Crack the Code (Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery Book 5) Read online

  Hattie scoffed and Grandma gave her the evil eye.

  “Did he have any enemies?” Irene asked.

  Florence thought about it as she crocheted. “I’m sure he did, but I don’t know of any by name. You can’t be successful and well known without acquiring a few adversaries.”

  I didn’t feel like we were getting anywhere and judging by the looks on the grannies’ faces, they felt the same way.

  I finally found a matching pair of legs in a size I thought complimented the arms and handed them to her.

  “Thank you, dear,” she said taking them. “Would you mind fetching me a head from the table? One the size of an apple would be great.”

  Her floor plan was exactly the same as Grandma Dean’s and I walked from the living room into the kitchen. I felt like I was walking slower than usual – either because there was so much smoke in the house it caused resistance or because I had less oxygen and was just moving slower. Either way, the smoke was to blame.

  I grabbed a head from the bowl and then something caught my attention. Next to the bowl, slightly tucked underneath, was a paper with bold letters typed on it. I picked it up and walked into the living room.

  “Florence, where did you get this?”

  She looked up at me, her cigarette dangling from her mouth and a flurry of ashes falling onto the doll dress she was making.

  “Isn’t that peculiar? It came today with a business card.”

  “A business card?” Grandma asked.

  “Yes,” Florence answered. “It’s on the table by the bowl. I had it together with the slip of paper.”

  I went back to the table and sure enough, tucked under the bowl was a business card for the Lux Hair Bar. There was a picture of a girl with dark hair in her twenties and the name and number of Kaylee Palmer.

  “Do you know this person?” I asked as I handed Florence the card.

  “Never heard of her, or this salon. Of course, I don’t go to those high-end places. I go see Gladys a few doors down. She does wonders with my hair. I haven’t stepped foot in an actual salon in years.”

  The business card was passed around and when it got to Virginia, she took it and snapped a picture. “Where did you say you got this?”

  “It was in an envelope, taped to my door this afternoon.”

  “Do you mind if I take a picture of this?” I asked, still holding onto the slip of paper.

  “You can have it,” Florence said. “I have no need for a bunch of jumbled letters. Take the business card too. You look like you need it.”

  Ouch.

  Grandma and the grannies stood up and said goodbye. As we walked to the door, Florence stopped me. “You’ve been so helpful today,” she said holding onto my arm. “Why don’t you pick out a doll?”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I gently protested.

  “No, no, I insist. Walk around and take any one you like.”

  I didn’t want to be rude, so I walked around and looked at her dolls. “They’re all so pretty,” I complimented. And really, they were – once you got over the fact that they’re all staring at you. Florence had a knack for making them. Each dress was intricate and beautifully made. I picked up a doll with long, red hair and a bright yellow dress. She had light purple eye shadow and pink lips.

  “Do you want that one?” Florence asked. “I hand paint their faces.”

  I smoothed down the doll’s dress and then her hair. “Her hair is so soft.”

  Florence smiled. “It is, isn’t it. It’s real human hair. I get it from Gladys. She gives me all the hair she picks up off her floor after haircuts. That hair came from Ethel Frank. You ladies remember her, right? She died last month. She had the prettiest hair.”

  The grannies nodded their heads yes and Greta put her hand to her mouth and her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. I’m sure mine looked the same.

  “I read in the paper that you and Detective Owen are an item,” Florence said with a wink. “You know I make baby dolls for couples. Just bring in some of your hair and some of his and I can put them together. I can personalize the doll however you like. His eye color, your smile…”

  “You can do that?” Hattie asked excited. “I want one!”

  Florence smiled proudly. “Just bring in some of your hair and some of Lloyd’s. We’ll go over the details when you bring it in!”

  Hattie agreed and we all walked outside, into the fresh air. Oh, how I had missed it.

  “You’re not actually going to have a doll made, are you?” Virginia asked.

  “Why not?” Hattie asked. “I think it’s a fun idea. We’re too old to have babies. This is our only chance to have something that looks just like us!”

  “Well,” Grandma said walking toward her apartment. “I think it’s a little creepy.”

  “Me too,” Greta added.

  Hattie looked a little hurt and Irene put her arm around her. “Girl, if you want that human ash tray to make you a plastic humanoid, then you go for it.”

  Hattie smiled. “Thanks Irene. I will.”

  We got back to Grandma’s house and I took a picture of the slip of paper with the code and sent it to Owen.

  “You might want to take this seriously now. Look what was delivered to John Asuza’s mom today.”

  I typed in the letters on the slip of paper.

  ILCTBMZQMA

  11

  The next afternoon I was on my way to our shop, Hello Beautiful. I was looking forward to some semblance of my normal life. Brittney had worked my shift yesterday afternoon and I was hoping she could hang around for a few minutes when I got there today so we could catch up.

  Grandma Dean knew how to hire good help. Brittney had come in and practically run the place since she was first hired. She was the kind of person you could count on. So was Annalise. She ran Grandma’s antique store, Junk in the Trunk. I liked her so much I set her up with my friend Les and now the two were inseparable. Hmm, Maybe I could set Brittney up with someone. Who do I know that’s single? Kent. He was good looking, seemed really nice and was a playful kind of guy. A thought flew in my head – maybe I’d keep him for myself. No! I scolded myself. You’re single for a reason! You need to get your head on straight, find yourself, stop chasing after every guy that even slightly shows an interest!

  My phone rang as I pulled into a parking spot in front of the shop. I could see Brittney inside, talking with a customer, several more were looking through racks of clothes. Business was booming. I suppose that’s what happens when you open a clothing store for women and their cats in a retirement town.

  “Nikki,” Grandma said when I answered. “Where are you?”

  “Sitting in front of our shop. I’m about to go in.”

  “Well, don’t,” Grandma said. “I made an appointment for you at the Hair Bar. You need to head there right now.”

  “An appointment? I don’t need to get my hair done,” I protested.

  “First of all, yes you do. And secondly, I made you an appointment with Kaylee Palmer, the girl on the business card. You can get some of that frizz cut off and find out if she knew John Asuza.”

  I sighed. There was no arguing with her, no matter how much I wanted to.

  “But wait, what about my shift at the store?”

  “I’ve got it covered,” she answered. “I’m on my way. It will be good for me to catch up with Brittney anyway. Plus, it will be nice for life to feel a little normal for once.”

  Tell me about it.

  She gave me the address and I begrudgingly drove that way. I looked in the rearview mirror at my hair. Yes, it was bad. Yes, I needed it cut. But I still didn’t feel ready. Plus, I couldn’t imagine what someone could possibly do to make it look better.

  I pulled up at a super modern, silver building with a slanted roof. There were several car charging stations outside. This should be interesting.

  When I walked in, I was greeted by a woman who looked like she worked for corporate America by day and as a Victoria Sec
ret model by night. Instead she was the receptionist. She marked my name off her iPad then pointed to the “vegan leather couch and chair” for me to wait. “Do you have a refillable water bottle I can fill for you? Our water is from Iceland and comes with a certificate that shows it didn’t hurt the ecosystem.”

  I sat there awkwardly. “I forgot it…on my bicycle.” Why didn’t I have the courage just to tell her no, I didn’t even own a refillable water bottle.

  “Oh!” she said, her voice perky. “Did you ride your bike here? If you did, you get a five percent discount on your services today!”

  I did a side-eye glance out the window and I could see my old, beat up gas guzzler of a truck staring back at me. She followed my glance then gave me a disapproving looking, before turning and walking away.

  Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long before Kaylee came around the corner and called my name. She led me back to a private room with a single salon chair. There was a window along one wall that looked out to a small garden with a wooden privacy fence behind it.

  “Is that a tomato plant?” I asked, pointing outside.

  Kaylee chuckled. “Yes, we each have our own garden area outside our work area. I’ve been here almost a year and I haven’t done anything with mine yet. One of the other stylists is using it for now. I’m definitely not a gardener.” She leaned down and whispered, “This place is a little over the top.”

  As if on cue, a man entered in a tight shirt, and jeans, a perfect hair cut and an apron around his waist. He was carrying a tray and I started to get excited – snacks. He brought it down to my level as I sat in the salon chair. “Can I interest you in a nosh? It’s free of gluten, soy, nuts, preservatives, sugar, eggs and shellfish. It was produced on a co-op that is low dust, uses renewable energy and has an onsite day care where children are taught about recycling and hydroponics.”

  I looked at the little lifeless clumps and I had never seen anything so depressing in my life. Then I looked at the attractive man that seemed to live on a completely different planet than I did. He smiled at me, clearly annoyed by my silence. “I’ll just leave one here for you.” He sat it down on a napkin which he assured me did not contain tree products and was in fact made from recycled elephant poop. That pretty much sealed the deal – I would not be eating the depressing clump.

  Kaylee rolled her eyes as soon as he left her room. “These people act like they’re for the environment, but I’ve hung out with them after work and I can tell you they use just as much energy as the rest of us. And Kyle,” she nodded toward the door after him, “he drives a Harley.”

  She raised my chair and took a good look at me, then ran her fingers through my tangled hair. “So, what are we doing today?”

  I looked at the tired person in the mirror. I looked like the same messed up girl that first came to Florida, but I felt like I had grown so much since being here. “Can you make me look like I’m not a hot mess?”

  Kaylee laughed. “I think I can!”

  She got right to work. I wasn’t sure what all was happening but there was foil involved. After about half an hour of us sharing stories of bad boyfriends, bad friends and bad decisions I finally got up the nerve to ask her about John Asuza.

  “So,” I said as casually as possible. “What do you think of that sports guy that died in the park?”

  Her face went white and she was silent. I was going to lose her if I didn’t say something fast.

  “I was the one who found him,” I added quickly.

  Her demeanor instantly changed, and she went from tense to compassionate. “Oh, my goodness. I knew your name sounded familiar. That must have been quite a shock for you…to find him like that.”

  “It was,” I answered honestly.

  Judging by her initial reaction to my question she knew something, or at the very least knew him. I decided to try one more time to get some info.

  “Did you know him?” I asked cautiously.

  Kaylee looked at herself in the mirror but was lost in thought. Finally, she shook her head. “No.” she said simply.

  She smiled suddenly and grabbed her little bowl. “I’ll be right back! I just need to mix a little more color!”

  She disappeared out the door and I sat there thinking of how strange she had acted. Her appointment book sat on the little counter between me and the mirror. I couldn’t help myself. I glanced at the door then quickly grabbed the book. I flipped through the pages from the month before. I knew from pictures I had found online Mr. Asuza didn’t have a ton of hair but what he did have was well styled. I skimmed several pages, running my finger down each name. Finally, in the middle of the month at 1:30 on a Tuesday, there was John Asuza’s name. Why would she lie to me? I flipped back to the previous month around the same day and sure enough, his name was there too. He was a regular then.

  I wanted to search another month, but I knew I was running out of time. I put the book back on the counter and seconds later Kaylee walked back in smiling brightly. “You’re not even going to recognize yourself when I’m finished with you!”

  12

  Kaylee was right. I didn’t recognize myself. My previously long hair was now cut just below my chin. The highlights made me look younger, and my hair looked healthier. Instead of it being crazy curly and frizzy, it was soft and smooth with an added wave thanks to some magical heat stick she used.

  She fluffed the back of my hair, which felt amazing being off of my neck. “Now, I’m going to send you some videos so you can see how to use the styling wand yourself. That way you can achieve this look on your own.” She seemed awfully confident in me. I however knew this would be the only day I would actually look like this.

  I paid her an amount I had only ever used for doctor appointments or car payments then went to my truck.

  When I was younger, my sister Amber and I were banned from chewing gum one summer afternoon when a bubble blowing session on the front porch turned into a giant disaster. Why were we blowing bubbles into each other’s hair? I have no idea – kids can be very stupid. But what was fun at the time ended up with both of us sitting in front of my mom’s hair stylist getting tsk tsked before getting a much shorter haircut. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair hadn’t been this short since that ill-fated summer. But I loved it.

  I wasn’t a selfie taker, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to preserve this moment for all of eternity – the one day I didn’t look like I just walked out of an 80’s music video. I snapped a quick picture then threw my phone on the passenger seat. It was time to show Grandma my hair…and let her know what little I found out about John Asuza. But then my phone buzzed and vibrated in the seat next to me. It was Owen and he wanted to video chat.

  His face popped up on the screen and he started talking but looked like he was searching for something on his desk instead of looking at his phone. Finally, he looked up, mid-sentence and stopped.

  “Nikki?”

  “Yes?” I replied, confused. He was acting so strange.

  He started laughing. “For a minute there I thought maybe I had called the wrong person! You look so different! Your hair…it’s…really nice.”

  “Thank you!” I said, giving it a little tousle, something that felt out of character. “I really like it!”

  He stared at me a minute, speechless.

  “So, you were saying you got some information on the code?” I asked, trying to get him back on track.

  He snapped to attention. “Oh yes! I finally had someone look into it and…”

  Owen stopped and looked at me. “Did you get highlights?”

  “Owen!” I laughed. “Finish your sentence! What about the code?”

  “Sorry, uh, I had one of the guys look into it and he said it’s something called ROT-8. He’s deciphering it now, but I just thought I’d let you know.”

  Someone hollered at him and he looked up to see who it was. “I have to run,” he said, looking back at me. “I’ve been swamped lately.” He paused and looked at me thought
fully. “Let’s grab dinner some time?”

  “Like a date?” I asked, teasing him.

  He seemed to get flustered. I had only been joking, because I thought he was joking. But was he being serious? An actual date?

  He laughed. “Well, we are lovers after all. If it was in the paper, then it must be true.”

  Grandma absolutely freaked out when I walked in the shop.

  “Nikki!” She said running over to me. “Your hair!”

  She made me spin around as she stood back with her hands clasped over her heart. You would’ve thought I was showing off a wedding dress instead of a hair do.

  “It’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect!” she said beaming.

  “Well, it should be,” I said sarcastically. “It wasn’t cheap.”

  She smiled. “Beauty rarely is.”

  “I may have come out of there with great hair, but that’s about all I got,” I said defeated.

  “You didn’t get anything on John Asuza?” she asked.

  I told her about how strange Kaylee acted when I asked about John and how I caught her in a lie when I snooped through her appointment book.

  “Something is definitely up,” Grandma said.

  I agreed.

  Then I remembered my call from Owen. “Oh! Owen said he figured out the codes. Well, he didn’t decipher them for me, but he told me the name of the code. It’s called ROT-8.”

  “Never heard of it,” Grandma answered, pulling out her phone. “Let’s look it up.”

  She typed in a few things. “Found it!” She read for a minute then looked up at me. “It says it’s a letter substitution code. You replace a letter with the eighth letter after it. So, the letter “A” would be coded “I”, “B” would be “J” and so forth.”

  She read a little further then looked at me again. “It’s says the ROT-13 version is popular with online forums. Kids who play video games use it to hide spoilers to games and things.”

  I took out my phone and looked at the codes as Grandma went to the counter to get a pencil and paper.