A Killer Retreat (13 page)

She shook her head. “No, you don't get it. I mean close forever. As in go out of business.”

Her words startled me. “How can you even think about permanently closing? This is your grand reopening. Alicia told me the center's business is about to skyrocket.”

Emmy didn't make eye contact. “The thing is
…
Alicia
…
well,
she doesn't have all of the information.”

I felt myself stiffen. “Exactly what information might Alicia be missing?”

Emmy cringed.

OK, so maybe I sounded a
tiny
bit prickly. But Alicia was my friend, as well as my studio's landlord. She had invested considerable money in this venture, and I had a feeling she might have been duped. I wasn't worried about Alicia's finances; she'd never invest money she couldn't afford to lose. Still, that didn't give anyone—not even a pixie-haired bride-to-be—the right to take advantage of her.

Emmy's words tumbled out faster. “You have to understand, Kate. Alicia invested early—almost eighteen months ago, when Josh and I first took over. We knew the place needed some work, but we had no idea how much. We thought it mainly needed a facelift.”

I nodded for her to continue. “We opened with the existing cabins, lined up Alicia and a few other investors, and started rebuilding. I knew money would be tight, but I thought we could limp along until the renovations were finished.” She frowned. “Problem is, they may
never
be finished, unless we get more money. Josh and I have spent all of the original investment money. We drained our personal savings. We even sold Kyle the rights to the restaurant. But there's still so much work to do.”

She laced her fingers together, as if begging me to understand. “I appreciate your friend's investment, really I do. I promise you, we spent every penny of her money on the renovations. But unless something changes soon, it won't be enough.”

I hesitated, torn between sympathy for Emmy and loyalty to Alicia. I, of all people, knew how hard building a business could be. I'd almost gone bankrupt after I opened Serenity Yoga.

Emmy stared out the window toward the Retreat House. “I had an incredible vision for this place. Elysian Springs was going to be the Northwest's premier upscale, eco-friendly retreat center.” When she turned back around, she wore a sad smile.

“We were this close.” She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I invited some potential investors to visit the property this weekend, and we completely sold out. But then Monica went and got killed. Half of the guests checked out yesterday. That was bad enough. If her murder goes unsolved, the new investors will bolt.” Her whole body seemed to shrink. “We'll never make it.”

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. Emmy paused for a moment, then straightened her spine. Her shoulder blades drew together; she held my gaze without blinking. “That's where you come in.”

Two thoughts raced through my mind. First, if Emmy thought I'd confess to murder to save a glorified hotel, she was crazy.

Second, she wasn't exactly wallowing in grief over Monica's death.

Could Emmy be Monica's murderer?

I took several steps back.

Emmy took the same number of steps forward. “I'm sure I seem
callous—inhuman even. But pretending to mourn Monica won't bring
her back. I can't do anything to save Monica, but I intend to protect Josh's and my future. To do that, I need your help.”

I had no idea what she wanted, but I doubted I'd like it.

“What do you mean?”

“Alicia told me about the murder you solved in Seattle.”

I was right. I didn't like it at all.

“That was a mistake, Emmy. I practically got killed. This time, I'm leaving the investigation to the police.” I lied, of course. I liked Emmy, but that didn't make her innocent. I wasn't ready to clue her in on my plans.

Emmy frowned. “The police won't move fast enough. Bill's a great guy, but he's no homicide detective. The cops around here spend most of their time breaking up fistfights and pulling deer carcasses to the side of the road.”

“What makes you think I'll do any better? People might at least talk to Sergeant Bill. I'm a suspect, remember? No one's going to open up to me.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Emmy replied. “You're the per
fect person to ferret out the truth. You yoga teachers are like
hairdressers. People trust you. They tell you their secrets without even realizing it. And I can help. I'm the boss
and
the bride. If I tell people to attend your yoga classes, they won't be able to say no.”

I gestured around the empty room. “They certainly said no this morning.”

“The whole resort's a dead zone right now. People are skittish, but I can fix that. I'll tell everyone that you're not really a suspect—that Bill questioned you to keep the real murderer off guard.” For the first time since entering the yurt, Emmy smiled. “No one will doubt me. I can be
very
persuasive when I need to be.”

She was certainly convincing me.

“I'll get you access, you keep me posted on what you learn.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”

I hesitated. I was already planning to look into Monica's death, and having an inside contact would certainly make that easier. Besides, Emmy wouldn't ask for my help if she were the killer.

Would she?

I reached out my hand and grasped hers. “Deal. I'll keep you posted.”
As long as I don't learn anything that implicates you.

“Great.” Emmy glanced at her watch. “The morning meditation group will need this space soon. Let's go to my office and talk specifics.”

twelve

As Emmy and I
walked toward the buildings that housed the spa, the main office, and Eden, I quizzed her about her life.

“You're originally from New York, right?”

She nodded.

“How'd you end up on Orcas?”

She smiled. “It's the classic story. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love, ditches her old life, and travels across the country to be with him.”

I smiled. “Tell me more.”

She shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. I took it pretty hard
when everything went south for my parents two years ago. Monica wasn't that much older than me. The thought of her and my dad …” She shuddered. “I needed to escape all of the drama and I liked doing yoga, so I figured why not meditation? I signed up for a fourteen-day silent retreat here at Elysian Springs.”

“I could never do that.”

“Turns out, neither could I. I hated it. I spent most of our silent time wandering around the grounds, searching for anyone who was willing to talk to me. Josh was one of the groundskeepers. Let's just say he proved
very
entertaining.” She blushed. “It didn't take long for me to figure out that I liked Josh, but what I truly fell in love with was the site.

“At first we both thought our romance was one of those summer vacation flings, but we stayed in touch. When Josh told me that Elysian Springs was about to go out of business, I figured it was Kismet. I had a business degree; he knew the site. We got some investors and started rebuilding.”

She came to a stop outside Eden. “And the rest, as they say, is history. Come on up with me. I need to talk to someone.”

We walked through the door into the almost-empty restaurant.

Two nights ago, Eden buzzed. This morning, it whispered.

About me.

I didn't see any familiar faces among the smattering of diners, but they definitely knew me. As soon as I entered, conversations hushed. The waitress busied herself, shining and reshining the silverware. Most of the diners stole quick glances my way, then stared down at the table, seemingly fascinated by the dregs of their coffee. One woman nudged the man seated beside her and said in a stage whisper, “I think that's her!”

Emmy pretended not to notice the room's obvious discomfort. She smiled and cheerfully greeted each patron while I huddled close to the wall, whole body flushed in embarrassment. I understood now why Bella took comfort in small, dark spaces. I wanted to crawl under a table myself.

Emmy made her way to the kitchen and leaned inside.

“Kyle, can you talk yet?”

“Give me ten minutes,” he replied.

Now I was in cahoots with the chef, too?

Emmy and I moved to her office.

“Why are we talking to Kyle?”

“Hang on. You'll see in a minute.”

Kyle eased into Emmy's office ten minutes later, carefully balancing a basket of pumpkin muffins and a tray with three steaming soy lattes. He set a cobalt blue mug in front of each chair and placed the muffins on Emmy's desk. My stomach rumbled.

“Help yourself,” he said.

I grabbed one of the warm, amber-colored pastries, broke off a large chunk, and inhaled the spicy scents of cinnamon, ginger, and clove.

Kyle spoke to Emmy, but he gestured toward me. “So, did she agree to help find the killer?”

Emmy smiled. “Yep. Told you I'd convince her.”

“You
told
him?” Pieces of partially chewed pumpkin spewed down the front of my shirt. “Emmy, what were you thinking? For all we know, he's the murderer!”

Kyle's jaw dropped open. “Me? You're the one who spent most of yesterday in police custody.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Emmy chastised. “Accusing each other isn't helpful, or even reasonable. I had more reason to kill Monica than either of you.”

She had a point, but it wasn't in her favor.

I grumbled and wiped bits of gooey, masticated pumpkin off of my shirt. “Who else have you told, Emmy? The rest of your family? Everyone on staff ? Maybe we should have Josh announce it over the loudspeaker.”

Emmy held up her palms. “Oh no, Kate. Please. We can't tell Josh.”

I stopped wiping and gaped at her. “You suspect
Josh
?”

“Of course not. Josh would never hurt anyone. But he'd never understand.”

Neither did I, for that matter.

“I love Josh, more than I've loved anyone in my life. But he's so …
mellow
.” Her vocal tone clearly indicated that was a bad thing. “If I told Josh about this, we'd end up fighting again.” She frowned. “That is, if you can call me screaming while Josh ignores me fighting.”

“You've been arguing?”

Emmy's face flushed. “See, Kate, you
are
good at getting people to blurt out their secrets.” She blew the steam off her latte and took a cautious sip.

I waited for her to continue.

“Josh and I have been fighting about Elysian Springs. He needs to wake up and face reality; we're almost out of money.”

“If you hadn't wasted so much on the new construction …”

Emmy slammed her mug on the desk, splashing foamy beige liquid across its surface. “Drop it, Kyle,” she snapped. “I already know what you think.”

Kyle flinched, but he didn't reply. He stared at her, eyes wide open.
Even his dreadlocks seemed to quiver in surprise.

Emmy bit her lower lip and stared silently down at her lap, as if embarrassed by the outburst.

“Emmy?” I asked. “You OK?”

After a moment, she uncurled her fingers from the mug's handle, mopped up the mess with her napkin, and steadied her voice. “Sorry. It's a sore subject.” She crumpled up the soiled napkin and laid it down on the table. “Look, I'll admit, I got carried away with the new buildings, but I'm trying to appeal to an upscale clientele. No one knew that the existing structures had so many problems.”

“Is that what you and Josh fight about? The money?”

Emmy sighed and shook her head. “I wish. That would be easier. We fight because he doesn't
care
about the money. He lives in a fantasy world. Josh thinks the universe provides, but only if you believe in it. He says I need to
relax and have faith
.” She punctuated the last four words with finger quotes. “He wouldn't be mad at me if he knew I was trying to solve Monica's murder; he'd be disappointed. I can't stand the thought of disappointing him.”

I looked at Kyle. “What's your stake in all of this?”

“You saw how empty the restaurant was this morning. It should have been packed. Business was so slow that I sent all but one waitress home. I'm barely making it as it is. If the resort goes under, I'll be out of business for sure.”

I broke off another chunk of spicy, sweet muffin, slowly chewed,
and considered my options. I didn't know Kyle, much less trust him
,
but Emmy wasn't exactly one of my childhood friends, either. Since
the Cat Pose was already out of the bag, so to speak …

“OK. Let's talk.” I gave Emmy a stern look. “But don't tell anyone else.” I glanced at the desktop. “Can I borrow a pen and paper?”

Emmy handed me a clipboard.

“Let's start with you, Emmy. Tell me what you know so far.”

Emmy's version of events started when she learned that Monica had collapsed in the hot tub and ended with a family gathering last night at the Retreat House.

“Everyone pretended to be shocked and upset, but Dad's the only one truly grief-stricken.”

“Anyone act unusual?” I asked.

“What's ‘usual' about finding out that someone you know has been murdered?”

She had a point.

“But no, I didn't notice anything strange.” Emmy stood and wandered pensively around the small office. “Nobody in the family liked Monica, but I can't imagine one of them hurting her. And why would one of the staff members?” She chewed the edge of her thumbnail. “Maybe Mom's right. Maybe it was some drifter.”

Kyle interjected. “Or the thief.”

“Thief ?” I asked.

“A few things have gone missing,” Emmy replied. “Some tea, a couple of plants, a few bottles of wine. Someone even took a bag of cleaning supplies.”

“You think someone killed Monica over a bottle of window cleaner?”

Emmy sat back down. “The eco-friendly supplies we use are pretty expensive, but you're right, it does seem crazy.”

Kyle interrupted. “Don't forget to tell her about the stolen drugs.”

That got my attention. “What drugs?”

“I told you, Kyle. Those prescriptions weren't stolen; Mom for
got to pack them.” Emmy opened a packet of raw sugar and absently stirred it into her coffee. “My mother's not the most organized
person, especially when she's nervous. And she's always nervous when she travels. She inevitably forgets something.”

Emmy removed the spoon, tapped it lightly against the edge of her mug, and laid it on the table. “Mom and I went to Europe a few years ago. Mom brought shirts, two cameras, and plenty of underwear, but not a single pair of pants. We spent half the vacation clothes shopping. This time she claims some prescriptions went missing.”

“What kind of drugs were they?”

Emmy shrugged. “That's just it. She's not sure. Mom throws the entire medicine cabinet into her suitcase when she travels. She didn't even notice anything was missing at first because she had several days' worth of tranquilizers and heart medication in her carry on. I suspect all of the ‘missing' drugs are right where she left them—on her bathroom counter.”

“I'm not so sure you should write it off, Emmy,” Kyle said. “Lord knows what else has been stolen that we haven't noticed. Someone might even be skimming from the till. You're not exactly security conscious.”

“I suppose.” Emmy sighed. “We treat the staff here like family. I thought we could trust them.”

Drugs and money sounded like good motives to me. I made a note to follow up with Helen about the missing prescriptions. “Kyle, what about you? What did you notice yesterday morning?”

Kyle's day started when he began preparations for the eight o'clock breakfast service and ended when he heard sirens.

“You didn't see Monica?”

“No, why would I?”

“When I spoke to Bruce yesterday morning, he said Monica was planning to talk to you.”

“The hostess told me that Monica stopped by the restaurant, but I never saw her. I went to the garden to cool off.”

“Cool off ?”

Kyle's face turned almost as red as the stripes on his hat. “That daytime hostess has one job. One. Simple. Job. Greet people at the door and make them feel welcome. And she's not even very good at that.” He glowered at Emmy. “I never should have let you talk me into hiring her. Would it kill her to smile every now and then?”

“Her name's Jennifer. And she's shy, Kyle. She'll open up eventually.”

“So you say.” He continued grumbling. “She showed up late yesterday morning, and we were swamped. The waitresses had enough trouble keeping up with their own work. They didn't have time to do hers, too.” The small muscles in the corner of his jaw quivered. “I was furious. If I'd stuck around, I'd have yelled at her in front of everyone, so I left my sous chef in charge and went to the garden to harvest some herbs for the lunch service. I was finishing up there when I heard the sirens.” He shuddered. “After that, everything turned into a circus.”

I watched him intently, trying to read his expression. “Monica never found you after she left the restaurant?”

He paused, but only for a second. His eye contact never wavered. “No. As far as I know, she went right to the spa.”

“Well then, Kyle, your hostess may have been the last person to see Monica alive.”