Deviled!: Lake Erie Mysteries Book 2

by Maureen K. Howard

  Damien looked up, acknowledged June with a nod, and fixed me with his dark eyes. Something about the way those eyes bore into mine sent a shiver from my hairline to my tailbone. I got the disturbing feeling that he was accusing me of something, but what, I did not know.

  “She’s resting comfortably. She was overcome by the smoke and lost consciousness for a short time, but aside from some temporary memory loss, she’ll be fine.” He was staring at me again, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

  “Damien, what is it? If Angelina is okay, what’s bothering you? Did she tell you something?”

  “It’s not so much what she said,” he muttered in a low, gravelly voice, “it’s more the unanswered questions and strange accidents that keep piling up.”

  He looked pointedly at me again. Did Damien think I had something to do with Angelina being in the office when it caught on fire? June was scrolling through messages or statuses or emails on her phone. Either she had some brilliant idea or she was dealing with all this in a wildly inappropriate manner. She looked up from her screen and said, “Don’t look now, Francie, but I think this party is about to be crashed.”

  26

  This above all; to thine own self be true.

  Hamlet

  Damien and I both looked up and saw Detective Reed heading toward us. His shoulders slumped, and I felt something stirring deep in the pit of my stomach that I recognized as dread. I had been relieved to escape another round of accusatory questions after the episode in the theatre, but it seemed my luck had run out. Reed did not bother with formalities.

  “Mr. DeVille, I just spoke to your wife. You should probably go on home. She’s feeling better and wants to be with you.”

  I didn’t think the lady could crack a smile, but there it was. Her face lit up and her eyes twinkled, crinkling at the corners. She was downright pretty. I nearly let my guard down and relaxed, but when she looked at me, the smile disappeared and so did the mood. “Ms. Egge, I need to speak to you.”

  I sat down hard on the wraparound cement bench that encircled the inside of the gazebo—more because my knees were beginning to shake so badly I didn’t think they could continue to support me than to signal my immediate agreement to speak to the detective. Damien and June backed away and stepped down from the gazebo. I sent a quick, pleading look in June’s direction; unfortunately, Detective Reed stepped forward and blocked my signal for help. She sat beside me with her elbows on her knees and stared straight ahead for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence for another second. My nerves were shot, and I thought I could feel my left eye beginning to twitch.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with the fire, Detective, or Bob’s murder, or the accident on the stage. I don’t see why you’re wasting your time tracking my every move when the real criminal is running rampant on this island and needs to be stopped.” I felt a little more in control having started the conversation rather than always responding to the detective’s implied accusations.

  Detective Evelyn Reed continued to stare out past the horizon. She was so still and so intense; she seemed to be fighting some internal battle. Finally, she released a long breath and turned to look me in the eye.

  “Listen, Francie, I’ve thought long and hard about this investigation. The bottom line is that crimes are being committed, and it is my job to follow the leads and the evidence to find out who is committing them. My dilemma is this: all the evidence is shaping up to implicate you, but my gut is telling me you’re innocent.”

  “I am innocent. You should listen to your gut. Your gut sounds reasonable to me.”

  A chuckle seemed to take Reed by surprise. I could sense this conversation wasn’t easy for her. Confiding in me was making her uncomfortable. She started speaking again, her voice so low I had to tilt my head close to hers to make out her words.

  “As I said before, Francie, I have to follow the evidence in this investigation. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the evidence, although circumstantial, continues to point in your direction. I may be chasing a ghost, but my hands are tied. There is more going on here than what meets the eye. There are powerful people in this area who have their own endgame in mind, and they know how to cover their tracks. They also don’t care who they take down in the process. I’m not authorized to go on a wild goose chase, as my captain calls it, based solely on a hunch or a gut feeling. I can’t tell you anything else with much certainty, and I can’t condone any vigilante justice, but it might be in your best interest to have your friend dig a little deeper into the Scorpion Island angle she was looking into.”

  “Do you mean the mob is behind these crimes?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “I told you all I can. Just be careful, and don’t trust anyone.”

  With that said, she stood and walked away, leaving me feeling like I had a heavy weight fastened to my chest and was being pulled ever-so-slowly to the bottom of the lake.

  I was still sitting there like a petrified log when June came back and took the seat Detective Reed had just vacated.

  “What did she say to you? What’s wrong, Francie? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Jimmy Hoffa’s ghost, maybe. Come on, June, we need to get back to our room. I can’t breathe out here.” I started speed-walking back to the hotel, for once not caring if June followed. I just needed to get out of the open and process what I had just heard.

  “Slow down, Francie. What has gotten into you?”

  June caught up to me just as I reached our room and burst inside like the devil himself was on my tail. As soon as she crossed the threshold, I hung out the Do Not Disturb sign, slammed the door, and secured both locks. My frenetic mood was not slowed by the confines of the room. I paced back and forth like a windup toy that got wound too tight.

  On my third trip around the room, I flicked on the TV and cranked the volume as high as I could. Only then did I feel safe to repeat the detective’s words and warnings to June.

  After listening patiently, which I knew wasn’t easy for her, June agreed with me that there was more going on here than met the eye. She agreed with Detective Reed that we should dig deeper into the rumors surrounding Scorpion Island. Maybe it really was a hideout for organized crime. I had to admit it was the perfect setting, secluded and luxurious, for crime lords to plot and plan their evil agendas. But what did it have to do with me?

  I sat down in one of the matching conversation chairs in front of the closed draperies. Scattered about on the table next to me were pamphlets, menus, and itineraries for all the workshop events, as well as brochures detailing the attractions and restaurants throughout the resort. Peeking out from under the pile of papers, were the red all-inclusive passes Angelina had given us on our first day of the convention. I remembered that the world-renowned Heaven’s Gate Spa was included in the amenities.

  “Let’s skip the afternoon sessions and take a trip to the spa,” I suggested. “I think we could both use some extended quiet time to organize our thoughts.”

  I held up the passes for June to see before tucking them into the inside pocket of my handbag which was still slung across my chest. She nodded. Although it was still early, recent events had me feeling mentally drained. It was time to regroup.

  27

  I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it.

  As You Like It

  We got off the elevator on the ninth floor where the spa was located. Stepping through the frosted-glass double doors, we entered into the peaceful Zen world of the Heaven’s Gate Spa. Soft melodies and soothing scents infused the air, and the muted grays and soft greens of the furnishings added to the tranquil environment.

  “Welcome, ladies. May I assist you with your visit this afternoon?”

  “Hello. We don’t have an appointment.” The receptionist’s serene expression puckered, but before she could scold us for being so presumptuous as to appear before her unannounced, she spied the VIP passes I had discreetly removed f
rom my handbag and now held casually in front of me.

  “Oh, of course. If you would like to review our list of services, I will be more than happy to arrange a schedule for your afternoon.”

  We had already decided on luxury relaxation massages with facials, and I informed Alina—I could read her gold name badge now—of this. She scribbled something on two green tickets, handed them to me, and instructed us to follow the long hallway to its end, turn right, and enter the main salon at the end of the corridor. From there we would be greeted by a personal attendant who would give us a complete tour of the facilities.

  I was already feeling the tension drain from my body as we made our way down the quiet hall. About halfway down, we passed a floor-to-ceiling water feature; its hypnotizing, gentle rippling began to soothe my jangled nerves right away. At the end of the hall, we came to a stop in front of a wall covered in glossy river rock. To the left and right of the rock wall were identical frosted glass doors leading to separate private wings, presumably one for women and one for men.

  “June, does it say anything on your ticket about which door we should enter?”

  “There’s a number at the top, G-135. That’s about it. What about yours?”

  I looked closely at the green ticket in my hand. “Mine says G-136. Seems pretty generic to me.”

  “Wait. Look closely, Francie. There are letters etched into the glass. The left one has a D, and the right one has a G. Didn’t the receptionist say to turn right?”

  “I’m not sure if she meant the hallway or the door. Let’s go right. G probably stands for girls, don’t you think?”

  “Sounds good to me.” June opened the door and in we went.

  “Oh, look at this amazing hot spring pool.”

  I looked over to the raised marble platform just in time to see a man, facing away from us, getting ready to step down into the steamy tub. He dropped the towel around his waist and lowered himself into the water. There was absolutely nothing between his skin and the swirling, steaming water. Did we run? Scream? Laugh? Oddly, no; we continued walking down the hall as if it were a perfectly mundane scene. It wasn’t until we encountered a second gentleman—thankfully, this one was wearing a spa robe—coming out of the locker room that it dawned on me something was amiss.

  “Since when did they start letting women into this wing of the spa?” the robe-clad man asked.

  Another gentleman, this one fully clothed in neatly pressed, spa-employee attire, approached us, took both of us by the elbow, and escorted us back the way we had come, politely pointing out that the ladies’ wing was down the hall. Once alone outside, we stood there for a beat before crumpling into a fit of wheezing laughter that brought tears to my eyes and folded June over at the waist.

  “What the heck just happened? Why didn’t we turn and bolt after seeing hot-tub guy?” I had to wipe my eyes and take a deep breath before I could continue. “I think my brain must be fried.”

  “We both acted like it was the most natural thing in the world,” June added.

  “It actually was the most natural thing in the world. I’m just glad those guys didn’t make a big deal of it. It could have been really embarrassing.”

  June gave me a look. “I’m pretty sure this qualifies as pretty embarrassing.”

  “Well, I think the doors should have been more clearly marked. Those letters were hard to see and pretty ambiguous at that. If G doesn’t stand for girls, what is it then? And what does the D stand for?”

  June’s eyebrows came together as she thought aloud. “Gabriel and Damien? Obviously not. Girls and Dudes? We know that can’t be it. I’ve got it. Gents and Dames.”

  “I guess that makes sense, but why didn’t they just use nice standard labels like Men and Women? Serves them right if there are mix-ups. I’m sure we weren’t the first ones to make that mistake.”

  We were given a thorough tour of the women’s facility by a lovely Russian girl named Polina who spoke in the distinctive accent of so many of Devil’s Island’s employees. After showing us the wide array of hair and nail services, hot and cold pools, steam rooms, and saunas, Polina led us through the locker room with private changing rooms and into the spacious waiting area. She recited the names of all the hot and cold beverages on hand and told us to help ourselves to fresh fruit arranged in silver bowls on a long table against the wall. Before she left, she handed us a menu card with an extensive list of the other food and drink options available. All we had to do, she told us, was pick up the phone on the side table and make our request.

  We had about an hour to kill before our massages were scheduled. Snuggled in our fluffy white robes, we opted out of using the naked pools and whatnot and decided to check out the snack menu.

  “How does sushi and chardonnay sound?”

  I looked up from my menu. “You read my mind, June. You know what they say about great minds thinking alike.” June’s smile was bright and genuine as she placed our order. She grabbed a shiny, green apple, sunk into a comfy upholstered chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. She was the picture of relaxation, at least for now. I was curled up in the corner of the couch with my legs tucked under me. I could feel the tension of the last day and a half evaporating.

  “This was a much better idea than attending a lecture on period hairstyles, don’t you think?”

  “Most definitely. Now maybe we can relax, clear our minds, and come up with an explanation of why the cops keep hounding you.” June took another bite of her apple and chewed slowly, deep in thought.

  “Where do we start? Bob is hounding us from beyond the grave. I’m afraid to find out why he had a box full of creepy surveillance photos in his house. And how does Eddie fit into this picture?”

  “And I’m getting the sense that there are things we don’t know about our hosts. For starters, why were Angelina and Damien at Bob’s house in the first place?”

  “We were there too.”

  “Then Angelina shows up in the burning beach office just in time to pass out.”

  “Plus, I was shot at. Twice.” I didn’t want to give in to my frustration, because that would defeat the whole purpose of being here, and since we weren’t getting any closer to putting the puzzle pieces together, I decided to check out the fruit bowl across the room. I hadn’t taken two steps toward the counter when I nearly had a head-on collision with the person delivering our snacks.

  “Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” we said in unison. I recognized that soft Russian voice immediately. “Sasha! It’s you again. Do you work everywhere in this resort?”

  “I go wherever I am told. We are trained in many jobs to prevent problems if someone cannot work their assigned schedule. I’ll just leave this tray here. Enjoy your stay, ladies.” And with that she was gone.

  “I guess her explanation makes sense, but these surprise appearances of hers are just adding to the feeling that we’re missing something.” As I tried to quiet my running internal monologue, I fixed a plate of sushi, poured a glass of wine, grabbed a napkin, and returned to my spot on the couch. June followed suit, tossing her apple core in the trash and piling her plate with as much as it could hold before pouring herself a glass of the perfectly chilled chardonnay.

  This was more like it. We relaxed in the luxurious lounge, savoring the delicious California rolls and enjoying a second glass of wine. I needed to remember the name and vintage so I could purchase another bottle or two when I got back home. I was thinking I might close my eyes for a few minutes, when a soft voice spoke, and I realized I had indeed dozed off. It was an attendant coming to collect June and escort her to her masseuse. The pretty, dark-haired girl informed me that my personal assistant would be by momentarily, and before she and June were out of the room, my eyelids were growing heavy once more and sleep was beckoning to me. I welcomed the invitation to catch up on some much-needed rest and gave in without resistance. The lilting voice that woke me for the second time was a now-familiar one. When I opened my eyes, Sasha stood in front of me hold
ing out her hand to escort me to my appointment.

  “Miss Francesca, if you will come with me, I will show you to your room. There has been a slight change in the schedule, but not to worry. Oksana will take excellent care of you. She is the best therapist in the entire spa.”

  I followed my guide down the long, quiet hall like an obedient puppy, still a little groggy from my interrupted nap and that extra glass of afternoon wine. All the doors had matching whiteboards attached to the outside. About halfway down, we passed a closed door with a Reserved for our VIP Guest magnet affixed to the whiteboard. Below the magnet, written in a flourishing cursive hand, was June’s name. The next door had an identical magnet, and underneath the VIP tag was my name written in the same fancy script. I stopped and was about to go inside when Sasha directed me to a room further down the hall with no magnet and no name on its door.

  “We passed my room, Sasha. My name is on the door right next to June’s room.”

  “Yes, as I mentioned, there was a slight schedule change and you will be with Oksana in this room. You should be honored. She only works with our best customers. Relax and enjoy your time here.” She ushered me into the well-appointed room and left me to undress and slip under the silky sheets to await the arrival of the wonderful Oksana.

  I was not disappointed. For the next hour, I gave in to the magic of her hands, breathing in the soothing smells of essential oils, listening to cerebral music, and giving my tight muscles over to the restorative strokes of my therapist’s expert touch. Of course, it couldn’t last.

  June’s frantic voice startled both Oksana and me. I popped up from the massage table, wrapped myself in the sheet, and bolted out the door. The yelling was coming from the room that had my name on it.

  “What’s going on? What’s the matter? What happened?”

  June was standing next to a woman I had never seen before, but her dark curly hair looked disturbingly familiar. Her hands were at her throat, and she was wheezing.