thing,” Isla said, lifting a strand of the woman’s dyed hair up between her fingers. “I guess I’ll see you at the party, then.”
“You’re going to be there?” Sonia turned and stared at her.
“Yes. Samantha insisted I attend.”
“Then you and your husband must join Jay and me for cocktails.”
“Unfortunately, my husband can’t make it.”
“Look at you, going stag. You’ll give me good reason to escape from all those highbrow types. You know, the ones who watch PBS and read the Wall Street Journal.” She laughed. “Although you better watch out for Beckett. I hear he’s very ‘hands on’ with his female guests.”
“Beckett?”
“Lily Dobbins swore she saw him out with another woman one evening, while they were dining in Portland.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “It’s only what I heard.”
“What do you know about Felicia?”
“Not much. They moved to Maine from LA. Supposedly, Gil worked in the film industry.” Sonia rolled her eyes. “I find this whole reality show idea of his rather silly. This isn’t Laguna Beach or Desperate Housewives.”
“Katie insisted I sign the release form and let her participate in the show. I didn’t want to stand in the way of any opportunities she might have, and I figured if it could help defray any college costs, better yet.”
“My kids threw a hissy fit. They all want to be reality stars and become rich and famous, although I think Gil was mostly doing it for Willow’s benefit.”
“And now she’s gone.”
“I understand she didn’t make many friends. With all due respect, my own kids couldn’t stand her. They were always saying what a stuck-up snob she was.”
“That’s funny, because Katie adores Willow. The two girls had grown extremely close after performing in Grease together.”
“What an amazing performance. We saw that musical three times.”
“Willow stole the show as Sandy Olsson,” Isla said.
“There’s no denying Willow’s talent—and Katie’s, too.” She knew Sonia didn’t really believe that Katie had talent, but Isla appreciated the gesture.
“Katie said Willow angered many of the girls when she won the part of Sandy Olsson. Those roles are supposed to go to seniors.”
“Not when you have Willow’s talent and looks and can sell out every performance at a bigger theater,” Sonia observed.
The news came on the television, and Isla held her breath, waiting to hear what the police had found. A reporter stood at the scene, pointing out a dilapidated old boat shed. Isla shuddered upon seeing the faded red lobster painted on the side of the structure. She recognized that shed and had been inside it a long time ago, when it had been in much better condition. Ray’s family had once owned it, but they had sold it when Ray’s father, a boat repairman, died. Ray had taken her there after three months of dating, and they had made love inside it. That was where Katie was conceived. She remembered it like it was yesterday. He’d brought some wine coolers and beer. Then, while they were sitting in one of the wooden skiffs, he’d leaned over and kissed her.
Who owned the shed now?
A bad feeling settled into her gut. Could Ray somehow be involved in this? She knew Ray to be irresponsible and reckless, but a murderer? Then she remembered how he had doted on Willow whenever she came over to the house. Still, she found it a stretch to think Ray would commit such a vile crime.
Sonia paid for her cut, gave her a hug, and left happy. As soon as she left, Isla called Ray and told him the news and instructed him not to tell Katie until they could project a united front. But he’d already heard about it. Not that it mattered. Telling Ray to do something was as useful as telling her father; he either didn’t remember or didn’t care.
She had little time to rest, as the next Harper’s Point client came in for her trim, and then others followed, each one trying to look better than the next for tonight’s fund-raiser. She tried to stay focused and listen to the women unload all their problems, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the body found in the Eaveses’ old boat shed.
One of her clients politely asked if she’d shut off the television, saying that all this bad news depressed her. Isla put on music instead. All day long her clients complained about one thing or another: the lack of a top-notch restaurant in town, the difficulty of finding good help, a salon that sold high-end fashion, the taxes. Always the taxes. Were any of these