It was quarter to eleven when Skye arrived back at the mansion. Getting past the reporters and TV cameras at the gate was a hair-raising experience. There had been only a few reporters gathered when she left the spa early that morning, but now they were three or four deep, and as aggressive as alligators at feeding time.
As soon as she walked into the lobby hauling her suitcase full of prohibited goodies, one of the new security guards checked her room key, then offered to carry her bag. Although it was incredibly heavy, and she would have loved to have him haul it up the steps for her, she declined, afraid he would hear the clinking of the cans or smell the freshly baked bread.
Her morning dizziness had gone away as soon as she had eaten breakfast, but her muscles continued to ache, even more so after carrying fifty pounds of groceries up a long flight of stairs. Panting, she collapsed on the bed and thought about the weekend. She really hadn’t seen that much of May, Loretta, Bunny, Frannie, or even Trixie since the first night. Of course, it had only been seventy-one hours, but with all that had happened, it felt as if she’d been at the spa for a month.
She was just as happy not to have to talk to May and Bunny yet; neither would be happy to learn how things had turned out between her and Simon. However, she missed talking to Trixie and Loretta, and she was vaguely worried about Frannie.
Skye knew the teen was looking for a story, but where was she keeping herself and who was she with? Skye hoped it wasn’t with Whitney. On one hand, it would be natural for the two girls to hang out together; they were the youngest guests at the spa. But even though they were only a few years apart chronologically, Whitney was decades older than Frannie in worldly experience. Besides, Skye didn’t get a good vibe from the poor little rich girl.
Noting that it was now nearly eleven, Skye stowed the forbidden fruits of her shopping trip under the bed, changed into sweats and a T-shirt, and twisted her hair into ponytail. Then, after putting on Wally’s fanny pack and making sure the door locked behind her, she ran to her appointment.
Ustelle was waiting for her with a surprise. The Nordic beauty waved Skye excitedly from next door to the facial room. “Miss, I have arranged a special treat for you.” Ustelle ushered Skye into the room. “Because I was late for you on your first day, and then you had to miss your mud bath, I ask Miss Margot if I can give you an Aqua Float massage along with your facial.”
“Oh.” Skye looked suspiciously at the concrete coffin-sized box in the middle of the room. “Why is it so special?”
“It’s brand new. No one else is trained to use it, but I was taught in my last job, since that salon had one.”
“Where was that?” Skye touched the thick pad covering the top of the box. It was firm. Where did the aqua or the float part fit into it?
“Miami,” Ustelle said over her shoulder as she lined up bottles and tubes. “I’ll step out of the room, while you take off your T-shirt and shoes.”
“That’s all?” Skye still had no idea how the Aqua Float worked.
Ustelle nodded and disappeared out the door. Skye took off her shirt and Keds and waited. Ustelle was back in a few seconds, and helped Skye lie down on the pad covering the Aqua Float apparatus. Ustelle pulled a sheet, blanket, and heavy pad over Skye, covering her from her feet to the tops of her breasts.
Skye started to feel claustrophobic. “How does this work?”
“Just lie back and enjoy.” Ustelle spread a thin, cool layer of exfoliate on Skye’s face, neck, and upper chest. “This needs to stay on for ten minutes. Would you like some music?”
“No, thanks.” Skye wanted to talk, not rumba. “Did you like Miami?”
“Very much.” Ustelle smiled widely, revealing perfect teeth.
“Why did you leave?”
“The spa I was working for closed down.” Ustelle was silent until she wiped the exfoliate from Skye’s face with a cotton ball, then applied a light mask.
“Oh, why was that?”
“There’s lots of competition, especially among the day spas.” Ustelle looked at her watch. “Ten minutes for this step as well.”
“Was that your first job in the U.S.?”
“Yes. I had only been finished with my training a few months when Carlos comes to the place I’m working and hires me on the spot.” Ustelle wiped away the mask with more cotton balls, then said, “Now for the eye mask.”
“Are you still in touch with Mr. er…?” Skye trailed off, hoping Ustelle would feel obligated to fill in the blanks.
The masseuse hesitated, then supplied, “LaFever. He’s still in Miami.” Ustelle spread a thin layer of clear gel under Skye’s eyes and over the lids.
“So he was just your employer, not your boyfriend?” Skye asked.
“Who knows with men, but we need to work where the pay is best. You understand?” Ustelle spoke in a “that’s all I’m going to say” tone of voice. “Now I’ll switch on the Aqua Float, and you relax while your eye mask gets rid of all your little lines and dark circles.”
Lines! Circles! Wait a minute, what did Ustelle mean by that? Skye seethed as the pad she was lying on was lowered into the concrete box. Was she implying that I have wrinkles? Suddenly the mat began to gently pitch and sway. The motion felt wonderful, and Skye almost fell asleep pondering what she had learned. She needed to write everything down before she forgot something important. She knew there were clues in what she had been told, but what were they?
Ustelle hadn’t sounded confident when she said Carlos’s last name. Could she be lying about that, and about still being in touch with him? Maybe he was the one she was calling all the time. Skye understood being in love, but making multiple calls to a lover while you were working was a bit much.
For once Ustelle reappeared all too soon, shutting off the Aqua Float and wiping the mask from Skye’s eyes. Before she finished, she tried to sell Skye the products that had been used, but the three-hundred-dollar tab for the three tubes made it easy to say no, thanks.
On her way out, Skye asked, “By the way, what CD did you have set for Ms. Gates’s mud bath?”
Ustelle tilted her head. “None. There is supposed to be complete silence. The whole point of the bath is to feel as if you’ve gone back to the womb. No CD players are allowed in that treatment area.”
Back in her room, Skye phoned Wally’s office and left a message on his voice mail asking him to check out Carlos LaFever of Miami. She also reported that the CD player she had heard at the crime scene was not a normal part of the mud bath setup. Since Ustelle said Esmé hadn’t been carrying a CD player when she walked into the treatment room, the killer must have set it up to cover any noise Esmé might make when she was being held under the mud.
Taking all this into consideration, Skye had two questions for Wally: did the player have any fingerprints, and what was the name of the CD?
It was close to noon after she finished her call, and Skye didn’t want to waste time by pretending to eat in the dining room. Instead, she pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and filled a large tote bag with lunch from her stash, topping the food with a pad of paper and pen. Earlier she had filled a thermal carrier with ice from the bucket and stored the items that needed to be kept cool in that. Now she grabbed the thermal bag in one hand and the tote in another and hurried to the solarium.
Sun shone through the new glass, and Skye was impressed that Margot had managed to find someone to replace the shattered window during the holiday weekend. She must have offered top dollar to entice someone from their turkey dinners and football games.
Skye headed toward her favorite spot, but tensed as she heard the faint sound of music. Taking a step forward, she relaxed as she spotted Loretta sitting on a couch with an iPod hanging around her neck and food spread out on the table. The lawyer wore a bright orange crop-style sweat suit that Skye had seen in last month’s Vogue. Her skin was makeup free, but as smooth and glowing as an ebony statue. She was bent over a legal pad, scribbling furiously.
When she paused t
o read what she had written, she noticed Skye, turned off the iPod, and said, “If it isn’t my friend, the famous disappearing detective.”
“Very funny.” Skye punched her lightly on the arm, plopped herself in a chair, and reached into her bag. “In case you’ve missed it, a lot’s been happening in my life.”
“A lot is always happening in your life. That’s what makes you interesting.” Loretta snatched the loaf of fresh bakery bread before Skye even got it onto the table. “Where and when did you get this?”
“From the local grocery store, this morning just before coming here.”
Loretta used the knife Skye produced to cut off four pieces and gave Skye two. “Why were you in town?”
“I needed clothes, food, and to check out the Dooziers.” Skye took out a plastic squeeze bottle of mustard and a package of deli ham from the thermal bag.
“I bet you saw Wally, too.”
“Well…” Skye bit into her sandwich and chewed, giving herself a little time to think before replying. She couldn’t claim to be working with him on the investigation since the murderer had already confessed. Maybe Wally was right. It was time to stop trying to hide their relationship. “You’d win that wager.”
“Spill.” Loretta wiped her fingers and added, “I never got to talk to you after the big Spike revelation, but I want to hear now.”
Skye filled her in, up to the moment at the truck stop when she had refused to let Simon drive her home.
“How did you get back?” Loretta took a sip from her can of Coke. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“No offense, but you’re sharing a room with my mother. You would have been the last person I called.” Skye ate a chip. “And don’t you dare tell her any of this.”
“I swear.” Loretta crossed her heart. “Believe me, I don’t want to be the one to inform May that you are turning down Mr. Perfect for Mr. Hot. That is what’s happening, isn’t it?”
“That’s how it seems, but I just don’t know.” Without thinking, Skye unwrapped a Hostess Ding Dong from Loretta’s stash. She never ate so much junk food at home. Great! She would be the only one in history who went to a spa and gained weight. “Up until last night, I thought maybe Simon and I could get back what we had, but his stance hasn’t changed one iota. He was so arrogant and stubborn, and still insisting I should just trust him.”
“And let’s face it, the sexual chemistry between you and Wally is off the charts.”
“I thought it was just physical attraction between, us, too, but now that I’m spending more time with Wally, there’s a lot more to it.” Skye popped open a can of Diet Coke and poured it into the glass of ice she had prepared in her room. “I like not having to be so smart and so sophisticated all the time. And I like that Wally considers me an intellectual equal, and that he isn’t always perfect.”
“Sounds a lot like what I love about Vince.” Loretta peeled open a Kit Kat bar and broke off a piece. “He’s easy to be with. I can relax. He knows I’m smart, so I don’t have to always be proving it. And …”
Skye lifted an eyebrow. “And?”
“And he’s fantastic in bed.”
Skye put her fingers in her ears. “I don’t want to hear about my brother having sex.”
“Okay.” Loretta licked the chocolate from the wafer. “Then tell me about you and Wally having sex.”
“No. Some things are not meant to be shared.”
“Then you have been to bed with him. Trixie was right.”
Skye wrinkled her brow. “Since when did you and Trixie become such good friends?”
“Since you haven’t been around this weekend. What did you think we were going to do? Sit in our rooms and contemplate our navels?” Loretta looked at her watch and started to pack up the food. “I like Trixie and Frannie.”
“Really?” Skye asked. “And have you bonded with May? How about Bunny?”
“May is great as long as the topic of weddings and grandchildren can be avoided. And Bunny is a hoot.”
“So Scumble Riverites aren’t as bad as you thought they’d be?” Skye remembered when she had first discovered that her brother and Loretta were dating, but keeping it a secret because Loretta was convinced the town would never accept a biracial relationship.
“Well …” Loretta finished putting the food away and started wiping the tabletop with a napkin. “I’m sure not everyone will be as nice as your friends.”
“That’s true anywhere. Admit it. You were wrong.”
“Maybe.” As the two women finished cleaning up their trash, Loretta asked, “Don’t you find it odd that the staff doesn’t seem to be lacking energy, if they’re eating only the spa sanctioned food?”
“I noticed that.” Skye thought about it some more. “I did hear a couple of them complaining that someone was gauging them and they were sick of forking over so much money. Maybe someone’s selling Little Debbie snack cakes.”
“There is definitely something odd going on around here.” Loretta got up and deposited the debris into a trash can. “I was scheduled for a seaweed wrap like the one you got the first day, and Ustelle was so late I went looking for her.”
“And I bet she was on the phone.”
“Yes, she was having a whispered conversation in Spanish, yet earlier, I heard her tell Frisco she doesn’t speak the language.”
“Well, she could have said that just to get rid of Frisco.” Skye wiped crumbs off the table with a paper napkin. “I know he’s a hunk, but he flirts with anything that moves, and I’ll bet that can get pretty tiresome if you’re a fellow employee and stuck around him all the time.”
“Someone needs to smack him upside the head.” Loretta shook her head, then asked, “So, who do you think Ustelle was talking to?”
“I’d say the media, but she was making mysterious calls even before the murder, and since she was speaking Spanish, it was probably Carlos.”
As they both started toward the door, Loretta said, “So how did you get back to the spa last night?”
“The waitress ended up giving me a ride. And as it turned out, I’m glad I waited around because I heard two out-of-towners talking about Magic Mud.”
“Miracle Mud,” Loretta corrected.
“Nope. Magic. And guess who’s selling it?”
Loretta tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured fingernail, then shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“The Dooziers.”
“The Dooziers?”
Skye understood Loretta wasn’t asking who they were—the attorney was well acquainted with the clan—so she explained about the mud, then described her visit to their mud bath and how the shed was arranged. She ended with, “So Glenda sticks her fake boobs in my face and says, ‘Except for those stupid silver towels, we got everything that fancy pants spa has, even music.’ And she points to an eight-track player.” Skye was laughing so hard it took her a few minutes to notice that Loretta had her attorney face on. “What? You don’t think that was funny?”
“Yeah. Hysterical. But how did the Dooziers know enough about the spa’s mud bath treatment room to duplicate it… even in their own oddball style?”
Skye opened her mouth to reply, but realized she had no idea. Even if Elvis had worked on the construction of the room, how would he know about the silvery towels? They had to be one of the last touches Margot put out just before the guests arrived.
CHAPTER 21
Fight Tooth and Nail Polish
Skye mulled over Loretta’s observation as she walked to her next treatment. Not only did the Dooziers know about the towels, they also knew about the music. Ustelle had been emphatic that the CD player was not a regular feature of that room, which meant it had been put out only minutes before the murder was committed.
It wasn’t that Skye didn’t believe one of the Doozier clan could kill someone; she just thought they’d do it in a much less subtle fashion. A blast from a shotgun would be more their style.
When Skye neared Amber’s treatment room, she heard Amb
er’s shrill soprano followed by Frannie’s deeper alto. Skye frowned. She had been worried about Frannie hanging out with Whitney, but she didn’t think Amber was any better. She definitely had to speak to Frannie about hanging around with either of those two. She hoped Frannie was just spending time with both Amber and Whitney in order to investigate her story for the school newspaper, but she needed to make sure.
As Skye paused, thinking about Frannie’s motives, she heard Amber talking. “So I get this really cool La Perla bra, and I put it on and say to her, ‘How does it look?’ And she says, ‘Just like it did on the hanger.”’
Frannie’s reply was full of sympathy. “No matter how you look, someone always manages to say something mean.”
“Why did I even ask my stepmother’s opinion?” Amber’s tone was angry. “I knew what she was like.”
“I guess you hoped you were wrong.”
There was a silence, and Skye decided it was a good time to go in. Amber was sitting slumped on a black leather director’s chair. This treatment room was a bit larger than the others Skye had been in—more the size of a spacious bedroom than a walk-in closet. Two chairs with foot basins were positioned side by side, and two with small glass tables in front of them were located across the room. One entire wall was covered with shelving that contained small bottles filled with every imaginable color, from the palest cream to the darkest black.
Sitting in one of the pedicure chairs, her legs calf-deep in water, was Frannie.
She waved when Skye came in and said, “Amber, this is Ms. D., my counselor. The one I was telling you about.”
Amber swished her strawberry blond ponytail and said with a small huff, “I know Miss Denison, Frannie. She interviewed me after Esmé was murdered.”
“Hi, Frannie, Amber.” Skye looked between both girls, wondering what was going on. Why had Frannie emphasized that Skye was her counselor? And wasn’t it interesting that Amber was so competitive that she had to claim knowing Skye even as a murder suspect, rather than letting Frannie be one up on her?
Amber pointed to the other pedicure chair. “Ma’am, if you’ll take a seat, I’ll get you started soaking while I do Frannie’s polish.”
Murder of a Botoxed Blonde Page 19