Dinah raises her eyebrows. “You found that in the shower? Was there anything else in there?”
She holds it up. “A half-empty bottle of regular-sized shampoo along with conditioner, and a bar of soap. Her personal toiletries—toothbrush, toothpaste, et cetera—those are all gone. She wouldn’t have needed her big shampoo and soap on a vacation, though. Whoever turned over this apartment did a good job.”
Dinah looks at the bottle, her eyes narrowed. “And this bottle was next to the larger shampoo?”
Bianca nods. “It was sort of nestled between the shampoo and conditioner bottles.” She sighs. “It’s probably nothing. She probably got a travel-sized shampoo from another trip and was just finishing it up.”
Dinah shakes her head. “You don’t know Alissa. She’s pretty meticulous. She had this mother who—well, it’s a long story, but suffice to say that she was extremely fastidious. Some of that rubbed off on Alissa. She keeps everything neatly in its place. If she had a travel-sized shampoo, she would keep it with her travel bag. She would never have any unnecessary clutter in her shower. Can I see it?”
Bianca hands it over. “I’m not sure if it’ll be much use. It looks like the label has been torn off.”
Dinah examines the bottle. “There’s a serial number printed along the bottom. Harrison, search Google for… Just a second.” She squints as she reads the serial number out loud.
I type them in as Dinah dictates and then add the word “shampoo.”
A few options come up, most of which are in what I think is either Russian or Ukrainian.
I scroll down and find a Reddit post from a couple of years ago. Apparently there’s a small community of people who collect vintage hotel soaps and shampoos. Takes all kinds, I suppose.
I read the post. The number on the Reddit post matches the one printed on the bottle. “Looks like it’s a brand called Temper Hair Products. They mostly sell to hotels and motels, usually privately owned ones. Not big ones like a Hilton or a Marriott.”
“Interesting,” Bianca says. “Anything else?”
“Yeah… It looks like most of their line was discontinued—at least in the US—back in the seventies.”
“The seventies?” Dinah asks. “Then this could actually be a clue. Why the hell would Alissa have a nearly empty shampoo bottle in her shower that’s a half-century old?”
“Here.” Bianca shoves her own phone in my face. “Temper Hair Products has a customer service number. Should we call it?”
I rub at my forehead. “It’s a stretch, but this may be our only lead. What the hell?” I enter the number into my phone and press the call button.
The ringback tone is lower in pitch than what I’m used to. It rings quite a few times before someone answers. A woman, speaking in a language I don’t understand.
“I’m sorry, do you speak English?”
“Yes, sorry,” the woman speaks in a thick Eastern European accent. “This is Krasna. How may I help you today?”
“Yes, I have an odd question. Are your products still available in the USA?”
A small pause. “Temper Hair was somewhat popular in the United States in the nineteen seventies, but now we are mostly in the market of Eastern Europe.”
“Are there any hotels in the US that use your products?”
“There are a handful, yes.”
“Any in the Chicago area?”
“Chicago? Let me check.” The sounds of a keyboard in the background, as well as Krasna talking to someone else in a foreign language. “I will have to put you on a brief hold. Thank you for your patience.”
Smooth elevator music floods my ears, and I put the phone on speaker and place it on Alissa’s counter. I sigh. “Is this just a wild goose chase?”
Bianca frowns. “It is. But I have a feeling this wild goose is going to be worth catching.”
“How can you tell?”
She touches her left eyebrow. “Don’t make fun of me, but I can feel it here.”
“In your eyebrow?” Dinah asks.
