Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (25 page)

$25 FOR 1 HOUR

TOWEL EXTREE

DON’T PET THE DOG !!!

Earl led them across the backyard toward a small metal shed—the type used to store lawn mowers and snowblowers. As they neared, a dog started to bark. Skye looked in the direction of the yapping and saw a hound dog standing in a pen baying at them.

“Don’t pay Lady no mind. She’s just sayin’ howdy.” Earl kept hold of Skye’s arm, not stopping until they stood in front of the shed. Skye had a bad feeling, but forced herself not to turn on her heel and run away. Earl would never hurt her, of course, but Glenda was another story.

With a flourish worthy of Ralph Lauren at the beginning of a fashion show, Earl flung open the metal door, yelling, “Ta da!”

The lighting was dim, provided by a single Coleman lantern, but Skye could make out a children’s inflatable pool filled with watery mud resting on a rough plywood floor. Off to the side was a pile of thin, gray-white towels and an eight-track player on an old plastic picnic table.

Glenda finally caught up with them, having been hampered by her four-inch heels sinking into the lawn, and declared breathlessly, “See. We mighten have snazzy tile floors and deluxe marble tubs, but we got everything they got that’s important. Even music.”

“Yes, you do.” Skye nodded and stepped away, determined to make it back to the car without ending up in the pool of mud. “I can see you’ve worked really hard.” As she hurried across the yard, she asked over her shoulder, “Has anyone taken one of your mud baths yet?”

Earl trotted up to her and undid the gate’s latch. “Nah. We can’t figure out why nobody wants to give it a whirl.”

“Well,” Skye shrugged, relieved to be on the other side of the fence, “you know what they say. You can lead a horse to water—”

Earl interrupted her, “But how?”

She shrugged again. “That’s a good question.” She kept on walking until she arrived at her Civic. She was anxious to leave, but had one last thing to take care of. “I saw Elvis working at the spa. Did he get a job with a construction company?”

“Not full-time. They just calls him when they needs him.”

“Oh. Uh, did he mention liking a girl who works at the spa?” Skye had no idea where she was going with this, but the train had left the station and she was on board—with or without a ticket.

“Yeah, name of Amber.” Earl wrinkled his brow. “What you gettin’ at, Miz Skye?”

“Well, she’s a lot older than Elvis, at least five or six years, and she’s sort of, uh …” Skye couldn’t exactly come
out and say that Amber was richer, more sophisticated, and smarter.

“Ain’t she good enough for Elvis?”

“That’s not it. It’s just that… you know how the city folks come out here to hunt, but they just leave the animal they shot. They don’t skin it or dress the meat. They only do it for the thrill of the pursuit, not to take it home to eat. Understand?”

Earl’s gaze went flat. “You’re sayin’ this girl is playin’ with Elvis and she’s goin’ break his heart?”

Skye nodded. “That would be my guess.”

“Gotcha. I’ll talk to Elvis tonight.”

“Good.” Skye put her hand on the car door handle, ready to make her escape.

But Earl said, “Before you go, could you look at somethin’ for me?”

Skye glanced longingly at the driver’s seat, so close yet so far, then said, “What’s that, Earl? I really don’t know much about the spa business.”

“This is for school.” Earl dug in his pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “Junior and Cletus missed school on Monday, and when they went back on Tuesday they were told they need a written excuse. I been workin’ on it all weekend, but I’m not much on writin’, so would you look at it and see if it’s okay?”

“Sure.” Skye held out her hand. “Let me see it.”

Earl smoothed out the blue-lined notebook paper and handed it to Skye.

She read:

Deer Techer
,

Please exkuse Junior and Cletus for missing skool. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday and went back to bed.

Earl Doozier

Skye bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling, but quickly sobered when she saw Earl’s serious expression.
Should she let the boys turn in this excuse, or was there a way to write one for Earl without insulting him?

Before she could come up with a graceful way to suggest he let her write the note, Earl said, “You know, if you don’t mind, Miz Skye, it might be best if you just wrote it and let me sign the paper. After all, I don’t want to embarrass the boys.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Skye whipped out a pad of paper from her purse. “I’m sure your note would be fine, but better safe than—”

Earl interrupted her again, “Than punched in the nose.”

Skye nodded, wrote the note, then made her escape, knowing she had learned something important, but unable to put her finger on what it was.

I
t was quarter to eleven when Skye arrived back at the mansion. Getting past the reporters and TV cameras at the gate was a hair-raising experience. There had been only a few reporters gathered when she left the spa early that morning, but now they were three or four deep, and as aggressive as alligators at feeding time.

As soon as she walked into the lobby hauling her suitcase full of prohibited goodies, one of the new security guards checked her room key, then offered to carry her bag. Although it was incredibly heavy, and she would have loved to have him haul it up the steps for her, she declined, afraid he would hear the clinking of the cans or smell the freshly baked bread.

Her morning dizziness had gone away as soon as she had eaten breakfast, but her muscles continued to ache, even more so after carrying fifty pounds of groceries up a long flight of stairs. Panting, she collapsed on the bed and thought about the weekend. She really hadn’t seen that much of May, Loretta, Bunny, Frannie, or even Trixie since the first night. Of course, it had only been seventy-one hours, but with all that had happened, it felt as if she’d been at the spa for a month.

She was just as happy not to have to talk to May and Bunny yet; neither would be happy to learn how things had
turned out between her and Simon. However, she missed talking to Trixie and Loretta, and she was vaguely worried about Frannie.

Skye knew the teen was looking for a story, but where was she keeping herself and who was she with? Skye hoped it wasn’t with Whitney. On one hand, it would be natural for the two girls to hang out together; they were the youngest guests at the spa. But even though they were only a few years apart chronologically, Whitney was decades older than Frannie in worldly experience. Besides, Skye didn’t get a good vibe from the poor little rich girl.

Noting that it was now nearly eleven, Skye stowed the forbidden fruits of her shopping trip under the bed, changed into sweats and a T-shirt, and twisted her hair into ponytail. Then, after putting on Wally’s fanny pack and making sure the door locked behind her, she ran to her appointment.

Ustelle was waiting for her with a surprise. The Nordic beauty waved Skye excitedly from next door to the facial room. “Miss, I have arranged a special treat for you.” Ustelle ushered Skye into the room. “Because I was late for you on your first day, and then you had to miss your mud bath, I ask Miss Margot if I can give you an Aqua Float massage along with your facial.”

“Oh.” Skye looked suspiciously at the concrete coffin-sized box in the middle of the room. “Why is it so special?”

“It’s brand new. No one else is trained to use it, but I was taught in my last job, since that salon had one.”

“Where was that?” Skye touched the thick pad covering the top of the box. It was firm. Where did the aqua or the float part fit into it?

“Miami,” Ustelle said over her shoulder as she lined up bottles and tubes. “I’ll step out of the room, while you take off your T-shirt and shoes.”

“That’s all?” Skye still had no idea how the Aqua Float worked.

Ustelle nodded and disappeared out the door. Skye took off her shirt and Keds and waited. Ustelle was back in a few seconds, and helped Skye lie down on the pad covering the Aqua Float apparatus. Ustelle pulled a sheet, blanket, and
heavy pad over Skye, covering her from her feet to the tops of her breasts.

Skye started to feel claustrophobic. “How does this work?”

“Just lie back and enjoy.” Ustelle spread a thin, cool layer of exfoliate on Skye’s face, neck, and upper chest. “This needs to stay on for ten minutes. Would you like some music?”

“No, thanks.” Skye wanted to talk, not rumba. “Did you like Miami?”

“Very much.” Ustelle smiled widely, revealing perfect teeth.

“Why did you leave?”

“The spa I was working for closed down.” Ustelle was silent until she wiped the exfoliate from Skye’s face with a cotton ball, then applied a light mask.

“Oh, why was that?”

“There’s lots of competition, especially among the day spas.” Ustelle looked at her watch. “Ten minutes for this step as well.”

“Was that your first job in the U.S.?”

“Yes. I had only been finished with my training a few months when Carlos comes to the place I’m working and hires me on the spot.” Ustelle wiped away the mask with more cotton balls, then said, “Now for the eye mask.”

“Are you still in touch with Mr. er…?” Skye trailed off, hoping Ustelle would feel obligated to fill in the blanks.

The masseuse hesitated, then supplied, “LaFever. He’s still in Miami.” Ustelle spread a thin layer of clear gel under Skye’s eyes and over the lids.

“So he was just your employer, not your boyfriend?” Skye asked.

“Who knows with men, but we need to work where the pay is best. You understand?” Ustelle spoke in a “that’s all I’m going to say” tone of voice. “Now I’ll switch on the Aqua Float, and you relax while your eye mask gets rid of all your little lines and dark circles.”

Lines! Circles! Wait a minute, what did Ustelle mean by that?
Skye seethed as the pad she was lying on was lowered
into the concrete box.
Was she implying that I have wrinkles?
Suddenly the mat began to gently pitch and sway. The motion felt wonderful, and Skye almost fell asleep pondering what she had learned. She needed to write everything down before she forgot something important. She knew there were clues in what she had been told, but what were they?

Ustelle hadn’t sounded confident when she said Carlos’s last name. Could she be lying about that, and about still being in touch with him? Maybe he was the one she was calling all the time. Skye understood being in love, but making multiple calls to a lover while you were working was a bit much.

For once Ustelle reappeared all too soon, shutting off the Aqua Float and wiping the mask from Skye’s eyes. Before she finished, she tried to sell Skye the products that had been used, but the three-hundred-dollar tab for the three tubes made it easy to say no, thanks.

On her way out, Skye asked, “By the way, what CD did you have set for Ms. Gates’s mud bath?”

Ustelle tilted her head. “None. There is supposed to be complete silence. The whole point of the bath is to feel as if you’ve gone back to the womb. No CD players are allowed in that treatment area.”

Back in her room, Skye phoned Wally’s office and left a message on his voice mail asking him to check out Carlos LaFever of Miami. She also reported that the CD player she had heard at the crime scene was not a normal part of the mud bath setup. Since Ustelle said Esmé hadn’t been carrying a CD player when she walked into the treatment room, the killer must have set it up to cover any noise Esmé might make when she was being held under the mud.

Taking all this into consideration, Skye had two questions for Wally: did the player have any fingerprints, and what was the name of the CD?

It was close to noon after she finished her call, and Skye didn’t want to waste time by pretending to eat in the dining room. Instead, she pulled the suitcase out from under
the bed and filled a large tote bag with lunch from her stash, topping the food with a pad of paper and pen. Earlier she had filled a thermal carrier with ice from the bucket and stored the items that needed to be kept cool in that. Now she grabbed the thermal bag in one hand and the tote in another and hurried to the solarium.

Sun shone through the new glass, and Skye was impressed that Margot had managed to find someone to replace the shattered window during the holiday weekend. She must have offered top dollar to entice someone from their turkey dinners and football games.

Skye headed toward her favorite spot, but tensed as she heard the faint sound of music. Taking a step forward, she relaxed as she spotted Loretta sitting on a couch with an iPod hanging around her neck and food spread out on the table. The lawyer wore a bright orange crop-style sweat suit that Skye had seen in last month’s
Vogue
. Her skin was makeup free, but as smooth and glowing as an ebony statue. She was bent over a legal pad, scribbling furiously.

When she paused to read what she had written, she noticed Skye, turned off the iPod, and said, “If it isn’t my friend, the famous disappearing detective.”