by Joanne Pence
She saw that Kiki was asleep. She faced Sierra and Esteban. “If you can find out the answer to that question, let me know. Maybe she let him in and just doesn’t remember.”
The two nodded, still somewhat shell-shocked at seeing their strong, vibrant mother in this condition.
“Let me look into a few things. First, who’s the owner of the spa’s building?”
“I don’t know,” Esteban said.
“I’ll text it to you,” Sierra said, flipping through Kiki’s phone. “Here he is. Winston Young.”
“Thanks,” Rebecca said. “And what’s the name of the realtor involved?”
“I’ll have to look through my mom’s clients for that,” Sierra said. Esteban shrugged.
“What’s happening with the spa?” Rebecca asked.
Again, Sierra answered. “It’s closed today—Sunday—so it’s no problem, and I already called and left messages canceling everyone’s appointments for tomorrow. That’s how so many people know Mom is in the hospital.” She gave a nod towards the flowers. “After tomorrow, I’ll have to see how much Mom’s assistant can handle. I’ll stick around to oversee things until Mom is able to go back to work.”
“No, you have your own work,” Kiki said, half opening her eyelids. “And my client’s name is Audrey Poole.”
Rebecca, Sierra, and Esteban looked at each other and realized that even under heavy medication, Kiki still wanted to be included.
“I’d better go,” Rebecca said softly, “before the doctors throw me out.”
o0o
Despite the fact that earlier that day when Richie asked Rebecca to dinner, she said she was too busy to go, he expected she went to visit Kiki after work and that, as a result, her “dinner” would consist of leftovers, a salad, or something from a fast-food line.
By nine o’clock at night, he figured she would be home from the hospital and probably hungry. He picked up a pizza—pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, and black olives, their mutual favorite toppings—and drove to Mulford Alley. Her SUV was parked atop the red-zone that covered one entire side of the narrow street. Everyone who lived in the alley parked that way. For some reason, meter maids never entered it, so the cars didn’t get ticketed.
He parked behind Rebecca, and used the key she gave him to let himself into the breezeway to the backyard. When he reached her apartment door, however, he knocked. Somehow, that seemed like the right thing to do.
She looked surprised to see him. He guessed she was expecting her landlord, the only other person, besides him and Kiki, with easy access to her apartment door. “Richie? But I thought I said—”
“I suspected you might be hungry, being so busy and all.” He lifted the pizza box closer and could tell the moment she caught a whiff of it. Her eyes lit up, she swallowed hard, and then nodded. He knew all thoughts of turning him away vanished.
“Come in,” she said.
“I figured you might have gone to see Kiki instead of eating much for dinner.” He walked straight to the coffee table and placed the pizza box on top. Her apartment consisted of two rooms: a small bedroom with a bathroom off it, and a larger room that held the living area, a small dining area, and a kitchen divided from rest of the room by a counter. Somehow she had managed to make the small space homey and comfortable with a variety of cushions and quilts in warm colors.
“Hello, Spike,” Richie said. The dog had run up to greet him. Richie petted him. “I’ve got something for you.” He pulled a doggie toy in the shape of a massive green caterpillar out of his pocket and put it on the floor. Spike pounced and immediately began to chew on it.
Rebecca put plates, napkins, red pepper, and Parmesan on the coffee table, but her expression was troubled. Richie tried to ignore it. “Any wine or beer?” he asked.
“In the fridge.”
He opened the door and saw an unappetizing half-eaten burger covered with plastic wrap. He’d guessed right about her dinner. He grabbed a couple of Dos Equis.
“Thanks for the pizza,” she said as she dished out a slice for each of them. He sat on the sofa, but instead of sitting next to him as always, she took the rocking chair beside it. “I guess I am hungry.”
Rebecca filled him in on Kiki’s condition as they ate the first slice. “A name came up that you might know. One of Kiki’s clients is a realtor.”
“There are a gazillion realtors in the area. I hardly know any of them anymore,” he said.
“This one’s name is Audrey Poole.”
A bite of pizza seemed to lodge in his throat. He coughed it free. “Yes. Her, I do know.” He sipped some beer, thinking he might not want to let on just how well he had known Audrey. “But,” he quickly added, “it’s been a long time since I last saw her. A very long time.”
Rebecca gave him a strange look. “Interesting.” She picked up a second slice of pizza and bit into it.
As Richie did the same, memories of Audrey came to mind. They had dated some ten year earlier.
Where had the time gone? He’d been making money flipping houses throughout the bay area. When he had enough to get banks to give him big loans—apartment-building size—his whole life changed. The risks were greater, but that meant the rewards were a whole lot better. He couldn’t believe how the money started rolling in.
During those heady days, he met Audrey and they started dating. She had been attractive back then, quite attractive. She was fun, kind of crazy. She was from New York, which anyone could tell as soon as she started to speak, and she’d come to San Francisco because she’d heard about its booming real estate market and figured that since she had managed to do well in cut-throat New York City, she could make a killing in a more laid-back city like San Francisco. She had a terrific head for business, always trying to find a good deal and new ways to work the system. He would never forget one of the last times he’d talked to her. He had called to ask her out and she said she couldn’t go because she was too busy selling the property she owned.
“You’re selling property,” he repeated. “So what else is new? You’re always selling, and buying. What’s the big rush? You need cash or something?”
“No, Richie. The market’s turned. Time to get out while I can.”
“Not in San Francisco,” he insisted.
“Even here. Trust me.”
“You’re not kidding?” he asked.
“Do I kid about money? Do I ever? Anyway. I got to sell five buildings this week.”
“Five?”
“See why I don’t have time to play? But if you don’t believe me, maybe you want to buy one.”
“No thanks, Audrey,” he said. “I believe you.”
“Good. Now get off my phone.” With that, she hung up.
He took her advice and sold just before the city’s real estate market crashed. Now, it had recovered, but he would have lost his shirt if he hadn’t listened to her.
He talked to Audrey a couple of times after that, but then she started dating someone seriously, and so did he, and since he was no longer in real estate their paths rarely crossed. He did hear about her from time to time, and from a distance he kept tabs on her because that was the kind of businessman he was. But they hadn’t spoken in years.
“Richie, hello-o-o.” Rebecca’s head was cocked as she looked at him, as if she suspected where his thoughts had wandered.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about the time I was heavily invested in real estate. It was nerve-wracking. I’m glad to be out of it.”
“Was she your agent?”
“God, no. My cousin Caterina would have killed me if I didn’t keep the commissions in the family. But I’d talk with her a lot.”
“Sounds as if you liked her.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help but smile. “She had all kinds of experience.”
Her eyebrows rose.
He noticed he had finished his slice of pizza, and took more as he tried to explain. “When I was doing real estate, she was really good on the big picture. Much better than me.
I owe her.”
“Audrey Poole, savior,” Rebecca said.
He couldn’t help but remember what it was like being around her. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“You used to date her, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “There was never anything special between us, but she was a fun person.”
“Much more so than a serious cop, I suppose.” She said the words with a smile and lilt in her voice, but he caught the solemn undertone.
“I happen to like serious cops.”
She took another bite of her pizza.
He needed to change the subject. “I just remembered. I hear she used to date one of your old boyfriends. Maybe still does, come to think of it.”
“Who?”
“Sean Hinkle.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “That was ages ago. How would you know about him?”
Oops. “I don’t remember. His name came up one time. I don’t know why. Anyway, I hear he now works somewhere in the mayor’s office.”
Rebecca’s gaze was like cold steel. “So, she dated both you and Sean. I have to meet this woman.”
“I don’t know if she’s particularly serious about Hinkle. Were you?”
“You’re kidding, right?” She pursed her lips. “What do you know about Audrey Poole’s business?”
He wondered why she changed the subject away from Hinkle. Maybe she cared more about him than he’d heard. But how could she think twice about a guy with a name like Hinkle? He could imagine what kids did to it: Sean Tinkle, Sean Hickey, he could go on. And if they had married, she would be called Inspector Hinkle. He shuddered. “What do you want to know about it?”
“Kiki’s landlord wants her to give up her lease so he can sell the building. It seems Audrey Poole might be involved somehow.”
“You think Kiki stood in the way of Audrey making a big sale?”
“So I understand.”
“Whoa, that’s a scary thought.” He remembered Audrey putting the screws on people. She was one tough cookie. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Hmm.” Rebecca’s face was filled with curiosity at his reaction.
Another thought crossed his mind. “Is everything okay at Kiki’s spa?” he asked.
“I think so. Why? Her daughter said she called and canceled all the appointments for today and tomorrow.”
“Did anyone check on the place?” he asked.
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, my.”
She phoned Kiki’s son, Esteban. “I’m just wondering if you or Kiki’s assistant or any police went to the spa today to make sure everything’s okay there.”
Rebecca’s conversation was short. When she hung up, she faced Richie and shook her head. “No one has been there all day. I’m going to meet Esteban and check it over.”
He stood. “I’ll drive you.”
“No need.”
“Whose idea was it?” he insisted. “And who brought over the pizza which is almost all gone, by the way.”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SIX
Kiki’s spa, the “House of Beauty,” was on Union Street near Fillmore, a convenient location for wealthy customers from Pacific Heights or the Marina district to reach. Rebecca knew she could have refused to let Richie come along with her, but the truth was, this wasn’t her case, and she had no more “right” to be there than he did.
Besides, she couldn’t help but think that if she went through with her plan to stop seeing him, this was perhaps the last time she’d be with him looking into some possibly dangerous situation going on in this city. She had to admit that as much as she enjoyed being in Homicide, those cases that she worked with Richie were definitely among the most interesting of her career. As she sat in his Porsche, she breathed in the smell of the leather interior, and the spicy masculine fragrance of the aftershave and hair gel that he wore. She knew those scents would always remind her of the days and nights she had spent with him.
“What?” he asked, giving her a quick glance. “You’re looking at me oddly.”
“Nothing.” She turned her head to peer out the window and tried to concentrate on the street instead of the man beside her. As they rode down Union, she was surprised at how many businesses had already closed for the night. Parking was easy to find, a rarity in San Francisco.
She had given Esteban strict orders not to enter the building alone. He stood by the front door as she and Richie approached. She introduced the two men. Esteban was about to use his key to unlock the door when she stopped him and tried the doorknob.
The door opened, unlocked. Not a good sign.
“But how?” Esteban mumbled, confused.
“Where’s the key pad for the alarm?” she asked.
“Inside, to the left.” His eyes were wide.
“Let me go first.” From its special compartment in her handbag, she lifted her service weapon, a SIG Sauer 229. “Wait here.”
Esteban quickly nodded.
She slowly entered the building, listening for any sound, and looking for any indication she wasn’t alone—except for Richie. She didn’t waste her breath demanding he wait with Esteban. One glance at his expression and she knew it wouldn’t happen.
All was quiet. Richie reached for the light switch before she did, and she gave him an okay to turn it on. A comfortable reception area lit up, with cushioned chairs covered in a pastel blue fabric, and pale walls done in a faint lavender shade. Past the large reception desk were the salon and then a number of smaller private rooms. She saw no movement, heard no sounds, and witnessed no uninvited stranger scurrying for cover.
She motioned for Esteban to enter. He hurried to the keypad. “The alarm’s already been disarmed,” he whispered.
Also not good, she thought.
“The office is at the end of the hall,” Esteban told her.
“Wait here,” Rebecca ordered as she began a search of the main room where big chairs with the foot tubs sat, along with counters covered with zillions of nail polishes, and little cubicles where they did the eyebrow feathering and Botox injections.
Richie not only didn’t listen, he was doing his own search.
Along the hallway to the office were four private rooms where body wraps and mud baths were done. At each, Rebecca perused the room.
“I don’t like the looks of that,” Richie said, suddenly right behind her as she opened a door and switched on a light.
In a mud bath room, a sheet covered one of the tubs.
She crossed the room and drew back the sheet. A moment passed before she understood what she was seeing. A body was in a mud-filled tub. The mud appeared to have completely dried.
Only the victim’s head remained above the surface. But the upsetting part, the most horrible part, was that the entire head, including the hair, had been covered with something resembling a thick gray mud pack. Where the face should have been was a solid gray mask.
o0o
Rebecca immediately phoned Lt. Eastwood, and explained the situation. She didn’t need any official pronouncement from a medical examiner to know she was looking at a murder. Since she was friends with the owner of the spa where the murder took place, she wanted to give Eastwood the chance to assign it as he wished.
Eastwood told her to take charge, and that he’d make all the necessary contacts to get her some assistance. Rebecca was almost surprised by his willingness to take care of routine details. It was almost as if he was glad to have something to do.
“It sounds like my favorite dick, Bill Sutter, will be here soon,” Richie said after she hung up. “I think I’ll leave before he arrives.”
“No you won’t,” Rebecca said.
“What do you mean? I want to see him as much as he wants to see me.”
“This is a crime scene now,” Rebecca said. “You said you wanted to come here with me, so you’re going to be processed along with the rest of us.”
Richie grimaced, but helped as Rebecca did a quick search of the rest of the spa
to make sure no one was hiding in it, and to search for anything that might tell her who the victim might be. She found no one, and nothing.
They then joined Esteban in Kiki’s office.
Rebecca faced him. “Is there any stored information about the alarm system?” she asked. “We know it was disarmed when we got here, but I’d like to know when it was last armed for the night, and what time it was shut off.”
Esteban opened the program that controlled the spa’s security. “Hey, this is strange. The system was never turned on yesterday after work. It looks as if my Mom didn’t put it on when she left for the night, and she always did that.”
“Can you tell what time Kiki left?”
“No. It’s not that sophisticated.”
“Why wouldn’t she have set the alarm?” Richie asked.
“She would have. She usually locked up the place,” he said. “Although sometimes, if her assistant had a late appointment, my mom would leave and let her lock up. She trusted her. Also, a night crew comes in around seven to clean up everything since absolute cleanliness is important in a day spa.”
“That’s some top-notch cleaning crew if they didn’t notice a body in the mud bath,” Richie muttered, clearly unhappy at being stuck there.
Rebecca asked, “Do they clean those rooms every night?”
“Absolutely. The tubs, too,” Esteban said, then corrected himself. “They’re supposed to, anyway.”
“I know a guy who once owned a spa,” Richie said. “He had cameras in every room so that if anyone was accused of becoming a bit friendlier than appropriate, there was proof one way or the other.”
“My mom has cameras like that, too,” Esteban said.
“She does? That’s wonderful!” Rebecca said. “Let’s take a look.”
Esteban knew how to work the system and pushed a few buttons on the computer, expecting videos to show up on the monitor. “Uh, oh.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Rebecca told him.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He tried several more steps without luck. The video screen stayed black. “The cameras were turned off and everything on them wiped clean.”