“Thank you,” Rena said. She pulled a business card from her pocket. “If I happen to miss Ms. Wayne, would you give this to her and let her know that I need to talk with her?”

“Of course.” Candiss slipped the card into the pocket of her top.

Rena got into her vehicle and pulled up the Brighter Day Salon on Parke Street on her GPS. It was a short drive. She parked just left of the front door. There was a sign in the window advertising services. Cuts, color, facials. The list went on. Rena looked in the rearview mirror. Maybe she should get her eyebrows waxed while she was here. They were looking a little bushy.

When she opened the door, the smell of salon, of every salon ever known, assailed her. A bell tinkled and a small older woman behind the counter looked up. Rena couldn’t see anything else because a partition separated the front from the rest of the salon. She looked too old for a personal relationship with Candiss Lake but Rena didn’t want to assume.

“Melissa Wayne?” Rena asked.

“Oh no, honey. I just work the desk. Melissa is the owner. She’s back there.”

Rena stepped around the wall. Scanned the oblong space. Swivel chairs. A bunch of tall, thin young girls wearing black aprons. Sinks. A pedicure station. Customers. All female. Wet hair, foiled hair, almost dry hair. Her eyes stopped. There in the back, scissors in one hand, comb in the other, stood Alice Quest.

No. Not Alice Quest. It had to be Melissa Wayne.

But the resemblance was startling. Same face. Same lean body. Same brown hair, although Melissa’s had some blond highlights and it was shorter, cut in a stylish asymmetrical bob with one side pushed behind an ear that had at least four gold earrings in it.

Rena started walking toward her. Melissa put down her scissors.

“Melissa Wayne?” Rena asked.

“Yes.”

Rena assumed that Candiss Lake had immediately called or texted Melissa Wayne. So there should be no surprises. Rena passed her a business card. There was no reason to announce to a salon of women that the police were there. Melissa Wayne looked at it briefly.

“I really need to finish this cut,” she said. “Can you wait a few minutes?”

Rena looked at the woman in the chair. One side was four inches shorter than the other. “Sure,” Rena said.

Melissa pointed to a closed door. “That leads to a break room. There should be coffee. Help yourself.”

“Okay.”

There was coffee and Rena poured herself a cup. Then she sat at the oblong table and picked up a People magazine that was several weeks old. My God, when was everybody going to get over the royal family and their growing brood of royal babies? Still, Rena let her eyes settle on the one closest to the camera. Cute kid. A little red in the hair.

Her child could have red hair.