Deadly Intent

by Camy Tang

  “No.”

  “Do you have any connection to her husband?”

  “I’ll have to call my admin to check, but I don’t think so. I know I’ve never done surgery on him.”

  “No connection with the Raiders?”

  “I do surgery on the players—I don’t have a connection to anything else. And all my surgeries on the players have been successful. Nothing for anyone to complain about.”

  She punched the button for the elevator. “None of this makes sense. Maybe this isn’t connected to Jessica’s death at all.”

  He stood close to her, a little closer than he should, actually. His sandalwood cologne wove around her. Musky, spicy, exotic. It made her think of his strength, war-riorlike. Strong enough to protect her.

  She couldn’t help herself—she glanced up at him.

  He was looking at her. His eyes were dark and glittering. Glinting, almost hypnotic. He swayed closer. She could feel the heat of his body, contrasted with the crisp air-conditioning. He warmed her. He was going to kiss her.

  And then he blinked. His eyes dulled and he backed away.

  As they shared the elevator down to the lobby, she realized that she’d been mistaken. He hadn’t been about to kiss her. She’d been delusional because she found him so attractive. She’d been guilty of the same thing she did every year at the Zoe dinner—reading more into his friendliness than was actually there.

  Besides, she had a spa to run. She didn’t have time for a social life. Plus, her life was here in Sonoma. He had a lively practice nearly two hours away in South San Francisco.

  As a respected massage therapist, she’d toyed with the idea of opening her own business, of moving away from Sonoma. But that was before Dad’s stroke. That was before he needed her so much. Her family needed her.

  So why did her responsibilities feel like a straitjacket?

  He’d almost kissed her. Almost fallen down that path he’d vowed he wouldn’t go. At least, not now. Not while his business was in such bad shape, not while Jessica’s betrayal still stung.

  But Naomi Grant isn’t Jessica.

  No, that deeper part of him was still too raw.

  He had to stop leading Naomi on. He had to more clearly indicate that he wasn’t interested in her.

  Except that he was.

  He had to stop trying to stand closer to her so he could smell that fresh, exotic, soothing scent of hers. He had to stop leaning in to catch the subtle nuances of her voice.

  He had to stop looking in her eyes…except they drew him, stronger than the magnetic field of an MRI machine.

  They reached the parking lot. “Do you want to take your car or mine?”

  Surprisingly, she paled under the hot July sun. “Why don’t you drive?”

  “What’s wrong?” He stepped close enough to see the pulse beating at her throat—faster than normal.

  She glanced at the parking lot while her hands pulled at the edges of her blouse. “It’s my car. Someone broke into it.”

  “What? When?”

  “I don’t know when. Sometime between Sunday night and now.”

  “You mentioned that you have a white Lexus.”

  She nodded.

  “The same as Marissa Paige.”

  She nodded again, but slower.

  “So someone could have tried to steal your car in order to run me down. But failing that, they took Marissa’s car instead. Both white Lexuses.”

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Someone could be trying to set you up. Jessica’s murder in your massage room. Your car—or, at least, one similar to your car—used to run me down, maybe another murder.”

  Suddenly the threat to his own life seemed paltry compared to the insidious web being woven around Naomi. He had to find a way to keep her safe.

  She blinked, looking into his face, then shrugged his hands away from her shoulders. “What can you do about it?”

  What could he do about it? What right did he have to do anything about it?

  Her chin lifted as she stood there, challenging him with her silence. Finally, she turned and walked toward the parking lot. “Let’s go. I still have clients to visit this afternoon. I told Ms. Alaveros I’d be at her hotel by four.”

  He followed her as she marched on, back straight, firm and determined, despite how frail she seemed.

  He shouldn’t get involved.

  But he was already involved.

  At least, that’s what his heart was telling him.

  NINE

  The next day, nervousness suffused the air at the spa, stronger than the aromatherapy essences. It impacted everyone—staff and clients.

  While Naomi’s clients relaxed once they were in her new massage room, in the hallways they walked a little faster than normal, their eyes darted around them, and they didn’t chatter as much in the lounges. At least, Naomi didn’t hear as much chatter as usual when she walked into the lounges to collect her next appointment.

  Her feet ached a little from walking through downtown Sonoma yesterday with Devon. She’d visited two other Tamarind clients who had been in the lounge with Jessica, but neither of them remembered anything more than what Marissa Paige had told her. While she’d improved the spa-client relationship with those women, she couldn’t help feeling that all those hours had been wasted.

  Well, not entirely wasted. She’d spent more time in Devon Knightley’s company than ever before.

  When speaking to the other clients, he’d been as charming as when they’d talked to Marissa. The women flirted with him and were more open to his questions. Naomi had to admit that he’d been very helpful.

  And in between visiting those women at their hotels, he’d been an entertaining companion. His stories were funny but not malicious; most often they poked fun at himself rather than others.

  Once in a while, a stronger look in his eye stopped her heart. It would last for a moment, a few seconds…and then it would disappear, and he’d be the friendly but slightly aloof Dr. Knightley once again.

  Those hot-cold mixed signals were starting to irritate her. But she had to push Devon out of her thoughts because she had more important things to worry about. Like the spa’s reopening after such a scandalous event.

  At one o’clock, she had just escorted her completed massage client back to the main lounge when she saw Eloise Fischer about to enter the Tamarind Lounge. Her heart kicked into high gear as she hurried toward her. “Ms. Fischer.”

  She paused, her hand on the knob of the open lounge door. “Yes?”

  Naomi met the eye of another massage therapist heading toward the lounge to collect her next appointment. Naomi had a one o’clock client, as well, but she could wait. Talking to Eloise Fischer about Jessica was more important. “Won’t you come with me into the Anise Lounge?” She gestured toward a corridor lined with elaborately scrolled doors, each of them a private lounge for the spa’s most elite members, Saffron clients. Luckily, she had remembered the Anise Lounge was available, since only a handful of clients could afford the Saffron membership, which included use of the private lounges. She knew that none of the Saffron clients were here today.

  Ms. Fischer must have known about the Anise Lounge because her eyebrows disappeared into her coiffed gold-streaked bangs. She blinked, then broke into a gracious smile. “Why, thank you, Miss Grant.” The condescension oozed from her voice as if it were she conferring the unexpected favor, rather than Naomi.

  Naomi kept her polite, plastic smile fixed on her face. She’d dealt with people like Ms. Fischer too often for it to bother her anymore. Plus, putting an uppity client in her place wasn’t in the job description.

  Before leading Ms. Fischer down the corridor, she nodded to the other massage therapist, who still stood outside the Tamarind Lounge, her eyes wide at the unusual exchange. “Annalisa, will you tell Ms. Vogts that I’ll be a few minutes late for her massage? And in case I don’t get to it, please let Iona and Sarah know that I’m running late and I’ll be in the
Anise Lounge with Ms. Fischer for a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Miss Grant.”

  She felt a little silly, but she wanted to let Ms. Fischer know that everyone else knew Naomi would be alone with her, and in which room. If, by any chance, Ms. Fischer was the murderer, this might deter her from more violence.

  Naomi led the way down a corridor and opened the gilded door to a room swathed in azure blue silks that swayed lightly in the faint breeze from the air-conditioning. She led the way to the pair of navy blue chairs in the corner and pressed the call button on the wall next to one.

  Iona’s voice chimed into the room in soft, polite tones. “May I help you?” An excellent, neutral response since the receptionists knew no one was scheduled to be in this lounge today.

  “Iona, this is Naomi Grant.” She turned to Eloise. “May we get you anything? A glass of wine? We have an excellent bottle of Kendall-Jackson Stature.”

  Ms. Fischer nodded. “I’d love that.”

  “Iona, two glasses of the Stature.”

  “Right away, Miss Grant.”

  Naomi sat in the other chair across from Eloise. “Ms. Fischer, I just wanted to personally apologize for the unfortunate events that occurred the last time you were here.” She must be getting better at this, because that didn’t sound half as awkward as when she had visited Marissa Paige and the other clients yesterday.

  Eloise affected a bored look, although Naomi could see the gleam of pleasure in her eyes. “How nice of you,” she drawled, as if being escorted to one of the expensive private lounges happened to her all the time.

  “I hope you weren’t too upset by the ordeal?”

  Her hand reached up to the neck of her robe. “It was very shocking.”

  “Yes, especially if you were good friends with Ms. Ortiz.”

  Her eyelashes twitched. “We were quite good friends.”

  Naomi kept her body from starting in surprise, although she felt a muscle tic in her jaw. They hadn’t seemed like good friends at all. “I’m so sorry, then, for how upsetting this must be for you.”

  “Yes. So upsetting.” Dramatically, Eloise sank back in her chair.

  “How did you know Ms. Ortiz?”

  “From various charity events. Actually, I know her mother better than I knew her. I frequent the Ortizes’ boutique in San Francisco.” An exclusive clothing line catering to high profile clientele, a bit like how Joy Luck Life Spa had risen in reputation and popularity with wealthy patrons.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but that morning, when I was looking for Ms. Ortiz, I spoke to you and you mentioned that you had chatted with her. Had she been acting oddly in any way?”

  Eloise’s mouth tightened. “Well, she was in high spirits, I thought.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s strange, but in the times I’ve seen her here at the spa, she never talks about the men in her life. But this last time, she couldn’t stop talking about her new boyfriend. She seemed so…happy.”

  New boyfriend? Was that the stranger who had appeared at the spa the evening she was killed? But why had he seemed so nervous when he was asking for Jessica? And why had he run? “Did she mention his name?”

  “No, just that they were going wine tasting the next day, and she had arranged some private tastings at a few exclusive wineries.”

  Still no name to the stranger’s face. Eloise’s attention seemed to be wandering, so Naomi brought up the other topic of conversation she needed to know. “Someone else mentioned…I seem to recall something about her necklace…”

  “Oh, that pretentious thing.” Eloise batted her hand at the air. “As if a Tiffany necklace weren’t commonplace these days.”

  Eloise Fischer had never worn one to the spa, but Naomi kept that thought firmly locked in her head. “She was proud of her necklace?”

  “Went on and on about how expensive it was and that it had been a wedding gift.”

  A wedding gift? From Devon? Suddenly Naomi wasn’t so sure she wanted to find it again.

  “Thank goodness Gloria Reynolds got into that argument with her, or she would have gone on forever about it.”

  Naomi’s heart blipped. Argument? With Ms. Reynolds? “What did they argue about?” Naomi must have seemed too eager, because Eloise’s eyes narrowed as they regarded her. Naomi hastily added, “I had heard they were so close.” If close meant they shared the same lounge with each other once in a while.

  “Close? The two of them? Gracious, no. I respect that Gloria is a businesswoman—” her tone implied the opposite “—but doing business in a spa is simply rude.”

  “They were discussing business?”

  “They were in the far corner of the Tamarind Lounge so I couldn’t hear them—thank goodness—but I think they were discussing something about money owed.” Eloise’s mouth pinched at the affront, although Naomi wasn’t entirely certain that Eloise was offended at their having been talking about money, or simply that they had been too far away for her to overhear them.

  Money? And the necklace had been stolen. Was Gloria Reynolds more entrenched in this than she seemed? What had Jessica done to upset Gloria?

  A tap at the door preceded Iona with a tray bearing two full glasses of a rich red wine.

  Eloise sighed even as she eyed the wineglasses. “Such a shame. Jessica was as beautiful as her mother is. And no mother should have to bury her own daughter.”

  What an awful thought. Naomi shuddered. “Oh, look at the time.” She rose to her feet. “I have an appointment. Feel free to enjoy the rest of the day in this room, Ms. Fischer. Your aesthetician will call for you here.”

  She left when Iona did, with Ms. Fischer smiling broadly at both the use of the luxurious room and the two glasses of wine.

  “Iona, would you mind telling Ms. Fischer’s aesthetician that she’s in this room rather than the Tamarind Lounge?”

  Iona dimpled. “No problem, Miss Grant.”

  “Thanks.”

  Naomi went to collect her one o’clock appointment—late—but her mind swirled. Jessica had been here in Sonoma with a man? Maybe his name had been on the hotel reservation together with Jessica’s. The spa often asked for a guest’s hotel so they could leave a message, if necessary. She could find out later today where Jessica had been staying, and she might also learn the name of whoever had been staying with her

  The argument with Gloria Reynolds was very interesting. When she had a spare moment, she’d see if Gloria had another appointment today or this week. Gloria tended to make several appointments with the spa every time she came into Sonoma, so there was a good chance she’d be in sometime soon and Naomi could then ask her about Jessica.

  A part of her screamed to leave it alone, to let the police handle it. But another part of her needed to do something to try to escape this tightening net. Everything was pointing to her as Jessica’s murderer. She couldn’t stand here and let things fall into place around her this way.

  She had to prove her innocence.

  Later that evening, Naomi collapsed, exhausted, in her office chair. What a busy day.

  She was almost glad that Virginia Cormorand had had nothing more to add to what Eloise Fischer had told her about Jessica. Taking clients all day as well as worrying about what Eloise had said tapped her energy completely.

  She’d called Jessica’s hotel to ask if there had been any other name on the room reservation, but she had no luck there—only Jessica’s name.

  “Naomi?” Rachel’s airy voice floated into the office through her open door.

  “Ready to go home?” She was so tired that she was glad they’d carpooled to the spa early this morning.

  Rachel drifted into the office. “I’m waiting on one more incubation period. Give me five minutes.” But the way she slumped into the chair on the other side of Naomi’s desk, it didn’t seem as if she were in a rush to get back to her lab to finish up. She noticed the picture on Naomi’s desk. “What’s that?”

  “I almost forgot about it. It was o
n my desk this morning. Andrew printed a picture of the stranger from the surveillance video.”

  “The guy who came by the night Jessica was killed?” Rachel studied the photo. “He looks nervous.”

  “He was nervous.”

  “I wonder what he’s hiding.”

  “I’ve cleared my morning schedule for the day after tomorrow so I can go around downtown and show that stranger’s picture to some shop owners and waiters.”

  Rachel checked the timer clipped to her lab coat pocket. “Do you expect to find anything?”

  Naomi told her about how the stranger might be Jessica’s boyfriend, the necklace and Gloria Reynolds’s argument with Jessica. “I checked the schedule, and Gloria doesn’t have a reservation until a few days from now.”

  “So you can talk to her then.”

  “I wish she were in tomorrow. I guess I’m just impatient.”

  “You are.” She didn’t say it maliciously, just stated it like the bald fact that it was. Typical Rachel. She started fiddling with a paperweight on Naomi’s desk.

  “Stop that, you’ll mess up my papers…” Wait a minute. Those papers had been moved. She was sure of it. She’d stacked them neatly this morning, and now they were askew.

  She looked around her desk and noticed that her pen container was knocked a few inches out of place and her stapler was facing the opposite direction.

  She shot to her feet, her heart pounding.

  Rachel gazed up at her with confused eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone has been touching things on my desk.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, scanning the office. The plant on top of her filing cabinet had been moved, because its leaves now draped over the front of the drawer when, normally, she kept them draped over the side and out of the way.

  “Maybe Aunt Becca…?” Rachel suggested.

  “I could see her searching for something on my desk. But why move my plant? Why move my trash bin?” That, too, was a few inches out of place from where it always sat flush against the side of her desk.