by Sharon Dunn
“Wow, Dustin really liked chocolate.”
“He wasn’t much of a sweet tooth.” The clerk set the box on the high counter. “It was a gift for someone. He had made arrangements to pick it up the night he met with his demise. He was very specific about it, supplied the card and the box that they were to be put in.”
Kindra stood on tiptoe to view the box. “Who was it for?”
Suzanne gave Kindra’s arm a warning squeeze. “I’m sure that’s private.”
“Yeah, but the guy’s dead, so private doesn’t count anymore.”
Arleta popped a sample candy in her mouth. “She has a point.”
“Wonder no more. I already checked the card after he died. I didn’t think privacy rules applied either.” The clerk shoved the box toward Arleta. “He had the chocolates made up for Victoria Stone.”
Ginger relaxed into the individual spa bath. Her tired muscles had turned to marshmallows. Herbal smells, the strongest of which was peppermint, swirled around her.
“How are you doing?” Victoria’s voice floated lazily over to her from the massage table a few feet away. Her words were smushed because her face was pressed against the table.
Ginger slipped deeper into the bath until her chin touched the water. “This makes it all seem so worth it. But I’m going to smell like a candy cane.”
Victoria laughed. “That’s the peppermint; it masks the bitter smell of the valerian in the bath, which relaxes your muscles.” Before she left, the massage therapist had placed scented towels over Victoria’s back and advised her to be still for twenty minutes.
Ginger sighed. “It’s making me kind of sleepy.”
“We can do a mud-pack treatment too. It’s on me.”
“I have to meet my husband for lunch around one.”
“Oh,” Victoria said. “I never had one of those.”
Ginger’s head jerked up. Something clicked in her brain. Her friend at the Southern Belle wedding chapel had said her husband had married Victoria and her third husband. Her body tensed. How could someone be married and not married?
“Something wrong?” Victoria turned her head sideways. Her face was flushed red from the heat in the room.
“No,” said Ginger. Everyone has their twin. The water seemed suddenly colder, the room drafty. Her thoughts jumbled and crashed into one another like socks in a dryer. Ginger cleared her throat. “So you never told me. Why were you waiting for Dustin the night he died?”
Three members of the BHN swarmed toward Earl, nearly knocking Fiona Truman off her feet. Fiona braced a hand on the coffee shop window.
Kindra held a box of chocolates with no cover. She bounced as though she had springs in her tennis shoes. The chocolates jiggled. “Where is she? Where’s Ginger?”
Earl placed a calming hand on Kindra’s shoulder. What was all the hoopla about? You’d think Ginger’s friends were thundering toward a half-price sale. “She’s working out with Victoria Stone. Why?”
Suzanne slapped her forehead with the papers she held in her hand. Arleta gasped and Kindra shook her head and repeated, “Oh no.”
“What are you worried about? I’m meeting her for lunch”—he checked his watch—“in half an hour.” The talk with Fiona had taken longer than he expected. Letting go of a dream had not been easy, but Fiona had been moved by his apology.
Arleta crossed her thin arms. “I don’t think we should wait.”
Their cryptic panic made his own fear meter rise. “What are you talking about?”
Suzanne shoved the papers toward Earl. “Look what we found in a box of candy meant for Victoria Stone.”
The first piece of paper was an article from a 1968 Nevada newspaper. It featured a picture of a teen girl in a swimsuit with the headline “Veronica Stone Wins Local Meet.” “Veronica?” The other two papers were birth certificates for two babies, Veronica and Victoria, both born on June 7, 1950. “Twins?”
“We think Victoria is really Veronica. Dustin was going to give these things to her the night he died. Maybe in exchange for money. But something must have happened.”
“Ginger did say that she met Victoria when she was waiting to meet with Dustin … the night he died. But why would she.
“What if Dustin upped the price and it made her mad, or what if he got a better offer for the secret from someone else?” Kindra flapped her hands and bounced.
Arleta pressed her face close to Earl’s. “What part of the spa is Ginger in?”
“She said she was going to work out, and then they were going to do a massage or something.”
Fiona nodded. “I bet Victoria took her to the executive rooms. You pay extra for exclusive access.” She snapped open her purse. “I have a card key.”
Earl held up a hand. “Lets not jump to conclusions.” Who was he kidding? His mind was already racing with the possibilities of what could happen to his sweet Ginger. The woman had a gift for getting herself into danger. “Were not going to accuse. Lets just go over there and make sure she’s okay.” He waved the papers. “We can turn these over to the police.”
Five minutes later, they stood at the greeters counter of the spa. A woman in a tight-fitting pink smock crossed her arms over her chest, where a name tag identified her as Pauline. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Stone and her friend requested that they not be disturbed.”
“I just need to talk to my wife,” Earl said. The urgency in his voice betrayed him. His wife was in danger. A low-level tensing at the core of his being told him it was true.
“Our clients pay a great deal of money for their privacy.” Pauline’s expression was unflinching stone.
Earl stepped past the counter. “I just need to make sure she’s okay.”
Pauline clamped a hand on Earl’s biceps and squeezed. A tinge of pain shot up his arm. The lady has some strength in her fingers. “They asked not to be disturbed.”
Right now, he didn’t like Pauline very much. Her voice had echoes of Mrs. Huntguard, his third grade teacher, a woman who was fond of rulers and the phrase “Discipline is the key to learning.”
Behind him, Fiona whispered something to Kindra.
Kindra touched his back. “Earl, how about we just wait until Ginger comes out?”
Earl swung around. “What?”
“I think she’s right.” Arleta raised her eyebrows in some sort of microscopic signal that he was supposed to understand.
These women and their signals. What did she mean with that little spasm of her brows? Why were they giving up so easily? They’d just been in a panic five minutes ago.
Suzanne did the thing where she made her eyes bigger and her lips flat. “Why don’t we do that?”
She squeezed out her words like toothpaste through a tube. They were all signaling him. He had no idea what was going on, but he was outnumbered.
Fiona slipped between Earl and the pink lady. “Thanks, Pauline.”
Pauline lit up like a light bulb when Fiona noticed her. “No problem, Miss Truman.”
Suzanne and Arleta took positions on either side of Earl and wrapped their arms through his.
“Lets just wait.” Kindra trailed behind them while Fiona hung back.
What choice did he have? They escorted him out of the spa back into the hallway.
When he was sure that Pauline couldn’t hear them, he demanded, “What?”
“We can’t force our way in.” Kindra peered up at him. “Pauline will just call security. Fiona’s going to let us know when the coast is clear.”
“Okay.” The plan made sense, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling that the clock was ticking.
Earl paced the carpet. His wife needed his help. The tightness in his chest told him that. The women leaned against the wall and stared at the floor. He appreciated Fiona’s assistance, though her commitment to give this much help to people she didn’t know perplexed him.
Fiona poked her head out into the hallway. “Now.”
They raced back into the spa. Pauline was across the room an
d behind glass where she was busy helping a client with a weight machine.
“This way.” Fiona led them down a tiled hallway. They turned a corner and faced a closed door. Fiona swiped her card and pushed the door open. They entered a hallway that featured a series of chrome doors. Fiona pointed up. “The amber light above the door indicates the room is occupied.”
Two of the bulbs glowed.
Fiona swiped the card over the first door and eased it open. A woman mumbled a protest. Fiona’s shoulders jerked up. “Oh, sorry.”
Earl took two big strides to the last door. “She’s got to be in here.”
Fiona swiped the card. “I’m anxious to meet your wife, this Ginger Salinski.”
What an odd thing to say.
Fiona pushed the door open. Earl peeked in.
The room contained two padded, bed-sized tables, a table with candles, and two bathtubs. Soft instrumental music piped in from some unseen speaker. Towels were neatly folded on one table along with an assortment of massage oils and lotions … and no Ginger.
Something warm brushed over Ginger’s cheek, just a fleeting touch. A bug maybe? Her head swam. She couldn’t process. Her limbs were like wet rags. What was it? She couldn’t remember the word. Oh yeah. A hand. A hand touched her cheek.
Then a voice twirled through the air. “My problem here is that I have to make this look like an accident.”
Noises. Shuffling. Her head dropped forward and then jerked back. She swayed and slipped deeper into her spa tub. Her chin grazed the surface of the water.
The voice had been Victoria’s. But she wasn’t really Victoria, was she? She had to be a look-alike, a twin.
She couldn’t lift her head, but she could look around.
Her last memory was of lying in the spa bath. She’d been relaxed and tired from the workout. When she asked Victoria the question, she hadn’t seemed upset, said something about her and Dustin exchanging smoothie recipes and watching old movies. It all made sense. Her suspicions were way off base. She had drifted off to sleep … smelled the strong scent of peppermint.
What was Victoria talking about? Making what look like an accident? She couldn’t put the thoughts together. Couldn’t make things fit. God, help me.
Victoria was dressed in her workout clothes. When had she done that? Some time had passed, and Ginger wasn’t sure how she had spent it. Probably sleeping. Victoria lifted her chin. “I turned on a different amber light so I could get this job done without interruption. It’s not like stupid Pauline pays attention to which light is on. She can barely count to two.”
“Why?” The question sort of fell out of Ginger’s mouth. It hadn’t even really formed in her brain.
The woman who called herself Victoria slammed something on the dresser. “Because Victoria got everything. This all should have been mine anyway.” She touched her chest. “I was talented too. No cares if you’re a great swimmer. So what if you can’t sing?” The imposter tilted her head side to side and put a finger on either cheek. “But it was all about being cute.”
That was way more of an answer than Ginger had expected. She swallowed. She had just wanted to know why she felt so drowsy. Now she remembered. Victoria had tossed something in her tub, strong scent of peppermint. She had been tired enough to drift off.
Victoria paced. “You want to know what? All those tap dancing lessons didn’t do her a bit of good when the boat capsized.” The imposter smirked. “I made it to shore. Everyone thought I was her. They wanted me to be her.” Her hand massaged Ginger’s shoulders. She leaned close and whispered in her ear. “A stolen life.”
“Dustin?” Again, the question hadn’t formed in her mind; it had simply spilled out. Her subconscious was working on things while her conscious mind nodded off.
Victoria dug her fingers into Ginger’s shoulders. Fingernails prickled her skin. The pain roused her a bit.
“Dustin sold everything to the highest bidder. He thought he could get more for my secret from someone else.” She wandered toward the dresser. She picked up a hand mirror turning her head side to side. “He just made me so mad. I saw his appointment with Edward Mastive in his Day-Timer when we were looking for the elevator code and I knew what was up. I knew I could find him waiting on the dark side of the pier where he did all his little secret deals.”
Ginger nodded. Not because she agreed with Victoria, but because she didn’t have the muscular control to shake her head.
Victoria trotted back over to the spa bath. “You’re too smart. Nobody else figured it out.” Her jaw tightened. “I still don’t know what he did with the birth certificates. I looked everywhere, in his place, in his suit.”
She smiled a saccharine-sweet smile as she swished her hand through the water. “I live in this hotel. I’ll find it sooner or later.” Victoria’s face filled Ginger’s vision. She whispered, “Just as long as no one but me knows.”
Victoria’s voice was bone chilling. The emotional coldness of the moment cleared Ginger’s head. She’s going to kill me.
Victoria held up a pill bottle. “Look at this. It’s the muscle relaxant I told you about.”
Ginger slipped even farther into the tub. She tilted her head. I have to get out of here. She leaned forward. The effect of the herb seemed to be wearing off, but fatigue weighted her limbs.
“After you put too much valerian in your bath, you were disoriented, and your muscles were so sore.” Victoria slapped her cheek with theatrical exaggeration. “Silly me, I went and left my purse here, and you, you naughty girl, you found the pills I had been raving about. I’ll do a little drama so Pauline is sure to remember when I left and when I came back looking for my purse.” She forced Ginger’s chin down and placed the pill in her mouth.
Ginger tried to push the pill out with her thick and fuzzy tongue.
Cold fingers clamped on her shoulders. Victoria put her mouth close to Ginger’s ear. “You just fell asleep and slipped into the water.” Fingers dug into her like chilled butter knifes. “You drown, quite by accident.”
Ginger stiffened. She wiggled. Her hand jerked out of the bath, spraying water.
Pressure on her shoulders. Legs kicking. Face going under. Water surging against her ears. Kicking. Air. She needed air …
As the water encased her, she saw flashes of light. She twisted to one side, pushed herself to the surface for a moment. Gasping. Breath, precious breath.
Victoria grunted.
Weight came down even harder on Ginger’s shoulders. She kicked. Strength ebbed away.
A muffled crash reverberated as she went under and water covered her face.
Earl Salinski pushed the door open with hulklike strength. It slammed against the wall.
Victoria’s hand flew up, and she whirled around. Her eyes flamed with rage.
A foot stuck out of the spa tub. He’d recognize that foot anywhere.
How dare this woman try to hurt his Ginger.
He bolted toward the bathtub. Ginger’s face appeared murky and distorted beneath the water. No, please, no. Grabbing her shoulders, he yanked her out of the water.
Something solid hit his head. Despite the searing pain, he gathered his wife close to him, cradling her in one arm. Victoria lifted her arm behind her, preparing to strike him again. His forearm jerked up to protect his head.
A blond head bobbed into view and then a gray one.
One of them yelled, “Oh no, you don’t!”
Suzanne filled the doorway. Kindra had jumped on Victoria’s back. A wooden candlestick rolled across the floor. The ladies could handle Victoria just fine.
While things crashed and banged behind him, he laid Ginger on the tile floor. Ginger’s still body numbed him. She wasn’t breathing. His precious wife wasn’t breathing. Her chest was frozen, mouth slightly open. On autopilot, he placed his fingers on her neck. A faint pulse pushed against his fingers.
Suzanne kneeled on the floor beside him. “You got something?”
He nodded. He knew what he had
to do, but it was nice to have someone beside him. Her proximity broke the paralysis that had made it hard for him to put thoughts together. He tilted Ginger’s head and lifted her chin.
“Nose.” Suzanne pressed her finger against her thumb, reminding Earl to pinch Ginger’s nose.
Earl sealed his mouth over Ginger’s and blew gently.
“You got breath into her. Her chest rose and fell.”
Earl counted to five and breathed life into his wife again.
“Hello. Ginger I’m So glad to meet you. I’m Crazy in Calamity. You have no idea how your blog has helped me already.”
Ginger had a clear view of the ceiling. She must be dreaming. Like those dreams she used to have the night before the end of the season sales. Now Fiona Truman, the Shopping Channel lady, was talking to her. About to tell her about a good deal? No, that wasn’t it. Fiona was Crazy in Calamity?
A warm hand touched her shoulder. That was Earl. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him. A moment before he had held her and said over and over, “I am so glad you are back.”
That part of what had just happened was the clearest of all. She was resting on the floor of the private spa where Victoria had tried to drown her. Someone had put a bathrobe over her swimsuit.
“Did they catch—?” she croaked.
“We have taken Veronica Stone into custody.”
The lady detective showed her face. What was her name? Mallory.
Still a little dizzy, she sat up. All of them surrounded her, kneeling and sitting cross-legged: the detectives, Earl, Fiona a.k.a Crazy in Calamity, and her precious BHN friends.
“We owe you a debt of gratitude for catching Dustin’s killer.” That was the other lady detective.
Ginger sighed. “I’m sort of an accidental detective. All of this started because I was looking for my missing cat.”
“You lost a cat?” asked Detective Mallory. “Is she gray with white toes?”
