1 Depth of Field by Audrey Claire Page B

establish.”
    “Like who?”
    “Thank you for your help.” I sighed, realizing he didn’t intend to share what he knew right now.
    “You know, we could exchange information.” I waited, hoping he would take the bait.
    “If there’s something you want to share…”
    I folded my arms across my chest and sat back in my seat. “Oh no, buddy, this works both ways.”
    Spencer stood up and stretched long arms over head. I became aware of him on a level that had little to do with him being a man and everything to do with him being a cop. I didn’t know him well enough to tease about his job. The weapon strapped to his side seemed larger than life at that moment and very threatening. His next words confirmed my trepidation.
    “The difference is if I keep what I know from you, I’m doing my job. If you keep what you know from me, it’s obstruction of justice. Now, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
    I shivered but stiffened my spine and stood up. “No, sheriff. Have a nice day.”
    As I started for the door, he called after me. I had reached the exit with my hand on the knob when he stopped me. “I apologize,” he said.
    I glanced up at him, questioning.
    “It’s wrong to encourage you one minute and use my badge to hold you off the next.”
    The small sound I made was one of agreement, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
    “It’s both unprofessional and, well, the actions of an ass. I don’t want to be that kind of man.”
    I grinned at this admission. He was forgiven. “So long as you know.”
    He smirked.
    We agreed that Spencer would call me when he was ready to visit my shop together and that he would not keep me waiting long. I had to be satisfied with that much, but I made a decision then and there. Spencer needed to impress his boss, the mayor, since he was so new on the job. I had needs, too, and they included eating and paying my bills. He would get more than my help looking through photos. I would find out as much as I could about who killed Alvin Aston and put this matter to rest.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    My investigation began in what I felt was the most logical place—the hair salon. Not only was Louisa’s shop right next door to mine. She and the two women who rented booths from her also worked long hours, sometimes late into the evening. The problem with this plan though was that Louisa did nothing that didn’t benefit her. She didn’t give anyone who she considered to be the little guy even an ounce of consideration. I had seen that for myself at the Hole when she dismissed me from the table she had occupied with her friends Susan and Pattie.
    What I determined to do about this dilemma was to visit the salon on the pretext of needing to cover my roots. I believed it was a foolproof plan. Rather than call, I drove to Louisa’s and parked in her lot. The space allocated for customers outside the salon was triple that of what I had available at the photo studio. A neon sign was illuminated with Style With Louisa despite the sun having not descended yet in the sky. I stepped through the glass door and was immediately assaulted by the scent of chemicals and hair products. Louisa or perhaps one of her contract stylists had tried to minimize the impact of the chemicals by adding scented candles to the mix. I liked the scent of the lavender and frankincense, but it didn’t lessen the shock at all.
    The salon consisted of three stations for styling hair, three industrial dryers, a massage chair with tub attached to the bottom for pedicures, and a sink for washes. Along the walls were racks holding hair products and nail polishes, and near the door, a simple counter behind which a receptionist spoke on the phone. When I stepped inside, she offered me a smile and waved me forward. I took a moment to adjust both to the scent and the explosion of lilac on the walls, the smocks the ladies wore, and the capes draped over the customers. Even the flowers in the vase on the reception counter’s