre Massacre Killer was now a free man. “Did Jonas call Merritt? Or meet with him?”
“Again: unknown.” She was tossing old grounds trapped in a soggy filter into a trash can with a foot pedal, then as the lid clanged shut, reached into a cupboard, found a canister of ground coffee, and measured tablespoonfuls into a fresh filter. With the press of a button, the brewing machine was gurgling to life. “I don’t think I can help you, Kara. And really this is my place of business. I don’t feel comfortable talking to you about . . . you know, about it, what happened. My clients wouldn’t understand.”
“In a beauty shop. All anyone does is gossip.”
“Not when—” She hesitated, then hoisted up her pointed chin. “Okay, so I was going to say, ‘Not when a victim is here.’ That would, you know, hit too close to home. Be a real downer.”
Unfortunately, Kara did know. Maybe even understood, but she had her own mission. “Is Merritt at home? I can go to your apartment—”
“No!” Celeste snapped, irritated. And then more calmly, “He’s not there.”
Kara waited and saw the agitation in Celeste’s features. Her makeup was perfect, smooth skin without a blemish, pale eye shadow, plucked, arched brows over impossibly thick lashes, and full, glossy lips tinged with just a hint of color. But the whites of her eyes showed a few tiny red veins, and now her chin wobbled slightly. “Okay, so I guess you have the right to know. I’m worried about him. He’s been. . . obsessed lately.” “With Jonas?”
She waved a hand, lilac-tipped nails flashing. “With the whole damned thing. He’s slaved over this case for years. Years. Long before I met him, and now it’s all come to fruition and . . . well, he’s holed up in the trailer.”
“The trailer?” What was Celeste talking about?
“A mobile home he inherited from an uncle. Not one of the cooler, newer ones. I’d kill for one of those, let me tell you. But ours? It’s old. Piece of shit, if you ask me. Up on Mount Hood. Sawtooth Road.” Her neatly plugged eyebrows drew together. “I’ve been calling him for over a day now, but he’s still not answering his phone, well, you know that. He blew you off. Right?”
“I guess.”
“That man.” She shook her head as the smell of brewing coffee filled the small interior. “Won’t take a call from his wife? Cripes! Pisses me off. Well, I suppose he’s not alone there, now, is he? It’s the way he gets when he is really into a project or needs some ‘me time.’ ” She made air quotes with her fingers. “And he’s been obsessed with what happened to your family and that brother of yours forever.” She let out a sigh and pulled a black apron off a hook near the exit to a back room. “But, I’m telling you, he doesn’t take care of himself. Nuh-uh. If it weren’t for me, he’d have been dead ages ago. Ages.” She sent Kara a knowing look. “If I’m not taking care of him, you know? He’s a disaster. No exercise. Doesn’t eat right. I’ve tried to get him into yoga and a healthier lifestyle, but no way. He’s too stubborn. Set in his ways. He drinks and smokes behind my back.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I can’t smell him coming a mile away. Who does he think he’s married to? I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound. For the love of God, does the man think I’m an idiot?” She looked beyond Kara, through the glass front of the building. “Uh-oh, my nine o’clock’s here. Right on time: ten minutes late.”