by Norma Lehr
When they arrived in the big room, Jan and the other two dancers were already there, seated in a loose circle around Fromer. He looked up when they entered and motioned for them to occupy the empty chairs across from him. Jan’s shoulders were slumped and her expression was sulky. Gail held a half-gallon plastic cup filled with casino dollars, and Blythe sat quietly with a Styrofoam cup trailing a label from one of her farm-grown tea bags. They were dressed in rehearsal togs; Jan gave Abby and Renee a sour look when she saw that they weren’t.
“We’re rehearsing in fifteen minutes.” Jan glanced at her watch. “The costumes are here.”
“As I was saying,” Fromer eyed Jan with a cold stare, “we have two murders here.” He plunked his fingers on a manila file. “The examiner’s reports are back. We knew Dana Johanssen had been bludgeoned and dragged to the water, but the facts are now in about Melanie Mars. The poison used to kill her was administered at the spa, absorbed through her skin.” He looked up and studied the women, starting with Renee. “The roll-on DMSO, Dimethyl sulfoxide, a commonly used natural solvent Mars used to ease the pain in her back, had been loaded with aconite liniment; probably by someone using a syringe.” He removed a paper from the file. “DMSO opens the pores, and the heat from the spa and the sun permitted the aconite to penetrate the skin quickly and deeply. Death would have occurred in about ten minutes.” He stared over at Gail. “The pink froth around the deceased’s mouth came from your protein drink.”
Gail crossed and uncrossed her legs. “She didn’t choke on that drink, did she?”
Fromer shook his head. “No.”
Gail looked relieved. “Thank goodness. I don’t need that kind of bad publicity for my product.”
Fromer glanced down at the M.E.’s report. “She died of cardiac failure due to the excessive application of the liniment.” Fromer put the file down on the table behind him. “It appears whoever killed Ms. Mars knew she had a bad back and also knew what she used to relieve her pain. We’re looking at a premeditated killing by someone aware of her history.”
The room became silent until Blythe spoke up. “I certainly didn’t know about her problem. I haven’t seen her for just years and years. She didn’t have any back pains when we were in New York.” She frowned, took a sip of her home-made tea, and looked around at the others. “Well, did she?”
Gail shrugged. Abby and Renee exchanged glances and shook their heads.
“What about the masseuse?” Abby said. “Wouldn’t the stuff have hurt her, too? Unless she was wearing gloves.”
“The lotion was contained in a roll-on device,” Fromer replied. “She was just about to massage the lotion in with her hands when Miss Mars was stricken. So she never actually touched the substance. A small amount would probably not have hurt her in any case.”
Jan spoke up. “The first I knew of her pain was at rehearsal on Wednesday when she hobbled from the stage. Too bad. You all knew, when you received those forms I sent, that you could refuse to dance.” Jan rose halfway in her chair. “Are we about done here?” She challenged Fromer. “We’ve got a show to do tonight, and we’re not near ready.” She came to her feet.
“Sit down,” Fromer commanded. “No one leaves until I say.”
Jan slipped back into her seat. Abby took a deep breath. Renee, apparently trying to avoid the detective’s probing eyes, nonchalantly studied the animal heads hanging on the walls.
“We don’t have premeditated murders here in Tahoe. Whatever baggage you women brought here with you is causing a good deal of alarm around this town. The media has seen to that.”
Fromer turned and addressed Jan. “I don’t doubt that, with all this publicity, the Showroom will be packed the next two nights for your performances.” He turned to the other women. “Two of your friends are dead, and I believe there’s a serial killer loose. Think about it. The next two nights, whenever you get up on that stage, you’ll be taking a risk. You could be targets. Who knows who’ll be in the audience or, for that matter, backstage?
“I’ll have two men on duty, Deputy Eckles and his assistant, but that’s it.” He stood, stretched his shoulders, and picked up his file. “I’ll be here both nights, either in the audience or roaming the lobby, house or backstage. I’ve already cautioned each of you to be watchful. I’m saying it again.”
He studied the women’s faces as if to memorize them. “Try not to be out alone, and, for God’s sake, watch each other’s backs! If you see or hear anything suspicious, call me immediately.” With that, he strode out the double glass doors and disappeared around the side of a spinning roulette wheel.
No one moved until Jan jumped up. “Okay, gang, let’s get going. We’ve got work to do.”
Gail and Blythe followed her out. Renee headed for the doors. “Come on, Abby, let’s hurry and change before young Cruella comes after us.”
On the way back to their chalet, Renee chattered on about Fromer and the pending rehearsal. Abby only half listened, wondering if she should have said something to Fromer about the hooded person she’d seen leaving Melanie’s the night before she died. And then, of course, she’d spotted possibly the same person sneaking around on the darkened stage in the Celebrity Room … It wasn’t until Renee said, “And I’ve got to call Tom and let him know when I can meet him,” that Abby gave her friend her full attention.
“Call him? Where? I thought you’d set a meeting place last night?”
“Nope. I’ve got his cell number. If he wants to tell his sordid story, he’ll have to wait until after rehearsal. Come on, let’s get moving.”
Abby and Renee decided to wear flat tap shoes to rehearsal. Their feet were hurting after dancing in high heels at the disco. “Jan might throw a hissy fit,” Renee said as she checked her broad heeltaps. “I haven’t worn these for a few weeks, and there’s a screw missing on this left one. It’s going to sound really metallic on that stage floor.”
Everyone was settled in the Celebrity Room, happy to have discovered that Jan’s costumes fit nicely, with only minimal adjustments. Elation shone on Jan’s face. “You realize these are my own creations. I had them made especially for this show. They are designed for quick changes. You’ll wear your black leotard for every number coupled with these bright miniskirts and matching interchangeable sleeves. For the finale, you’ll wear your trademark silver cutaways and top hats.”
Gail frowned. “Why aren’t we wearing our usual costumes?” She fingered the shiny material. “These are nice, but really, they’re not anything like what we wore in New York.”
Jan’s eyes flashed. “Welcome to the new millennium. Let’s go with the latest hot fashions. You’ve still got the figures. Show the audience you’ve kept up with the times.”
Gail looked at the others and raised a brow. Abby shrugged, and Renee covered her mouth with her hand. The costumes were different, but Jan must know what she was doing. They incorporated the three costume changes, as directed, and Jan smiled for the first time.
Their dance routines didn’t go as well. Abby glanced over at Renee, then peered down at Jan as she paced back and forth at the foot of the stage, reprimanding each dancer in turn.
“Are you stiff or something?” she hollered up at Renee. “You’re moving like a robot.” Her eyes flicked from Renee to Abby. “What’s with the flat shoes, you two?”
“Um, we did some dancing last night,” Abby confessed. “So our feet are a little sore. But we’ll soak them before the performance tonight, and they’ll be good as new, I promise. We just thought it would be better if we gave them a rest.”
Jan groaned and shook her head in despair; then she raised her hand, and the music began. Each dancer slipped back into her appointed place and moved smoothly in sync with the others. When the dance tempo made a quick uptick, Renee let out a yelp and began hopping around on one foot.
Jan raised her hand, and the music stopped. Her eyes flashed as Renee sat down on the stage and held her foot. “Well, well,” she said sarcastically. “You stomped
your toes.” She slapped her forehead. “Hell-ooo! Wide heel taps on flat shoes hurt, remember?” She backed up and sat at one of the tables covered with a white tablecloth in preparation for the show. She poured herself a glass of ice water from a pitcher and waited.
Renee stood and gingerly placed the wounded foot on stage. “Sorry. It doesn’t hurt that much.” She turned to Abby, rolled her eyes, and whispered, “Just throbs like a hot boil.”
Abby patted her shoulder. “Can you dance?”
“Sure.” She gritted her teeth and did a sharp flap, flap.
Rehearsal continued, and Renee kept up with the others. Abby knew how much that stomp must have hurt. She’d done the same to her foot, actually to both of them, at one time or another. Those wide heavy heel taps could be deadly when brought down with force.
When the rehearsal was over, Jan informed them that they must be back on stage at four. “No excuses for lateness.” She scowled pointedly at Renee.
Renee turned to Abby, avoiding Jan’s scowl. “I’m going to leave now. I’m meeting Tom out front.” She slipped her orange tunic sweater over her black stretch pants and handed Abby her tote. “Please take this back with you.” With a wince, she carried her sandals and limped barefoot out the side exit.
Abby hurriedly slipped on a blue zippered sweat jacket, waited a few moments, and followed her out. Tom, wearing a denim cap and track suit, paced and smoked as he waited for Renee by the Indian statue at the end of the long driveway.
Abby cut across the parking area, keeping her distance and stopping between parked cars, until she reached Renee’s metallic gray sports car. The driver’s side was unlocked. She slid inside and waited.
She watched through the rearview mirror as Tom rushed to meet Renee. He reached for her arm and led her over to his car. When he gunned the motor of his gold 280Z and took off like a bat out of hell, Abby gunned Renee’s sport car and followed them onto the highway. He made a left turn and headed west toward Tahoe City. Wherever that jerk was bound, Abby would be on his tail. She was heavy on the gas, screeching rubber on the winding turns.
No harm would come to her friend, not if she could help it.
Chapter 14
Abby gripped the steering wheel and sped down North Lake Boulevard in Renee’s two-seater. She drove the rim of the lake, maintaining her distance while keeping Tom’s flashy gold car in sight. At the first intersection, she made it through a yellow light as it turned red, fervently hoping that Deputy Eckles wasn’t around to pull her over. If luck was on her side, he and his sidekick were back at the Biltmore, dunking donuts in their morning coffee, or better yet—solving the murders. She had always prided herself on being a cautious driver, but today she was prepared to take a few risks if it meant not losing sight of Renee.
She dropped back whenever Tom slowed down. When she sailed past the sheriff’s office, she slowed and gave the gray building a quick glance before continuing on to the Fanny Bridge intersection in Tahoe City. Tom stopped. She waited. He started up again, turning south on Highway 89 headed toward Emerald Bay. Before he got to the bay, he pulled off the highway and headed down into a campground.
Abby slowed, steered Renee’s car off to the side of the road, and came to a stop where she could observe but not be seen. She leaned forward and peered through the windshield. Binoculars would have helped. Blade probably had all the latest models for his detecting, but that didn’t help her now. At one time, Renee used small opera glasses for musicals they both attended in Sacramento. Abby leaned over, opened the glove box, and rummaged around.
No glasses, but what was this? A Harveys’ flyer with Tom’s picture on the front. She studied his phony smile and shook her head. What a piece of work! He’d signed the bottom of the flyer, gave his room number at Harveys, and scrawled, “See you there, babe.”
Abby turned the flyer face down on the seat and leaned back. If that invitation had been meant for Renee and she had heard from Tom before last night, Abby would be surprised. Maybe a little hurt. She could think of no conceivable reason for Renee to keep it a secret if Tom had contacted her. She and Renee had always confided in each other.
She stuffed the flyer in her purse and pulled out on the highway when Tom started down the hill toward the water. She glanced at a corner of the colored flyer. Perhaps that message had not been for Renee, but for Melanie. But then why would it be in Renee’s glove box?
Gail or Blythe, that’s how. Yesterday they had borrowed Renee’s car to go to South Shore. Well, that presented a different picture now, didn’t it? Which one of them had “Babe Business” with the big comic? Gail had complained to Renee about Blythe leaving her in South Shore for over an hour. Had it really happened that way? It could have been the other way around. Gail could have ditched Blythe. Who knew? Tom probably knew, but would he let on to Renee? Maybe he was telling her right now. Abby stepped on the gas and drove through the campground gate.
Most of the campsites were deserted, with only a couple of tents under the tall trees. But then, it was still early on a Friday. The hill got steeper, and she geared down. The speedometer dropped to 5 mph. Fine! She intended to give Tom plenty of time to get parked. Riding the brake, she inched on down until she came to a clearing where the lake and beach spread out in a spectacular, breathtaking view. The sun had drifted behind a white cloud, and the lake rippled toward shore in various shades of green. She stopped and soaked in the beauty. A few more miles and they would have reached Emerald Bay, a must-see before she returned to the Sacramento Valley. Right now she had business to take care of—the business of watching out for her friend. Just like the good detective had advised.
Tom and Renee were out of the car and walking the beach at the water’s edge toward a huge rock formation. Barefoot, Renee made frequent stops to bathe both feet in the cold water. Tom waited patiently by her side with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black tracksuit pants. His hooded windbreaker slung loosely across his shoulders.
Abby parked a good distance from Tom’s 280Z. She pulled in alongside an empty SUV on the driver’s side in an attempt to hide Renee’s car. Except for Tom and Renee, the beach looked deserted. Abby sat and watched until they had almost reached the big boulders stacked against a finger of land that jutted into the lake. She got out and moved to the front of the car and sat on the low hood. Munching on an apple found in Renee’s tote bag, she planned her next move. Should she remain here, or follow? She watched as Tom helped Renee climb up on the rocks. He guided her over to a long vertical crevice in the largest boulder, where he suddenly picked her up and lifted her on through.
Abby tossed the apple in a trash can and hurried alongside the beach until she reached the end of the blacktop. She jumped down to the sand and, as she neared the rocks, listened to them arguing on the far side—Renee protesting and Tom insisting. Abby upped her pace. What was he trying to do? An engine started up. She looked back as the SUV pulled out, leaving Renee’s car in plain sight. Another car, a black one, coasted in and took the SUV’s spot. No one got out, and Abby hurried on.
She made her way up the smaller rocks toward the crevice of the huge boulder just in time to hear a thud. Renee screeched, and Tom let out a holler.
Abby gripped the rocks, pulled herself up, and slid through the crevice. A stamp-size cove lay on the other side, and Tom was sprawled face down on the sand, his cap at his side, and his bald pate shining. Renee stood triumphantly with her good foot planted firmly on his back. “Now. Are you getting the message? What is it about NO you don’t understand?”
Tom groaned and dug his hands in the sand. “Let me up, babe. I hear you.”
Renee turned her head when Abby cried out, “What’s going on?”
Renee removed her foot, and Tom got up warily.
She beamed a smile of victory. “Those self-defense moves really work.” She brushed off her hands. “When we get back to class, have I got a story to tell!”
“Yeah, well,” Tom protested. “Keep this kind of stuff up, and y
ou’ll land in jail. Tell your story there. You’ll have a captive audience.”
Abby looked on in wonder as Renee helped Tom pull himself together.
“How’d you get here?” Renee said. “You been following us?”
Abby nodded and dangled Renee’s keys. “Just a precaution. Fromer said to watch each other’s back and that’s what I’ve been doing.”
Tom grimaced and held his. “Well, it’s my back that’s been stomped on.” With that, he hoisted himself up to the big rock and slipped through to the other side.
Abby and Renee began laughing, and in seconds they were on their knees in hysterics. “I’ve gotta go pee,” Renee said. “Come on. Let’s find the john.”
“So, tell me,” Abby said, climbing back over the rocks. “What did he do to deserve that throw?”
“Ohhh,” Renee sounded remorseful, “I guess I got carried away. He tried to kiss me, and all of the past flew in front of my eyes and I couldn’t help myself. You know what? It felt good to down him. Now maybe he’ll leave me alone forever.”
Abby let out a sharp laugh. “I don’t doubt that. I think you showed him. He looked pale, even through his L.A. tan.”
Tom walked up ahead, keeping close to the water. He stopped to light a cigarette as a figure walked toward him, acknowledged him with a nod, angled off, and headed straight for the women. “Good grief,” said Abby. “Look who’s here. The good detective.”
“Ladies.” He gave a firm greeting. “Keeping tabs on each other, are we?”
Abby nodded. “Following orders.”
“Everything all right here?”
Both women looked at each other and smiled. “Taking in the morning scenery before lunch,” Renee replied.
Fromer motioned toward Tom with a flick of his head. “Friend of yours?” He turned and stared at Renee.
Renee leaned over and began massaging her sore foot. “At one time.” She looked up. “Long, long ago.”