Page 70 of Dissection of a Murder
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Electric Dreams looks like a money-laundering front: cheap neon sign outside, palm tree decals on the windows. A bell chimes on the door when we enter, alerting everyone in the nail salon that we’ve arrived. It’s rammed with customers, presumably in the pre-Christmas rush, and “Last Christmas” by Wham! blasts out at a volume that’s too high for my liking.
Daniella walks over to us. The smell of acrylics is overpowering but strangely comforting. She smiles at me, delivering the faintest glimmer of recognition.
“I hope you’re looking after our Jack, Miss Reynolds,” she says. There’s still something about her glazed, not-fully-with-it look I can’t work out. She also appears to have lost weight since the last time I saw her. The black jumper dress she’s wearing hangs off her tiny frame. “He’s a good boy.”
“I didn’t realize how well you knew him,” Davina says.
“Oh, well, you know, he’s a very good family friend,” she explains. “He’s always around the house. If anything needs fixing, he’s the man I call. Eddie is useless with stuff like that. Jack’s always on hand when Eddie’s away on business, if I need help with anything. There’s just no way he’s done this. Jack isn’t a murderer. You need to make sure the jury sees that.”
“I’m doing my best.” I smile at her. “Lovely shop. Had it long?”
“Six years. Eddie bought it for me. I’ve always loved beauty and fashion.”
Glancing around the salon, I see another neon sign on the wall, written in swirly writing.Don’t You Want Me, Baby?
She catches me looking.
“It was Eddie’s idea to get that. He’s very hands-on with how he wants his places to look. I actuallywasa waitress in a cocktail bar when he met me. Cheesy, I know! First dance at our wedding.”
Davina instinctively pulls the kind of face you’d expect her to pull at a woman saying this, which prompts Daniella’s face to redden.
“Oh, I know that sounds weird!” she says, laughing to hide her embarrassment. “A song about…well…”
“A man controlling you?” Davina interrupts.
“I suppose. But it’s not like that. I know he’s forceful with certain people, but he’s not like that with me. He’s really done a lot for me.”
There’s something about how she says this that I don’t like. And by the look on Davina’s face, she doesn’t, either. Especially now that we know Eddie has a proclivity for watching women give blow jobs on a secret sex camera.
“How long have you been together?” I ask her.
“Twenty-two years in June.”
“Congratulations!”
“Yes, a long time. We have—sorry,had—three great kids. We married young. God knows where I would have ended up without him. I’m lucky to have the life I do!”
She’s upbeat, a contrast to how she spoke to me at the law fair. I wonder if I caught her in a moment of vulnerability then. Is she performing for Davina?
Daniella is one of those women who looks polished from afar, but up close, the cracks show. Her face has obviously had enhancements by way of Botox and fillers, but her overall look is drawn and tired.
“Daniella, we wondered if we could ask you about the time Jack came in wanting to speak with your husband on September 6.”
“On the day of the, erm…”
“The alleged murder, yes…”
“He spoke with Eddie, not me.”
“Do you still have the CCTV from that day?” I ask her. I’m pushing it a bit, but we need something to latch on to.
“Yes, of course.”
She leads us back through to the office and fiddles around with the computer before leaving us to it.
The time stamp says Friday, September 6, 2024, 1:32 p.m. Jack’s phone records indicate he’d already called Eddie multiple times before he left the club.
