Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (30 page)

“Maybe if you tell him how important this is and that he won’t get into trouble for his treasure hunting …”

Wally shook his head. “There are a million things that influence Earl Doozier’s decision to do anything, but reality is rarely one of them.”

“
L
et me see if I’ve got this straight.” Trixie was sitting cross-legged on her bed, eating leftovers out of the doggie bag Skye had brought from the country club. “You’ve narrowed the killer down to a woman because the CD player is pink. You think she used a secret tunnel the Dooziers built for themselves so they could hunt for the hidden treasure and steal things from the guests. And whoever did it has access to a syringe and some sort of medication that will put a person to sleep. Is that right?”

“Right, except it doesn’t have to be a tunnel, just another way into the spa’s mud treatment suite.” Skye finished putting on her pajamas and crawled into bed.

“Okay, that moves Dr. Burnett and Frisco down to the bottom of the suspect list, but Kipp seems to be the type of guy who might think a pink CD player was cool.”

“True, but when I discovered him yesterday with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, I noticed his CD player was the normal black color. I’d be surprised if he has another one in pink back in his room. People with live-in jobs like this tend to travel light.”

“Okay.” Trixie finished off a chicken leg and licked her fingers. “So, all we need to do is look in everyone’s room for a pink CD player, a CD with ‘The Great Pretender’ on it, and a syringe.”

“Right. And we need to do it without a search warrant, so we need to have a legitimate reason for being in their room.” Skye sat up and pulled a slip of paper from her PJ pocket. “Here’s who we need to check out: Ustelle and Amber, Whitney and Margot. Also, the waitress and housekeeper who didn’t have alibis, and Spike.”

“Spike? You don’t seriously think she’s the murderer? What would be her motive?”

“Who knows? We know very little about her. Same goes for the housekeeper and waitress. Probably not, but maybe they knew Esmé years ago, and she did something to them.”

“Bunny and Frannie didn’t have alibis either,” Trixie badgered. “How about them?”

“Very funny.” Skye slid down and pulled the covers over her shoulders. “I’ll put them on the top of my list.”

Nearly everyone had made it to the eight o’clock breakfast. Even Skye had gotten up early, borrowed Trixie’s car, and gone to the early Mass so she’d be back in time.

Now she sipped tea, and looked over the people scattered throughout the dining room. The spa’s professional staff—Ustelle, Kipp, Amber, and Frisco—all shared a table, but ignored one another.

The Scumble River women sat together discussing the pros and cons of taking Frisco’s nine o’clock water aerobics class versus Margot’s Dress for Sexcess class. They had until noon to use the facilities, then an hour to change into their street clothes, and after that their spa weekend was officially over.

Skye ticked off in her mind where everyone else was headed. May was going to get a seaweed wrap with Ustelle, Bunny was having a manicure and pedicure from Amber, and Frannie was getting her hair done by Kipp. Loretta had opted for Margot’s class and Spike for Frisco’s. Margot had announced that Dr. Burnett was unavailable for appointments because he was away from the spa all morning. Whitney was unaccounted for.

Speaking of unaccounted for, where was Trixie? She
should have been down to breakfast by now. Had the first step of their plan gone wrong?

Skye’s gaze worriedly swept the dining room entrance. Instead of seeing her friend coming in, as she hoped, she saw Frannie and Elvis Doozier in an intense discussion. Skye half rose from her seat to see what they were talking about, when Frannie grinned like the Big Bad Wolf confronting Red Riding Hood, and kissed Elvis on the cheek. He stood frozen for a moment, then stumbled back, watching as Frannie rushed way.

Before Skye could decide which one to follow, Trixie hurried into the dining room, dropped into the chair next to Skye, and whispered, “Mission accomplished.”

“You talked Margot into hiring us as temporary housekeepers?” Immediately, all thoughts of Frannie and Elvis fled from Skye’s mind.

“No problem.” Trixie held up a key card. “I told her we had narrowed the treasure hunter/vandal/thief down to half a dozen guests and staff, and we wanted a legitimate reason to look around their rooms.”

“You’re a genius. A scary genius, but still a genius.” Skye paused, then added, “Did she ask whose rooms we were going to search?”

“Yes, but I managed to divert her attention without answering. I also had Margot tell the other housekeepers we would be cleaning some of the rooms, and then I waited until Margot walked away before I told Ruth and her partner which rooms we wanted to clean.”

“Excellent.” Skye rubbed her hands together. “We’ll start as soon as everyone finishes breakfast and goes to their first appointments. That way all of our suspects will be out of our way while we search their rooms.”

They waited until the dining room was empty, then gave everyone ten more minutes to get to where they were going. Finally, Skye scooted her chair back and got up, her emergency-equipped fanny pack clanking. “Whitney is the only suspect unaccounted for, so we need to be careful when we get to her room.”

“What’s Wally doing while we snoop around here?” Trixie bounced up from her seat.

“He’ll be looking around those empty guest cottages, especially the ones where I saw the lights on the other night. Elvis and Amber were using one, but I didn’t get a chance to check out the other.” Skye drank the last of her tea and put down the cup.

Trixie grabbed it and sniffed. “This is Earl Grey. How come the tag says Chamomile?”

“I knew I would have to eat down here this morning, so I switched tags on a couple of tea bags. I can cope with nothing edible, but I need my Earl Grey.”

“You can cope with nothing edible because you’ve managed to avoid most of the meals. I, on the other hand, have not been so lucky. When I get home Owen won’t recognize me. I’m nothing but skin and bones.”

“Whose idea was it to come to this spa to begin with?” Skye demanded.

Trixie opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally she said, “Do you want to talk about the past or solve this murder?”

“Okay. Prepare to launch Plan B.” Skye shook her head. “Let’s hope it isn’t the disaster Plan A turned out to be,” she muttered under her breath, remembering that plan resulted in them capturing five treasure hunters instead of the one vandal they were really after.

Skye and Trixie had decided to start with the owner’s suite, knowing Margot’s class was the shortest activity on the schedule. After knocking several times to make sure the suite was empty, Skye and Trixie used their housekeeper’s passkey card to let themselves into the sitting room. It was beautifully decorated but impersonal. There was no hint of the characters of the people who used it.

Skye whispered to Trixie, “You check out the sitting room, I’ll take the bedrooms.”

Trixie nodded and started looking through the desk.

The first bedroom Skye entered was clearly Margot’s. Expensive perfume scented the air and the dresser was covered with jewelry and scarves. Skye quickly searched. No CD player, no CD, and no syringes.

She duplicated her search in Dr. Burnett’s room and again found nothing. Trixie came up equally empty in the sitting room. After they finished their search, they hurriedly cleaned the suite, hoping Margot and Dr. Burnett wouldn’t notice that the cleaning wasn’t up to the usual standards.

Skye and Trixie repeated this procedure with each of their guest suspect’s rooms, finally heading up a second flight of stairs to the staff’s rooms, first searching and cleaning Ustelle’s, then Kipp’s, and finally Frisco’s. They found nothing in any of them.

When they broke for lunch, Skye and Trixie went to the solarium for one last picnic lunch.

“It’s a shame that the unalibied waitress lives off property, and that the housekeepers clean their own rooms,” Skye said as she finished unpacking what was left of the food she had brought to the spa.

“I did find out that they’ve both lived in Scumble River their whole lives, so it’s highly unlikely they had any chance to run into Esmé before this week. I think it’s safe to scratch them off our suspect list.” Trixie sat forward and made herself a sandwich using the last of the bread and lunch meat. “The real problem is that both Whitney and Amber had
do not disturb
signs on their knobs, and we weren’t sure if they were in the room or not, so we couldn’t risk going in to search them.”

“Why do you want to get into Amber and Whitney’s rooms?” Frannie flung herself into one of the chairs drawn up to the coffee table and claimed the nearly empty bag of chips.

Skye and Trixie looked at each other. Skye gave a small shrug. In another hour, Wally would release the information that he didn’t believe Rose Blossom was the real murderer, and everyone would know the investigation was still open. They might as well tell Frannie now.

Trixie gestured to Skye, who explained.

Frannie listened, then exclaimed, “I knew it! I just knew you two were up to something.” She huffed and sat back on her chair. “I’m not a baby. If you had told me, I could have helped.”

“Wally swore us to secrecy. Only Mrs. Frayne and I knew, she didn’t even tell her husband,” Skye soothed the teen. “You’re the first one we’ve told.”

“Weeellll.” Frannie drew out the word in a manner only teenagers are capable of. “In that case, I’ve been in both Amber and Whitney’s rooms. What were you looking for?”

Skye hesitated; should she tell Frannie? “Before we go any further, you must promise not to try and investigate on your own, and to stick with us until you and Bunny leave the spa. And you can’t tell Whitney or Amber anything we’ve said.”

“Duh. As if I would.” Frannie swished her ponytail. “You know I’m only hanging around them to gather facts for my story.” She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled rotten eggs. “They’re not the type of friends I’d want.”

“Right.” Skye nodded. “I apologize. I was just worried about your safety.”

Frannie shook her head. “Those two are so into themselves, I don’t think they’d even notice if I searched their room right in front of them.”

“But you won’t,” Skye warned.

“Don’t be silly.”

Skye was still unsure whether they should involve Frannie, and before she decided she had one more question. “What were you talking to Elvis about this morning?”

“I promised not to tell anyone.” Frannie looked stubborn.

Trixie made an impatient sound. “Did it have anything to do with the murder?” When Frannie shook her head, Trixie said, “Fine. Now let’s get back to something important. We’re looking for three things—a hot pink CD player, a CD with ‘The Great Pretender’ on it, and a syringe.”

“Okay, let me think.” Frannie leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. After a minute or so she said, “No syringes.”

Skye leaned forward, hanging on the teen’s every word. “What about the other stuff?”

“Yes, definitely a pink CD player. I don’t remember seeing a CD disc, but I do remember hearing that song a couple of times. They both like oldies.”

“Which one had the CD player?” Trixie asked impatiently.

“The problem is they share things, so I really don’t know which one owns what.” Frannie bit her lip. “I saw the CD player in both rooms.”

“Shit!”

“Ms. D!” Frannie sounded shocked. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“I rarely do, and never at school.” Skye felt color creep into her cheeks. “I’m just so frustrated.”

“Maybe there’s something else that would help you decide which one did it,” Frannie suggested.

“I’m leaning toward Whitney. Even though Amber doesn’t have an alibi, I can’t think of any motive for her, but Whitney clearly hated her stepmother.” Skye rubbed her hand across her eyes. “And with Esmé dead, she gets her daddy back all to herself.”

“But she had an alibi,” Trixie reminded Skye.

“Unless Frisco lied for her.” Skye chewed her bottom lip. “Wally did see them having sex in the garage Friday night.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But then, Frisco seems to be having sex with several women, so I’m not sure that would buy her his loyalty.”

“On the other hand,” Frannie jabbed her finger in the air, “by alibing Whitney, Frisco provides an alibi for himself. That’s his motivation for lying about Whitney being at the pool.”

“Why would he need an alibi if he isn’t the killer?” Trixie asked.

“Maybe he’s the killer’s partner,” Frannie offered.

Trixie bounced off her chair. “That’s it. It must be Whitney, and Frisco is covering for her. She has motive and opportunity. All we have to figure out is what she injected her stepmother with, then make Frisco admit he lied.”

Skye pressed her fingers against her temples. Something was wrong with that logic, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. “Frannie, you’ve got a great memory, right?” The teen nodded. “Okay, start with Whitney’s room and describe everything you saw.”