Free Murder of a Beauty Shop Queen by Bill Crider

scissors and tried to attack someone, someone who then grabbed the hair dryer as a means of defense? It might not be murder at all.
    It might have happened the other way, however. Lynn might have grabbed the scissors when someone came after her with the dryer.
    It was better not to get too interested in reconstructing things, though, not at this stage of the case. Believing you knew what happened could lead to blind spots in your thinking.
    Speaking of thinking, Rhodes wondered if Mikey Burns had been doing any of that when he had parked his little red car in front of Lynn Ashton’s house.
    Lonnie had gone to the housing addition one spring afternoon to visit a retired history teacher named Nora Fischer, who was very much a stay-at-home. She was eighty years old and lived in the first house that had been built in the addition. While she no longer drove, she was quite able to take care of herself and her small house. She also liked to have visitors, and Lonnie, who’d been in her class when he was in junior high, went by to see her now and then because he enjoyed hearing her stories.
    â€œWe talk about the old days,” Lonnie had told Rhodes, “when Clearview was still alive. She says people used to fill the streets of downtown on Saturday nights. All the farmers came to town, and the stores stayed open late for them. It’s kind of sad that there aren’t any farmers around anymore.”
    Lonnie had stayed a little later than usual talking to Nora, and it was after dark when he’d left her house. That was when he’d seen Mikey Burns’s car.
    â€œIt was right there by the curb.” Lonnie pointed as if they were taking a tour instead of sitting in his living room. “I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t say anything to Lynn about it the next day because I didn’t want her to think I was spying on her. Maybe I should have.”
    â€œDid she seem upset that day?” Rhodes wanted to know. “Distracted? Anything different about her?”
    Lonnie couldn’t remember anything, but it was enough to know that Burns had visited Lynn. It was a start.
    Rhodes finished his cheeseburger and Dr Pepper, put the trash in a can, and drove to Mikey Burns’s precinct office.
    *   *   *
    Burns’s administrative assistant, Mrs. Wilkie, didn’t smile when Rhodes came in, but then she seldom smiled at him these days. There had been a time when she had a crush on Rhodes, but that time had passed. She’d spiffed herself up, gotten a job at the commissioner’s office, and changed her priorities. Rhodes had heard she and Burns had developed a relationship. He wondered how upset Mrs. Wilkie might be by what Lonnie had told him.
    â€œGood morning,” he said.
    Mrs. Wilkie gave a slight nod in response. Her hair didn’t move. Rhodes wondered if she had it done at the Beauty Shack. The color had certainly improved lately. It was no longer the unnatural orange that it had once been.
    â€œDo you want to see Mr. Burns?” she asked.
    â€œIf he’s available,” Rhodes said.
    â€œI’ll let him know you’re here.” She punched a button on a console. “Mr. Burns, Sheriff Rhodes is here. He’d like to talk to you.”
    Rhodes heard a response, but he couldn’t make out the words.
    â€œYou can go in,” Mrs. Wilkie said, and Rhodes did.
    Burns’s office wasn’t fancy, just an old desk, some folding chairs, and a couple of green filing cabinets that had seen some hard use. Rhodes thought that Burns didn’t want the taxpayers to think he was wasting their money.
    Burns was seated behind his desk. He didn’t bother to get up and shake hands. He and Rhodes knew each other well enough to dispense with that formality, and Burns was hardly a formal person to begin with. He was known all over the county not just for his little red convertible but for his colorful aloha shirts. The one he wore today had