Faux Pas

by Shannon Esposito

  ‘Good Lord in heaven, Violet! What are you feeding that mutt?’ Elsa, my oldest client at eighty-two and not one for subtlety, scooped up her Chihuahua with arthritic hands and dragged her mat to an empty spot at front of the studio, mumbling as she went. ‘Smells like somethin’ crawled up there and died …’

  I glanced up to see the other women in the area of Violet and her Weimaraner, Ghost, covering their noses and chuckling. Ghost was on his back, enjoying his paw massage, oblivious to the dirty looks being tossed his way.

  I smiled to myself and did the only thing a yoga teacher could do in the face of client flatulence. Ignored it. ‘Let’s move to the back legs now …’

  A blood-curdling scream cut me off.

  A few of the dogs growled or jumped up in surprise. Everyone froze. We stared at each other, wide-eyed. The owners began trying to calm their pets.

  ‘What in the name of all that’s holy was that?’ Violet asked, her green eyes wild with alarm.

  ‘Someone probably just saw a spider,’ Whitley offered, always the voice of reason.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ But my curiosity still got the best of me. ‘Just continue the leg massage, try to keep the dogs calm. I’ll be back in a sec.’ I motioned for Buddha to stay and then hopped around the mats and dogs, making my way quickly to the door. As I opened it, one of our three security guards, Marvin, ran by. What in blazes? Could that kind of scream come from just seeing a spider? I had my doubts. A snake … maybe. I ran through the possible snake culprits as I padded on my bare feet behind him. A diamondback rattler would be the most likely. Or a cottonmouth. Nah. Maybe a pygmy rattler? They would be small enough to go unnoticed slipping into the building. And they all eat small mammals. Maybe one was going after a small dog?

  We ended up at the doorway to the mudbath room. I gasped as I stood on my tippy-toes to glance over Marvin’s wide left shoulder. He seemed frozen in shock or disbelief.

  I had been so focused on my snake theory, I was having a hard time comprehending what we were actually looking at. ‘What the …?’

  The large, white bathing tub had been tipped over, and Dead Sea mud had spilled all over the floor, splattered on the walls and covered some poor creature shaking in the corner. I shifted and peered over Marvin’s other shoulder. In the middle of the room with its arms and legs stretched out, was a small figure face down in the mud. A delicate rose gold bracelet hung off of the one foot that had escaped the avalanche of mud. I knew that ankle bracelet. I clutched Marvin’s arm. ‘Holy crap, Marvin. I think that’s Celeste Green!’

  Marvin didn’t answer me. He pushed me gently back with his big paw. ‘Stay back, Elle.’ Then he pulled out his phone.

  There’s no hospital on Moon Key, just a small emergency clinic that can’t handle much more than a sunburn. And we didn’t have an actual police department, either, but we did have a pretty heavy security force that patrolled the area in golf carts shaped like police cars. Despite this, the ‘public security officers’ took their jobs seriously.

  Who would he call, I wondered. Moon Key security station? Or the Clearwater Police Department, who actually had jurisdiction here?

  I listened in on his call. Clearwater PD it was. They’d respond, bringing all necessary personnel to the island by boat, but it’d still take about twenty minutes to gather everyone and get here. I glanced sadly back at Celeste. Not that it mattered. Time meant nothing to her now.

  I suddenly felt like we should be doing something. ‘Maybe someone should move her face out of the mud, at least?’

  Marvin shook his head. ‘I don’t think we should touch anything.’

  I glanced up at Marvin. Did that mean he thought her death was suspicious?

  Maria – the lady responsible for both giving the dogs their mudbaths and the blood-curdling scream – had apparently recovered from the shock and was now sobbing uncontrollably. I slipped into the room and went to comfort her while Marvin moved out of the doorway to try and clear the hallway of curious onlookers. I wrapped my arms around her shaking body. She was so warm. I pushed her thick hair away and checked her forehead for fever. ‘Shh, it’ll be OK, Maria. Do you know what happened here?’

  She shook her head with her hands covering her mouth. Her words came out attached to violent sobs.

  ‘Me enteré de que estaba muerto!’

  I had a limited knowledge of Spanish so I tried to encourage her to speak English. ‘Maria, can you tell me in English?’

  ‘Si … I find Miss Green! Dead!’ She then reverted back into a hysterical string of Spanish. I rubbed her back, giving up on getting any information from her for now. My own heart was racing and I felt a bit woozy.

  Above Maria’s sobs I could hear Marvin arguing with the workers and clients in the hallway, trying to field questions and get them to leave the area.

  He came back in, shaking his head and stared at Celeste. By the noise in the hallway, I gathered he had failed at his quest. I held Maria and we watched him expectantly. He seemed to be wrestling with something. Finally he shrugged. ‘Suppose I should check to make sure she’s really dead.’

  I raised an eyebrow. Unless the woman had found a way to breathe mud, she was clearly dead.

  He walked over and lowered himself awkwardly to his knees in the mud. After a few long seconds of hesitation, he pressed two meaty fingers to her neck beneath her chin. His head was bowed as he shook it. ‘Yep. Dead.’ He raised weary eyes up to the people now pressing in on the doorway, trying to get a better view. ‘Everyone please, for the last time, stay back. We need to keep this area undisturbed for the police.’ He looked down at the mud on his crisp, blue uniform and then stared at his hands. I think he just realized he had been touching a dead woman.

  The mud creature in the corner suddenly darted and tried to scramble out of the room. Unfortunately, it only succeeded in slipping and sliding and slinging Dead Sea mud into Marvin’s face.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, little guy!’ Marvin scooped up the mud creature and, as he held it close to his chest, he stared at something hard on the floor. ‘What the …?’ He slowly rose and handed the creature off to Maria, his eyes still focused on the floor. ‘Here.’

  Maria pulled the small animal into her body and began rubbing its face with a towel, speaking to it softly in Spanish between sniffles. It was good she now had a job to keep her mind occupied.

  I stared at the emerging features of the animal in her grasp. Oh no! It was Princess! Poor thing. Did she have her mudbath interrupted by her mom collapsing and dying right in front of her? No, she must have come in with Maria. Either way, she was going to need a canine therapist. Luckily, we had one of those here, too. I grabbed a second towel from the shelf and began to help Maria soothe the shaking dog while keeping an eye on Marvin. He had taken out his cell phone and was aiming it at the mud by Celeste’s right hand.

  ‘What is it?’ I moved carefully to stand behind him, the mud squishing between my toes. I tried not to enjoy it out of respect for Celeste.

  ‘Looks like she tried to write something in the mud.’ His flash went off again as he took another picture. ‘You should stand back, Elle.’

  Ignoring his warning, I leaned over his shoulder. ‘Huh. Looks like the letters B and O. What could that mean?’

  ‘Botox.’

  We both looked up to see Bonnie pushing her way through the crowd in the doorway. Tears were streaming down her face. My eyes widened. I’d never seen her upset before. But, I knew Bonnie and Celeste had become pretty good friends over the last few months. And I imagined, like me, this was her first time seeing an actual dead body.

  ‘Botox?’ Marvin repeated, pulling his six foot four frame up to face her.

  She nodded. A sound like an injured animal escaped her lips as she stared down at Celeste. ‘She came here to pick up Princess straight from the plastic surgeon’s office. She was getting Botox injections done today. We were supposed to meet in the café for an early brunch ten minutes ago. I waited. She never showed up and
she’s never late. That’s when I knew something was wrong.’ She shook her head and swiped at her nose, her eyes narrowing, her face turning blotchy. She gasped. ‘He did this to her!’

  ‘Who?’ I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I knew who.

  ‘Dr Craft. He … he killed her!’ Her shoulders shook as her whole body deflated, and she sobbed quietly. Two of the ladies moved in to comfort her.

  Yep. Dr Ira Craft. My best friend Hope’s husband. The most popular, and by that fact alone, the most sued plastic surgeon in the Tampa Bay area. Fantastic.

  Just then Rita Howell, the spa manager pushed her way through with Alex Harwick, head of Moon Key security, on her heels. I scooted myself further behind Maria, trying to hide my five foot seven frame behind her five foot two one. I’d always been bad at math, but I was desperate.

  Alex was a forty-something ex-football player and typical good ole’ Florida boy. He also didn’t understand or accept rejection. I had stopped counting the number of times he had asked me out in the nine months since I’d been working on Moon Key. Every time I declined he would smile and say, ‘Maybe next time.’ It was unsettling.

  Three more security officers marched up behind them, their grim faces and purposeful demeanor helped move everyone out of the way.

  Rita Howell clapped her hands. ‘OK, everyone. Show’s over. The spa will be closing for the day. Everyone out!’

  The voices grew louder as the crowd of curious women began to disperse and talk amongst themselves. Most of my doga class was among the looky-loos. I started to leave with them.

  ‘Not you, Elle,’ Rita Howell barked, waving her cell phone at us. ‘You, Maria, Marvin and Bonnie will stay here and explain this to the police. They’re pulling into the guest marina now, so they should be here in a few.’

  ‘Me?’ I choked, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. ‘I don’t know what happened. I got here after she—’ I pointed helplessly at Celeste on the ground – ‘ended up like that.’

  Rita waved off my concern. ‘Just answer their questions. It’ll be fine.’ She snapped her fingers at the safety officers. ‘Don’t just stand there. Get this place emptied out and locked up. And one of you go wait by the door to let in the ME and the real law enforcement. Go!’

  As always, everyone scattered like cockroaches when Rita snapped her fingers.

  ‘Unbelievable.’ I stepped outside the mudroom to get some air. I needed to go check on Buddha. Though I’m sure he was taking his after-doga nap, completely oblivious to the human drama unfolding. Sometimes I really envied him.

  Bonnie came and slid an arm around my shoulder. ‘You OK?’

  I raised my chin to look up at her. Her mascara had run and left black tear trails on her cheeks. I wondered if I should say something, then decided she probably wouldn’t care right now. ‘Yeah. Fine. I should be asking you that, though.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She squeezed my hand back. ‘I’m really going to miss her. She was a good friend. And a good client. Dr Craft has to be held accountable for this.’

  I glanced back up at her. ‘Why do you think it was Ira’s fault? Maybe she had a heart attack, or tripped and hit her head when she pulled the bath tub over on herself … or something that didn’t have to do with her Botox injections.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. The light, coconut scent of her shampoo drifted from her. It smelled expensive. ‘I warned her. You don’t go back to a doctor who you’ve threatened to sue. Especially not for a procedure like Botox to the neck.’ She raised a perfectly plucked brow. ‘Plus the fact she was trying to write Botox in the mud? I’d say he’s as good as in prison.’ She shrugged. ‘It will be easy enough to prove, that he killed her. Accidentally … or not.’

  I stared at her. Her mouth was set in a grim line. She was serious. She really believed Celeste died from her Botox procedure. Could Ira really be capable of murder over a lawsuit? I thought back to all the time I’d spent with him and Hope since their wedding two years ago. No. He was a nice guy. A bit of a nerd, sure, but sweet. So, surely if Celeste did die from her Botox injections … was that even possible? Surely, if she did, it was an accident. But, even that was unacceptable. Couldn’t that be considered manslaughter? At the very least, he could lose his license. How was I going to tell Hope?

  My stomach churned, twisted and I suddenly felt my breakfast burrito about to make a second appearance. A group of official looking people in uniforms rounded the corner and marched toward us. I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran for the trash can.

  THREE

  ‘And you work here?’ A portly man in an ill-fitting suit, who introduced himself to me as Detective Farnsworth, was scratching my information on his notepad. Sweat dripped from under his chin and splattered on to the pad. I tried not to visibly cringe. He pulled out a handkerchief and swiped at his neck and then the notepad.

  ‘I do work here, yes.’ They had taped off the mudroom and separated us all for questioning. I would have preferred a little more distance from Celeste’s body. The surreal element to the situation that had kept me numb until this point was quickly falling away. It was all beginning to sink in. Celeste was gone. Camera flashes were lighting up the orange sorbet wall in front of me. I felt dizzy. ‘I teach doga classes.’

  His eyebrow pushed up into greasy hair desperately in need of a cut and his dull brown eyes sharpened their focus on me. He smelled like cheese doodles.

  ‘People bring their dogs to do yoga with them. It’s healthy for the both the humans and dogs.’ I repeated the defensive mantra absent-mindedly as I rubbed my palms roughly on my thighs. He was still staring at me expectantly. How much did he want me to explain? ‘I’m also on salary. I help clean up where needed, check on the dogs when they’re left alone in the suites, help walk them in the garden, things like that.’

  ‘Suites?’ He shook his head and mumbled something about rich people under his breath. ‘OK, Miss Pressley, please walk me through what you remember.’

  I talked through the whole thing with him. When I got to the end I hesitated, but then realized Bonnie would be spilling the beans about Ira anyway, and I didn’t want it to seem like he had anything to hide. ‘So, Bonnie, the tall blonde, was supposed to meet Celeste in the café for brunch after Celeste’s Botox appointment. That’s where she was coming from.’

  ‘And do you know where the deceased had this Botox appointment?’

  I bit my lip and sighed. ‘Yes. She went to Dr Ira Craft, two buildings over, next to Royal Dry Cleaners. But I know him personally and I can tell you, he’s not capable of murder. He’s a sweet guy and very professional.’ I stopped when I noticed the intensity with which the detective was now staring at me. He reminded me of a bulldog.

  ‘Who said anything about murder, Miss Pressley?’

  My face flushed. My heart fluttered like a bat against my chest. Oh. I guess I just did. ‘I just meant that if it was the Botox injection that killed Celeste … he didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sure it was an accident. Who would risk Botox in their neck anyway? Or maybe it wasn’t the Botox. She could have been checking to see if Princess, her dog, was in the mudbath room and slipped. Pulled the tub over on to herself. Hit her head. Something accidental like that … could have easily happened.’ I really needed to shut up. I clamped my lips together and nodded like I had just proven my point.

  The detective narrowed his eyes. When he spoke, his tone had grown cold. ‘I’m going to need a number where we can reach you.’

  ‘Pick up, pick up,’ I whispered into the phone as I stroked Buddha’s side. He had napped through all the drama just like I thought he would.

  ‘Hey, Elle. What’s up?’

  ‘Hope! Listen, something awful has happened. The police are still here. Celeste Green is dead.’

  ‘What? Dead? Celeste Green? Oh, the lady who started coming to your class to torture her husband’s mistress?’ Hope asked.

  ‘Yes, her. She’s in the mudbath room, face down … dead
. But that’s not the worst part.’

  ‘There’s something worse than dead?’

  ‘Most definitely. You have to call Ira and warn him the police will be there to question him soon. Celeste had come here straight from a Botox appointment with Ira before she died.’

  Hope went silent for a moment. ‘I don’t understand. So the police think Ira had something to do with her death? That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I just know it’s been pointed out to them that’s where she was before she died, at her appointment with Ira.’ I didn’t mention I was the one who had pointed it out. No need for her to be worried and mad at me.

  ‘OK, doing it now. I’ll call you back.’

  I collapsed back on to the polished wood floor. My hair fanned out into a sweaty, auburn halo around my head. Buddha rolled over and pressed himself against me with all four paws in the air.

  ‘Goofball.’ I rested one hand on his belly. The steady heaving of his breath against my ribcage, along with the palm-shaped fan whirling on high above me, started to normalize my heart rate. I took a few slow breaths, moving my mind with the air in and out of my lungs to calm my nerves. It was automatic now.

  Poor Celeste. No one deserved to die like that. And what about Princess? Maybe her ex-husband, Robert, would take her. Oh no. That would mean Zebina would be Princess’s new mommy. Celeste would roll over in her grave if that happened. I probably should have told the police about her ongoing fight with Zebina. If anyone had a motive for murder, it was Zebina.

  My phone vibrated in my hand, and I about jumped out of my skin. It was Hope.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘I told him. He tried to sound like everything was fine, but I could hear it in his voice, he’s worried. He’s going to stay there and wait for them. Oh God, Elle, what does this mean. I’m picking you up. When can you leave there?’

  I pushed myself off the floor. I still needed to make the rounds and check on the second-floor dogs whose owners were out. It was my shift. There shouldn’t be too many, though. ‘The police are done interviewing me but give me thirty minutes to make my rounds upstairs.’