by Anne Canadeo
“I’m just the understudy today, stepping in for the star,” Dana said modestly. Lucy thought that they all gave Suzanne so much attention for her culinary artistry, it was hard for Dana’s kitchen flair to be noticed.
By the time Amy’s knock sounded on the door, the table was set for six and everything needed for the waffle-fest—berries, cinnamon, and syrup—was set out along with coffee and juice.
“Thank you so much for having me over.” Amy pushed back the hood on her yellow rain slicker. “I’m sorry I called so early, Suzanne. But I was going a little stir-crazy, alone in the house and worrying about Rob.”
“Of course you were. We’re glad you came.” Maggie took Amy’s wet jacket and put an arm around her shoulder. “How annoying is it to be woken up by the police at your front door? Couldn’t they wait until a decent hour?”
“They try to catch you unaware,” Amy said. “That’s what our lawyer told us. I think they had just brought Tanya Morton back to her cottage after her questioning. And came straight to our house to take poor Rob in for another interrogation. He was hardly awake, or coherent. They tripped him up with some questions about Tanya Morton when they walked in. Before I knew it, they put him in the police car again.”
Suzanne shook cinnamon onto her waffle. “What sort of questions?”
Lucy was glad Suzanne asked. She was just about to.
“Mainly, about their relationship. Which they don’t even have,” Amy insisted. “But for some reason, the police think they do. They say a witness saw Rob and Tanya on the beach, the morning of Dr. Morton’s death. But Rob went out surf casting that morning, and she was at the yoga class. A secret rendezvous would have been impossible.”
Lucy could see that Amy was upset and wanted to think only the best of her husband and her marriage. While it was true Tanya was at the yoga studio, she did arrive late. There would have been time to meet Rob on the beach, even time to push her husband off the cliff with Rob’s help, before she arrived at the studio. And she did have that poison ivy on her feet.
Lucy guessed that her friends were considering the same timeline but didn’t want to upset Amy even more.
“What did Tanya say about Rob last night? Did the police let on this morning?” Maggie asked.
“Not much. She claims Sam Briggs saw her and Rob together, and that Sam was blackmailing her . . . but she never said she was having an affair with my husband,” Amy quickly added.
But why else would someone be blackmailed, Lucy wondered?
“I’m sure Rob wasn’t fooling around with Tanya,” Suzanne said. “But Tanya is a perfect target for a slime like Sam Briggs. A rich trophy wife, desperate for a divorce, and in a battle over the prenup. Low-hanging fruit. If Morton suspected Tanya was having an affair, she wouldn’t have a chance of getting a decent settlement.”
“Yes, that’s it. Sam Briggs was trying to make something out of nothing,” Amy said. “Maybe Rob and Tanya did speak to each other once or twice. Maybe she was running on the beach and stopped to talk to him. It doesn’t mean anything. Sam was trying to exploit Tanya, and her sensitive situation.”
Lucy noticed Amy’s words ended on a quiet note, as if she wasn’t entirely sure. Everything in Amy’s world was upside down this morning. Upside down and inside out.
Dana pushed back her plate and looked up at Amy. “Rob will tell his side of it. It’s his word against hers. There’s no law against talking to your neighbor on the beach, or anywhere else for that matter. If Tanya said something incriminating about Rob to turn the focus away from herself, I’m sure his attorney can handle it.”
“Walter is a good attorney. I’m sure he won’t let the police confuse Rob, or let him say more than he has to.” Amy nodded and took a sip of coffee. She sat back, her glance sweeping around the table.
Amy was overwrought, all stirred up defending her husband. Lucy’s heart went out to her. But had Rob let the past get the best of him? Had he teamed up with Tanya to murder Morton? Or had he simply met up with Morton on the way to the beach and confronted him? Maybe intending to talk things out, once and for all, but somehow finding himself in a physical confrontation. Had Morton’s death been an unintended accident?
That was another possibility. One that police were very likely to consider, too.
Soon after they’d cleared up breakfast, it was time for Lucy’s and Suzanne’s spa appointments. It was still raining, and Lucy was glad they had scheduled something fun to do. Everyone gathered at the door to put on rain slickers and find their umbrellas.
“I feel so bad leaving you, Amy. I won’t go. I’ll stay here and keep you company,” Suzanne said to her old friend.
“That’s very sweet of you. But I’ll be fine. It was a great break to join you for breakfast. You have some pampering. I’m going back to the cottage to wait for Rob to call.”
Suzanne pulled on a shiny rain jacket, cherry red, and pulled up the hood. “All right . . . but you could come, too. I’m sure they could fit you in somewhere. You can have one of my appointments.”
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t feel right indulging myself while my poor husband is being badgered by the police. You guys have fun. That’s what you’re here for. Not to babysit me.”
“We don’t feel like that at all, Amy. We want to help you in any way we can,” Maggie assured her.
“I’m afraid the only way you could help us is to figure out who really pushed Julian Morton off the cliff. I know my husband didn’t do it.”
Maggie exchanged glances with her friends. Lucy knew what she was thinking. Could they help Amy and Rob? Perhaps, she thought. They had certainly talked about the crime and the various players enough.
* * *
Lucy and Suzanne quickly parted ways at the spa. Phoebe was unable to take a hike in the rain but happy to stay back at the cottage, knitting with Maggie and Dana. It was a perfect day for that.
After she checked in, Lucy was handed a blue spa robe and soft slippers. She changed in a little wood-paneled booth with a locker. Phoebe was right. This was the part of going to a spa that she didn’t like, either; walking around in a bathrobe and slippers all afternoon. It reminded her of having a cold.
Pitchers of green tea with slices of citrus and floating bits of mint were everywhere. Lucy poured herself a glass and waited in the treatment room for her facial.
Another woman, also dressed in a blue robe, walked in. Lucy recognized her right away—Helen Shelburn, from Amy’s knitting group. She had spoken at the support circle. The woman who was neighbors with the Mortons.
“I’m sorry. Do I have the wrong room?” she asked Lucy.
“I was told that the spa is short on staff today, and I’d be sharing a room with another client.”
“That must be me. They forgot to give me the same warning. I’m Helen Shelburn,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Lucy Binger.” Lucy shook her hand and sat back down again.
“I saw you in the support circle run by Dr. Fielding, and at Amy Cutler’s knitting group the other night.”
“Oh right . . . I remember. You and your friends are visiting Amy for the weekend.” Helen sat back in her chair and chose a magazine from an overflowing basket. She held it in her lap but didn’t open it. Vogue, Lucy noticed. That figured.
“Quite the weekend for visitors. You must think our community is some sort of soap opera set.”
Lucy smiled. “Not at all. But it was a shock to hear how Dr. Morton died, and that there was foul play. Even though we didn’t know him.”
“Yes, it was a shock. But who really knew the man? He was just a bundle of grudges and pathology, if you ask me.”
From what she’d heard, Lucy could understand that. Julian Morton had killed Helen’s dog. Of course she had a harsh opinion of the man. But hadn’t Meredith said how charming Julian Morton was when she’d first met him, before they married? Everyone has several sides to their personality and an inner life that no one else ever sees.
“Now the poli
ce are trying to pin Tanya with his murder. They came to her house Saturday night and took her down to the police station. I know because she texted me and asked if I’d look in on her dog if she wasn’t back by midnight. Goodness knows, she had plenty of cause to want to do her husband in. He was a penny-pincher and didn’t want to give her a cent more than their prenup specified, which was peanuts. He got away with murder when he divorced Meredith,” Helen added. “Did she ever get a raw deal.”
Lucy nearly smiled at Helen’s choice of words. “That’s too bad. I did hear she was left with nothing when she divorced Morton. She told me herself,” Lucy said.
“Then you know the whole story. The poor thing can hardly make ends meet, working two jobs. She’s always coming down with something—a cold, a skin rash. She’s worn out.”
Meredith may have been worn out from making ends meet, but she had a strong spirit. Lucy could see that just from talking to her once or twice. But Lucy wanted to talk more about Tanya, and she wondered if Helen knew what Tanya had told the police. “So, what time did Tanya get back? Did you have to walk her dog?”
“She got back just before midnight. She called me, and we talked a little. The police thought she was having an affair with Sam Briggs. If that was the case, half the women in this development should be called in for questioning. It wasn’t like that at all. Sam isn’t Tanya’s type, despite the muscles and beach-boy looks. The idea that they were lovers and conspired to kill her husband is preposterous. And I really don’t think she did it alone, either. Tanya can be self-centered and even manipulative, but she’s no killer.”
Lucy was interested in Helen’s assessment of Tanya. Helen was smart, and she knew Tanya. Lucy wondered if she should tell Helen that Sam had tried to blackmail Tanya because he’d spotted her and Rob together. But, if Tanya hadn’t told her neighbor, Lucy didn’t feel she should disclose the information. Maybe Helen knew and didn’t want to disclose the information, either.
Instead Lucy said, “I heard Tanya told the police something about Rob Cutler.”
Would Helen bite? Did she even know the lowdown?
Helen didn’t answer right away. She opened her magazine, and flipped a few pages. She spoke without looking up. “Well, there was something going on between Tanya and Rob, but it wasn’t romantic. More like a business deal.”
“Business deal?”
Helen shrugged, her gaze fixed on a glossy page, where models posed in high fashion swimwear were surrounded by penguins. “That’s all Tanya would say about it.”
Lucy wished Helen knew more. What sort of business deal could Tanya have with Rob? That didn’t make sense. Had Helen misunderstood Tanya’s explanation, or was Tanya trying to cover up something?
Lucy wanted to ask more, but the door opened and two women walked in, dressed in pale blue cotton uniforms that looked vaguely medical. They also wore the same hairstyle, a tight bun.
The older of the two wore a white coat with a mermaid emblem on the pocket. She smiled and introduced herself.
“Good morning, ladies. I am your facial therapist, Monique.” She had slight accent, Lucy noticed. Russian maybe? “This is my assistant, Jacqueline. Your skin is in for a wonderful experience.”
Jacqueline, the assistant, tucked Lucy’s hair into a terry cloth turban and released a lever on her chair that made the back drop. Lucy had no choice but to lie flat. Then she did the same to Helen, who seemed more accustomed to the routine.
Monique snapped on gloves. Then she rolled over a large magnifying glass on a metal stand and positioned it over Lucy’s face. Lucy looked up into Monique’s distorted eyes.
“Just relax, dear. Your skin is in good hands,” Monique said in a soothing voice. Then her expression grew serious as she slipped on glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. She peered at Lucy’s skin through the thick magnifying lense, her expression intense.
Lucy couldn’t imagine what she was seeing. Something like the craters on the Moon?
“Do you hydrate, dear?” Monique asked.
“Drink water, you mean?”
Monique nodded. “How many ounces a day?”
Lucy wasn’t sure. “A lot. Especially if I’m exercising.”
“You should drink ten glasses. Or more. And exfoliate? How many times a week?”
Exfoliate? A great word for Scrabble. Even Phoebe hadn’t hit on that one yet. Lucy knew what Monique meant by exfoliate—to scrub her skin with lotion that had sandy grains that scrape off the dead cells. She’d tried it once or twice, and ended up looking like she had a blotchy sunburn.
“I’m not sure . . . I scrub well with a washcloth, and I never sleep with makeup. I hardly even wear makeup.”
“Hmm.” Monique did not look impressed.
I floss twice a day. Does that count?
Monique pushed the magnifying glass aside. She reached over and picked up a slim blue binder from the counter, then flipped through the pages.
“Here is our treatment menu. It’s very extensive. For you, I would recommend the Pomegranate Clay Mask, a magnesium-rich clay that will absorb impurities, detoxify, and exfoliate. It’s infused with Tasmanian pepper berry, lilly pilly, and muntrie berry for deeper hydration.”
Great. I was wondering if any lilly pilly or Tasmanian pepper berry would be involved, Lucy wanted to say.
Instead she just nodded. “Sounds good. Can I take a look at the other choices?”
“Of course, dear. Here you are. While you’re browsing, I’ll examine Mrs. Shelburn.”
“Take your time,” Lucy replied. She sat up and flipped through the binder. Menu was the right word. Reading the ingredients started to make her hungry. Especially the Egg Cream Facial and the Avocado, Ginseng, and Honey Mask. The prices were shocking. Charging a lot made customers feel they were getting something special. But you’re not here to save money. You’re here to fling, she reminded herself.
In the nearby recliner, Helen was undergoing the magnifying glass routine, but she was the one asking Monique questions.
“How do my pores look today, Monique? Do you see that awful sun spot over my left eyebrow? Can you do anything to fade it?”
“Of course we can, Mrs. Shelburn. A dab of seaweed and volcanic ash should do the trick. No worries.”
“Great. Thanks.” Helen settled back in her chair with a sigh.
Helen chose the Lingzhi-Rose Mask, with the volcanic ash extra. Lucy went with the Pomegranate Clay suggested by Monique.
Lying back in the chair again, Lucy’s skin was cleansed with scented wipes, and then a purple-colored goop was smeared all over her face and under her chin.
Let the exfoliation begin! Lucy’s inner cheerleader shouted.
Lucy had hoped that once Monique and Jacqueline left to see other clients, she could wheedle more information out of Helen. But her face immediately seized into a Kabuki mask as the clay solution quickly hardened.
“I’ll be back soon. I know it’s hard, but no chatting, ladies. It will ruin your treatment,” Monique advised as she lowered the lights and lit several scented candles before she slipped out the door.
And you’re paying an arm and a leg for this silliness, Lucy reminded herself.
She turned her head slightly and tried to catch Helen’s eye. But her treatment mate lay with her eyes shut, looking as if she was drifting off to the sounds of the soothing, Asian lute tunes that drifted through the sound system.
Lucy sighed and lay back, too. At least my pores will be clean for the wedding. Check that one off my to-do list.
* * *
Lucy didn’t think she would fall asleep, but soon did. Awakened by the sound of Monique returning, she felt disoriented and couldn’t remember for a moment where she was.
Monique’s smiling face loomed over her. “Did you have a nice rest, dear? That helps the treatment penetrate.”
Lucy tried to smile back, but her facial muscles met heavy resistance.
Removing the mask was a bit more complicated than slathering it on, a
nd after the clay chunks were removed, a seemingly endless series of face wipes and creams were applied by both Monique and her assistant.
When Jacqueline finally cranked up the chair, Lucy felt dizzy. The many scents of the lotions and candles filled her head.
Jacqueline removed her turban. Lucy generously tipped the attendants and said goodbye to Helen, who was examining her sun spot with a handheld mirror and did not look pleased.
“Nice to chat with you, Helen. Maybe I’ll see you again before we leave. Maggie is giving another class this afternoon on the project she introduced Thursday night. In case you didn’t know,” Lucy added.
“Really? I didn’t hear about that. Amy usually calls around. I guess she’s had her hands full.”
Waiting to see if her husband was going to end up arrested for murder, Lucy knew Helen meant.
“Yes, she’s been busy,” Lucy said. “I’ll remind her to make sure the group knows about it.”
Lucy left the treatment room and soon found Suzanne, who sat reading a magazine in the reception area, where they had planned to meet up.
“Lucy, you’re practically glowing. What did they do to you in there?”
Lucy felt alarmed. She checked her image in a mirror. “Do I look bad?”
“I meant glowing in a good way. Your skin looks really . . . fresh!” Suzanne reached over and stroked Lucy’s cheek then gave it a little pat. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom.”
“Thanks. I think. Must be the Tasmanian pepper berry.”
“The what?”
“Don’t ask. The goop they put on my face had a lot of exotic ingredients. But even more interesting, was the chat I just had with Helen Shelburn. We were sharing the treatment room. Helen is in Amy’s knitting group. Dark red hair, wealthy, and well-preserved looking?”
“The Mortons’ neighbor. She told the story about poor Harvey?”
“That’s right. She had a few more stories to share. About Tanya. She said Tanya wasn’t having an affair with Rob. She said Tanya told her it was a business deal.”
Suzanne looked puzzled. “A business deal? What sort of deal could bring Tanya and Rob together? And force them to meet in secret, no less.”