Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (5 page)

“
W
hat are
you
doing here?” Skye asked.

Before she answered, Skye’s mother reached up and tucked a stray curl behind Skye’s ear, pulled Skye’s sweater down, and brushed a streak of dust off her jeans. May’s own short salt-and-pepper hair never had a strand out of place, and her crisp twill pants and matching jacket looked as if they had just left the ironing board. “When Trixie mentioned you two were coming to the spa for Thanksgiving,” May said, “we decided it was the perfect chance to surprise you with one of those girls only weekends they’re always talking about on the TV.”

Skye stowed away for later examination the fact that her mom and best friend had schemed together behind her back, and asked, “What about Thanksgiving dinner?” May had hosted the relatives from both sides of the family for as long as Skye could remember.

“Aunt Kitty agreed to have it this year. I sent our regrets.”

“But there’s no reason to miss it. We’re nearly as close here as we are at home. Besides, I already invited Wally.”

“So he said.” May was a dispatcher for the Scumble River Police Department, and Wally was the chief of police. “That’s another reason I decided this was a good year for you to skip. That way, next year, when you’re back together with Simon, it’ll be less awkward.” May didn’t approve of
Skye dating Wally, who was older, divorced, and not Catholic.

“Mother!” Emerald green eyes that matched May’s own blazed. “I
am
going to the family Thanksgiving dinner. I
am
bringing Wally. I am
not
getting back together with Simon.” Skye gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t May understand? The last time she’d seen Simon was nearly two months ago, when his mother and hers had locked them together in the bowling alley basement in an attempt to force them to make up. He had refused to explain how he “forgot” to mention that the college friend he was staying with on his trip to California was a woman; and Skye had refused to trust him without an explanation. Now Skye shook her finger at her mother and snarled, “Simon is out of my life. Deal with it.”

Another vehicle pulled into the driveway, saving May from responding. This one was a Mercedes with a license plate that read
crmpays
. May grabbed Skye’s arm and dragged her over to the Benz.

A six-foot-tall, well-toned woman with smooth mahogany skin and black hair worn in a coronet of braids got out of the driver’s seat. May hugged her, and said to Skye, “I asked Loretta to join us. Since she and Vince are dating, I want to get to know her better.”

Loretta gave Skye a hug and kiss, and said in a droll tone, “Surprise.”

Loretta Steiner was Skye’s sorority sister, sometimes attorney, and possibly her future sister-in-law, although Skye wasn’t holding her breath about that since her brother Vince had a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” reputation. Skye would need to get Loretta alone to hear how May had convinced her to attend this little party.

Before Skye could begin to worry about who else might show up for the weekend, an old red Camaro roared down the lane and stopped with a loud backfire. Both Skye and her mother stood with their mouths hanging open as a long-legged, middle-aged redhead dressed in lime spandex pants, matching faux fur jacket, and stilettos emerged from the over-the-hill sports car. A solidly built teenage girl wearing fashionably faded and torn jeans, a tie-dyed tunic, and a
calf-length sweater followed her. Loretta’s only reaction was a raised eyebrow.

May turned to Skye. “What are The Trollop and Frannie doing here?”

Skye ignored her mother’s question, and said, “This better not be another harebrained matchmaking scheme you three have cooked up. If Simon pulls into this driveway, I’m moving to Alabama.”

May held up both hands in surrender. “Honest. I don’t know anything about it.”

Skye looked questioningly at Loretta and Trixie, who both shook their heads.

Skye’s little group approached Bunny Reid, AKA The Trollop, AKA Skye’s ex-boyfriend’s mother.

Fighting to keep her tone neutral, Skye asked, “Bunny, Frannie, what brings you two here?” Frannie was one of Skye’s favorite students. They were extremely close, and Skye was surprised the teen hadn’t mentioned her plans.

Bunny enveloped Skye in an Obsession-scented hug. “Frannie wanted to write a story for the school newspaper—’The Treasure of the Cursed Spa.’ Her dad agreed to pay for her weekend as an early birthday present, but she needed an adult chaperone, so she asked me.” Bunny was the manager of the local bowling alley where Frannie worked part-time. “I thought you and Trixie were the school newspaper’s sponsors. How come you don’t know about the story?”

“That’s exactly what I want to know.” Skye raised an eyebrow.

Red crept up Frannie’s face, but she kept quiet. Frannie’s mother had died several years ago and her father, Xavier Ryan, was Simon’s assistant at the funeral home. Xavier did his best, but a teenage daughter was a challenge for him.

Skye didn’t want to embarrass Frannie in front of everyone, but she did plan to speak to the girl later, alone. Instead, she asked Bunny, “What about the bowling alley?”

Bunny shrugged. “Thanksgiving weekend is slow, so I closed it down.”

Skye opened her mouth to ask if Simon knew about that,
since he was the bowling alley owner, but then remembered he wasn’t her concern.

“Isn’t this great, Ms. D?” When it became clear that Skye wouldn’t challenge her claim to be writing a newspaper story, Frannie regained her usual bouncy personality and tugged on Skye’s arm. “It’s just us girls. Remember our pontoon trip last summer? I’ll bet this will be even more fun.”

Skye remembered the outing very well. Frannie had accidentally made Skye fall into the water, then May and Trixie had refused to let her get back on the boat—grilling Skye like a toasted cheese sandwich until she revealed her then-boyfriend Simon’s faults.

Trixie grinned. “Yep, I think we’ll have a ball.”

May linked arms with Loretta and added, “We can really bond and become good friends.”

Bunny grabbed May’s other arm, ignoring her effort to jerk it away. “That’s right. Just us girls. We’ll have the best time ever.”

Skye scowled at the women. Last time, they nearly drowned her. What would they do this time? Smother her in moisturizer?

A few minutes later, Margot came out of the main building. She announced that the police had been called and the protestors would be arrested for trespassing if they didn’t get off her property. After a hurried conference, the demonstrators moved to just outside the main gates. The remaining women gathered their luggage, and Margot led Skye and her group inside.

In the lobby, Margot announced, “Please leave your bags here. They will be delivered to your rooms shortly.” She flashed her professional smile. “The other guests have not yet arrived. There will be twenty of you in all, unless
Spa
magazine sends someone to write about us. So far they haven’t RSVPed.”

“How about lunch?” May asked.

Before the spa owner could reply, everyone’s attention was diverted to the front door. A tall, thin woman swept in. Oversized sunglasses hid most of her face and a silk scarf
concealed her hair. She was trailed by a young man pushing a cart overflowing with luggage.

Margot murmured, “Excuse me,” to Skye’s group and hurried over to the new guest. “Esmé”, darling, welcome.”

After watching the two women exchange air kisses, Skye strained to hear their conversation. “God-forsaken” and “hick town” were the only snatches she could make out. Her guess was that the new arrival did not like having to leave civilization to come to the spa. Finally, Margot pointed to the stairway and motioned to the bellboy.

As she brushed past Margot, the woman dropped her fur coat at the spa owner’s feet, and Skye clearly heard her say, “Darling, have someone bring that to my room. It’s so hot in here, I can’t bear wearing it for another moment.”

Margot waited until the woman was out of sight, then picked up the fur, deposited it on the reception desk, and scribbled a note. Turning back to Skye’s group, Margot resumed her welcome speech. “You were asking about lunch. There’s a healthy buffet set out in the dining room. I’ll show you all to your rooms right now, then please help yourself to the food whenever you’re ready. Treatments have been arranged for you this afternoon—there’s an appointment card in your room—and at six we’ll regroup for a wonderful dinner.”

“Will there be a choice of menu or is all the food healthy?” Skye asked. Visions of tofu and celery danced in her head. Why hadn’t she considered this predicament and packed accordingly?

“There is a choice,” Margot reassured Skye. “But it’s all healthy.”

Four days of wheat germ and alfalfa sprouts. Skye bit her tongue, nearly gagging. This was already turning into a weekend in hell. She could kill Trixie for talking her into it.

T
he rest of the afternoon had gone quickly. After Margot’s promised healthy lunch, everyone had separated for the spa treatments that had been planned for them. Skye had been scheduled for a seaweed wrap, during which she made a fool of herself trying to rescue Trixie, and that brought her to the present time.

Thud!

Skye’s eyes flew open as her stroll down memory lane came to an abrupt end with the sound of something rattling against the solarium windows. At first she thought it was hail. The sky had darkened, and now it was difficult to see outside.

Splat!

She squinted, finally focusing as a mound of dirt clattered against the pane. Someone was throwing soil. “Stop that,” she yelled, struggling to free herself from the clutches of the wicker rocker’s soft cushions and sit up. When she heard the next broadside she shouted again, “Stop that! You’ll break the window.”

Why would anyone throw dirt at a window? Could it be the protestors?

As Skye finally managed to stand up, she heard what sounded like a shotgun blast. She leapt back, gasping as she saw one of the windows shatter, exploding inward. She froze
as she was showered with splinters. It took her a few seconds to take in that it hadn’t been a gunshot, just a rock thrown through the window, and she wasn’t hurt. She had been far enough back that the glass had lost its momentum by the time it reached her. But as she stood immobilized, she began to feel hundreds of tiny pricks, galvanizing her into action.

At first she tried to pluck off the shards before they cut her, but she soon realized that it would be better to disrobe and shake out her clothes. She had just managed to get her sweater off without turning it inside out and was shaking the glass off it when the hair on the back of her neck rose. She stiffened; it didn’t feel as if she was alone anymore.

Holding the sweater to her chest, Skye pivoted slowly. When her gaze reached the doorway, she caught her breath.

Poised just beyond the threshold stood a young woman Skye recognized as the technician who had been giving Trixie the Brazilian wax earlier that afternoon. Ustelle had called her Amber, and it was a fitting name; her strawberry blond hair and aqua eyes glowed with good health. She had changed from her spa uniform into Ralph Lauren jeans that rode low on her hips and an embellished purple satin cami with sequined straps.

They stared at each other until Skye asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

Amber shrugged, then turned to go, apparently not interested enough to even ask what was going on.

“Wait.” Initially, Skye had pegged the girl’s age as early twenties, but now she wondered if she were closer to eighteen or just extremely immature. “This was just thrown through the window.” Skye pointed to the grapefruit-size stone laying between her and the broken pane. “Did you see anything?”

Amber shrugged again and strolled away.

Skye shook her head, hating to see such rudeness, especially in someone so young. Heaving a sigh, she put her sweater aside and carefully removed her jeans. She had just managed to ease them over her tennis shoes when once again she knew she wasn’t alone.

The young woman hovering in the doorway this time seemed ethereal in comparison to the first girl. Long platinum hair veiled half her face, and loose, white crop pants and a white silk halter top hung on her emaciated frame. Double rows of ruffles cascaded down her chest, delineating her nonexistent cleavage.

Her skin was oddly translucent, and for a moment Skye was sure she was seeing a ghost.

The wraith looked Skye up and down, giggled, and sauntered away.

Skye’s cheeks reddened, and she was relieved that the solarium was isolated from the rest of the house. All she would have needed would be Margot’s snooty friend Esmé seeing her half naked and hopping around. Come to think of it, she was lucky that most of the guests were getting ready for dinner, or she might have had a larger audience for her striptease act.

Putting the two unpleasant encounters behind her, Skye focused on finding out who had thrown the stone. Trying to avoid getting cut, she picked her way over to one of the unbroken windows, cupped her hands around her face, and peered through the glass. As she suspected, it was too dark outside to see anything.