Watchin' The Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance (12 page)

“We’ll make time,” Isabella says. “I’m so hot
right now that if we don’t do something soon, my panties are going
to explode.”

Suddenly, she is jolted back to reality by a
tap on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and sees an Amtrak
conductor who says, “Your ticket, ma’am.”

Damn
, she thinks.
Just when things
were getting good.

He punches her ticket and says, “We’re almost
to Santa Ana.”

*******

She gets home, takes off her makeup, and
draws a bath. When her head hits the bath pillow, she continues her
fantasy. After their quickie, Henri discretely raps at their door.
Isabella is fixing her hair and putting on lipstick. Don asks her,
“Do you think he’ll be able to tell that we’ve been doing it?”

She blots her red lipstick with a tissue and
says, “We’ll find out.”

She opens the door and Henri says, “Bonsoir.
Is everything okay in your room?”

“Things are great!” Don assures him, looking
at Isabella and winking. He hands Henri a $20.00 tip.

“Please follow me, Madame and Monsieur,”
Henri tells them.

They are led into the Pullman dining car that
was decorated by Rene Lalique. It has beautiful blue opaque glass
showing classical figures. “It was designed in 1929,” their steward
tells them. “The car is known as “Cote d’Azur”.

He leaves them in the care of the maître d.
They drink champagne out of sparkling crystal glasses that have the
emblem of Orient Express etched on them. She orders “Rack of Lamb”
and Don orders “Monk Fish Osso Bucco with Saffron.”

After dessert and cognac, they stumble back
to their cabin. Don opens the door and sees that the sofa has been
converted to a single bed and an upper bunk bed has been pulled
down from the ceiling. “Oh, boy! Bunk beds,” Isabella teases
him.

The upper bed has a ladder propped up against
it. “I don’t think so,” Don says. “We’re spooning. I stopped
sleeping in a bunk bed when I was ten at summer camp.” She laughs
as he pulls her down onto the lower bed, being careful not to bump
her head against the bed above them.

*******

Back home in her Santa Ana bathtub, Isabella
opens her eyes, laughs at herself.
What an imagination I
have!

Chapter
Twenty-
Two

The following morning, Isabella is torn
between calling Detective Sterling to tell him about Karen and
Hamid’s secret rendezvous or waiting until she has more
information. She’d like to have a complete picture of the nature of
their relationship and what it might have had to do with the
murder.

Ever since Isabella read her first Nancy Drew
story, she’s wanted to be an amateur detective and now’s her chance
to really shine--and impress the detective at the same time. She’s
been watching a lot of MI5 lately, and admires the undercover agent
Zoe Reynolds. She remembers one episode where Zoe had to change her
hair color and establish a fake identity in order to get closer to
the suspect.
Maybe I’ll go undercover. Karen would remember me
from the night of the murder, so I’m going to have to change my
appearance
.

She’s starting to warm up to the idea.
I’ve been wanting an excuse to get rid of this long, unruly hair
for ages. And why not become a blonde while I’m at it?

But where will I meet her? I know she likes
to shop at Missoni but who knows when she might show up. I could be
casing the joint for days. And then, she remembers Paula saying
that her sister had a standing appointment for a massage at Burke
Williams every Wednesday at 10:00 AM, rain or shine. What if I just
happened to run into her there and befriend her? She’s probably
very vulnerable right now and would love to have someone to talk
to. Someone who is a relative stranger and won’t be too
judgmental.

I’m going to do it!
she concludes. She
talks to the library director and asks if she can use a few
vacation days to take care of some personal business. The director
okays it and the first thing Isabella does is call her hairdresser
to make an appointment.

When the people at the beauty parlor hear
that she wants to cut her beautiful hair, they try to talk her out
of it. Her Australian stylist says, “How could you?! Your one
beauty.”

Isabella says, “Isn’t that a line from
‘Little Women’?”

Her hairdresser says, “Huh?”

“Never mind. It’s useless-English-Major
stuff. Besides, I’d like to think I had more going for me than my
hair.”

“I don’t know, Isabella,” the Aussie
says.

“What ever happened to ‘the customer is
always right’?”

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t come
running to me when everyone tells you that you made a mistake.”

“Oh, and while you’re at it, I’d like you dye
it platinum blonde.”

“What?! Does your boyfriend know about
this?”

“I’m not sure whether or not I actually have
a boyfriend right now.”

“Okay. I’ll do it. But I want to take ‘before
and after pictures’ first.”

“Oh, brother. I can always grow it back out,
you know.”

“That’s true. It’s not a permanent
mistake.”

Isabella rolls her eyes and hangs up the
phone. She calls Burke Williams and gets an appointment for
Wednesday morning.
This is going to be fun
, she tells
herself.

*******

When
Isabella opens the big door and steps into Burke Williams, she
feels like she’s been transported to heaven. A heaven that looks
like Tuscany. There is beautiful tile work and a roaring fire in
the fireplace. Big cushy sofas welcome her inside. She feels like
her blood pressure has dropped a few numbers. She takes a
refreshing breath and walks over to the clear pitcher which holds
water infused with cucumbers and lemon slices.

She goes to her locker and
puts on a downy soft bathrobe. The showers are wonderful and she
lingers in her own private one, positioning the water jets towards
each of her favorite places. She makes sure to take advantage of
all of their products and liberally lathers her hair with
herbal-scented shampoo and conditioner.

She hasn’t brought her
bathing suit, but it’s no problem. She’s going to let it all hang
out today. To hell with modesty. She leaves the shower and steps
into the huge Jacuzzi. There’s a jet that hits the knot in her neck
and between her shoulder blades and she feels herself relaxing. She
takes a big breath in and slowly lets it out.
This is the life
, she says
to herself.

It’s so early in the morning
that she’s the only client there, until she sees Karen walking past
the Jacuzzi, headed for the lockers. By the time Karen showers and
steps into the Jacuzzi, Isabella feels like a winkled, dried-out
prune after being in the water so long. She says to Karen, “Hello.
How are you today?”

Karen replies, “Better now that
I’m here.”

“
Me, too. Are you here for a
facial?”

“No. For a massage.”

“I’ve never had one here. Can you
recommend anyone?”

“Jasmine is good. She’s who I
always see.”

“I’ll remember the name. Do you
come here often?”

“Every Wednesday. I’d be a nervous
wreck without my weekly massage.”

“My life’s been stressful lately,
too.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m seeing this new guy and I
don’t know if he likes me as much as I do him.”

“
Relationships can be
difficult.”

“Men are difficult.”

“
I just lost my husband. I’d
love to have him alive and being ‘difficult’ again.”

“
I’m so sorry,” Isabella
says in a soft voice. “Was it cancer?”

“No. He was murdered.”

“
Oh, my God! I’m so
sorry.”

“
Terrible
new
s, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Do the police know who did
it?”

“
They think I did
it.”

“What?!”

“I know. Can you believe it?
Little old me killing somebody? I mean, really. I loved my husband.
As a matter of fact, I was out of the room when the murder
happened.”

“Have you told the police?”

“
Yes! They don’t believe
me.”

“
Did anyone witness you
leaving the room?”

“
No. My husband was murdered
at a dinner theater and, as part of the performance, the room was
pitch-black. Unfortunately, right at the moment the room was in
total darkness, I felt like I had food poisoning and had to rush to
the restroom. I banged myself pretty good trying to find my way
there and back.”

“So it was dark when you came back
from the restroom?”

“Yes. And when the lights came on,
I saw my husband lying on the floor.”

“
I’m so sorry.
That must have been so hard for you to
see!”

“It was! I’ll be haunted by that
memory for the rest of my life.”

“How horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“
Thank you.
Oh, I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling
you all this.”

“Please, it’s no bother. I can’t
imagine what you must be going through. I think it’s good to talk
about it,” Isabella says.

“All through this, I’ve never
really had someone to talk to who wasn’t the police or a family
member ready to tell me what to do. It feels good to just talk
about it and not get judged.”

“Nobody here is going to judge
you. Certainly not me.”

They both sit quietly, while
Isabella hopes that Karen will say more. After a few minutes, she
looks over at Karen and sees the she’s crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Isabella says.
“This must be such a difficult time for you!”

“It is. You have no idea.”

Isabella has lost track of
the time, and the aesthetician who’s giving her a facial
walks by calling out her name.

“It was nice talking to you,”
Karen says, as Isabella hurries out of the Jacuzzi and dries
herself off.

“Maybe I’ll see you later,”
Isabella says.

*******

When Isabella’s facial is
finished, she looks around the spa for Karen. She checks the
Jacuzzi, the steam room, the sauna, the quiet room, and the
loung
e with its cozy sofas and fireplace. No
sign of Karen. She pours herself a cup of herbal tea and parks
herself on the sofa in the lounge, hoping that eventually Karen
will come into the room. There is new-age type music playing,
which, in other circumstances, Isabella might have laughed at; but
being here, it is perfect. She reaches into the pocket of her robe
and pulls out the weak reading glasses that she bought at the drug
store as part of her disguise. She picks up a magazine lying on the
table. While she’s flipping through the pages and trying to focus
her eyes, Karen finally walks into the room.

Karen says, “I was hoping I might
see you again.”

Isabella is surprised and says,
“Really?”

“
Yes. Really. I wanted to
apologize to you for all my drama. I mean, here you are, coming for
your mellow spa day, and I unload on you.”

“Please don’t feel that way. Sit down,” she
says, pointing to the sofa next to her.

“My name is Karen by the way.”

“I’m Clarissa.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“I was named after my Grandmother.”

“Do you work outside the home?”

“Yes. I work in an advertising agency.”

“That must be fun. Is it like ‘Mad
Men’?”

Isabella laughs and says, “No. Quite the
opposite. The
women
are running things
now.”

“It’s about time!” Karen replies.

Isabella laughs and says, “What about you,
Karen. Do you work outside the home?”

“I do a lot of charity work. I don’t know if
you’ve ever heard of Orangewood?”

“The place where children are taken for
protection against their abusive parents?”

“Yes. That’s right. We organize a lot of the
fundraisers to support them.”

“It sounds like very fulfilling work.”

“It is. I’m also a supernumerary at the
Performing Arts Center.”

“You’re an actress?”

“Yes. You could call it that. I rarely get
any speaking roles. I’m just a spare body that they move about the
stage when needed.”

“I’m sure you’re more than that,” Isabella
answers. “Did your husband share your love for the theater?”

“Well, not as much as I do. He always came
to see the performances that I was in, though. He had to travel a
lot for work; but came to support me as often as he could get away
from his job.”

“What kind of work was he in?”

“He was a salesman.”

“I imagine that involves a lot of traveling
and wining and dining.”

“Yes. It certainly did. But I joined him as
often as I could and we’d have mini-vacations that we would tack
onto the end of his business trips. We both love to travel and see
the world. I should say ‘both used to love’ travel. Past tense.”
She takes out a Kleenex from the pocket of her bathrobe and starts
to cry again.

“I’m so very sorry,” Isabella says; and
reaches over to hold Karen’s hand. She is starting to feel a little
guilty for her deception.
I’m starting to have serious doubts
about Karen killing him,
she tells herself.

“Thank you for being so sweet,
Clarissa.”

Isabella keeps holding her hand until Karen
says, “Clarissa, how would you like to come over to my house for
dinner tonight?”

“You’re too kind. I couldn’t impose on you
with all you’re going through.”

“I mean it. I don’t like cooking for just
myself and want to make it up to you for having to put up with all
my drama today. Please say you’ll come. It will do me a world of
good.”