Dead Ringer

Dead Ringer-Chapter 2

"And who are we overthrowing today?" I asked Fern as he fanned himself with a monogrammed handkerchief he'd produced from the breast pocket of his smoking jacket.

"Christopher."

Kate tilted her head to one side. "Who's Christopher?"

"Exactly." Fern pointed at her. "Who is he? Why is he here? Why do I have to work with another hairstylist for the fashion show?"

Things began to click into place for me. "So you're doing the models' hair for the fashion show?"

Fern flung the handkerchief over his face and tilted back on the bar stool. "Of course. I always do the hair for the show. Alone."

"And now you have to work with another stylist." Fern didn't like to share the spotlight with anyone so double billing on the biggest bridal show of the year could push him over the edge.

He peeked at me from underneath the handkerchief. "Not just another stylist, Annabelle. A newbie. A nobody."

Kate rolled her eyes. Talking Fern off of the ledge was nothing new for either of us.

"But you're the senior stylist, right?" Kate asked. "The veteran must be the one to call the shots."

"Veteran?" Fern let the handkerchief fall off his face as he sat up. "That makes me sound so old and . . ." He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "So butch."

"You know what Kate means." I sat down on the stool next to him. "You can use your wealth of experience to guide him. Be a mentor."

Fern shook his head. "Too late. He's taken over and changed my entire style concept for the show."

Kate leaned one elbow on the gold bar. "How did that happen? Do the show directors know?"

It was hard to imagine a personality as forceful as Fern's getting steamrolled into anything. Even the most hardened bridezilla became putty in his hands once he told them to sit down and be quiet. It was a transformation I relished watching, even though I knew I could never get away with talking to brides the way he did. He was famous for lovingly calling his brides tramps and hussies, and they adored him for it. I had a pretty good feeling that I would be fired if I attempted the same tactics.

Fern nodded, then picked up his handkerchief from his lap and dabbed at his eyes. "They'll go along with anything this Christopher suggests."

Kate expression told me that she felt as perplexed as I did. Something wasn't right about this story. Fern was a legend in the wedding-hair world and had been doing the hair for this bridal show for years.

"What aren't you telling us?" I asked

"It's too horrible." Fern pressed his fingers to his mouth. "I can't say it. You'll have to meet him."

What could possibly be so terrible that Fern couldn't even say it out loud? Before I could press him further, Kate looked over my shoulder and gasped. I spun around on the bar stool and saw what had caused her mouth to drop open. Diamonds.

The jeweler next to us was putting the finishing touches on a glittering display of engagement rings inside a waist-high wood and glass case. The rings lay on cushioned black-velvet trays in perfect rows. A stack of cream-colored business cards sat on top of the case along with a bunch of pink roses bursting out of an opaque white vase shaped like a fish bowl. A sign that read "Goodman & Sons" in black swirling letters hung behind the display.

The petite dark-haired woman who'd been arranging the rings slid the glass door to the back of the case closed and locked it with a small key. She glanced up and started when she saw Kate gaping at her.