Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery by Elaine Viets Page A

littered the pavement, and shattered crystal stars glittered in the waning light. King’s velvet lawn was scarred with brown tire ruts.
    The wedding guests’ cars had been valet parked along the street. Some vehicles were still there. Helen saw no sign of Miguel Angel or his ride. He’d driven her to the wedding.
    Well, it wasn’t that bad a walk. She started hoofing it home when Miguel Angel’s Jeep drove up.A woman leaned out of the driver’s side and asked, “Want a ride?” It was Miguel Angel, with long blond hair and a blue dress.

“
    M iguel Angel, is that really you?” Helen said.”You’re
    beautiful.”
    “I had the best stylist in Fort Lauderdale,” he said.
    Helen laughed.”Meaning yourself.”
    “It’s true,” he said.”I cannot lie.”
    The evening sun gleamed on his blond hair. His complexion was smooth and creamy, and his makeup was perfect.
    “If it’s the truth, then it’s not bragging,” Helen said. “I’ve seen the photos of your Halloween costumes at the salon, especially that one of you dressed as a cheerleader.You can perform miracles.”
    “Daily,” Miguel said, without a trace of modesty.
    If Miguel Angel could give ordinary women the illusion of beauty, he could easily transform himself into an attractive female. It helped that Miguel was slender, round-faced, and looked younger than his forty years. His makeup case was crammed with wigs and extensions. Miguel Angel’s blond hair had to be a wig.
    “Where did you get the peacock blue dress?” Helen asked.
    “Out of the bride’s closet.We’re the same size.”
    Not quite, Helen thought.The dress was tight around his waist.The top had to be padded.
    “I slipped into King’s bathroom and shaved my face and legs with his razor,” Miguel Angel said.
    And probably your chest, Helen thought. That neckline dipped pretty low.
    “Then I did my makeup,” Miguel Angel said. “I had to leave my black traveling case behind.”
    “You heard that King is dead?” Helen asked climbing into the pas senger seat of Miguel Angel’s Jeep.
    “How could I not hear? The screams, the sirens, the fire. I watched it from the upstairs window like a TV show.When the police arrived, I had to disappear, so I borrowed Honey’s dress and high heels.”
    “Borrowed?” Helen watched the sweat stains spread on the peacock blue silk.”Do you think she’ll want that dress back? Or those shoes?”
    His feet were stretching out high-heeled sandals several sizes too small for him.They were ruined.
    Miguel Angel shrugged. “Honey won’t miss them. She can afford more.”
    “Why didn’t you just run when you saw the fire?” Helen asked.
    “Because the TV crews were outside, photographing the guests. I could be here as a stylist, but if someone thought I was feeding King gossip, my business would be dead. So I put on a dress and ran outside. Even if I was on TV, my clients wouldn’t recognize me.”
    “Why would anyone think you betrayed them to King?” Helen asked.
    “Because I believe his last two scoops originated at my salon,” Miguel Angel said. “Remember when he reported that Fernanda was drinking again, after a month in rehab? She turned up drunk for her appointment, carrying a champagne bottle. Her photograph was on King’s gossip blog the next day. She was wearing the same outfit she had on at my salon. And Richelle’s baby bump? She told me she was pregnant but was keeping it quiet until her wedding next Saturday.Two days later, the news was on King’s TV show.”
    “But if she told you, she probably told other people,” Helen said. “And Fernanda walked down Las Olas at noon, drinking champagne.”
    “She was drunk, but I took the bottle away from Fernanda before she left my salon,” Miguel Angel said. “I made sure she was escorted to her limo. That photo was taken at my salon. But the real gossip— Honey’s baby—has never been reported.You know why not? Because Phoebe is feeding information to her good friend