by Kim Alexis
Worse, she’d seen Ms. Taylor hanging out with that handsome man yesterday. Somehow Crystal had to tell her he wasn’t at all who he said he was. Ms. Taylor needed to know the truth, that he was an FBI agent, one they’d planted on the inside, right here at the resort, to spy on her.
MARCUS HAD BEEN PACING for the past hour. Why hadn’t Nate called him back yet? He checked his phone again, just to be sure.
Nothing.
The longer he was forced to wait, the angrier he grew. Nate had passed along the information about Juliette to his superiors knowing they would use it in some unscrupulous way to their advantage!
When Nate finally called back, that was the first thing Marcus said to him.
“What can I tell you, man?” Nate’s reply was calm. “The agents from that branch tried to get the records they needed with her cooperation yesterday, but she turned them down. What other choice did they have but to get a warrant? Sure, I guess it was kind of a cheap shot to manipulate the murder situation for their own gain, but they’re only trying to do their job. It’s not that easy to convince a judge to give the go-ahead on an S-and-S. A good agent will do whatever it takes.”
Marcus took a deep breath, trying to calm down. At least Nate wasn’t trying to deny the truth or talk his way out of it. He was just telling it like it was.
“Are your people after Juliette personally?”
“Not that I know of. They’re just trying to preserve any relevant records before the counterfeiters have time to cover their tracks.”
Weary, Marcus lowered himself to the side of the bed and listened as Nate continued.
“Here’s what I can tell you. It might make you feel better.”
“I’m listening.”
Nate lowered his voice. “The L.A. office has an informant. A counterfeiting informant. Thanks in part to his tips, we now know that the whole area you’re in is heavily linked with the buying and selling of fake beauty products. Palm Springs. Desert Hot Springs. Cahuilla Springs. And not just her brand, but other brands as well.”
Marcus tried to digest that information as Nate continued.
“If you think about it, it makes sense. These buyers and sellers of fake goods can be pretty aggressive. They recruit spa insiders who are in a position to manipulate inventory—underpaid, disgruntled spa employees who see an opportunity to make a little extra cash on the side and go for it.”
“What are they being paid to do?”
“Different things. Siphon off legit products and sell them to the vendors. Replace what they took with fake products so that no one’s the wiser. Every shill needs legitimate goods to use as a front. The fakes come into the picture on the back end. There are a lot of variations, but even just the old bait and switch at the cash register comes into play. The customer selects a jar of the real thing and hands it to the vendor, who bends down to put it in a bag and trades it out for a fake version he’s gotten hidden under the counter. Voila, a twenty-dollar sale on a two-dollar product.”
Marcus nodded. “I guess it makes sense. But why is it happening so much in this area?”
“Because the region is dominated by the salon and spa industry—I mean, there’s practically one on every corner. Most of those places are legit, of course, but we have managed to root out more than a few where employees are buying and selling inventory on the side.”
“Including Palm Grotto?” Marcus stood and paced again.
“Possibly. There were a few indications, but Juliette Taylor’s hosting of an event there and the death of her old cohort once she arrived has raised more red flags. We need to gather as much information as we can—and if some of that gathering requires a warrant, then, sure, our people will do what it takes to get one. That’s just the facts of life. I understand why you’re upset, but it’s nothing personal against her.”
Marcus was quiet for a long moment.
“At least we’re making progress, Marcus. We know of three different online vendors who operate out of Cahuilla Springs. They advertise real products on their websites at super deep discounts but ship out fakes when the orders come in. We’re also aware of several flea markets in the region that are rampant with counterfeit sales.”
Marcus shook his head. “So why aren’t you cracking down?”
“We are. Just this morning the local FBI branch raided the biggest flea market in the Coachella Valley. They’re still processing things as we speak.”
“And?” Marcus returned to his perch on the bed.
“And the raid itself might not seem to do much in the end. All the sellers will claim that they were duped into buying what they thought were real items. Not a single one of them will know anyone higher up in the counterfeiting chain than the man or woman who sells them the stuff. The Bureau will confiscate all the fakes, but there might not be any real leads. Worse, all those people will be back up and running in a month or two.”
“So why bother?”
“Because every lead on a supplier puts us one rung higher up the crime ladder. See, counterfeiters are cockroaches. Turn on the light and they scatter. A raid like the one today might not seem to net much, but send a few counterfeiters running scared and things can begin to happen.”
Marcus exhaled slowly. “I understand that, Nate. But why scatter those cockroaches while Juliette is still in town? Couldn’t this have waited until she was on the plane out of here?”
Nate sighed. “Look, buddy, I know she’s important to you, but she’s not our only consideration. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for one person to get out of the way. We’re constantly moving ahead, step by step, and we take each break in the case where we can get it. This isn’t a small problem, and it won’t have a quick fix.”
Marcus grunted.
“Hey, at least we’re making a dent. Every new development helps.”
“Fine. I understand that. I just don’t see what the records in JT Lady’s home office have to do with it.”
“Neither do we—yet. But remember, Marcus, your friend showed up on that terror cell’s list for a reason. We thought we knew the connection between her and the terrorists. But in light of the supermodel’s death and the local police’s suspicions, we need to take a closer look.”
Marcus held his tongue. After all, the man was right.
Nate’s voice softened. “I do have some good news for you. Or, at least news you’ll be glad to hear.”
“Oh?”
He cleared his throat. “I think you’re safe to go ahead and tell Juliette about her name being on a terrorist list.”
Marcus sat up straight. “Really?”
“Yeah. Bear in mind, the FBI can’t offer her any protection, nor can we give her any further information about our investigation. But now that there are lawyers involved, the news about the list is going to come out anyway. She might as well hear it from you first.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JULIETTE STOOD OFF TO one side at the front of the auditorium and watched as the women trickled in from the doors at the back and chose their seats. What a pleasure it was to see the camaraderie they already shared, the smiles on their faces as they chatted among themselves. This was one reason she did these events, as a springboard for women to form new relationships.
Of course, just that word, relationship, brought only one person to mind. Who would have believed she and Marcus would reunite after all these years, much less that their old attraction would rise up so quickly, or that it would be so intense and all encompassing? She felt more comfortable and alive and whole with him than with any other man she’d ever met. It was that way when she was twenty-four and it was still that way now, at forty-nine.
No question, she was smitten.
All thoughts of romance aside, however, Juliette knew she needed to focus on the talk she was about to give, her second keynote of the weekend. Today’s verse was from Luke: “But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” Her goal for the session was to show these women how important it was to follow H
is example and take time out from all of their hard work and good deeds to refresh and regroup. Everyone needed to withdraw to the lonely places once in a while and spend time with their Creator, just as Jesus had done throughout His ministry on earth.
Juliette was lost in thought, doing a quick run-through of her notes, when she heard an odd sound behind her. Turning, she realized someone had cracked opened the exit door beside the stage.
“Pssst.”
It opened a few inches more, and in popped the head of a spa employee, the cute little blonde named Crystal, who’d been so sweet and effusive when they met on Thursday. “Ms. Taylor? Can I speak with you for a minute?”
Tucking her notes into her pocket, Juliette glanced around at the auditorium, which was half full. Then she nodded, moving toward the door and joining Crystal on the cement walkway outside.
Crystal’s face was a myriad of emotions. “I am so sorry to interrupt you. I was going to approach you inside, but then I thought it might be better to come around and speak to you out here. It’s more private.”
“No problem, though I only have a few minutes.”
“Me too. I’ll be quick.”
Hands on hips, Juliette waited for Crystal to explain. The young woman had been such a help so far this weekend, filling in for Brooke and tirelessly pampering these women during their treatments. She was such an upbeat little thing, but at the moment the young woman’s face and body radiated anguish.
“Are you okay?”
Crystal nodded. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry to bother you right before you have to give a talk, but there’s something I need to tell you, and I won’t be free again for hours.”
“What is it?”
Crystal swallowed hard. “It’s the staff. Spa staff mostly, I guess.” The girl hesitated.
“Yes? What about them?”
She blushed furiously. “Well, as you can imagine, there have been a lot of rumors floating around since the, uh, the death on Thursday.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “No surprise there. Listen, the best way to handle gossip is just to ignore it.”
“This is different. People are saying bad things about JT Lady, about your company’s quality control. The thing is, I know it isn’t true, because I worked with your whole line at my last job and we never had a single problem with any of it.”
Wow. This wasn’t what Juliette had expected to hear.
Crystal continued. “Apparently people have been getting skin burns from some of your products. Even Raven was burned here before.”
Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
Crystal hesitated. “That’s what I heard through the grapevine. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I bet Andre could tell you. Just . . . well, keep my name out of it if you can, please. I’m no tattletale, but I couldn’t keep quiet about this.”
“Of course.” Juliette nodded, unsure how else to respond. On the one hand, this was terrible news. On the other hand, at least it answered one question: This place really was dealing in counterfeits.
Juliette thanked the girl for sharing this with her and turned to go.
“There’s something else.”
Oh, great. Juliette turned back again and braced herself for Round Two. “Yes?”
Crystal’s cheeks grew an even brighter shade of red. “There’s a guest here at the spa, a really handsome man? About your age? I’ve seen you talking with him.”
Juliette felt a lurch in her gut. Oh boy. Someone must’ve spied them kissing and spread that little tidbit around until it had grown into something lurid and altogether untrue. “I assume you mean Marcus Stone? Gray-blue eyes? Great smile?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Listen, I don’t know how well you know this guy . . .” Crystal’s voice trailed off as she met Juliette’s eyes.
“It’s complicated.”
Crystal nodded. “Okay, well, for what it’s worth, rumor has it he’s an FBI agent. Worse, they’re saying he was sent here to spy on you.”
CRYSTAL WASN'T SURE IF going to Ms. Taylor had been the right thing to do or not. The woman hadn’t seemed as upset as she’d expected about the news of the burns and the quality-control issues. But then when she learned about that guy and his connection with the FBI, she looked like she was going to faint.
Poor thing!
At least she managed to recover enough to go inside and start in on her speech. But now that Crystal had thought things over en route to her next treatment hut, she was regretting the timing of their discussion. Why had she thought it would be okay to give Ms. Taylor news like that just before she had to go on a stage and address an auditorium full of people?
Dumb, dumb, dumb. Next time she’d hold her tongue till a more appropriate moment.
Crystal got to the hut two minutes late. She could hear movement inside, and as she swung the door open, she braced herself for a scolding from Ty. Though she outranked him in the Palm Grotto hierarchy, so to speak, he was a tyrant when it came to punctuality. She had a feeling upper management let him get away with such behavior because, after all, staying on schedule was in everyone’s best interests.
Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, Crystal was surprised to see a client sitting there waiting for her. What on earth? That wasn’t procedure. Late or not, it was the aide’s job to wait until the therapist was present and ready before delivering the client. Yet here on the table sat a plump, middle-aged man in a Palm Grotto robe, smiling in her direction.
“Are you Crystal? That fellow said you’d be along any minute.”
Flustered, she moved to the sink to wash her hands in preparation for the massage. “Yes, hi. Nice to meet you.” She lathered her hands. “‘That fellow’ being the aide who brought you here?”
“Yep. Shaggy hair, big ’ol muscles? He gave me a message for you.”
“Oh?” Crystal rinsing her hands, then turned off the water and reached for a towel.
“He said to tell you he was sorry, but he had a family emergency and needed to leave early.”
Immediately Crystal’s attitude changed. A family emergency? Oh. That was different. Of course Ty could change up procedure if he needed to.
“Did he happen to say what kind of an emergency it was?”
“Nope. But he sure was in a hurry to get out of here.”
“Okay. Well, sorry about that. But thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem.”
Taking the completed intake form from the client, Crystal sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she looked it over. Regardless of Ty’s absence, regardless of the bad timing for her conversation with Ms. Taylor, at the moment she had a man in front of her who was here for a treatment. He deserved her undivided attention.
The drama swirling around this place would simply have to wait.
JULIETTE MANAGED TO GET through her entire talk, but once it was over, she couldn’t bear the thought of having to make it through lunch as well. During retreats she always tried to use the mealtimes for socializing with her guests. But even light banter took a certain amount of effort, and she simply didn’t have it in her right now to be witty, friendly, or engaging.
This day just kept getting worse and worse. Not only did she need to find Didi to make up, she needed to find Marcus to break up. Throw in a dog and a truck and her life would have all the makings of a good country song!
At the thought of either encounter, she could feel a weariness settle deep in her bones. She wasn’t ready to speak with either of them just yet. All she really wanted to do was to go back to her room, crawl under the covers, and take a long nap, so she headed that direction.
Maybe, if she were lucky, somewhere along the way there’d be an earthquake and the ground would simply swallow her whole.
By the time she got to the room, she was so tired she could barely stand. Within moments she had kicked off her shoes, emptied the contents of her pockets onto the bedside table, and draped her jacket over a chair. Then she slipped under
the covers and quickly went to sleep.
Though she dozed for just half an hour, when she awoke, she felt much better. Power naps always did wonders for her energy and her mood—especially after a night like last night, when she’d hardly gotten any sleep at all.
Lying there under the cozy blankets, she tried to gather the energy she needed to get up, freshen up, and then get out there and have those difficult conversations. Marcus first, and then Didi. Hopefully, what Crystal had told her about him being an FBI agent was pure rumor, nothing more.
Juliette raised herself onto her elbows and was about to sit all the way up when she spotted something on the pillow next to her.
Odd.
It was a paper, folded into a square. Like a note.
Apprehension filling her gut, she stood up and simply stared at it for a long moment. She was certain that had not been there when she’d climbed into the bed and fallen asleep half an hour before.
Heart pounding, she stared at it for a long moment. Something told her this thing might have fingerprints on it—and that that would be important. She dashed into the bathroom and came out with the tweezers from her makeup bag.
Then, hands trembling, she carefully used the tweezers to unfold the page. Sure enough, it was a note, printed in a messy, masculine hand:
Tell your boyfriend I’ll be in touch. I’m ready to confess, but I want a deal—immunity in exchange for information.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MARCUS LOOKED AROUND. WHY wasn’t Juliette at lunch? The longer he waited for her to appear, the more concerned he grew. Something was wrong. She said she’d be there, circulating among her guests, but there was no sign of her. Even more worrisome, she hadn’t answered a single text he’d sent her in the past half hour.