Curl Up and Die Read online

  Curl Up and Die

  A Glam Van Mystery

  Sophie Sharp

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Three months later

  A Glam Van Mystery, Book 2

  Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Curl Up and Die: A Glam Van Mystery, is a work of fiction and the characters, places, and incidents are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities or resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by LMTC, LLC; LMTC Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, video or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial purpose permitted by copyright law.

  LMTC Books, Clearwater, Florida

  Publication Date: September 2019

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9997015-8-4

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9997015-9-1

  Large Print ISBN: 978-0-9997015-6-0

  Cover art by Alchemy Book Covers

  Dedicated to cosmetologists worldwide who make people feel beautiful

  Chapter One

  Molly Casey-Locks had never been one to complain about the perfect weather in San Cosmas, California, but the clear blue skies on this Friday morning did seem unfitting for a funeral—a funeral she’d snuck out of, hoping to confront the mayor while she stood a chance. She knew her dearly departed friend would forgive her for leaving early. After all, Opal May and Molly had been fighting for the same cause. The mayor, on the other hand, had not.

  “Mayor Tully,” Molly called, her new high heels clipping down the funeral home’s steps. The darn things pinched her toes, and she couldn’t wait to kick them off and slip into her Dansko clogs.

  “Can’t talk now,” the mayor said, “I’m late for my meeting.” He hurried away even faster, as if to prove his point.

  Nope. You’re not getting away this time. He’d been avoiding her all week. Molly picked up her pace. By the time she caught up to him, her black skirt was riding up her plump thighs (or “pleasantly plump” as her husband tried to reassure her whenever she complained) thanks to the nylons she wasn’t used to wearing. She wasn’t used to running either, for that matter, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Molly, but it’s no use,” the mayor said, smoothing his hair that had become more salt than pepper since he’d taken office. “My decision is final.”

  Fortunately, she caught up to him by the time he reached his car. “Opal May would not have wanted this, Mayor Tully. You know that.”

  The mayor’s shoulders slumped, and Molly caught a brief glimpse of the man she’d known for years, the San Cosmas mayor whose mantra was “The Sober Mayor Who Gets Real People.”

  “It’s out of Opal May’s hands now,” he said. “Max wants this and so do I. It will be good for San Cosmas; good for business.”

  Before Molly could say “Not my business,” the mayor gave her a friendly hug. She didn’t worry about getting Ivory foundation or Peach Sorbet lipstick on his navy-blue suit jacket because she’d cried it all off over the past hour. Her purse was bulging with crumpled pink- and tan-stained tissues to prove it.

  “It was a beautiful eulogy,” Molly said. “Opal May would have been honored and proud. Which is why—”

  He interrupted. “Well, if she’s not, that spit-fire of an old lady will come back to haunt me.”

  Molly laughed for the first time in a week since Opal May, her oldest and longest-served Glam Van salon client, had passed away. “True. Anything less than the glowing tribute you just paid her, and she would have pushed open that coffin and pinched your ear until you apologized and started over.”

  “A true city matriarch. San Cosmas is going to miss her. What a loss for our community.”

  With more loss to come. Which was exactly why she needed to talk to him so much that even Opal May’s funeral wasn’t off limits. Opal May had owned the city center parking lot and leased spaces to Molly and seven other trucky entrepreneurs, the Van Clan, to park their mobile businesses. Molly’s mobile salon, Glam Van, had been there for the past three years, allowing Molly to grow a thriving enterprise and build real friendships with people like Asil, who owned Turkish Delights, a kebab truck, and Anthony and Jocelyn, the couple who ran The Hoagie Hero sandwich truck. Now, with Opal May’s passing, her son Max and a local developer, Veronica Corsello, had other plans; plans that would threaten the truckies’ livelihoods and destroy Opal May’s vision for the community.

  Molly grabbed the last of her clean tissues out of her purse and dabbed her eyes. Good thing she had another box of Kleenex in her car. When they’d heard the news that her friend had passed peacefully in her sleep, Molly’s husband, Doug, had immediately baked cookies so she could indulge in some good old-fashioned emotional eating. When he headed to the store for more ingredients, Molly had asked him to buy a dozen boxes of Kleenex. She had one box left. But the sugar cookies were long gone. Unfortunately.

  Mayor Tully glanced at his watch and patted her back. “I’m picking up my twenty-five-year sobriety chip this morning and speaking to the group.” When the mayor had started the eulogy, he’d apologized to the grieving crowd about having to leave early for his weekly sobriety meeting. But Opal May had been the one to help him start that journey twenty-five years ago, and she wouldn’t allow her funeral to excuse his attendance.

  “We’re all so proud of you. Opal May would be too,” Molly said, “but I really need to talk to you about the lot sale and why you switched sides. This is for Opal May too.”

  The mayor’s hand inched toward his Tesla’s door handle. “I know it’s important. Really. But it will have to wait. It’s nine fifteen already and if I don’t go now, I won’t make it on time. Come to the town hall meeting next week. Speak up. Maybe you can sway the vote with city council. Opal May’s passing is going to cause a lot of changes since Max inherited everything. You might want to start thinking about Plan B for your Glam Van and the other truck businesses. Like it or not, change is inevitable.”

  “But …”

  He tapped his watch. He climbed into and drove off in his silent electric car, leaving Molly with the weight of the world on her shoulders and hating change more than ever.

  Molly looked up at the cloudless blue sky. “Opal May, I won’t give up. I won’t let them kick us off the lot and destroy your plans.”

  She turned back to the funeral home, wondering how she would keep that promise.

  Later that morning Molly was relieved to leave the funeral behind as she parked her lavender-and-cream-colored Smart Car in front of her lavender-and-cream-colored Glam Van. Glam Van was actually a converted Winnebago, but Glam Bus didn’t hav
e the same ring to it or fit the beauty oasis she had created. Although she referred to Glam Van as a mobile salon, it had been parked in Opal May’s lot, adjacent to Sherman’s Shoe Shine truck and Asil’s Turkish Delight food truck, every day for the past three years. Countless times, she’d been able to stand at her door and look out at Ben’s Café Beans on Wheels or hop over to say hi to Vicki while she experimented with curry and vegan soups.

  Now, Molly stood outside Glam Van and took a deep breath, hoping to still the knots in her stomach. She couldn’t bear the idea of not sharing this space with them every day.

  The thought of going to the town hall next week and speaking before the city council and a large crowd made her want to vomit. Center stage had always been for her famous sister, Lacy, not for Molly.

  Hives. I’m breaking out in hives.

  Turning slowly, she eyed each of the eight trucks, including her own, with bittersweet pride. She and her Van Clan family were on the cusp of losing this reliable location, and for some, they could lose everything if their business began to suffer.

  They’d learned that each of their businesses brought more business for each other: People dropped off their pets to be groomed at Pam’s Parlor and then hopped over to Asil’s for a snack while waiting; or Glam Van customers would drop off their dry cleaning at Carl Lake’s truck, or their shoes to be shined by Sherman before getting their haircuts.

  She batted away tears and glanced at her watch. Her niece, Mia, should be arriving soon. She needed to pull herself together and be a strong, positive example; she was supposed to be helping the twenty-one-year-old find a career, not showing her how to lose a business.

  The lot was quiet and the brief solace was welcome, but if the mouth-watering smoke teasing her taste buds counted as evidence, Asil was currently mastering his new spit rotisserie and perfecting his doner kebab. He’d been the only trucky who couldn’t attend Opal May’s funeral because the new roaster was being delivered, and he needed to be there to sign for it. Maybe Molly’s appetite was finally returning, which meant the inch she’d lost around her waist this past week would be on its way back too.

  Her appetite had vanished when she’d received the call that Opal May was dead. Even her bald, cherub-cheeked husband’s Concord Grape Pie last night couldn’t tempt her past two bites. In twenty-five years of marriage, she’d never not finished a serving from one of Dougie’s baked wonders.

  Doug was a construction worker by day and a natural-born baker by night, but last night he’d said, “Maybe I’m not a baker after all if I’ve lost my favorite customer.” He’d only been teasing, she knew. He’d been trying to pull a smile out of her, knowing she was not only mourning Opal May but worried about the future community and their livelihood. Glam Van was fifty percent, if not more, of hers and Doug’s household income after all.

  Molly couldn’t believe she’d set and curled the community matriarch’s hair only one week before she died. Death had not seemed like it was waiting at Opal May Harrison’s door. No sir. Opal May had been her usual sassy, don’t-boss-me-just-because-I’m-old self, complaining about her adult son who was being a “pain in the butt” and trying to push her into selling the city center parking lot to developer Veronica Corsello. “And for what?”

  “You own the property though, right?” Molly had asked, worried. “I mean, he can’t make you sell it if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s the family estate that my husband set up. I own sixty percent of the lot and Max owns the other forty. He can’t sell or change the use of the lot without my approval. I’m of sound mind, and he doesn’t have power of attorney.”

  “So why is he pushing you to sell?”

  “Veronica Cor-hell-no wants to turn this property into another strip mall and charge high rents. She’s used her so-called charm to sway Max, if you ask me. You’d think after going from kindergarten through high school with her, he’d know what a big, phony narcissist she is—just like her dad, in my humble opinion.”

  “But it it’s up to you, then we’re safe?” Molly asked, just to make sure she understood.

  “No one is going to chase my trucky-preneurs out,” Opal May had said. “Where else can the citizens of San Cosmas come to share a meal under the beautiful San Cosmas sun? Huh? If my son and Veronica want the lot, Molly, it will be over my dead body.”

  And so it would be. One swift bout of pneumonia and she was gone.

  Within days of Opal May’s passing, Max Harrison had verbally accepted an offer from Corsello Development, contingent on the city approving Veronica Corsello’s plans. Max had surprised the truck community by moving quickly against his mother’s wishes, where he stood to make millions. Not that Molly could imagine he needed the money. The bigger shock had come when Mayor Tully and his chief of staff, Nell Jackson, had abruptly switched from Team Truckies to Team Corsello with no explanation other than a public statement: “We believe Max Harrison and Veronica Corsello’s vision for the great San Cosmas will bring in tourism.”

  That was the lamest reason they could have given. Their flip-flop-floppity statement had been a staple answer, probably based on data Corsello Development had fabricated, Molly bet. They would have never switched teams if Opal May was alive. Molly had hoped the mayor’s glowing eulogy was a sign that he had pulled his head out of his nether regions. Obviously not.

  “Things are going to change out of my control,” he’d said the first time Molly had pressed him for real answers.

  “You’re the mayor,” she’d said. “You can influence city council if you want to.”

  Since then, he’d avoided any further discussion with Molly.

  She wished she could ask Nell what had prompted the big switch. Nell was a long-time Glam Van customer and would be in later for her six-week cut and color. But Molly had a stern rule at Glam Van: Check your politics at the door, and while the mayor and his chief of staff might not stand by their promises, Molly did. No one was going to influence her to compromise Glam Van’s rules.

  But she wasn’t giving up. If they wanted the Van Clan to move, they’d have to do so over her dead body.

  She had a plan. The other seven truck owners were coming to her house tonight to discuss their next steps. They would have to show a united front at the town hall and get their customers to come and show their support. The truckies and her clients were her family. She wasn’t going to let them or Opal May down without a fight. Doug was making dinner and baking dessert for everyone so they could stay focused.

  Speaking of baked goods, she’d better get Doug’s ladyfingers set up with tea ready for the first Glam Van client. Today was only the third time in three years she was opening late since she’d left the brick-and-mortar salon behind. But she would never have missed her dear friend and proprietor’s funeral, even if black made Molly’s skin look like yellow chalk. Nothing that a pair of Mia’s artsy earrings or colorful necklace couldn’t fix. She’d have to spruce up her look as soon as the cookies were settled and the neon open sign glowing. Opal would say, “Buck up soldier. There’s a world to run.” So that’s what Molly would do: Buck up.

  Molly unlocked Glam Van’s side door. The combined aroma of perm solution and lavender washed over her and settled her nerves. Doing hair had always been therapeutic for Molly, and the scents were rejuvenating. She flipped the generator switch, and the van’s interior hummed to life. With the cookies settled and the electric kettle on, she hung her purse in the closet, switched her shoes, and flipped on SiriusXM’s The Coffee House acoustic channel. Ah, perfect. Steve Martin was playing banjo while Edie Brickell sang, “Sun’s Gonna Shine.”

  Oh routine, how I love thee. And Steve Martin’s banjo-playing fingers too.

  Molly grabbed the chalkboard sidewalk sign, displaying Glam Van’s rules and propped it up outside the van:

  1. What happens in Glam Van, stays in Glam Van

  2. Check your politics at the door

  3. Be prepared to feel beautiful

  4. No chewing gum
>
  5. Cell phones off

  6. No ostrich boots

  Mia must have added that last one for Veronica Corsello’s benefit.

  Fine with me. Molly fully supported her animal rights activist niece in more ways than one. Six months ago, when Mia had called and asked her and Doug if she could move to San Cosmas with them to find herself, it was one of the happiest days of Molly and Doug’s lives. Mia was the daughter she and Doug could never have, and Molly wouldn’t change a thing about being an auntie versus a mom. Though she wondered how Doug still felt about that sometimes.

  Mia had moved the following month and, except for her visit to Lacy over Christmas, Mia had stayed in San Cosmas to focus on her life. Mia was helping at Glam Van with washes and by experimenting with au natural animal-safe products for Molly to try on her clients. And Doug, with his beehives and honey, was in cahoots with her niece. Now there was honey in her food, facial masks, and hair products. Doug had even convinced her to eat a spoonful every morning to ward off allergies. Molly hated to admit it, but the honey did seem to be working.

  In Mia’s Corner her niece had set up a rack to sell her handmade jewelry. The recycled silver and found sea glass creations had been a huge hit, and Mia’s display was almost empty. As soon as Mia arrived for work, which should be any moment now, Molly would remind Mia to carve out some time to make more.

  Rules sign in place, she trudged back into Glam Van, planning to hop on the truckies’ Facebook Page and check in with her neighbors. They’d all been at the funeral—except for Asil—and she wondered if they were all feeling the same sense of impending doom. Maybe some wouldn’t even open for business today. Regardless, she was glad she’d see them tonight.