A Body to Die For (10 page)

“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “You obviously know what you’re doing. I guess you must have a terrific staff to have grown
the business the way you have.” I was sidling over into new territory, hoping I wasn’t being obvious.

“I do—or at least I did,” he replied. “Who knows how many of them are going to bolt because of what happened.” There wasn’t
a soupçon of remorse in his voice.

I glanced around the room, gathering my thoughts. I needed to know if Danny’s vibe about the spa was right. Was it only her
imagination, or did Josh have something to hide? Getting close to the answer would require stronger button pushing on my part.

“By the way,” I announced, “I’m planning to come back in a couple of weeks for another chance to see the spa. I’d love to
spend some time over there—as an observer.”

He stared at me poker-faced, without emotion. But his scar wiggled like a water snake, so I knew he was grinding his jaw.
Obviously my little suggestion hadn’t pleased him.

“We’d be happy to arrange as many treatments as you’d like,” he said after a moment, forcing a tight smile. “But unfortunately,
playing the observer is
not
an option. Our clients take part in the treatments in order to get
away
from people. We’d never do anything to upset the equilibrium we’ve tried so hard to establish.”

“I wasn’t suggesting I stand around
during
the treatments. I’d love to just sit at the front desk, watch the ebb and flow.”

“And the reason for that would be?” he asked.

“Just to form impressions. Get a feel for the spa so I could offer Danny ideas.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not a possibility,” he said, his voice as hard as the edge of a steel door. “As you might imagine,
we’ll be lucky to get the spa up and running again over the next weeks.” He glanced at his watch. “I hope you don’t mind,
but I really do have to get moving.”

I indicated I was finished for now and thanked him for his time.

“What a strange convergence of events,” he said as he rose from his chair. “I mean, you and Piper going into the spa on the
night that there just happens to be a dead body there. What was it that you left in the spa?”

“My watch.”

“Oh, right,” he said dryly. “I guess you’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

I was struggling to figure out just how loaded his comment had been when the door pushed open. It was the therapist I’d seen
earlier, who I assumed must be Eric.

“Josh, we need you,” he said. “We’ve got some major scheduling problems.” His voice and demeanor were almost preternaturally
calm, as if he’d really announced that tea and scones were about to be served in the lounge.

“Where’s Piper? Isn’t she sorting it out?”

“She’s…” He glanced over in my direction. “She’s a little overwhelmed right now.”

“All right, I’ll take care of it.” He strode quickly out of the room, offering me a cool good-bye as he left.

“You’re Eric, right?” I asked as he too turned to go, his eyes downcast. He was totally exotic and mysterious looking—skin
the color of coffee and eyes so deep brown they were really almost black. Yet he had failed in the end to light Anna’s fire.

“Yes,” he replied. His face registered nothing.

“I’m Bailey Weggins, a friend of Danny’s. I was supposed to help her on a project with the spa this weekend.”

He shook my hand, smiling politely.

“I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. He had closed the smile down so slowly and imperceptibly that it was hard to remember
it being on his face.

“I was told you were very close to Anna.”

“No, not at all.”

With that he turned and left the room.

I remained by myself in the solarium, replaying my conversation with Josh and my even briefer one with Eric. I’d hit a nerve
with Josh, that was for sure. Just as Danny had said, he
was
territorial about the spa. But why? Eric’s comments were also curious. He’d reportedly dated Anna, but now he was playing
it down.

As I stood there, my eyes were drawn to the gardens and then beyond that to the woods. I wasn’t certain how big the area was
or how far the trails went. But I found myself suddenly intrigued—and in need of a way to clear my head. After returning to
my room to change into hiking shoes and my jeans jacket, I set out. I had an hour before I needed to be back for my massage.

The skies were now clear, though the ground was soggy, heaped with shiny wet leaves—mostly yellow and ocher and burnt sienna—that
had been stripped from the trees by the rain earlier. Digging my sunglasses out of my jacket pocket, I walked briskly through
the empty formal gardens, following the small gray signs that indicated the way to the nature reserve. Most of the flowers
were gone now, though there were still a few dead heads on stalks and two rows of purple mums in full festive bloom, like
guests who’d showed at a party after everyone else had gone home.

The garden ended, but the path continued through a cluster of large fir trees. Two middle-aged women, obviously inn guests
and both in spandex leggings and fanny packs, emerged from the grove of trees just as I entered it and acknowledged me with
nods, expressionless.

I followed the path through the trees to a heavily forested area of mostly hardwoods—maples and oaks. The leaves were yellow
and orange, with just a hint of red. There was a small bridge ahead of me, over a narrow stream, and as I reached it I saw
a sign that announced that I was entering the nature reserve. I took off my sunglasses and stuck them in my jacket pocket.
Worn trails led off in several directions, and I chose the one that said “Juniper” and began to follow it.

For the first time since last night, I felt my body start to relax. The air was heavy with that nutty, mossy, mushroomy aroma
that woods always release after a rainfall. And it was absolutely quiet, except for the sound of my shoes trampling the leaves
and a few birds whistling to one another at the very tops of the trees. I walked for ten minutes or so along the same path,
wondering exactly where it would take me and how far the woods extended.

Suddenly, I heard the tread of a boot that wasn’t my own. I stopped in my tracks and listened. Nothing. Craning my neck, I
peered into the woods ahead of me, but no one was visible.

Had I been stupid, I suddenly thought, to have traipsed out here on my own? I turned and looked behind me in the direction
I’d come. The path I’d walked along disappeared quickly, and then there was nothing but trees and blankets of leaves. I turned
back and stared ahead of me.

Suddenly, without a sound, Detective Jeffrey Beck emerged from the thicket. For a second it seemed as if he’d been conjured
up out of nowhere, like a black hound or a stallion in a fantasy story. My heart lurched and I felt that same rush of lust
I’d had when he’d held my fingers in his hand.

B
ECK LOOKED
AS startled by the sight of me as I was by him. He was wearing the suede jacket he’d had on Friday night, a pair of corduroy
pants, and hiking boots. My first thought was that he was out searching for evidence. But why so far from the spa?

“So what are you doing sneaking around in the woods, Miss Weggins?” he asked, stepping closer to me. I felt the slightest,
weirdest trace of fear. I was all alone in the woods with this man. I had to remind myself that he was a cop.

“I’m not sneaking,” I said, more defensively than I’d intended. “I’m just getting some exercise.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Is that what
you’re
doing—getting some exercise? Or are you looking for evidence?”

“Evidence?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Yes. Clues about the murder.”

“My, aren’t we curious?” He gazed at me intently, and in the darkness of the woods, his eyes seemed more gray than blue today.
His face was ruddy, as if he’d been walking briskly. “I hope you won’t let that curiosity get the better of you. I wouldn’t
like to think you’d go poking into something you shouldn’t.”

“You don’t have to be so mean to me,” I said. “I was just making conversation. I’m sure you’re used to that. Girls trying
to chat you up.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said that, but I knew why I’d done it. The man filled me with the urge to rattle his hunky but hard-assed
cop exterior to see if there was anything human underneath. He actually smiled slightly, pulling his mouth to one side.

“Forgive me if I sounded mean,” he said, softening by a centimeter. “That wasn’t my desire.”

What
is
your desire? I wanted to ask.

“Well, I’d better be going,” I said instead. “If I don’t get some oxygen in my bloodstream, I may pass out.” I knew I needed
to be on the move before I said or did anything else borderline ridiculous.

“Wait just a second,” he said.

“Sorry to see me go?” For God’s sake, Bailey, put a gag on it, I pleaded with myself.

Without warning, Beck leaned forward and reached with one hand toward my face. I pulled back, startled.

“You’ve got a twig in your hair,” he said, drawing it out slowly. As his fingers brushed my scalp, I felt as if my hair might
ignite, like dry sagebrush from the sun.

“Thanks,” I said. “There’s not a bird in there, too, is there?”

He smiled, really smiled, this time.

“Have a good walk,” he said. “And remember, just because you’re a writer, don’t go butting into anything that’s not your business.”

I mumbled a quick good-bye and tramped off in the direction he had come. My cheeks felt hot. Had the twig thing been a flirtatious
gesture? And what had he been up to out here in the wilderness? His presence, I realized, must have something to do with the
murder.
Was
he looking for evidence? A weapon, perhaps? I still wasn’t certain how Anna had died, but if the murderer had used an object
to strangle or bludgeon her, then he may have tried to dispose of it in the woods. Except if the weapon was missing, wouldn’t
there be a whole team of police out here scouring for it? I trudged along for five more minutes until the trail forked in
two directions with a small sign by each new path. One read “The Marsh,” the other read “Durham Road.” There was no way of
knowing which direction Beck had come from, but the notion of a road nearby intrigued me and I struck off that way.

The woods grew denser, and then, after ten minutes of walking, they began to thin out again. I realized that I might be coming
to the other side of the reserve. I saw a clearing ahead and also a gate running parallel to a road. I stopped and looked
around. A small sign by the gate announced that the main entrance to the reserve was one mile down the road. But next to the
gate was a dirt shoulder, roomy enough for a single car to park there.

Something told me that this was what Beck had come to investigate. He may have been considering whether the killer had parked
his car here, snuck through the reserve to the inn, and then slipped back into the woods after he had finished his deadly
business. It was certainly a possibility. Unless the killer worked at the inn or was a guest there, he would have had to drive
to the inn that night. But if he’d parked in the parking lot, someone might have spotted him or at the very least remembered
his car. Slipping through the woods would have guaranteed that there was little chance of being noticed, especially if he
had used the back door of the spa. Of course, it would have been extremely tricky moving through the nature reserve at night,
but the trails were clearly defined, and with a good flashlight and moonlight, it would have been doable. That would mean,
however, that the killer had to be someone
very
familiar with the area.

I started back in the direction I’d come. Light was falling, and the wind had picked up the slightest bit since I’d first
entered the woods. The tops of the trees swished, making that sea sound you hear when you hold a conch shell to your ear.
I had walked for about five minutes when I heard a twig snap hard behind me. I turned my whole body around, facing backward,
but there was nothing there—just trees and an endless carpet of soggy orange and umber leaves. It may have been a branch snapping
or a deer or squirrel making its way through the woods. I started walking again, this time faster, my shoes tramping firmly
along the path. I heard it again—the snap-ping—but this time it was softer, almost cautious, and it was followed by what sounded
like the slide of shoes on leaves. As my heart hurled itself forward in my chest, I spun around again. The sound stopped as
soon as I faced the direction behind me.

“Who’s there?” I called out. “Is that you, Beck?”

No answer. Just absolute stillness. Someone was out there, following me, and they weren’t announcing themselves, and that
meant they didn’t want to be seen. With fear beginning to pump through my body, I turned around again and began to move, faster
this time, gathering speed until I was running. I thought I could hear footsteps behind me, but I wasn’t sure because the
sound of my shoes tearing through the leaves carried in all directions. I craned my neck around two or three times as I ran,
but I could see no one behind me.