Sofia’s knowledge of Brentwood’s finest day spas was less than complete, but she figured there couldn’t be that many spas on the corner of San Vicente and South Bundy. “I think I know the one. So, Perla, you must be pretty upset about Mr. Fairbroad?”
“Oh, yes,” said Perla. “He was a very nice man. It’s so scary what happened to him.”
At least someone cared that Nigel had died yesterday. But Sofia didn’t have time to go there. She needed to cut to the chase before Melissa returned from whatever she was getting done, but it was a delicate topic. She couldn’t exactly come straight out and ask whether Perla thought Melissa had killed her husband, or whether she’d been cheating on him.“Did you notice any strange visitors over the last few days? People hanging around outside? Anyone who looked out of place? Someone who came to work on the house?”
Perla took a moment to think it over. “It’s a quiet neighborhood.”
She had that right. Pacific Palisades was about as white bread as it got, even compared to somewhere like Santa Monica. Sofia didn’t have the exact crime statistics for the area, but there was a reason why the LAPD cops referred to West Los Angeles as West Latte Division. Sure, they had crime here, but it was nothing when compared to other parts of the city.
“What about Mr. and Mrs. Fairbroad? Were they getting along? Did you hear them arguing?” Sofia held her breath. This could go either way. If Perla told Melissa that Sofia had asked about her relationship with Nigel, she was likely to go off the deep end, and Maloney Investigations could lose this gig entirely. But Perla might have good information, so she had to ask.
Perla didn’t respond. Sofia stayed silent and counted to ten in her head. Slowly. People hated dead air time. Especially awkward silences. If she backed off and let Perla stew, she bet she’d fill it.
Right on cue, Perla said, “You don’t say anything to Mrs. Fairbroad?”
Perla was looking at the floor rather than Sofia. That was a pretty good sign that something had been going on in the house.
“Absolutely. I won’t repeat anything you say to Mrs. Fairbroad.” Sofia chose her words with care. She wouldn’t say anything to Melissa, or her attorney, but she’d have to share anything relevant with Brendan and Aidan.
Perla waved for Sofia to follow her. They walked through into a large, lavish, and spotless kitchen. The cabinets looked handmade, the appliances were all top of the line Subzero and Miele brands, and the counters were polished granite. Typical kitchen for these parts.
“You want coffee?” Perla asked.
“No, thank you.” Melissa could be back at any second. Sofia needed to hurry things along without spooking Perla. “So, Mr. and Mrs. Fairbroad?”
Perla shrugged. “They always argue. Ever since I work here.”
“How long have you worked for them?”
“About five years,” said Perla.
“And they’ve always argued?”
“Never this bad,” said Perla.
“So it got worse over the past few months?”
Perla opened a cupboard, took out a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee from a pot on the counter. “Yes, the past few months.”
“What kind of things were they arguing over?”
Perla blew on the coffee before taking a sip. “Money. Mrs. Fairbroad spending too much of it. I don’t think Mr. Fairbroad spent money on himself. Just this house and a nice car. A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Fairbroad came home early, and there was a credit card bill. He must have picked it up and seen what was on it, because as soon as she walked in the door, he shouted at her. He said she needed to stop her crazy spending. She got angry. She said it was her money, too. Then he said that she didn’t make any money. Like that until she leaves. She almost broke the door when she close it so hard.”
Sofia made a note to ask Aidan to run a more detailed credit check on the Fairbroads’ finances. Arguing about money was hardly unusual. She’d read that it was the number one source of friction in most marriages, but it was still a good lead. Something else occurred to Sofia. “Was he mad about the amount of money she was spending, or what she was spending it on?”
Perla thought it over. “Both. She practically lives at the spa, goes three, sometimes four times a week. Very expensive.”
In itself, there was nothing unusual about a woman like Melissa spending so much time at a spa. For a wealthy, married woman without a job and a busy husband, living in an area like Brentwood, it was probably fairly typical. Some women probably went most days. But going to the spa right after your husband was murdered? When you were probably the cop’s number one suspect? That didn’t seem like normal behavior to Sofia. And even if it could be explained away by someone hanging onto their usual routine in order to deal with the shock of such an event, it sure as hell wasn’t smart.
If Melissa was charged, and it got as far as a trial (which it almost certainly would if the DA wanted it to), her actions would be used against her by a jury. Any prosecutor worth his salt would ask the same question of a jury that Sofia was asking herself now. What normal person whose husband has just been killed skips off to keep their regular spa appointment?
18
Sofia had been wrong when she’d figured she could find the spa without too much trouble. She counted at least two day-spas, a beauty salon, and a hair salon all within a block of the intersection of San Vicente and South Bundy streets in Brentwood. There were also several high-priced boutiques, any number of fancy restaurants and upmarket cafes, and a bunch of other places where Brentwood housewives with too much time and too many credit cards could blow through thousands of dollars without having to walk more than a few hundred yards.
The first spa that Sofia checked out haughtily refused to tell her whether or not Melissa Fairbroad was a client, claiming client confidentiality like a doctor on TV. Sofia waited for the manager to leave to deal with a major crisis (likely, a broken nail) and slipped the receptionist fifty bucks. Client confidentiality was suspended long enough for her to learn that this spa wasn’t Melissa’s preferred pampering hangout.
The second spa was called BOS, which stood for Brentwood Organic Spa. Sofia pushed through the polished glass door and into the plush reception area. A bunch of over-stuffed white and cream-colored couches and chaise lounges were scattered around the reception area. Not seeing any staff, or customers, Sofia perched on a chaise.
A few minutes passed before a door opened, and a young, blond man appeared. He was dressed in long, flowing white robes and carrying an iPad. He looked at Sofia, then at the screen, and back at Sofia.
“I’m sorry. Can I help you?” he asked.
“I hope so,” said Sofia. “I’m trying to track down my friend Melissa Fairbroad. I was supposed to meet her, but I guess she must have forgotten our appointment because her housekeeper said she was down here, maybe getting a facial.”
The blond man’s gaze shifted past Sofia to the street outside. She turned to see what he was looking at just in time to watch Melissa Fairbroad drive slowly past in a pearl-white Benz convertible with the top down. “Looks like you just missed her.”
“Damn,” said Sofia. “Looks like I just did.”
The phone on the desk rang.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, putting his iPad down on the counter in front of her.
He stood with his back to her as he picked up the handset. She plucked her cell phone from her pocket and made a show of holding it at arm’s length and peering at the screen. She looked past it at the iPad.
From years spent in producer’s offices, she had acquired an uncanny ability for reading papers, documents, and more recently, screens, upside down. It was amazing what people left in plain sight for the upside down reader.
On the iPad screen was what looked like a list of the day’s appointments. She picked out Melissa Fairbroad’s name, a time of 1 p.m. and next to it the words “Chakra Massage,” then “Therapist: Moonbow.”
“I’ll see if he’s available,” the blond was saying
to the person on the other end of the line. He turned round and grabbed the iPad from the desk. “He’s available tomorrow morning. How does ten suit you? Okay. Perfect. We’ll see you then.”
He ended the call, put the handset back and turned back to Sofia. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes,” said Sofia, steeling herself to do something that she found more embarrassing than urinating in public while being filmed. “My chakras are really.” She stopped, trying to think of the correct term. “They’re really blocked. You wouldn’t have anyone available to … unblock them, would you?”
The blond guy didn’t even blink. He raised a finger in the air as if testing the direction of the wind. “You’re in luck. Moonbow’s two thirty just cancelled. I can see if he’s available.”
19
Sofia sat by herself in a small, white room and drew a line under the heading for her new list: “Things I Assumed I Could Go My Whole Life Without Saying”.
“My chakras are really blocked.”
“Of course I don’t think keeping your stuffed dead cat in your bedroom is weird.” (Dating related)
Please stop putting adult diapers on my desk.
She had already changed from her regular clothes into a flowing white robe similar to the one the guy manning the reception area had been wearing. She thought she looked a little like Jesus or early Princess Leia.
She had also been given tea that tasted like feet and was supposed to ‘open’ her chakras, to make the massage more effective. As soon as she’d been left alone, she had dumped the tea into a nearby plant. She couldn’t be definite, but she was pretty sure that plant’s leaves were starting to turn black at the tips. Better the plant than her.
The door opened. Sofia had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from laughing as Moonbow swept into the room wearing long, flowing purple robes that accentuated his dark blue eyes. In his early forties, he had thick, graying hair tied back in a ponytail and a moustache that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Western gunfighter. In fact, he looked kind of like Sam Neill, but taller. He would have been sexy in jeans and a cowboy shirt, but the robes detracted from that effect.
Without saying anything, he stood with his hands on his slim hips and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. His hands came up and moved in a circle as if he were doing Tai Chi. Even though he looked weird doing it, Sofia had to admit that he had sexy hands—strong, with long fingers.
“Stand up for me, please,” he said.
Sofia stood.
“You have a thick aura,” he said in a slightly stoned-sounding California accent, his eyes still closed. “Your fifth chakra is badly constricted. You also need work done on your manipura or lustrous gem, that is to say, your third chakra.”
Sofia was starting to regret her decision to book the session. She didn’t let just any guy near her lustrous gem, never mind a forty-something dude in purple robes.
Moonbow opened his eyes, and she was impressed by his eyelashes. He had really great eyelashes for a guy.
Rather than looking at her, he stared off into the distance and took another deep breath. “Please remove your robe, lie down on the table, and we can begin.”
What the hell? She was pretty sure if Moonbow’s hands wandered near her lustrous gem she’d be more than capable of dealing with it. She hadn’t spent all those hours sweating it out at the gym for nothing. She was also pretty sure that this might be the only way she might get the information she needed from Moonbow about Melissa Fairbroad. She certainly wouldn’t find out anything if she ran out screaming.
“There is a towel here.” Moonbow lifted a large white bath towel from a hook and handed it to her. The towel was warm. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Moonbow disappeared back through the door. Rather self-consciously , Sofia took off her robe, lay face-down on the table, and placed the towel over her ass. She had kept her cell phone, and set it on the chair. It was going to record whatever conversation took place between them. If Moonbow killed her, at least there would be proof. Aidan would probably think it was pretty funny if she died in some kind of chakra-opening accident.
A few moments later, the door opened again, and footsteps slapped across the floor. She saw purple sandals through the face rest. She assumed they belonged to Moonbow. She noted, somewhat randomly, that he had the most perfectly pedicured toenails of any man she’d known. Not that she spent a lot of time checking out men’s feet, but moustache notwithstanding, he clearly spent a lot of time on personal grooming.
Moonbow began massaging her shoulders and lower back. She had to admit that it felt pretty damn amazing. He kneaded a couple of knots below her shoulder blades. He might have looked a little weird in his purple robes, but he definitely had some kind of magic touch. The stresses and strains of the last few days melted away. She had to remind herself that she was here for another reason before she sunk into a blissful stupor right there on the table.
She wasn’t exactly sure how to ask him about Melissa. After all, if Melissa found out that Sofia had been asking people about her, she might not be too happy about it. But that was her job.
Sofia figured that she’d work her way round to Melissa. It would be less suspicious that way. “So how long have you been clearing chakras, Moonbow?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how dumb they sounded. It was the massage equivalent of asking your hair stylist where they planned on going on vacation, or a cab driver if he’d been busy.
“It’s better if you remain silent while I work,” said Moonbow.
“Sorry.” So much for getting info on Melissa.
“Ssshhh,” said Moonbow.
Moonbow continued to work his way down her spine, and Sofia decided she had no choice but to relax and enjoy the massage. He seemed to be discovering knots and muscle tension she hadn’t known she had. She was starting to see why Melissa was such a frequent visitor. At a hundred bucks for a half hour, Chakra massage was serious money, but it seemed totally worth it.
As Moonbow seemed to be winding down, she decided to take the more direct route. “I can’t believe Melissa’s been keeping you a secret from me all this time.”
“Oh, you mean Mrs. Fairbroad?” said Moonbow.
Finally, thought Sofia, she was getting somewhere. “Yeah. Terrible news about her husband.”
Moonbow didn’t say anything. Sofia wondered if he’d heard her. “They think he was murdered.”
Moonbow lifted his hands away suddenly, and she missed them.
“Okay,” he said. “You can get dressed again. If you need another appointment, talk to Leo in reception.”
She heard him walk to the door, open it, go through, and close it behind him. She hadn’t even had the opportunity to ask Moonbow if he’d managed to unblock her lustrous jewel.
20
Sofia practically floated out to her car. She didn’t know about her chakras, but she felt more relaxed than she had in months. It was like being stoned, without the cloudy head, paranoia, or craving for pizza.
As she hit the clicker to unlock the Tesla someone shouted her name. She turned to see a blond woman in tight Lycra running gear pushing a baby stroller toward her. She had no idea who the woman was.
“I thought it was you.” The blond mom took Sofia’s hand in hers like they were old friends. “It is so good to see you getting your life back together.” She lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “Addiction is a cruel disease.”
There was no point in trying to tell a woman she had never met before that she wasn’t an addict. She would think that Sofia was in denial.
“Thank you,” said Sofia. “That really means a lot.”
The blonde gave her hand another squeeze. “Stay strong.”
“I will,” Sofia told her, using her old acting chops to look sad.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sofia saw the front door of the Brentwood Organic Spa open and a man walk out. He was dressed in a gray ch
alk-striped suit and white shirt with black tasseled loafers. If it hadn’t have been for the moustache, she would never have guessed it was Moonbow, obviously back in his civilian clothes. He looked a lot better dressed like a normal person. He had his cell phone pressed to his ear.
Sofia moved so that the woman with the stroller was between her and Moonbow. “I really appreciate your concern.”
“Oh, you’re quite welcome. I was an actress before I met my husband, so I know how tough the business is on women. Especially strong, independent women like you.”
“It sure is,” said Sofia, her eyes fixed on Moonbow, who was looking out into the street.
There was something different about him. It wasn’t just that he had ditched his purple robes for a suit. His whole demeanor seemed to be different. The way he stood, the way he walked, his posture, everything. It took a moment before it clicked what she was looking at. It was like watching an actor who had completely nailed a character, right down to the tiniest gestures, suddenly emerge from their trailer at the end of a day’s shooting and suddenly be themselves again. Moonbow had talent.
“Was it alcohol or pills?” the blond mom was asking her.
Moonbow stepped off the curb as a white Benz convertible pulled up. He got into the passenger seat next to Melissa Fairbroad. She leaned over and kissed him. On the lips. It was a long, lingering kiss rather than a friendly peck. Uh-oh.
“It’s none of my business, right?” the blond mom was saying. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sofia said, completely transfixed by Moonbow and Melissa’s canoodling in broad daylight. Jeez, at least she could have been smart enough to put the top up on the car.
“Stay strong,” said the woman. “I believe in you.”
21
A is for Actress (Malibu Mystery Book 1) Page 8
