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Carolyn would say in front of customers, like Marla will never get that cut right, but she tries hard . What made Carolyn’s girls so loyal that they wanted to stay even after she was gone? “I don’t understand why her stylists choose to remain when things are in such turmoil.”
    Thomson shrugged. “It’s a job. They need the money, and customers depend on them.”
    “Claudia, one of the hairdressers, has repeatedly asked for my advice. Shouldn’t the new owner tell the girls what to do?” She couldn’t help her resentful tone. Thomson knew she disliked his decision to bring another beauty shop to the same location.
    “Indeed. I’m sure her staff appreciates your insights, but it wouldn’t be wise for you to spend time at Hairstyle Heaven.”
    Clearly she wasn’t going to get any information out of him about Wilda Cleaver. An idea surfaced, one that didn’t set well. If Carolyn had some kind of hold over those girls, perhaps she had one over their landlord as well.
    “Carolyn sponsored foreign students at the Sunrise Academy of Beauty and employed them in her salon after they graduated. Where do you suppose she got the funds? Her previous location wasn’t exactly a success.”
    “How would you know?” Sweat beaded Thomson’s upper lip.
    “I visited her there when she tried to take over my lease. Was Carolyn on time with her monthly rent payments?”
    “She met her obligations.” Rubbing his hands together, he avoided her penetrating stare. “If I were you, I’d keep my nose out of other people’s affairs. Otherwise, when your term comes up for renewal, you might find a few surprises.”
    Marla shot to her feet, but she bit back any retort that might aggravate him further. You’re the one who will be surprised when I determine why you act so nervous . Thomson hadn’t directly answered any of her questions, but she’d bet her bobka he knew more about Carolyn’s life than he let on. Better to acquire additional information before probing deeper.
    “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied before taking her leave.
    Realizing it was unavoidable, she stopped off next at Carolyn’s salon in spite of Thomson’s warning to stay clear. In another attempt to steal customers, her rival had opened on Mondays. That meant Carolyn’s staff had only one day off a week unless they staggered schedules. Spotting Claudia working on a blonde with highlights, she waved.
    The Frenchwoman’s expression brightened, and she signaled Marla to come over. No one manned the reception desk, Marla noticed.
    “I thought your new owner was coming in this week,” she said, sniffing the familiar scents of hair spray, permanent-solution fumes, and polish remover.
    “Wilda said the signs weren’t right for today,” Claudia said with a sneer. “I fear she will add to our problems. Have you come to assist us? Girls, this is Marla Shore from Cut ‘N Dye.”
    Busy with customers who required cutting, coloring, and conditioning, the stylists waved while Marla’s quick glance took in counters strewn with equipment and hairs littering the tile floor. Where was their shampoo assistant? In her salon, Joanne took care of sweeping chores along with other mundane tasks. Each hairdresser cleaned her own station. Apparently, no such standards existed here. She didn’t see how a fortune-teller would be able to run the place without experienced counsel. Clients had to receive a significant discount to remain loyal; Marla made a mental note to check their price list.
    “How are you getting on?” Marla asked, genuinely perplexed. If these stylists rented their booths, they paid a fixed monthly sum to the owner and maintained their own stores. Alternately, when a proprietor wanted more control, she employed a commission system wherein operators kept sixty percent and gave forty percent to the owner. These shared profits often led to better teamwork and a broader sense of cooperation. It was how Marla ran her salon. In return for