Sadie opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again.
“Plus, you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I already told Maeva.”
“What!” Dean began pacing. “Why’d you do that?”
“Look, she’s my best friend and I’ve got lots on my plate right now. She’s not going to be telling anybody anything about you. It’s not high on her priority list right now.”
“Guess I’ll just have to trust you with that one,” he grumbled.
“How about I talk to Zack about your case in general, though? He’d probably find it odd if I didn’t talk about it. I can just ask him what he’s heard about it.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” he said reluctantly.
“And I’ll find a way to go down to the spa and scope things out. I can just go down and ask about their services and stuff, for a start.”
“That would be great,” Dean gushed. “You can ask about their prices and then maybe go on a tour or something and casually say you heard about what happened and—”
Sadie held up her hand.
“Just let me see what I can do. Don’t go writing me a script on what to say.”
Sadie’s new cell phone chimed. She’d been ignoring it all day. One glance at the screen told her why. Another text from Owen. She was about to tuck the phone back in her pocket when it chimed again. This time the message was from Zack.
“Sweet Jesus I can’t seem to get a break,” she muttered to herself. “I’m going out for the better part of the day to clean up a suicide,” she told Dean. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ll be taking my stinky purse with me so things should go well.”
“I don’t know what to say about that,” he replied. “Good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
Sadie piled everything she needed to clean an unattended death decomp scene into her Scene-2-Clean van. Then she drove twenty minutes to Bellevue to Jonelle’s Spa. She didn’t want to pay for parking in the back public lot but she did anyway because she wanted to see the rear exit of Jonelle’s where the shooter would’ve entered. She backed the van into a slot at the very rear of the lot and then put a couple dollars’ worth of coins in a machine to cover the cost of the half hour she expected to be there.
She walked across the concrete toward the back of Jonelle’s. The spa looked like any other business from the back. There was a concrete stairway with five or six steps going up to a slate-gray metal door that had Jonelle’s Day Spa Exit Only in purple script. There was no handle on the outside of the door but there was a key lock. With nothing else to look at in the back of the building, Sadie walked around to the front. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, which was her normal work attire, but Sadie felt immediately out of place when she stepped inside Jonelle’s opulent reception area. The sweet fragrance of lavender reached her nostrils as Sadie walked up to the front desk, her runners squeaking noisily on the shiny marble floor.
“May I help you?” asked a perfectly coiffed blond woman with impeccable makeup.
“I hope so, Zenia,” Sadie said, reading the woman’s red name tag on her white lab coat. “I’d like to get some information about your establishment and the services you offer.”
“Of course! I’m the owner of Jonelle’s and I’m thrilled to answer any questions you may have.”
The first question she wanted to ask was why it was called Jonelle’s if the owner’s name was Zenia. Instead, Sadie smiled in a friendly way and took the glossy brochure Zenia handed to her. The woman’s perfect little nose wrinkled up and she sniffed the air. She frowned at Sadie and Sadie blushed in return.
Damned devil’s dung!
“So, um, you sure have a lot of services.” Sadie glanced over the menu of treatments offered and wondered what the hell a detoxifying thalassotherapy bath entailed. It sounded painful.
“Yes. We have nine treatment rooms,” she said proudly. “And as you can see”—she indicated glass shelving behind her—“we have an entire line of products from shampoos and oils to fragrances all created and designed specifically for Jonelle’s.”
“Would it be possible to have a tour?” Sadie asked.
“We usually require an appointment for a full tour. . . .”
“I understand, and I’m sorry for just popping in. You see, my sister is getting married and I’m maid of honor, so I’m charged with finding the perfect spa for the pre-wedding treatments for my sister and all seven bridesmaids,” Sadie lied hurriedly. “I’ve been busy and thought I’d drop in on my way to work.”
“Well, of course. I can show you around the rooms that aren’t in use.” She smiled broadly and buzzed someone on the intercom to watch the desk.
When another slim, perfectly coiffed blonde around the same age as Zenia showed up to answer the phones, Sadie began to wonder if there was a cloning machine that produced blond estheticians in the back as well. Before they started off on the grand tour, Zenia showed off some of the product line on the front shelves. She once again wrinkled her nose and Sadie found herself wishing she’d left her purse containing the conjure bag back in her car.
“You know, before the tour I’d like to introduce you to one of our most popular products.” Zenia took down a small bright blue bottle and held it up. “It’s our signature fragrance. It has notes of peony and magnolia.”
She spritzed a little in the air and Sadie leaned in.
“That’s very nice.” But a little strong.
“May I?” She grabbed Sadie’s wrist and squirted a large amount of the perfume there and then pumped a couple more squirts on Sadie’s clothes. “Oops! Sorry!”
Sadie coughed.
Great. Now I smell like devil’s dung dipped in flowers.
“I think you’ll be quite impressed with our premises,” Zenia said, motioning for Sadie to follow her around the corner and through an etched-glass door.
They slipped down a long hallway painted in a warm brown color. Gold filigree wall sconces provided just enough lighting that you didn’t walk into a wall. The hall opened into what Zenia called the Relaxation Room, where clients waited for their treatments. The Relaxation Room was huge. There was a fountain in the center surrounded by golden-colored plush chairs. Classical music played in the background and a table in the corner held assorted dried fruits, nuts, and pitchers of filtered water with cucumber slices. A few women in white robes lounged, reading magazines. Sadie snagged a handful of nuts as they went by.
“I wanted to ask about what happened here a couple weeks ago,” Sadie said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zenia replied, her voice now at a mere whisper. “These rooms are our massage rooms.” She pointed to a row of closed doors and paused to open one. Centered in the room was a massage table draped in pristine white sheets. A pink orchid was centered on the pillow. Sadie wanted to crawl onto that table and nap for a year.
“We use aromatic eye pillows and scented essential therapy oils. You’re offered a heated pillow for your neck as well. Our massages restore balance to mind and body,” Zenia said, her voice singsong.
“I guess. . . .” Sadie added doubt to her tone. “But I’m sure that woman who was killed here didn’t exactly find balance to her mind and body.”
All of a sudden Sadie was dragged inside a massage room, and Zenia shut the door firmly behind them.
“Are you a reporter?” she hissed, grabbing Sadie by the arms and shaking her.
“N-no.” Sadie’s teeth clanged together and she pulled herself free. “My sister is getting married and I’m in charge of choosing the spa. Like I said.” Sadie cleared her throat and straightened her spine and raised her voice. “My sister insisted that I check out Jonelle’s as one of the options because she wants an upper-end spa; however, some of the other bridesmaids were concerned because of that woman
who was shot to death while having a massage.”
“Shh!” Zenia cleared her throat and straightened the lapels of her lab coat with shaky hands. “Sorry about grabbing you. We can’t be too careful. Business is down seventy-five percent since that incident.” She patted down a few wayward strands of hair. “Yesterday I had some tabloid journalist show up as a client and she had a tiny camera hiding under her robe. People are canceling left, right, and center. At this rate, Jonelle’s will have to shut its doors.” She pinched together her perfectly pink lips and still a small sob escaped. “This place is my magnum opus!” She waved her arms around.
Sadie thought that was a high accolade to apply to a place that basically polished toenails and rubbed shoulders, but as someone who mopped blood for a living, she wasn’t about to knock Zenia’s achievements.
“I’m sure business will pick up.” Sadie patted her on the back. “After all, what happened wasn’t the spa’s fault . . . was it?”
“No!” Zenia stuffed her hands into her lab coat. “Some crazy old man snuck in here and killed his ex. This is a spa for God’s sake! We shouldn’t have to have armed security protecting our clientele!”
“True. It would definitely mess with the ambiance,” Sadie agreed. “So did the masseuse get hurt? The one who was doing the woman’s massage when she was shot?”
“Emilio? No. He’d completed the massage and told the woman he’d meet her up front when she was ready.” She ran French-manicured nails through her hair. “Jonelle’s policy is to allow the client relaxation time after their massage. Some people fall asleep. We give them half an hour before we check on them.”
“I don’t understand how this crazy ex could sneak by everyone at the front desk and wander past the relaxation area to barge into a massage room.”
“She was in the last treatment room at the end of the hall. Number nine. Next to the emergency exit. He must’ve come in through there. It’s usually locked but it’s not alarmed, so if a guest was exiting that way into the parking lot . . .” Zenia glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry but I’m going to bring you back to the front. I have an appointment in a few minutes and I have to get going.”
Zenia led the way, and when they passed by a swarthy young man in black yoga pants and a clingy brown tee she nodded hello. He smiled back and his eyes scraped over Sadie in a way that made her get all warm and tingly. When they were a few feet away Zenia leaned in and whispered, “That’s Emilio.”
“Wow,” Sadie whispered back. “I imagine he has an impressive list of regular clients.”
“You have no idea.”
Zenia ducked behind the counter, where the receptionist was on the phone. She reached into a drawer for a piece of paper and handed it to Sadie.
“I hope you will consider Jonelle’s for the wedding. This coupon is good for fifty percent off a thirty-minute massage.” She offered Sadie a pleading smile. “Oh! And please take a sample tube of our lavender body cream.”
She handed Sadie a tiny silver tube.
“Did I hear the word wedding?” All of a sudden Emilio appeared from around a corner to join Sadie at the desk. “Don’t tell me another one of our clientele is being whisked away into married life?”
Sadie stood there grinning stupidly, obviously dumbstruck by the sexy masseur. Zenia stepped in to help.
“She’s scoping out spas for her sister’s wedding. She’s the maid of honor and I was offering her a coupon for half off a thirty-minute massage so she or her sister could try our marvelous services here at Jonelle’s. Once they try it, they’ll insist on having the entire wedding party here.”
“Absolutely! You and your sister and the whole family should come for treatments,” he gushed. His mocha eyes locked on Sadie’s and he wet his lips seductively before continuing. “We are the best spa in the area. No other competition even comes close. So you will be back. I insist!”
As blinded as Sadie was by the guy’s appeal, she gathered her wits about her and remembered why she was here.
“Our biggest concern is, of course”—she leaned forward and lowered her voice to just above a whisper—“the incident that happened here a couple weeks ago. That’s why my sister wanted me to check out the place first. To make sure it’s safe.”
Emilio’s eyes darkened, and the swarthy good looks weren’t dampened even by his sorrowful frown.
“Horribly sad and an absolute tragedy!” He clucked his tongue and brought a hand to his heart. “But I assure you a catastrophe such as that would never happen again in a million years.”
Zenia beamed her approval at Emilio’s praise as she lifted her purse from behind the counter and hooked it over her shoulder. After a brief smile in Sadie’s direction, she disappeared into the back of the spa. There seemed to be nothing more to add so Sadie said good-bye to Emilio, who took Sadie’s hand in his to say farewell. Sadie half expected he would kiss the top of her hand in his over-the-top Don Juan demeanor, but he simply shook her hand warmly, allowing his palm to linger slightly longer than necessary.
“You must really love your job,” Sadie said, taking her hand back.
“It can be . . .” He glanced furtively over his shoulder and then back at Sadie. “It can be challenging, but I enjoy the clientele. Please come back soon with your family.”
Sadie promised she would, and then once outside she fanned herself.
It had been a while since she’d gotten so hot and bothered about a man. Then, as if thinking about her trouble with men attracted them, her phone chirped with a message from Zack.
Thinking of you.
Sadie’s heart ached in her chest. She replied by text, telling him that she was on her way to Auburn to do a cleanup job. She walked around back and headed to her van. She put her mind out of spa mode and into the trauma-clean zone as she started up the van and pulled out of her space. Just as she passed by the rear exit of Jonelle’s, the door opened and Emilio and Zenia stepped outside. As Sadie steered out of the lot she caught a glimpse of the two embroiled in what looked like a very heated conversation. No matter what Zenia and Emilio claimed, things at Jonelle’s Spa were not as rosy and perfect as it smelled.
As she drove slowly toward the exit, Emilio and Zenia both glanced over and caught her eye—but Sadie quickly looked away as if she were looking for an opening in traffic. She eased the large van out onto the road and then tried to refocus her mind on the next few hours and on the house she had to clean. No matter how hard she tried to think of trauma clean and work, her mind kept drifting back to the gathering of cells called a fetus growing inside her belly and how that nearly two-inch bundle of DNA had forever changed her life. She was alternately dismayed and delighted and, by turns, nauseated and starving.
She went to a convenience store and stared with longing at all the items that were off-limits. Just the thought of a massage/snooze had worked up her appetite. Deciding on a compromise, she got both a healthy vitamin water and a not-so-healthy chocolate bar.
By the time she was dressed in a hazmat suit and hauling equipment out of her van on Forest Ridge Drive, the sun was beginning to set. She was all ready to go inside and start work when she remembered the conjure bag in her purse. She ran back to the vehicle and retrieved the smelly necklace. Pulling it over her head, Sadie tucked it inside the disposable Tyvek suit and prayed that Rudie’s little spell would do its part. The last thing Sadie needed was to once again feel like she’d taken an overdose.
She was fully clothed in hazmat gear from the top of her head to her bootie-clad feet when she let herself inside the house. So, of course, now she had to pee. After she managed to doff enough gear to relieve herself, and then re-dress, Sadie went to work. She cut away carpeting damaged by sloughed skin and bodily fluids and placed those pieces into large Stericycle bins to be hauled away. She scrubbed and wiped down surfaces until every part of her body ached and she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Next, sh
e swept up maggots and dead flies, flushing them down the toilet. The entire process was time-consuming and tedious work, but at least she was doing it without any interference from the spirit world.
Her perspiration odor mingled with the dung around her neck, assuring Sadie that she’d never have man trouble again because nobody within a mile radius would ever be able to stand her. It was around one in the morning when she loaded the last of the bins into the back of the van and rolled down and locked the back door. She’d already set up the ozone generators in the house to clean the air and would need to come back to get that equipment after a couple days. Her body was so tired that her legs were rubber as she climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the van.
Before putting the vehicle in drive she took the conjure bag from around her neck and stuffed it back in her purse. Either the thing no longer smelled as bad or she was getting used to having the aroma of excrement and spice and all things not nice dangling around her throat.
She checked her cell phone to see all the calls and texts she missed while hunkered down at work. There were two missed calls and two texts. Zack and Owen. Punchy from fatigue and pregnancy hormones, she began to drive while belting out a less than enthusiastic rendition of “It’s Raining Men.”
Feeling sorry for herself and, once again, a little hungry, she went through a TacoTime drive-thru and ordered a couple tacos for the ride back home. About halfway to Seattle and exiting onto the I-405, Sadie was momentarily blinded by someone driving close behind her with their high beams on.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
Stuffing the last bit of taco into her mouth, Sadie moved to the right lane to allow the vehicle to pass. She caught a glimpse of the dark pickup as it zipped back behind her in the slow lane. Sadie frowned but wasn’t concerned. Although Seattle had some of the most patient drivers in America, it also tended to have a higher percentage of crazies. Sadie blamed the rain.
Although there was hardly anybody else on the road, the truck continued to tail the Scene-2-Clean van into town. She thought she lost him when she hopped on exit 164A for Dearborn Street, but she caught him a couple vehicles back at a red light when she was just a block from home. Now she was getting scared.
Drop Dead Beauty Page 8
