"Dying to Be Beautiful" Mysteries: Without a Head

By M. Glenda Rosen

“Dying To Be Beautiful,” is about the billion-dollar world of beauty. The mystery series takes place in The Hamptons, where the murdered and suspected murderers are often arrogant and obnoxious with a sense of entitlement. Private Investigator Jenna Preston and her long-time friend, Detective Troy Johnson, work together to solve these murders and other crimes.

However, the intriguing series is about much more than murders and mysteries. “Dying To Be Beautiful” explores the beauty—or lack of it—in humanity. It’s about insights into human behavior, people’s life choices and the impact of their choices on themselves and others.

The first book in the series, “Dying to be Beautiful: Without a Head,” begins with an ordinary occurrence transformed into a gruesome scene. “The head in the sink stared up at her. Darcy Monroe, the owner of a popular, chic hair salon was used to this. Only this time, the head was there without a body.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Feb 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483445311

Book preview

body.

CHAPTER 1

THE MURDER

Saturday, 6:10 A.M.

As a Private Investigator, Jenna Preston had been hired to help solve murders, insurance fraud, cheating spouses and more. This was a new one for her.

She received what could only be described as a hysterical call from Darcy Monroe, owner of a popular, upscale hair salon in The Hamptons.

A head without its body was rolling around in one of her shampoo basins.

Almost five-feet, five-inches tall, always looking taller in her two or three-inch heels, Jenna had long red hair, blue eyes and was often seen driving around the East End in a white jeep, and in recent years, with her Irish Setter sitting next to her.

As a well-respected private investigator in the area, she told the salon owner, I’ll be right there, and don’t touch anything until the police arrive.

Jenna knew they needed to secure the business as a crime scene and Coroner Doc Bishop and Head of Forensics Lara Stern had to be brought in as well.

Troy, someone left a head, without the body, in a shampoo bowl at Darcy’s Salon. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.

Damn it, Jenna, I nearly spilled my coffee listening to this bizarre message. I’ll be there within the half hour. Meantime, I’ll ask Lara to get over there to check the crime scene for prints and other possible evidence and for Doc to arrange to bring the head to the morgue. We’ll want to look at it there, after he’s had a chance to determine how it was cut off and anything else he might find.

Detective Johnson hung up.

He and Jenna had worked together and known each other for a long time. They clearly trusted each other. He knew she would follow police protocol at the crime scene.

Saturday, as always was an exceptionally busy day, in season at Darcy’s Salon, which is why she had gotten there so early. She always wanted the salon looking perfect, ready for stylists and clients, who this day had appointments beginning at 7 am.

Located off the main avenue of this posh resort at the East End of Long Island, less than ninety miles from Manhattan, the salon was known for catering to the rich and famous, as well as some of wanna-be customers, primping for weekend parties and fundraising events.

The salon was truly beautiful with warm color tones and soft matching leather client chairs facing gold (well, fake gold), trimmed mirrors. There was a reception area with the latest issues of fashion magazines from Paris and Rome, and a few of the more popular Hampton rags, like Dan’s Papers were spread out on a marble table, next to it a coffee machine offering gourmet flavored coffee and teas.

Most of the women who came to Darcy’s Salon had plenty of money, some from their own success, although others were arm candy for much older, wealthy men. Sometimes one of them would joke (maybe not) that they were Dying To Be Beautiful like some of the famous models and celebrities, many of who summered in the Hamptons.

Jenna, you’ve seen how difficult and fussy they can be, and their egos—they’re constantly seeking confirmation of how beautiful they look. They want to come to a high-end salon, expecting to be treated like royalty. And believe me, we do.

Darcy Monroe was only too glad to charge megabucks for her services since it included a whole lot of catering to their whims and demands. Beauty could indeed be expensive in The Hamptons. The chatter amongst the clients, the eight hair stylists, three manicurists and several assistants meant gossip was a basic ingredient of conversation. The story about the body without a head, and the head found in the salon, was sure to explode through The Hamptons. It certainly had all the elements of a soap opera.

My god, Jenna, the gossip about this mess is going to be like a volcano spilling over this town.

***

This was not the first time the salon would find itself in the news. Almost ten years ago, another summer, a different disaster. Jenna remembered it well. She had been an investigative reporter at the time for the local daily paper. With its senior editor, she had worked the story for weeks.

The headline read: Salon Stylist Arrested For Child Endangerment.

"Fifty-four year old Zachary Kline, hair stylist at Darcy’s Salon in The Hamptons, was arrested after police found dozens of photos of underage children at his home and on his computers. He is alleged to have made arrangements for many of them to have sex with older men, several accused of indecency with minors. His checking account showed huge deposits from an undisclosed source. A serious criminal offense, he is facing felony charges that could get him a long jail sentence.

The salon’s owner, Darcy Monroe, had no comment. The local police have said it’s an active investigation and can’t provide any more details at this time. It is known that one of the children, a young boy, told his parent what happened, which is what put this investigation into motion.

We did a number of in-depth stories including background pieces on the subject of child endangerment. Plus I interviewed Kline, but he refused to say who his clients were, which is why he ultimately got a ten-year sentence after being found guilty. Only thing that saved him from more years were a few locals saying positive things about him. The story of the case went on for several weeks. All of us reporters were nagging you for comments or information you might have on this Kline guy.

My attorney told me to keep saying, ‘No comment.’ Eventually, it all died down in the media, but it cost me a summer of headaches and maybe a dozen customers leaving my shop.

"I know, Darcy, and now this!"

Jenna, I need your help. The body has to found before the salon has another full-blown disaster hanging over its business in the middle of ‘the season’.

Darcy, okay, but I strongly advise you to answer all of the detective’s questions truthfully. I can’t help you if you lie to him.

***

The Hamptons was like two separate universes. Five months of the year, May to September, it was a clutter of people and traffic. Thanks to the access of communication through technology, it was now easier to stay longer… and longer… Towns and villages swelled from a full-time population of five thousand to over twenty-five thousand in season. And getting worse according to recent media reports!

One story said, "In season, dozens of fancy and fancier cars were often speeding along the highways and tree-lined country roads, once home to potato and duck farms. Their occupants can be found rushing off to gourmet food shops to buy such delights as chicken salad for $75 per pound or to farm stands for fresh fruits and vegetables from local growers. It was funny to the locals who knew that many of the farm stand owners went to nearby supermarkets to load up produce and then significantly increased the cost.

Locals did not like the summer interlopers as they often called them. Many could be rude, arrogant and demanding, often making comments like, "We bring a lot of money to your little part of the world."

Such charming remarks, even though true, did not sit well with these locals.

However, the locals managed to find ways to aggravate them in return. Road construction in the summer, fire drills on busy weekends, and, at times, even allowing tourists to use the beaches with a day pass. And so it went, season to season, many finding a way to get their piece of the summer riches as small bits of revenge. Home prices, purchases and rentals increased higher and higher each year.

"…witness the new $45-million spec house in Southampton called Twin Peaks," said The New York Times.

Then, there was the issue of crime. Usually, there were only minor crimes in The Hamptons, from October to April. It was in season months that the communities from Westhampton to Southampton and from Sag Harbor to East Hampton, and out to Montauk, along with several wealthy smaller villages and enclaves in between, that there was an increase in calls for the police and private investigations.

Party crashers, fights over parking and property rights, auto incidences, environmental disagreements, domestic abuse and loud shouting matches between neighbors kept the police busy. Robbery arrests even had their own listing in the popular local weekly papers. Of course, several pages over, there were photos of happy couples and others of dancing-drinking singles at some of the overcrowded bars or posh parties held the previous weekend.

The property-rights battles could be the most bitter and vindictive. The right to build a two-story house next to a ranch-style home that had been there for years, adding more parking space, building a deck out towards the ocean while demanding no one walk on the beach in front of their home.

Each summer there were several intense battles that kept the local papers filled with stories and interviews about legal rights and fights.

Weekends, especially holiday weekends, were the worse. They arrived by special buses, the Long Island Rail Road, rental cars, limousine, and more and more by private planes.

It sometimes felt like the invasion of the body snatchers!

Sure feels like it’s getting worse, a constant and rightful complaint by locals and long-time residents.

Some year-round residents, who were not held hostage by the large sums of money summer people had paid them for various types of work, escaped at times, often to Manhattan, The City.

There were many, including Jenna, who appreciated what truly was special in the Hamptons. The landscape where ocean and land met, a sky with multi-colored sunsets and where artists and writers took it to heart, and found their voices inspired by its beauty. There were film and television celebrities who used it as their hideaway, expecting to be left alone, although they were often followed as they walked around town.

Although The Hamptons was surrounded by beauty, it still could be interrupted by the ugliness of extreme angry or sick human behavior. Why anyone would cut off a man’s head and leave it in Darcy’s Salon was a mystery that certainly reflected that ugliness.

Darcy sat on one of the salon sofas in the reception area doing her best to not break down. Trembling, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, while she ran her fingers through her bleached blond hair. Darcy, at forty-three, was a powerhouse in her business, all five-feet-one of her and with a bosom like Dolly Parton. Jenna, who would do such a terrible thing?

I called Detective Johnson right after you called me, and he should be here soon. We’ll figure out what needs to be done to find who did this.

"I can’t understand why anyone would put that head here in my salon."

As Jenna was trying to keep Darcy calm, so she would be coherent enough to talk to Detective Johnson, two of the salon’s hair stylists who had early morning client appointments walked in, carrying coffee and laughing.

They stopped when they saw Darcy, with tears, looking pale, and sitting with Jenna.

It was not yet 7 am, but in order to make time for the many weekend appointments requested, the salon agreed to see clients early on big holiday or event weekends. This was one of them. There was little traffic at this time of morning and both stylists could easily get to the salon in fifteen or twenty minutes this time of day. By late afternoon on a Friday or Saturday, it could take them triple that time.

One of the two stylists was a man who introduced himself to Jenna as Antonio Russo (how made up was