“He’d achieved a short fuzz by the time we graduated. We all thought the stuff worked, but it wasn’t a miracle like we’d expected.”
Kenya gave her a frank stare. “We were dumb to try it on him. New drugs are usually tested on animals first.”
“The formula wasn’t new, nor was it a drug.” Kenya’s words nagged at something in her memory that troubled her, but it wasn’t as bad as the disgraceful reminder of what they’d done.
During her research for the paper on Martha Matilda Harper, Marla had unearthed a diary written by a chemist from Harper Laboratories in Rochester, New York. The man, John Kagan, mentioned a nourishing tonic that rejuvenated hair. Presumably this was the formula Harper had acquired from the doctor whose household she’d served.
Kagan opened his own lab and continued to refine the tonic. He’d actually created a compound to grow new hair, but the formula was flawed. His diary contained the mixture of components. He’d died before he could complete his work.
As a prank, Marla and her classmates had prepared the solution and applied it to Wyeth during a session on hair coloring. They figured it should make his hair grow thicker. It didn’t work that way. Wyeth Holmes, who prided himself on his virile looks, went bald. The formula caused hair loss, not growth. At least on a first trial, that’s what happened.
Had Wyeth’s hair grown in after that episode? She hadn’t seen him since graduation, when a short fuzz covered his head. Maybe the formula was effective, but it needed to be applied on a regular basis. Or maybe that’s all the hair growth it produced. Considering that Wyeth’s baldness was due to their intervention, would the compound work with age-related hair loss? If someone in her group had developed it in that regard, the tonic might have become extremely valuable.
Her thoughts returned to Cutter Corrigan. As their instructor, he’d had access to everyone’s notes. What if this was something he had decided to pursue? Holy highlights, what an idea! But it didn’t explain how Goat was involved, why Yani was killed, or if the deaths of the two stylists were related.
She presented her theory to Kenya, who appeared to regard the whole notion with mirth. “Better watch your back, girlfriend,” Kenya said, chuckling. “Wyeth’s ghost is coming back after all these years to haunt us.”
“You may not be far from the truth. Why is his name gone from the class roster, and where is he now?”
“Find your missing friend, and you might find him.”
Marla shook her head. “I have the feeling everything is connected, but I don’t understand how. Maybe Detective Vail has more information.”
She’d probe him for answers tomorrow at Brianna’s party. In the meantime, finding a new chess piece became her priority. Otherwise, she’d be in more hot water. Having a possible killer after her was bad enough; having Vail as an enemy would be worse.
Chapter Eight
Marla was nearly late for Brianna’s party. She arrived at Dave and Buster’s at ten minutes past seven, rushing into the dinner theater where several tables were reserved. Vail’s daughter, surrounded by friends, looked grown-up in a black sheath dress. Her dark brown hair curled softly onto her bared shoulders. Spotting Marla, she smiled, giving a thumbs-up signal.
Dalton wore a flustered air as she approached. “It’s about time,” he told her. “I was hoping you weren’t going to abandon me to this troop of teenagers. What am I supposed to do now?”
“You could try to relax and enjoy yourself.” He looked spiffy in a polo shirt and Dockers, she thought. He must’ve taken pains to blow-dry his hair, because the texture was soft and fluffy. His part could be a tad straighter, though .
“You took Brie shopping today,” he said after she’d put down her gift-wrapped packages. She didn’t miss his accusatory tone.
“She picked out that dress, along with some other necessities. Didn’t
Kenya gave her a frank stare. “We were dumb to try it on him. New drugs are usually tested on animals first.”
“The formula wasn’t new, nor was it a drug.” Kenya’s words nagged at something in her memory that troubled her, but it wasn’t as bad as the disgraceful reminder of what they’d done.
During her research for the paper on Martha Matilda Harper, Marla had unearthed a diary written by a chemist from Harper Laboratories in Rochester, New York. The man, John Kagan, mentioned a nourishing tonic that rejuvenated hair. Presumably this was the formula Harper had acquired from the doctor whose household she’d served.
Kagan opened his own lab and continued to refine the tonic. He’d actually created a compound to grow new hair, but the formula was flawed. His diary contained the mixture of components. He’d died before he could complete his work.
As a prank, Marla and her classmates had prepared the solution and applied it to Wyeth during a session on hair coloring. They figured it should make his hair grow thicker. It didn’t work that way. Wyeth Holmes, who prided himself on his virile looks, went bald. The formula caused hair loss, not growth. At least on a first trial, that’s what happened.
Had Wyeth’s hair grown in after that episode? She hadn’t seen him since graduation, when a short fuzz covered his head. Maybe the formula was effective, but it needed to be applied on a regular basis. Or maybe that’s all the hair growth it produced. Considering that Wyeth’s baldness was due to their intervention, would the compound work with age-related hair loss? If someone in her group had developed it in that regard, the tonic might have become extremely valuable.
Her thoughts returned to Cutter Corrigan. As their instructor, he’d had access to everyone’s notes. What if this was something he had decided to pursue? Holy highlights, what an idea! But it didn’t explain how Goat was involved, why Yani was killed, or if the deaths of the two stylists were related.
She presented her theory to Kenya, who appeared to regard the whole notion with mirth. “Better watch your back, girlfriend,” Kenya said, chuckling. “Wyeth’s ghost is coming back after all these years to haunt us.”
“You may not be far from the truth. Why is his name gone from the class roster, and where is he now?”
“Find your missing friend, and you might find him.”
Marla shook her head. “I have the feeling everything is connected, but I don’t understand how. Maybe Detective Vail has more information.”
She’d probe him for answers tomorrow at Brianna’s party. In the meantime, finding a new chess piece became her priority. Otherwise, she’d be in more hot water. Having a possible killer after her was bad enough; having Vail as an enemy would be worse.
Chapter Eight
Marla was nearly late for Brianna’s party. She arrived at Dave and Buster’s at ten minutes past seven, rushing into the dinner theater where several tables were reserved. Vail’s daughter, surrounded by friends, looked grown-up in a black sheath dress. Her dark brown hair curled softly onto her bared shoulders. Spotting Marla, she smiled, giving a thumbs-up signal.
Dalton wore a flustered air as she approached. “It’s about time,” he told her. “I was hoping you weren’t going to abandon me to this troop of teenagers. What am I supposed to do now?”
“You could try to relax and enjoy yourself.” He looked spiffy in a polo shirt and Dockers, she thought. He must’ve taken pains to blow-dry his hair, because the texture was soft and fluffy. His part could be a tad straighter, though .
“You took Brie shopping today,” he said after she’d put down her gift-wrapped packages. She didn’t miss his accusatory tone.
“She picked out that dress, along with some other necessities. Didn’t
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