California Schemin': Book One in the Malibu Mayhem Trilogy (5 page)

“It was an accident.” Bess sighed. “A terrible accident.”

But deep down inside, I wondered. What if the needle on the beach was no accident at all? What if it had been left there on purpose?

“Bess?” I asked slowly. “I hate to bring this up now, but what if Mandy and Mallory left that needle on the beach to provoke us?”

“
Provoke
us?” Bess repeated.

“You know,” I said. “To get back at us for giving them a hard time when we found them on our beach?”

“Well, if it
was
meant to hurt one of us,” Bess said, “they succeeded.”

I was about to grab a news magazine when someone shouted, “Somebody help. Please!”

Bess and I turned in the direction of the voice. A woman who looked about thirty was helping a younger guy through the door. His face was pale, yet beaded with sweat.

“Hang in there, Brad,” the woman said.

“I’m…okay,” the guy panted as he leaned on the woman. “Let’s go back, Danielle. Please.”

Bess and I watched as a doctor hurried over. She shone what looked like a penlight into his open mouth.

“I’m Dr. Wainwright,” she said, her brows furrowed with concern. Do you know what happened?”

I was curious myself. But instead of answering
the doctor, the two of them exchanged silent glances.

“Do you have any idea?” Dr. Wainwright asked again.

“Um…too much sun?” Danielle answered.

“We’ll see,” Dr. Wainwright said. She helped Brad into a chair. “You’ll need to fill out some forms at the desk while I find an examining room. It shouldn’t take long.”

The doctor walked past me and Bess.

“Can too much sun do that?” Bess whispered.

“Not according to the doctor,” I murmured.

What struck me as weird was how reluctant they were to answer. As if they had something to hide. As if they—and then I stopped myself. Why couldn’t I turn off my radar? This wasn’t even my business!

At that moment the door to the emergency room slid open once again. A tall blond woman dressed in a white pantsuit practically marched inside, straight over to Danielle.

“Danielle, why on earth did you bring Brad here?” the woman demanded in a Scandinavian-sounding accent. “We have perfectly good natural remedies at the retreat to help him.”

“Sorry, Inge,” she said, and dropped the forms on the desk. “I panicked when Brad almost passed out.”

Bess and I were stunned when this Inge lady
walked over to Brad and pulled him out of the chair.

“My car is out front,” Inge said, leaning Brad on Danielle’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Do you see that?” Bess asked as the three headed toward the door. “She’s taking that poor guy out of the hospital.”

I couldn’t believe it.

“Excuse me,” I called to Inge. “The doctor was just going to check him out.”

Inge barely glanced at me before the door slid shut behind them. Seconds later Dr. Wainwright returned, looking for Brad.

“They just left,” I said with a shrug. “With some blond woman.”

“Left?” Dr. Wainwright said. “That’s weird.”

“That was weird,” Bess agreed as I sat down. “Why were those two so scared of that woman?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But she did mention something about a retreat. She had some yellow emblem on her pocket, but I couldn’t make out what it was.”

“Wait a minute—a retreat?” Bess asked, her eyes wide. “What if that creepy Inge works next door to us at Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa?”

“What are the odds of that, Bess?” I asked. “There must be more retreats and spas on Malachite Beach.”

“I guess.” Bess sighed. Her eyes suddenly lit up as
George entered the waiting room, a white bandage wrapped around her ankle.

“Dr. Viola found shards of glass in my cut,” George said with a grin. “Which means I didn’t step on the needle.”

“That’s great,” Bess said, giving her cousin a big hug. I giggled as George grimaced. She was about as affectionate as a sumo wrestler in the ring.

I was just as relieved. But my questions still hadn’t been answered. One: Did the needle really belong to the Casabian sisters? Two: What was it filled with? And three: Were there any more where that came from?

I knew I’d said we wouldn’t try to find any mysteries while on vacation. But I had a funny feeling a mystery had just found us.

“
W
hat are Dr. Viola’s orders?” I asked George as we drove back to the house.

“I got a tetanus shot.” George raised her arm to show a small Band-Aid. “I have to keep my foot dry for a day or two.”

“There goes swimming and surfing,” said Bess.

“We’ll be in Malachite Beach for three weeks, Bess,” George said. “At least I didn’t step on that needle.”

“That’s for sure,” Bess agreed. “Now the hospital can dispose of it safely. They deal with hundreds of needles every day.”

“Actually,” George said, “I asked Dr. Viola to send”
the contents to the lab anyway. If the Casabian sisters were doing illegal drugs and trespassing, someone ought to know.”

My hands froze on the steering wheel. As much as I thought the sisters had dumped trash on our beach, the last thing I wanted was to spread a rumor that they were users.

“George, you didn’t tell that to Dr. Viola, did you?” I said. “Celebrity gossip spreads like wildfire around here.”

“I’m not stupid, Nancy.” George smirked. “I just told the doctor that if the needle had anything toxic in it, we would want to tell the police.”

“Spoken like a true detective.” Bess smiled.

“Speaking of the sisters, as soon as we get back, I want to go straight to Villa Fabuloso. I’m going to show them what they did to me,” George said.

“Let it go, George,” Bess pleaded. “Fighting with Mandy and Mallory would just be bad karma.”

I could see George roll her eyes in the mirror.

In no time we were back at the house. While we made sandwiches for lunch, Bess and I told George about the drama in the waiting room.

“See what you missed?” I joked.

“I’m glad I did,” George said as she twisted open a pickle jar. “I think I’ve had enough drama from one morning, which is why I’m
not
calling home. My
parents would freak if they knew I’d been in a hospital ER.”

After lunch I went out on the deck to call my dad. Even though he was Carson Drew, distinguished attorney and helper of all things mystery, I decided not to worry him, either, about the hypodermic needle on the beach.

“Guess what, Dad?” I asked. “We have celebrities living right next door.”

“Celebs, huh?” I heard Dad’s voice say. “Anybody I know?”

“The Casabian sisters,” I said. “Ever hear of them?”

“Casabian sisters,” Dad said slowly. “Weren’t they a singing group in the eighties?”

“The eighties?” I laughed. “Oh, Dad, we have got to get you into the twenty-first century once and for all.”

“Hey, no fair,” Dad said. “I have an iPod.”

“Because I gave you one for Father’s Day,” I reminded him. From the corner of my eye I could see Bess and George step out on the deck. “Dad, I’m going to go. We’ve got to figure out what to do on our first full day in L.A.”

“I’ve got to go too,” Dad said quickly. “Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye, Dad.” As I ended the call, I knew what to get him for next Father’s Day—a cordless kitchen speakerphone.

“What’s on the agenda?” George asked.

“Bess and I have to finish cleaning up the beach,” I said.

“Then what?” Bess asked.

“My foot is still kind of sore,” George said as she lowered herself into a chair. “So forget a lot of walking like Universal Studios or Rodeo Drive—thank goodness.”

Bess’s shoulders slumped. Then almost immediately she seemed to perk up.

“Why don’t we go next door to Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa?” she suggested. “We can get basic manicures, which would be a treat after picking up all that garbage.”

I smiled at the thought. If anything could relax me, it was a luxurious manicure and hand massage.

“Sounds good,” I said. “And lucky you, Bess, we might even meet Mia Casabian over there.”

“What about you, George?” Bess asked.

George heaved a big sigh before saying, “Sure. Anything but Rodeo Drive.”

After Bess called the spa to make appointments for manicures later that afternoon, she and I finished cleaning up the beach, this time wearing gloves, sneakers and thick socks. We found no more hypodermic needles but plenty of makeup containers with the yellow starburst design.

“Done!” Bess declared when our last trash bag was filled. “Now let’s get these hardworking hands buffed and buttered.”

Bess, George, and I walked along the road until we reached the pink stucco mansion at the end of the beach. Two men wearing “Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa” T-shirts pulled open the massive gate to let us through. I noticed yellow emblems on their T-shirts—yellow sunburst emblems.

“You guys,” I said as we made our way up the long driveway to the mansion, “did you see the logos on those shirts? I’m pretty sure they’re the same as—”

“The makeup bottles we found on the beach.” George nodded. “Yeah, I noticed it too.”

“Most spas sell their own products,” Bess said. “The Casabian sisters might buy their makeup here.”

When we reached the front door of the mansion, George whistled through her teeth. “You’d think Brad and Angelina lived here,” she said.

“They probably did at one time,” I joked.

After stepping up to the heavy wood and iron door, George pulled a cord that rang the bell.

“Sounds like wind chimes,” Bess pointed out.

“At least it’s not some tacky TV tune like the Casabians’,” George said.

It wasn’t long before a young woman wearing a
black tunic and matching leggings pulled the door open. I noticed how perfect her hair and makeup were—lips glossy, eyelashes curled, bangs and layers thick and bouncy.

“I’m Luna,” the woman chirped. “And you are?”

Bess introduced herself, then added, “And my friends are Nancy and George.”

“George?” Luna said, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Is that your real name?”

“No,” George replied with a smirk. “It’s Henry.”

“George!” Bess hissed. She smiled at Luna and said, “Her real name is Georgia. But she hates her real name more than she hates—”

“Spas?” George cut in.

“Well, the name Georgia is lovely,” Luna said. “Are you here for one of our treatments?”

“We each have an appointment for the basic manicure,” Bess explained. “I made them about an hour ago.”

“Then please come in.” Luna made a sweeping motion with her hand to whisk us in. “I’ll show you where to change into your robes and get a glass of fresh pomegranate juice.”

“Robes?” George asked as we stepped through the door. “For a manicure?”

“Relax and enjoy,” Bess said.

Following Luna, we crossed under a huge wroughtiron
chandelier and down a long hallway. Candles flickered from iron sconces hanging from burgundy-colored walls. The air smelled like orange blossoms and cinnamon from the scented candles.

“Mmm,” I said as I closed my eyes to take a whiff. Suddenly—

“Hot stuff coming through!” a voice barked.

My eyes snapped open. A guy with sandy-brown hair was coming down the hall. He was wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. He walked almost zombielike past us, holding a steaming mug of what smelled like peppermint tea.

“Cute…but snooty,” Bess murmured. “He didn’t even look at us.”

I watched the guy as he continued down the hall. Where had I seen him before?

“Over here, ladies!” Luna stood outside a door farther down the hall. “Here’s our waiting room.”

Waiting room?
I thought.

WAITING ROOM!

So that’s who the zombielike guy was!

“
B
ess,” I said. “That’s Brad from the emergency room at Malachite General.”