Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? (22 page)

“Someone should call the local authorities,” Dillon told Hans.

“Hans, please remove everyone from the room.” The voice was cool, authoritative. Fiona Bliss appeared at her husband's side. She was several inches taller than he was, dressed in a flowing diaphanous chiton shot with gold. Andy hadn't seen her approach. It was as if she'd stepped right down from Olympus.

She continued to issue orders in the same sure, calm voice, but her eyes were focused on the body in the whirlpool, and they were filled with an emotion Andy couldn't guess at.

As Hans herded people back to the door, Katherine Dane slipped out of the crowd and came to stand on the other side of Bernard Bliss.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I've been having second thoughts about serving liquor at these parties. It seems that I was right.” She shook her head, and her sleek hair caught the light and momentarily haloed her head.

“Hans, you'll have to take the body out the back and to the heliport. This is upsetting enough without everyone witnessing that.” She flicked her chin toward the whirlpool. “Have someone get him out of the water. I'll…go make an announcement. Terrible accident. Terrible,” she said and started to walk away.

Andy saw Hans frown and Dillon slowly shake his head.

Katherine gave him a disdainful look. “Hans, now.”

“No, Katherine,” said Dr. Bliss in that same assured voice. “I'm afraid we must wait for the police before we can move him out of the pool.”

Katherine whirled around. “The police? Don't be ridiculous, Fiona. There's no reason for that. We'll take him to the hospital, and they can file an accident report.”

The doctor slowly shook her head.

Katherine moved closer to the head goddess and said urgently, “Do you know what this kind of thing can do to our reputation? We can't have any suspicions of misconduct or negligence linked to Terra Bliss. Our detractors will make full use of this to denounce the success of the goddess program.”

“It can't be helped.”

“At least call in the state. You know how the locals feel about us.”

“They might learn to respect us if we cooperate.”

Katherine shot an appealing look at Bernard, but he said, “You know that Fiona is right. But please do make an announcement, Katherine.”

Katherine hesitated. “Well, I think you're making a mistake.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the door.

Andy stood away from the others. She was trying to concentrate on what was going on around her, instead of thinking of Demetri dead and how Jeannie must be feeling. But it all passed in a fog. And strange questions kept popping into her mind. Like if Dillon had followed her to the Spa, why hadn't she heard him. And how did he get to the whirlpool before her? And how did he know Demetri was definitely dead?

And the biggie, why did he automatically take charge of things? Even Hans looked to him for instructions.

She felt him come up beside her, give her a sideways glance. Perfectly in control. And she realized for the first time that he was always in control, except making love to her. Or was that just an act? And why was she thinking these things when there was a dead man only feet away?

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Enough.” She glanced back at the whirlpool. She didn't want to look but she couldn't seem to stop. The timer must have run out because the water was now smooth, and Demetri's body bumped against the bench that ran along the inside.

She swallowed. “In my business dead people get up when the take is over and go to the canteen for coffee. This is so…”

“Final,” he supplied.

She nodded.

“I think you should go outside with the others.”

“No. I found him. The police will want to talk to me.”

“They'll call you when they're ready to take your statement. Just don't talk to anyone about what you've seen. Try to keep a clear head and try to remember whatever details you can.”

Like that when the lights came on, you were the one I found standing over the body?

“I'm staying.”

His hand came around her bicep so fast that she let out a gasp. She tried to wrench away, but he held her trapped.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to curb my temper.” His voice was low, tight. “Trust me. You don't want to get involved in this mess any more than necessary. Someone killed the poor slob, and they're going to feel a little threatened. And considering you're here under false pretenses, you might want to keep a low profile.”

“I never saw the man before in my life.”

“Maybe. But you've been here for a week, and believe me that's plenty of time for someone to get the urge to kill.”

She stared at him. Not believing what she was hearing. “You think I killed him?”

He let out a mighty sigh. “I'm just saying you should be careful.”

And what about you? Who are you?
“How do you know so much about this kind of thing?”

This got her a flash of teeth. “The movies,” he said and shoved her toward the door.

T
he movies.
What a jackass, thought Andy as she sat by the pool, watching Loubelle and Evelyn trying to comfort Jeannie. It had been nearly an hour since they'd discovered Demetri's body. She had no idea what was going on inside, just that Dillon was still in there and she was out here.

“Why? Why?” sobbed Jeannie. “How could something like this happen?”

Andy had a few ideas, but kept them to herself.

“He was just there, in the whirlpool, just…floating.” This ended in a louder sob than the rest, and Evelyn and Loubelle patted and cooed more fervently.

Drowning in a whirlpool. Falling from a balcony. Andy stopped there. She didn't want to think about what might have happened to Mac.

Dr. Bliss climbed the steps of the amphitheater and stopped in front of the buffet table. For once, she wasn't accompanied by her acolytes. Andy found them at the bottom of the steps, clinging to each other as if there had never been a hard feeling between them. She also saw shadows moving in the dark outside the lit pool area. The security guards must have been dispatched.

The doctor didn't move, just looked over the crowd until all conversation stopped and all eyes turned to where she was standing. For several moments she just looked over the crowd, her face loving and a little sad.

Then she raised her hands in that gesture of supplication that was her trademark. “Friends, fellow goddesses, I know there is much concern about the tragedy that occurred here tonight.” She told them very simply that Demetri had suffered a heart attack and was dead. Andy hoped she was right, because if Demetri had been murdered—but she wouldn't even think about that.

The doctor was sympathetic, sad, calm, and reassuring by turns. But when she informed them that the police had been summoned and that everyone should remain poolside until they arrived, a tide of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“I have been assured that this is merely standard procedure whenever there is an unexpected death,” she told them. “I hope that we all will cooperate in their investigation.” She paused. Looked over the crowd. “Life is short. Which makes it all the more important that we should find our inner powers without delay.”

In other words,
thought Andy,
business as usual.

As she ended her speech, a line of police cars, lights flashing, sirens churning, drove into the compound. They were accompanied by a fire truck, an ambulance, and a black sedan, bringing up the rear.

Uniformed policemen and EMTs poured out of the vehicles. No one in the sedan made an appearance. Two uniforms were left guarding the Spa door, and Hans led the others inside. As soon as they were gone, the back door of the sedan opened, and a man stepped out.

He was wearing a suit and appeared tall from where Andy was standing. She edged closer to get a better look. He was either the undertaker, a federal agent, or a Mormon missionary. Too early for the undertaker, too late to save Demetri's soul. That left the feds.

And where did that leave her? She knew her police procedure. If you worked in enough movies, you picked things up. Some of it might even be true. And she knew that if they'd sent in the feds, they suspected more than a death under unusual circumstances.

And if they arrived this quickly, they must have already been investigating the retreat. And since Dillon had immediately taken charge of the crime scene, she figured he must be one, too. He'd denied it. But no big surprise there. She'd been consorting with a government agent.

He might even be doing the questioning. Just her luck.

The door to the Spa opened. Hans and one of the policemen stepped out and strode over to the pool. Andy waited for them to spot her, and when Hans motioned her over, she went without a backward glance.

She was escorted to Hans's office where an interview room had been hastily set up. A stack of
Sports Illustrated
s had been shoved to one side and replaced by a tape recorder. The officer in charge sat behind the desk, dwarfed by the overlarge furniture.

Another policeman sat in a straight-back chair with a steno pad balanced on his knee. The man who'd gotten out of the sedan stood at the back of the room, conspicuously inconspicuous.

Dillon was absent.

It was the first time Andy had been in the masseur's office, and she looked around while she waited for them to begin. The walls were lined with sports pictures and Xeroxed health articles. There was a water cooler in one corner, and a small refrigerator within reach of the desk chair.

The officer glanced up from an open manila folder. “Ms. Ar-iee-ad-nee McAllister?”

“Yes.”

Their eyes met, and she thought,
Shit.
She should have been figuring out what to say instead of looking at Hans's walls.

She sat there feeling foolish as his eyes panned down her shawl and chiton and back up again. Probably the first time he'd ever had to interview someone dressed up like an ancient Greek. He shook his head and looked back down at the folder. “You live at 1254 Sepulveda Boulevard, Los Angeles?”

“Yes.”

“You found the deceased?”

“Yes.” So far things were proceeding according to script. She let out air and felt her shoulders relax.

“Can you tell us what you saw?”

Andy did, faltering only when she came to the part about Dillon being there. But if he'd killed Demetri, they probably already knew about it. Maybe even ordered him to do it. She told them about Jeannie coming in and screaming.

All the while she knew the man in the suit was watching her. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, analyzing everything she said.

And you've been doing too many movies, girl.

The officer asked her a few more questions: Why she'd come to the Spa. What was her relationship to the deceased? What was her relationship with Jeannie Jenkins? What was Jeannie's relationship to the deceased?

Finally, Andy's curiosity got the better of her. “Why are you asking all these questions?” Andy saw his gaze flick past her to the man stationed behind her. It was an involuntary reaction; she doubted if he was even aware of it.

“Just routine,” he said. “It says here, you're a librarian.”

“What?” Oh, great, she'd forgotten that her nutcase family had filled out the forms. It was anybody's guess what other outlandish things they'd made up about her.

How the hell was she going to explain this without making herself look like a pathological liar—or the perfect suspect.

“Ms. McAllister?”

Andy thought furiously. “I'm…not working at the moment.” That was true enough.

Once again his gaze flicked past her, a frown passed over his face. Then he said, “That's all for now, Ms. McAllister. Please stay by the pool area in case we have more questions.”

She stood up and headed for the door, but she couldn't resist a quick look at the man who seemed to be controlling the investigation without ever saying a word.

He met her look, but his eyes, his expression, his body gave nothing away.

The officer who'd accompanied her to the Spa was waiting outside the door. As he ushered her down the hall, she saw another policeman bringing Jeannie in. She was clinging to him, looking small and old. Andy gave her an encouraging smile as they passed, but it only made Jeannie cry all the more.

More policemen had arrived, and they were standing in a group looking over the crowd. Ariadne received several lascivious—and a couple of disgusted—looks as she passed by. She ignored them. This must be what Katherine was talking about. It was obvious that the local force didn't think highly of Terra Bliss.

Andy looked out across the pool and thought how ridiculous they all looked, playing goddess and slave. Empowering themselves by dressing up in silly costumes.

A siren cranked up, jolting her out of her thoughts. The ambulance drove slowly around to the back of the Spa. They were going to take Demetri out through the delivery door.

For the next hour, Andy watched people go into the Spa and return. Dr. Bliss made brief appearances, then left Katherine to wander through the crowd, offering support. Andy wasn't surprised when she stopped at their table. She said a few words to Jeannie, then turned to Andy.

“Ariadne,” she said in her slightly toneless voice. “How are you?”

“Fine,” said Andy, though suddenly she was bone tired.

“Good. Dr. Bliss was concerned. They should be dismissing us soon. I know this can be very depressing. But you mustn't dwell on it. Try to get some sleep. And be sure to attend the meditation session in the morning. It will help free you of any underlying stress or anxiety caused by this unhappy event.”

“Do they know how he died?” asked Loubelle.

“Heart attack is the initial diagnosis. Though I believe the poor man drowned.”

“Oh,” said Loubelle, distress making her drawl more pronounced.

“I'm sure he didn't suffer. Tomorrow, Ariadne.” She melted away just as the group of policemen Andy had encountered at the Spa door appeared on the perimeter and began to spread through the crowd. They took statements while giving the goddesses a variety of unprofessional looks.

At last, they were all dismissed to return to their cabins.

Andy hadn't seen Dillon since the proceedings began, so she was surprised to find him standing off to the side, talking to the man in the suit. Well, not surprised, exactly.

The man was smiling. Dillon looked mutinous. She was confused. Were they colleagues? Or was the suit about to arrest him? Did he think Dillon killed Demetri? Did she?

She frowned. Why was she thinking it? She knew Dillon hadn't killed Demetri. Fear probably. It could really screw with your mind.

She really wanted to know where he'd been the whole time the questioning was going on, but she was too far away to catch his eye. Too tired to wait for him to finish. Too depressed to do anything but sleep.

 

“Go ahead, Talbot, enjoy yourself,” said Dillon as he watched Andy walk toward the woods.

Grayson Talbot chuckled. “I think you look cute in a skirt.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it, but don't stand with your back to any open windows.” Then he realized Talbot was also watching Andy.

Talbot shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Cross. You sure know how to pick them.”

“I believe you assigned me this case.”

“Lighten up. I was talking about the auburn-haired beauty.” Talbot drew his attention back to Dillon, but there was still a ghost of an appreciative smile on his face. “So what do you want to know about her? I've had the info for a day and a half now. Just waiting for you to pick it up. You haven't been too prompt with your communications.”

Dillon gave him a look. “It's what we thought. The airways are scrambled inside the compound. I can only send and receive outside the walls. Which means climbing over a twelve-foot wall and hiking up the mountain to chat.”

Talbot whistled. “Getting your exercise, I see.”

“I'm also working out and running five miles a day.”

“Chill. You're too damn defensive.”

“I have reason to be.”

“Bullshit. You don't have to kill yourself proving that you're still useful. You are. It was never a question on our end. Just on yours.”

Dillon fought the urge to clench his fists.
Breathe. Be cool.

Talbot saw his reaction anyway. He always knew how to read Dillon and vice versa. It was what made them such good friends, what made them trust each other with their lives. And Dillon had almost let him down.

“Let it go, Cross.”

Dillon nodded, just a quick jerk of his head. Sometimes it was awful being with someone who could read your thoughts. Like Talbot—like Andy. She could read his thoughts, too. It had been stupid to let her get so close to him. He'd learned his lesson with Isabelle. He didn't think he'd ever forget it. And here he was, not even a year later, falling for Ariadne McAllister.

“So do you want to hear the inside tract on your Ms. McAllister?”

Dillon started. “She's not mine.”

Talbot raised one eyebrow and Dillon braced himself. “But I think you'd like her to be.”

“You don't have to worry about me. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Talbot slowly shook his head. “So you got involved with Isabelle. It's one of the hazards of deep cover. You start acting the part, the boundaries of reality get fuzzy. It happens to the best agents. That's why we have debriefings. Isabelle was a pro and a damned good one. It could have been any of us.”

“But it was me.”

“And you took her out when you had to.”

“Yeah.”

“And pulled the mission out of the toilet.”