Beauty to Die For
Page 16
“Please, though, try to make it quick, would you, Sweetie?” Andre rolled his eyes dramatically. “We’re absolutely swamped today.”
Juliette assured him that she would take up as little of Ty’s time as possible. Andre made a quick call, and soon she was standing out back, watching the handsome young aide coming her way from the direction of the mud pits and the Watsu pools.
Though Ty had always seemed polite and efficient, Juliette hadn’t had many dealings with him in the past. As he came closer now, she greeted him with a handshake and a big thanks.
He shrugged. “I’ve been running like crazy all morning, it’s nice to get a break.”
Juliette smiled. “In that case, I’m sorry we have to rush. I promised Andre we’d do this as quickly as possible.”
“Sure. He said you want to know about inventory controls?”
“Yes, I’d like you to walk me through the whole process my products go through from when they first arrive at the spa to when they’re finally used on a client.”
Ty’s eyes narrowed. “This have something to do with all that mess from yesterday?”
She nodded. “Considering that it was supposedly my company’s mud that caused the problem, I’d be more comfortable if I understood the policies and procedures here with regards to inventory control.”
His chin set, lips tight, the young man thrust his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “Okay, then. I guess we should start at Shipping and Receiving.”
With that, he turned and walked away. After a moment’s startled hesitation, Juliette caught up and matched him stride for stride.
CRYSTAL WAS THRILLED WHEN Greg sent her a text asking if they could have lunch together. They weren’t supposed to be texting during work hours, but she shot back a reply between massages: Schedule packed, just have half hour today.
His response came quickly: Half hour better than nothing. Meet at stone bench by mud pits. Time?
Grinning, she sent a response and then muted her phone and tucked it into her pocket. A picnic lunch with the best-looking guy in Cahuilla Springs, maybe in all of California? She was so there.
For a moment she thought of her mom, who’d been nagging her for years to date more. Sandy Walsh would like Greg—his looks, his good manners, the way he could rattle off quotes without sounding the least bit pretentious. Of course, she wouldn’t be so crazy about his aspirations to become a police officer. Like Moonflower, Sandy hated cops. But unlike Moonflower, her stance wasn’t some countercultural thing. It was borne of experience.
Cops evicted you. They tried to institutionalize you. They checked your daughter for bruises to make sure she wasn’t being abused.
Crystal felt a surge of sadness rise up from within. Her mother was a mess, mentally speaking, but she’d never physically hurt her, never even spanked her when she was small. Instead, Sandy had simply taken her daughter along for the ride.
The Crazy Express . . .
Swallowing back her grief, she realized she missed her mom for the first time since leaving home three weeks before. Crystal would never go back to Seattle, but she could stay in touch. She really should. Taking a deep breath, she patted her pocket, feeling the weight of her cell phone there.
One of these days, very soon, she would give her mom a call.
Chapter Seventeen
“I CAN SEE WHY you’re concerned, Marcus.” Nate’s voice was somber on the other end of the line. “I mean, when you get down to it, how many supermodels were there back in the eighties anyway? Five? Six? Now two of them are in the same place at the same time, one is on a terrorist list and the other one ends up dead? This whole thing has a real stink to it, if you ask me.”
“I know. Let’s hope it was all just a big, sad coincidence.” Marcus was standing at the window in his bedroom, gazing out across the lush grounds at the conference building in the distance. Was Juliette there now? Should he take matters into his own hands, go find her right away, and get that all-important first encounter over with right now? If this other model’s death really had been a warning sign, Juliette needed to understand as soon as possible that she could be in serious danger.
“I need you to do something for me,” Marcus said into the phone as he turned away from the glass. “With this new development, I think it’s important to take things to the next level out here. She needs to know the truth, and I’d like permission to tell her.”
“Permission denied. For now. Let me take this up the chain of command a bit and get back to you.”
Marcus grunted, tempted to tell her anyway, permission or not. “Fine, but make it quick. If it turns out this other supermodel’s death was intentional rather than an accident, all bets are off.”
“Look at it this way,” Nate said, “at least you’re out there and can keep an eye on her. Keep her safe. You do that and I’ll work the situation from this end as fast as I can.”
“While you’re at it, can you find out who determines the Threat Levels in those reports of yours? The dossier listed her as ‘Moderate, not believed to be a direct target of the larger organization at this time.’ Who decides that? On what do they base that conclusion?”
Nate was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “That comes from a team of highly qualified sifters.”
“Sifters?” Marcus began to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed.
“Sorry, that’s what I call the agents who specialize in analyzing evidence and examining data. They sift through all the info and draw certain conclusions based on what they find.”
Marcus tried to keep his voice level. “I assume they’ve been known to make mistakes in the past?”
“Come on, Stone, lose the attitude. You know as well as I do, we’re doing the best we can. This isn’t some scientifically quantifiable engineering issue, like a steel beam that can be tested and measured to an exact degree of weight-bearing capability. This is subjective. We make informed predictions. Educated guesses. Of course mistakes happen. We’re talking about people here, not products, not formulas or figures. But I’ve yet to encounter a single sifter who didn’t take their job very, very seriously. They don’t just toss out these things at will, regardless of what you think. Am I making myself clear?”
Marcus exhaled slowly. “Yes.” He wanted to say “Yes, sir!” but held back on the sarcasm. Nate was his superior on this project, after all.
“Good.” Nate seemed to calm down. “Now. It seems to me that, yes, this Threat Level should be revisited. We’ll look into that. But in the meantime, I have to wonder about another issue with the report, one that we hadn’t considered before.”
Marcus felt a shift in his gut. “What’s that?” He listened to the sound of papers being shuffled until, finally, Nate spoke.
“Here we go. The name Juliette Taylor appeared on a terrorist cell’s list, and the sifters came up with two reasons why they think that happened, listed here under ‘Probable Reason for Inclusion.’ You’ve seen it before, but I’ll read it to you again. One, ‘Subject has recently become aware of counterfeited products and has initiated an internal investigation.’ Two, ‘As a public figure, subject has been invited to join forces with anticounterfeiting organizations to increase awareness.’”
Marcus tried to understand what Nate was getting at. “Yeah, okay. That’s from the same report you and I were looking at yesterday.”
“Uh-huh. And yesterday these seemed like valid conclusions. But now that there’s been a death, we need to reconsider whether she really was on the terrorists’ list for these reasons . . .”
Nate’s voice trailed off, but Marcus realized where he was going with that thought. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed and finished the sentence. “. . . or if there’s some other aspect to the situation that we don’t know about.”
“Exactly. Bottom line, I think there’s more to it than this. I think we need to reconsider why her name ended up on that list in the first place.”
JULIETTE FOLLOWED TY'S LEAD as they walked pa
st the spa building, down the slate steps, and along the front of Arrowscale. When they reached the main road, he turned right and headed up the hill for a short ways before angling left across the street toward a wide driveway that cut through a thick stand of olive trees. The two of them followed that driveway around to a long, low utility building all but hidden from view behind the greenery.
There seemed to be two entrances, one at each end of the building, and when she commented on it, Ty explained that Shipping and Receiving shared the structure with Housekeeping, but each department had its own separate access.
Ty opened the door marked Delivery Check-In and they stepped inside. “Shipments to the resort always come in through here.”
He introduced her to the woman in charge and explained that she and the others in her department were responsible for opening all packages and verifying each delivery by comparing the contents against the original order and the packing slip.
“We also make sure there hasn’t been any breakage or spillage or whatever,” she added, popping her gum for emphasis.
“Once they’ve done that,” Ty continued, “they shoot me an e-mail to let me know an order has arrived and is ready for pickup. I’ll come here to get it, then I bring it back to the main spa building, do another count myself, and log everything into the computer. When I’m finished, I’ll take the stuff to the supply closet and unload it onto the shelves.”
After some questions and answers, Juliette was satisfied with that part of her tour and suggested they continue.
“Sure.” Moving just as quickly as before, Ty led her back down the hill and around to the spa. Once inside he brought them through a door marked Employees Only and down a hallway lined with a punch clock and a row of lockers. He continued past a janitor’s closet and finally came to a stop at what had probably once also been a closet but was now set up as a workstation complete with computer terminal, packing supplies, a handcart, and more. The space was small and packed full of stuff, with just enough room to get the job done.
Standing at the computer, Ty brought up the inventory control system software and gave Juliette a brief overview. That took about fifteen minutes, then they returned to the main hallway and concluded their tour with a visit to the supply closet, the very one where Juliette had cowered from Raven the day before. Swallowing down her guilt, she watched and listened as Ty showed her how the closet’s inventory was organized and tracked.
“From here it gets a little more confusing.” His muscular arms crossed at the chest, Ty leaned one shoulder against the sturdy shelving and continued. “Once a week I’ll take a look at all the upcoming treatments and where they’ll be given, then I pull the supplies from here and move them to the temporary storage areas of the various rooms where they will be used. Of course, things can change, and more treatments are always getting added, so every day around four thirty, I’ll take a look at the next day’s schedule and make sure I’ve got everything on hand where it’s supposed to be.”
Juliette nodded, impressed with Ty’s command of the whole system. He wasn’t the most personable fellow in the world, but at least he seemed to know what he was doing as far as inventory was concerned.
“Tell me about the chai soy mud Brooke used on Raven yesterday. I’m assuming it came from in here?”
“Yeah, on Monday, the schedule showed five wraps in Arrowscale this week, so I moved five jars from here to the back room over there. Two of those already got used, but the jar in question stayed in that cabinet until yesterday morning, when I took it out and put it in the warmer in Tamarisk.”
Juliette nodded, thinking about that. “And the other jars that were already used this week, none of those clients had any problems?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” His jaw set, he added, “We run a tight ship here, Ms. Taylor. Whatever happened in that room yesterday had nothing to do with any inventory issues, I promise you that.”
Juliette met the man’s gaze. “I hope you’re right, Ty. But as I’m sure you’re aware, we at JT Lady recently discovered that counterfeit versions of our products are being made and sold under our label.”
“Yeah, I saw the memo.”
“So you can understand my concern, that the toxin in question came from a counterfeit that somehow ended up in place of the real thing.”
His mouth was a tight, straight line. “I’ve been keeping my eyes open, but as far as I know, nothing like that has come through here.”
Shifting her weight, Juliette tried to appear nonchalant as she asked why he hadn’t yet sent in his return shipment of old-label stock to JT Lady.
“The deadline’s not for a few weeks. I’ll get to it in time. I’ve just been really busy.”
Juliette chewed her bottom lip. “Where are the old-label products now? I’ve seen only new-label stuff since I got here.”
“That’s what all those boxes under the table in my workstation are. I did the switch to the new stuff the week it came in, but before I tape up the packages and send the old stuff out, I wanted to do one last sweep of all the various treatment rooms and temporary storage areas to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”
Juliette took in a breath and held it for a moment. There was something odd in Ty’s demeanor, but for now she would give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was just feeling defensive about having his inventory procedures questioned and challenged.
Eyes narrowing, she asked if she could have access to those boxes of old-label stock waiting to be returned. “No offense, but I need to go through them and see if there are any fakes among the real.”
Dropping his arms, Ty glanced at his watch and gave her a shrug. “Sure, as long as you can do it without me—and you don’t mind working in such a tight space.”
“No problem. I’ll let you get back to your job and make do on my own.”
“Okay. Have fun with that.”
He stepped into the hall and began to walk away but Juliette leaned out and called after him in a soft voice.
“Ty?”
He paused and turned. “Yeah?”
“Keep your eyes open for counterfeits, will you? This problem is far from over, but the more cooperation we can get from the spas, the faster it can be resolved.”
Averting his eyes, he gave her a nod. Then he turned and continued down the hall and out the back door.
LUNCH WITH GREG WENT way too fast. He was in a really good mood, his funniest, flirtiest self yet. Crystal responded in kind, and soon they were laughing and joking like old friends.
This was Crystal’s favorite bench for people-watching, situated just ten feet or so from the spa’s main thoroughfare, yet nestled among the trees. The spa was super busy today, and the broad sidewalk saw a lot of traffic. After a while Greg and Crystal invented a counting game: He got one point for every man that walked by, she got one for every woman, with extra points given if they were wearing robes or flip-flops. Soon they were neck and neck, so they added extra point opportunities for sunglasses and hair color.
“Oh, and ten points if the person is a celebrity,” Greg added in a whisper.
Crystal giggled. “I’m not very good with that stuff. I don’t have a TV and I rarely read those kinds of magazines.”
“Seriously? Staying up on all the celebrity gossip isn’t, like, required for spa employees?”
“Not that I know of. What difference would it make?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, we got a lot of VIPs here. I figure they’re supposed to get better treatment or whatever.”
She tried not to sound offended as she told him that all of her clients got excellent treatment. He apologized, she accepted, and then they shared a smile and returned to their game.
Soon a robed couple came walking past, holding hands as they walked.
“Guess that was a push,” she said once they were gone.
“No way, that guy had blond hair and knobby knees.”
She giggled. “I still say knobby knees are too objective.”
Crystal cringed, recognizing her client from yesterday. She shushed Greg and sat absolutely still until he had moved on past, relieved that he hadn’t noticed her there.
“You have a problem with that guy?” Greg sounded as if he might leap to her defense at any moment.
“No, not at all. It’s just that he’s the one I was massaging yesterday when everything happened in the room next door.” She took a sip of water.
Greg turned to face her. “Really? The guy who threw on his clothes and ran away the moment he realized what was going on was Quentin VonTassel?”
She shook her head. “His name’s Elwood Dowd.”
Greg stared at her for a moment. “That guy? He may be registered as Elwood Dowd, but his real name is Quentin VonTassel. He’s a big Hollywood director.”
Crystal’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t know that? Boy, you weren’t kidding that you’re not up on that sort of thing. The guy’s a major celebrity. Probably why he took off so fast yesterday, because he didn’t want to be connected in any way with such a bizarre situation.”
Maybe Greg was right. Dowd had seemed utterly panicked. He’d left without even taking the time to slip on his shoes.
Speaking of time, Crystal pulled out her phone to check the hour then showed it to Greg. They stood to go.
“Anyway,” he added as he balled up their trash, “I’m glad he walked by.”
“Why?”
He looked at her, his handsome brown eyes twinkling. “Because even without points for the hair plugs, he had on a robe, sunglasses, flip-flops—and he had brown hair and knobby knees. And he’s a celebrity.” He grinned. “I win, by a landslide.”
IT DIDN'T TAKE LONG for Juliette to get settled inside the small workstation closet and get down to business. Under the bar-height table were nine cases of JT Lady products that she would need to go through, item by item. If she found even one suspicious-looking bottle or tube or jar in any of them, she would know for sure that counterfeits had infiltrated Palm Grotto’s inventory.