Shake Down Dead by Diane Morlan

it before and to some who have. Bernie still gets
upset when we talk about it.
    Back in the bedroom, I pulled a
turtleneck sweater over my head and smoothed it over my jeans. When
I used the blow dryer on my hair, I realized that I was overdue for
a haircut. I’d have to try to fit that in sometime this week. When
I was dressed and ready, I sat down for a second cup of coffee. I
had splurged and brewed up a pot of Jamaican Blue. It was one of
the best coffees in the world and only grew in a few mountain areas
of Jamaica. I needed the brace of a second shot of caffeine before
dealing with Bernie. She wasn’t going to like this
meeting.
    I picked up the Maron County Herald and
paged through it while I sipped my energizing cup of coffee. I saw
an ad for a new beauty shop that had just opened on Broadway. They
had a special on haircuts.
    Last August we had a streak of
unusually hot weather and I had my shoulder length hair cut in a
short bob. Since I have no talent with hair styling, it was just
the right cut for me. I usually just ran into one of the national
chains and had whoever was available cut my hair. Sometimes I got a
great cut. Other times, not so good. Maybe it was time to have a
stylist who could cut it the same way every time. I tore out the
coupon for Head’s Up Hair Salon. It stated that they took walk-ins.
I’d try to get over there sometime soon.
    I folded the paper and after I put on
my winter jacket, tucked it under my arm and headed for the door. I
braced myself for a blast of winter and was surprised to find that,
although it was only about forty degrees out and a little windy, it
was a rather delightful fall day—except for the snowflakes that
were still drifting down from the cloudy skies.
    Megan was in a hurry when I got to her
place. She had some errands to run for Charlie and a meeting with
the volunteers at eleven o’clock.
    “Charlie sure keeps you busy. Can you
afford to take off this much work?” I asked.
    “I sure can. You don’t think I’m doing
all this for love do you?”
    You mean Charlie’s paying
you?”
    “Of course he is. I like Charlie but I
don’t work for free.” She winked at me.
    “Here you go,” she said, pulling into
Herman Motors. “I hate to just drop you off but I have to get over
to the printers. Okay?”
    “Thanks, Megan. I’ll talk to you
later.” I pulled up the hood on my jacket and ran across the lot to
the office.

    An hour later, I pulled up in front of
Bernie’s workplace. Mary’s Haven Group Homes was in a one-story
brick building that also housed offices for an accounting firm, a
dentist and a takeout pizza store. When I pulled open the door, a
sudden gust of wind caught it and swung the door wide. It banged
against the building. Luckily, it didn’t break the glass. So much
for a fine fall day.
    I was surprised to see Della Younger,
Harold’s cousin, sitting behind the reception desk. “Della, I
didn’t know you worked here. I haven’t seen you since Polka Daze.
How are you?”
    “Hi, Ms. Penny. I just started working
here a few weeks ago. Sister Bernie asked me to fill in while her
regular receptionist was on maternity leave. I need the experience
to get a permanent job. Maybe the new mom will decide not to come
back and I can stay here.”
    “Good luck, Della. Is Sister
in?”
    “Oh, gee, yes. She’s waiting for you.
Go right in.” Della motioned toward a doorway behind
her.
    I walked through the opening and saw
three doors. The first was a washroom, the second a door marked
“Accounting” and finally a door marked “Director.” That’s my friend
Bernie, Miss Low-Key.
    I knocked twice and opened the door a
crack to peek in and make sure I was at the right place. Bernie sat
behind an outsized walnut desk, her veiled head over the papers she
was perusing. She looked up and the frown on her face turned to a
smile.
    “Jennifer! Come in. Sit. I’ll make some
tea.”
    No use arguing that I had just ingested
two cups of coffee and