Beauty to Die For

by Kim Alexis

  Just as Marcus had feared.

  Ty wasn’t their only murder suspect.

  “YOU'VE GOT TO ADMIT, Ms. Taylor, your behavior here looks very suspicious.”

  Juliette watched herself on the computer screen for the fifth time in a row. Why did he insist on showing her this same film clip over and over? What was the point of the repetition? She’d already explained her actions—the first four times.

  “I told you why I did that.” Juliette brushed back her hair. How long was this going to go on? It felt like she’d been in here an hour at least. “Raven was just so difficult, sometimes it was easier to disappear than to risk a confrontation. Trust me, I’m not the first person to hide from her, not by a long shot. I just happened to get caught doing it on film.”

  The video had come from a Palm Grotto security camera that was mounted over the back door of the main spa building. In the grainy black-and-white image, Juliette could be seen running in from the waiting room and dashing into the supply closet then peeking back out a minute or two later. Next, Ty appeared, walking up the hall, his muscular back to the camera.

  “If you could see the expression on his face, you’d know he was feeling the same way I was, like he wanted to turn around and run. Can’t you tell by his body language?” Juliette was trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt, but it was getting harder each time they made her go through this.

  On the screen the door to the treatment room swung open and Ty slowed to a halt.

  “What’s he saying to you there?” Detective Lopez spoke as if he might catch her in an impulsive confession.

  “I already told you, I don’t think he said anything to me. There wasn’t time. The door opened, he stopped walking, and out came Brooke.”

  Sure enough the film showed the therapist coming into the hallway from a side room and giving a small wave to Juliette, who responded by putting a finger to her lips and gesturing toward reception.

  Stifling a groan, Juliette put her hands to her temples, massaging her scalp. The throbbing had mounted to a serious headache.

  The detective’s voice sounded almost matter-of-fact. “We have two witnesses from the airport. They both heard Raven threatening to kill you yesterday—and then here you are, not an hour later, hiding from the woman.”

  She looked at the screen, then asked him to rewind it a little. In response, he took it back to the part where she interacted with Ty and Brooke.

  “There. Now, play it in slow motion.”

  The images became a jerky sequence of single frames. Leaning forward, Juliette pointed to her own face. “Look at me. Look at my expression. Do I seem traumatized here to you? Do I look like someone who’s hiding for her very life, or plotting some sort of preemptive murder myself? No. Of course not. I’m not proud of it, but I look like someone who’s hiding from a woman she doesn’t feeling like running into. If you look closely, you’ll even catch me smiling once or twice. See?” On the screen during her interaction with Brooke and Ty, Juliette did indeed smile several times. And even as she ducked back into the closet, her expression wasn’t one of fear or rage, but rather something more like chagrin.

  Juliette folded her arms across her chest and fixed her gaze on Detective Lopez. He put the film on pause and met her eyes. The man was in his late fifties or early sixties, and he had a world-weary air about him, the puffy bags under his red eyes and the elongated wrinkles around his mouth reminding her of a basset hound.

  “So where does atropine come into this?”

  Juliette’s head jerked up. “Atropine?” This was new territory. “I’m not even sure what that is. It sounds like a drug.”

  “Is atropine ever used in your company’s products?”

  She blinked. What was he really asking her here? Was atropine the poison, the substance used to kill Raven? “I . . . not that I’m aware of, but I’m not a chemist. You’d need to talk to my home office to get a definitive answer to that.”

  “We already have. I just want to hear what you know about it.”

  Adrenaline surged through Juliette’s veins, and in that moment she understood the “flight or fight” reflex. “What I know”—she choked out—“is nothing. I know absolutely nothing about atropine, and I have no idea who killed Raven or why.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MARCUS PEERED AT JULIETTE through the glass. She was tough and feisty, for sure, and holding her own. On the other hand, she looked so scared and small and vulnerable. Eventually the detective excused himself and left the room, and Marcus watched, his heart aching, as Juliette simply hunched over the table, her head in her hands, the picture of dejection.

  If only he could get in there with her, he’d tell her not to worry, that these hayseeds didn’t have a clue what they were doing. If what Ty said about the missing jars and the mud having been poisoned prior to the start of the business day was true, then she was in the clear. He wasn’t exactly sure on her timing, but he knew she’d been in transit until the workday was well underway.

  Marcus glanced at the man next him. “So what time did the atropine get put into the mud in the first place?”

  The cop shrugged. “Not sure. We’re still working with a couple different theories at this point.”

  Well, at least that confirmed atropine was the drug the killer used. “So what do you make of Ty Kirkland’s claims that it had to have been done when the spa was closed?”

  The man grunted, shifting his weight. “Kirkland? I don’t believe a word that comes out of that man’s mouth. Shame we don’t have enough to hold him yet. He’s the killer, if you ask me.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  He raised a hand and counted off on his fingers. “Ample opportunity, of course, him being the one with access to the mud. Motive, it was a known fact he couldn’t stand the woman—”

  “From what I can tell, everyone who met her felt that way.”

  “Yeah, but not everyone who met her also has a list of priors.”

  That gave Marcus pause. He’d actually kind of liked Ty, once he got past the rough exterior. “Priors. Really? Violent crimes?”

  “A mix. Assault. Simple assault. Some check kiting. Possession.”

  Marcus was disappointed to hear that, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. The kid had looked like he’d been around the block a few times. “Okay, I get what you’re saying, but still. What he says makes sense to me, that someone poisoned the mud the night before, while the spa was closed. Any chance the building was wired for security? Maybe a camera or two? I’m sure you guys have looked into that.”

  “Yeah, we looked into it. No alarm system. Single deadbolts on all the doors. No signs of forced entry.”

  “Oh well.”

  “There is a camera, an exterior one out in back of the building, but it’s broken.”

  Marcus’s eyebrows raised. “A broken security camera? For how long?”

  “I dunno.”

  That sounded fishy. If it had been broken for a while, that was one thing. But if it had happened recently, that was something else entirely. These guys should look into that some more, try to find out how long ago the camera broke, and how. Marcus thought about saying as much, but he knew it wouldn’t go over well. He had yet to meet the cop who appreciated being told how to do his job.

  The door to the interrogation room opened, and the detective strode back in and told Juliette she was free to go.

  For now.

  As they left the room, the uniformed cop turned to Marcus. “Guess that’s our cue. I’m not sure what your interest is in this case, but let us know if we can do anything else for you.”

  They stepped into the hallway, only to see Lopez and Juliette headed in the opposite direction. “Where are they going?”

  “To get her belongings, I imagine. We don’t allow purses or cell phones or anything like that in interrogation.”

  “Oh, right. Of course not.”

  They turned and headed the other way.

  “It was nice to meet you
,” the cop said as they reached the lobby. “We don’t get a lot of Feds out here.”

  Marcus nodded. What in the world did Nate tell them to open this particular door? Probably that he was “with” the FBI. Technically that was true, he supposed, though only as a consultant.

  “Well, keep up the good work.” It was the most noncommittal thing he could think of to say. Then he stood and waited for Juliette.

  If only he could make all of this go away.

  THEY FOUND AN ALL-NIGHT pancake house one town over and were soon settled into a booth, Juliette ordering Greek yogurt with fresh fruit and Marcus the Big Bronco Breakfast. Still rattled from her interrogation, she was glad they could sit and talk for a while rather than head straight back to the resort. It was late, but she needed some time to collect her thoughts and recover from the trauma.

  In the car Marcus had been so sweet, so concerned. Now as she sat across from him in the restaurant, she still couldn’t quite believe he was there. Marcus Stone. Her TOTGA. If only Didi knew!

  Once the waitress finished taking their orders and walked away, Marcus focused on Juliette, his voice soft even though the room was nearly empty. “So you really think those are the only two things they have against you? The threat at the airport and the surveillance video?”

  She nodded. “He threw me with that question about atropine. I mean, I’ve heard of it, but I’m not even sure what it is. Was that the drug that killed her?”

  Marcus nodded. “I’m not all that familiar with it myself, but I’ve seen it used in emergency situations. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s a WHO Essential.”

  “A who what?”

  He smiled. “The World Health Organization, or WHO. Atropine is on their ‘essential drugs’ list. It’s kept on-hand primarily in case of exposure to nerve gas, but I’ve also seen it used to stop a heart attack. From what I understand, in certain situations, it can make the difference between life and death.”

  The waitress returned with coffee for both and a large orange juice for Marcus, who continued as she walked away.

  “Anyway, I can look into it some more. Shouldn’t be hard to find info about atropine online.”

  Juliette studied him as he stirred cream and sugar into his coffee, captivated by the handsome angles and planes of his face. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s my fight, not yours.”

  Eyebrows raised, he stopped mid-stir. “What?”

  “This whole Raven mess. If these cops are as inept as you say, they’re never going to find the real killer. That’s why . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked away.

  “What?”

  She shrugged and met his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but that’s why I’ve decided I’m going to try and solve this myself. Figure out who killed Raven, and why. I have to.”

  “To protect yourself?”

  “Well, partly.”

  “Why else?

  Juliette sucked in a deep breath. How to explain? “I owe her. It’s too late to save her life, but at least maybe I can give her justice.”

  She braced herself, certain he was going to try to talk her out of it. Instead, much to her surprise, when he finally spoke, his words were simple and direct.

  “Let me help.”

  She looked at him, eyes wide.

  He leaned toward her across the table. “We can do this together, Juliette. I can help you. Just since we left the police station, I’ve already thought of half a dozen different things they should be checking out. The broken surveillance camera, the security of the resort’s perimeter, the—”

  “I appreciate that, Marcus, but you didn’t even know Raven.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not doing it for Raven. My concern is you. Clearing your name. Keeping you safe. Helping you with this thing that’s so important to you.”

  His ready support flowed over her, warming her to the core. She nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand as she met his beautiful blue-gray eyes. “Thank you, Marcus. I think I can use all the help I can get—especially since I have a retreat to conduct at the same time. It’s going to be a busy weekend.”

  “Well, consider me at your service.”

  A comfortable silence fell between them.

  “Why do we do things so backwards, you and I?” she asked finally. “We haven’t even had the chance to catch up on each other’s lives yet and we’re already joining forces to investigate a murder.”

  He smiled. “I guess there are a few things we should cover, especially now that we’re alone and can really talk.”

  She eyed him, nodding. “You’re right. Why don’t we start where we left off this afternoon? With your marriage.”

  Marcus’s face colored, but their food arrived at that moment. Once the plates and bowls were down in front of them and the waitress walked away, Marcus said grace for them both, then picked up his fork and began eating. Juliette scooped a few sliced strawberries onto her yogurt as she waited, unwilling to fill the silence for him.

  “Actually, why don’t we start with you so I can eat my food while it’s still hot? Yours is supposed to be cold.”

  “Um hmm. Nice sidestep, Mr. Stone.”

  He grinned as he reached for the syrup. “Go ahead, tell me about your life. We’ll get back to my marriage, I promise.”

  With a sigh, Juliette settled back into her seat. “What would you like to know?”

  “Everything. But I guess question number one is if you’re currently seeing anyone. I Googled you the other day and saw some recent pictures of you with a senator.”

  She smiled. Marcus’s lack of guile was so refreshing. He wanted to know if she was available, and that was that. “I go out occasionally, sure, but there’s no one special right now.” Except you. It has always been you.

  “You never married, never had kids?”

  She shook her head. “Came close to marriage a couple of times. But I just never found the right guy, you know? I really wanted the whole deal—husband, house full of children, all that—but it wasn’t in God’s plan for me, I suppose. I’ve had a very happy life just the same. And my sister has four children now, so at least I have them.”

  “Bet you’re the fun aunt. I can just picture it.”

  She grinned. “I guess you could put it that way. And they’re good kids.”

  Juliette went on to tell him about her business, how she and her best friend Didi founded a skin-care company ten years before and developed a product line that was sold primarily through salons and spas.

  “And your business, it’s done well?”

  She hesitated. Yes, very well—until a few months ago, when they learned about the counterfeiting and their world had been turned upside down. “We’ve, uh, hit a few bumps in the road lately, but overall it’s done great.”

  Juliette could see that Marcus was about to probe further, so she headed him off. “And now it’s your turn. You were going to tell me about that marriage of yours.”

  Marcus wiped his mouth with his napkin, settled back against the seat, and gave her an appraising look. “Okay. It’s kind of complicated, though.”

  “I’m listening.” She scooped some blueberries in with the strawberries, swirled them together with the yogurt, and took another bite.

  “If you remember back when you and I first met, my plan was to quit my job at the firm and find something more in line with my main focus, which was safety. Specifically, disaster-related safety.”

  “Yes, I’ve wondered about that for years, if you ever found what you were looking for.”

  “Not at first—at least not within the confines of an engineering firm. So I decided to get a job with Uncle Sam. Ending up spending the next fifteen years working in the field of disaster response.”

  “Wow.”

  He nodded, looking away as he continued. “Eva was with an international humanitarian aid group. We became friends in the aftermath of Hurricane Gilbert. A year later I went to see you in Philly, learned about your eng
agement, and realized you and I were a nonissue. So when I saw Eva again after Hugo, I decided to pursue a more romantic relationship with her. She was a lovely woman, with a big heart for those in crisis. And, like I said, I was trying to get on with my life at that point.”

  “Stop apologizing, Marcus. It’s not necessary.”

  His smile was sheepish. “We were married in Hawaii the following spring.”

  “How romantic.” Juliette tried not to picture it.

  Marcus waved away the thought. “Don’t be too impressed. We were there for the recovery effort after the Kilauea Volcano.”

  With a smile Juliette sat against the vinyl backrest of the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. “So is that how you measure your life, Marcus? By disasters?”

  He shrugged, and an odd expression came over his face. Looking down, he focused on his food again, finishing off the last of the pancakes.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Juliette’s voice was soft.

  He hesitated, shoulders sagging, and then he met her eyes.

  “No, you wouldn’t know. It’s just that . . . you’re right. I guess I do measure my life in disasters. The thing is, some disasters have taken a higher toll than others.”

  Juliette’s eyes widened.

  “Eva was headed for Oklahoma City after the bombing when she had her first miscarriage.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded. “She was only three months along, but the loss really . . . well, it was devastating, especially to Eva. She quit her job, found one that wouldn’t involve travel, tried again. Took another few years, but we finally had a daughter. Zoe. Unfortunately the little stinker decided to show up early, born while I was away in the wake of Hurricane Floyd.”

  Juliette gasped with delight. “You have a daughter?”

  He nodded, smiling as he pulled out his phone, opened the photo app, and handed it to Juliette over the table. She took it from him and scrolled through the pictures. The girl was gorgeous, tall and slender, a carbon copy of her father except for her eyes, which were a rich amber brown. In each of the photos, she was either alone or with kids her own age or with Marcus. The mother was nowhere to be seen.