Massage & Murder

by Jenn Cowan

  “I mean how many seaweed wraps can one person do? Where’s the mud wraps? The cellulite treatments? There’s no variety. And don’t get me started on her facials. They’re so basic. Cleanser, exfoliator, mud mask, toner, moisturizer. Everything is the same. The woman could afford to branch out with the rates she charges. Even try some new services. The spa in New York has a steaming service that opens your pores. It feels like a shower for my face. The massages are different too. Different oils and aromas used in each service. Different techniques. More therapists. They didn’t have any trouble getting me in on short notice although the Biggs name does have some clout in New York. I think it’s time Daysville gets an elite spa. Something unique and sophisticated. Don’t you agree?”

  I don’t answer as I press an elbow into April’s shoulder.

  She moans. “Oh, that’s the spot.”

  Thankfully, she quits talking and turns to put her face back in the face rest.

  After a few minutes, I ask, “Is that too much pressure?” I’m probably using too much.

  “Goodness, no. So much better than Sally although not as good as Josh. I will be recruiting him for my new spa.”

  I apply more pressure because the thought of Josh working for her makes my blood boil.

  “Oh, a little too much,” she complains.

  I back off and take a breath. I need to chill out. Put my history with April aside and do my job.

  Moments later soft snores drift from beneath the face rest.

  I sigh and watch the clock minutes tick by as I move around working on April’s neck and upper back. Thirty minutes feels like ninety, but it’s finally over. “Take your time and I’ll meet you out front.” I whisper.

  April snorts and mumbles something I can’t make out.

  I won’t be surprised if she falls back asleep. Her breathing is deep and she’s completely relaxed. Not as good as Josh, my eye. I snag her file and step from the room, closing the door softly behind me.

  Vicky’s voice floats down the hallway. “Over my dead body will she open another spa in this town.”

  Jotting down a few notes, I make my way to the mini fridge behind the reception area. I snag a bottle of water and set it on the counter for April. Hydration is key after a massage. Prevents clients from being sore. A massage is like a workout. The day after most clients can be sore. Drinking water tends to reduce it.

  “Did April say anything to you about opening a spa?” Vicky places a hand on her wide hip. Her black scrubs are clinging to her curvy frame and she’s glaring at me with the ‘mom look’. I hate that look. Her curly brown hair frames her face. Red rimmed glasses are perched on her thin nose and her brown eyes are narrowed, practically scorching me with their intensity.

  I hand April’s file to Bethany and fill out my therapist log to track my hours, but really, I’m buying time because she’s not going to like what I have to say. I take a deep breath and face her. “You know I can’t talk about what my clients discuss during their massage.”

  Vicky makes a face and stomps from the room.

  “Mom is livid,” Bethany whispers, flipping her braid over her shoulder before she tugs on her black scrub top to hide her curves. She’s the spitting image of her mother only with long brown hair, which she always braids and she wears contacts in her brown eyes as opposed to glasses.

  “I can tell.” I check the schedule then glance around the waiting room. “Did a detective show up?”

  Bethany nods and shifts back and forth, avoiding eye contact. “He’s waiting in the break room for you. Nikki showed up early so I put her in the yellow room with some heat packs on her back. That way we can avoid any issues.”

  “Issues?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “You didn’t hear?”

  I shake my head.

  “She and April had an argument the other night during the garden club,” Bethany whispers, glancing toward the door.

  I gasp and lean in closer so April doesn’t hear us when she comes out, but before I can get any more details, Regina Mills, the owner of Regina’s Hair Salon next door, waltzes in. Bringing in a blast of cold air and some snow.

  “Did they see each other?” Regina brushes the snow off her dyed red hair then smacks her gum before tucking a comb into her smock. “I have a client waiting, but didn’t want to miss the fireworks.” Her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Bethany smirks and shakes her head. “No fireworks here. This is a spa not a grandstand.”

  Regina waves a wrinkled hand at her. “With the farmer’s almanac predicting snow until the end of March these are all the fireworks we’re going to see for a while. These two have been lighting each other’s fuses since middle school. Especially when April stole Bobby from Nikki during their senior year in high school.” She blows a bubble and sucks it in with a pop.

  “Oh, I almost forgot about that.” Bethany sets her elbows on the desk and props her chin on her hands. Giving Regina her full attention.

  “Well you were only six when it happened over fifteen years ago. Autumn, you remember, don’t you?” She pauses and studies me. I feel like a microorganism under a microscope. “Of course, you do. Bobby isn’t the only guy April stole from her ‘best friends’.” Regina pursues her lips and gives me a pointed look.

  I feel my face flush. I know what she’s referring too, but there’s no way I’m re-hashing high school with the aunt of the love of my life.

  “Anyway, Bobby was the love of Nikki’s life. No man has ever been good enough for her. It’s sad really. She’s so pretty. All that raven hair. Silky loose curls. I love styling her hair.” Regina sighs and stares off into space for a moment as if dreaming about Nikki’s hair then snaps backs to reality and says, “Not to mention, she’s beautiful inside and out. Not like that witch April.” Regina makes a face. She’s never been an April fan. Although after what April did to her nephew, I can’t say I blame her. I do blame him though, and of course, April. Regina’s gum smacking brings me back to the present. “Speaking of the witch. Where is she?”

  I glance at the clock. It’s been almost ten minutes. “I’ll go check on her. She may have fallen back asleep.”

  “You do have magical hands.” Regina winks at me before popping another bubble.

  I give her a genuine smile then head to the blue room. Hopefully she’s dressed and just checking her make-up. I hate waking up clients. They’re always groggy and usually embarrassed about falling back asleep. I lift my hand and rap softly on the door. “April.” I call out softly.

  No answer.

  I knock a little louder. “April. It’s 10:45.”

  Nothing.

  I knock again.

  Still nothing. That’s strange. She must really be asleep.

  “April, I’m coming in.”

  I peek in the room and freeze. My heart drops and I have the urge to throw up. I force myself to hold it together as I yell, “Bethany! Call an ambulance NOW!”

  3

  “Autumn?”

  I jump and nearly spill my tea on my scrubs. My feet are tucked underneath me and I’m snuggled underneath a soft blanket Bethany wrapped around me when I couldn’t stop shaking. I’ve been sitting in the break room staring at the wall for the past ten minutes after finding her.

  I can’t erase the image of April face down on the massage table with a knife sticking out of her back. Blood soaking the blue sheets. There’s not enough bleach in the world to get all that blood out. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give a massage in that room again. I blink and turn toward the voice. All thoughts of April disappear. My heart betrays me and starts a stampede in my chest as I take in the man who broke my heart fifteen years ago.

  Travis Mills.

  The complete opposite of my dream guy…at least in the looks department.

  Red crew cut. Green eyes. Tall, toweringly tall. In high school, he was buff now he’s annoyingly ripped. Ugh. Does the man have to wear a shirt that tight? I mean I can see his pecs through his white dress shirt an
d that suit. Dark like his mood and his red tie…the color of well I won’t go there. My mouth goes dry.

  This is the man who owned my heart. He gets me…or he did. We like the same things or at least we did in high school. In high school, we were the ‘it’ couple. Life’s of the party, always laughing, always having fun. We understood each other. Supported each other. Loved each other. Even now, I’m so drawn to him I can’t stand it. Just looking at him has me wanting to throw myself at him and forgive his mistake.

  Except I can’t.

  He’s a dad. The main reason we’re not together. The big mistake that is now big…a fourteen-year old daughter, Catherine. Everyone calls her Cat. She’s a sweetheart unlike her mother.

  Her mother, April.

  Yeah. Now, you see why she’s my mortal enemy?

  My dead mortal enemy.

  I shudder.

  I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but well…she stole my boyfriend, got pregnant then dumped him and stole Bobby from Nikki.

  Two guys, a red-haired baby and a paternity test proved Travis was the father. Although the red hair was probably enough to prove Travis was the father. Bobby has dark brown hair and there’s never been a red head in his family, but April wanted to make sure. She cried when she found out, because she was positive Bobby was the father. She and Bobby were already married because she told him the baby was his. He could have divorced her, but he didn’t. I’ll never understand why. So, they stayed married and Travis became a teenage dad, sharing custody with the wicked witch of Daysville.

  I’d feel sorry for him if he hadn’t betrayed me. I mean we were taking a break. You know those breaks high schoolers take for like a weekend then by Monday realize they can’t live without each other. Apparently, he could live without me. And I guess I could live without him because that’s what I’m doing, right?

  I’m living.

  Not dating.

  Not married.

  No kids.

  Content to spend my time at the spa, doing what I love, going out with my girlfriends or snuggling up on my couch binge watching Netflix with Josh. That’s my life and I love it, but staring into those piercing green eyes I become a love-sick teenager all over again.

  He’s leaning against the door frame of the break room, looking like he just stepped out of a Men’s Warehouse magazine.

  The silence is like a ticking time bomb. Neither of us know what to say. We don’t see each other even in this small town. It’s like everyone runs interference for us. We rarely cross paths and when we do, it’s like a punch in the gut. All those feelings. The love. The memories. The kisses. The pain. The betrayal. The hate. It’s all rolled into one big emotional knitting ball. His aunt Regina could knit an entire army scarves with our history.

  Travis clears his throat. He has a job to do. He’s a detective. Although I’m surprised he’s on this case since it’s the mother of his child who was murdered. Maybe Captain Green figured he’d work twice as hard to find the killer since it’s personal or Travis simply refused to be taken off the case. My bet is on the latter. “Can you run me thru what happened?”

  I sigh. No greeting. No small talk just right to the point. Sometimes I miss the old Travis. The one I would talk to for hours on the phone. Tell him my secrets, my hopes, my dreams. This Travis is cold. Shut down. Unfriendly and obviously wanting to get this interview over with as soon as possible. Well me too. “I gave MRS. BIGGS a thirty-minute massage.” Emphasis on the Mrs. Biggs part. It’s petty I know. Old wounds are starting to crack open. Bitterness is rising in my throat, ready to spill out. I tap it down and continue, “I stepped out to give her time to get dressed. When she didn’t come out, I went to check on her and found her.” I run a hand down my ponytail then toy with the end. The memory of April lying on the table with a knife in her back would be forever burned in my mind.

  “How long was it before you went to check on her?”

  “Ten minutes or so.”

  He frowns. “Do you usually wait that long to check on clients?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Usually my clients come right out within a couple of minutes. I was talking to Bethany and your aunt and lost track of time.” I pause. “Like I said, usually my clients come right out.”

  He nods and jots something down in his mini notepad. “Did you and April talk about anything?”

  “We did.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  I wrap my hands around my mug. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Client confidentiality.”

  “The client is dead.”

  I shrug.

  “Don’t make this any harder, Autumn.”

  I jut out my chin before taking a sip of my tea.

  His eyes darken and I can see him working his jaw. Clenching and unclenching it. He’s getting angry. Oh, well. I’m not losing my license over this. “I’ll get a warrant,” he threatens.

  I shrug again.

  “Don’t make me arrest you, Autumn.” His voice low and gruff.

  I scoff. “For what?”

  “The list is growing, but right now you are the last person to see April alive. You’re our primary suspect. You have means, motive and opportunity.”

  My jaw drops. “Means?”

  “You’re capable of killing April. Have access to the kitchen knife we found in her back.” He gestures with his pen to the taped off area where the knife block sits on the counter, the biggest knife slot is empty. A young blond-haired officer is guarding it as if it’s the most important job ever. “It matches the other knives in the set.”

  “That means nothing. Anyone could access those knives.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “You also have motive.”

  “What motive?”

  He gestures back and forth between us.

  “You?” I almost laugh. “You’re my motive? That’s ridiculous.” I take another sip of tea, but my hands are shaking so much I almost miss my mouth.

  “So, you’re not still upset about what happened in high school.”

  “That was fifteen years ago. I’ve moved on.”

  “Have you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I haven’t spent the last fifteen years pining for you. Believe me, I’m totally over it,” I smile as I lie through my teeth and pray he buys it.

  He studies me for a moment before moving on, “You also had opportunity. Thirty minutes of opportunity. Stab April. Slip out like nothing happened then when she doesn’t come out, make a show of finding her body.”

  I almost let go of my mug. Tea splashes over the rim and burns my hand, but I barely feel it. He’s really making a case against me. The room is spinning or am I spinning? I can’t tell. This can’t be happening. I feel sick. Sure, I hate April...hated her. Envisioned killing her multiple times, but I would never do it. Would never leave Cat without a mother. I’m not a killer. I’m a healer. Surely, Travis knows that. I glance up at him as he’s reviewing his notes…then again maybe he doesn’t.

  Bethany pokes her head in the room. “Autumn, you’re as white as snow. Are you alright?”

  I shake my head. “I’m feeling kind of sick.” My hands are shaking. Tea is threatening to spill from my cup again and I want to vomit. Preferably on Travis’s shiny black dress shoes.

  “Autumn,” Josh pushes past Bethany and Travis, who scowls at him and pulls me into his strong arms. “How are you holding up?”

  I inhale him. His shampoo is a mixture of tea tree and mint. It’s an odd combo, but it works and it’s totally him. I start to cry. I’m not a crier, but suddenly my emotions are all over the place. Between seeing April, working on April, finding her dead on my massage table and having an emotional stand-off with my ex, my emotions are shot.

  “Let’s get you home,” Josh whispers in my ear.

  I nod into his chest, letting him pull me to my feet. Leaning against him for support.

  “I’m not done questioning her.” Travis puffs out his ch
est and blocks Josh from retrieving our coats.

  Josh stiffens. His voice gruff and commanding. “You’re done for now. Any further questions will happen at the police station with Autumn’s lawyer present.”

  My lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer. The only lawyer in town is Miss Waters and she’s not very good. Josh has to be joking. I didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no need for a lawyer. I glance up at the two men. They’re having a stare down. I roll my eyes. This is like high school all over again.

  Josh never thought Travis was good enough for me and repeatedly told him so. When things went south and April got pregnant, Josh did the unthinkable…he punched Travis right in his perfectly straight nose, which now isn’t so straight. In fact, it’s looking rather crooked these days.

  Travis deserved it. If my eyes hadn’t been puffy and swollen from crying so much and I had the desire to stop watching Full House re-runs while making my way through five cartons of mint chocolate chip ice cream, I probably would have punched him too…only not in the eye.

  I squeeze Josh’s waist to remind him I’m still here and he squeezes back.

  “Excuse us. We need to get our coats.”

  Someone calls Travis’s name from down the hall. He glares at Josh before his eyes land on me. They soften slightly before he hands me his business card. “Call me when you’ve secured a lawyer and we’ll talk.” Then he stomps from the room.

  A whimper escapes me.

  Josh gives me another squeeze. “He’s just trying to intimidate you. We’ll call your father when we get to your house. Once the snow stops, I’m sure he’ll drive in to represent you.”

  My father? Oh right. My father. Retired attorney. Although, he still works part time much to my mother’s despair. After his heart attack two years ago, she forced him to retire to Florida. Now, he spends his days playing golf and chugging fresh squeezed juice my mother forces down his throat with an array of various vitamins and supplements to keep him healthy. I shake my head. Never in a million years did I think my dad would be representing me. Could this day get any worse?