by Morgana Best
“Come in,” the lady said. “I’m Belinda, and you must be Amelia.”
I said I was, and she showed me into a little room with a treatment bed on it. The bed was covered with white towels. The lady handed me a white terry toweling garment. “Here you go, Amelia, put this on. I’ll be right back.”
She left the room, and I wasted no time donning the garment. I threw my clothes over a white wicker chair nearby, and then sat on the bed. I looked around the small room. There was not much to see, just a large painting of tulips on the wall in front of me, a stainless steel table with numerous pots and potions, and a large mirror stood over a dresser on the far wall. Lavender emanated from a large oil burner on the dresser. The whole atmosphere was tranquil, especially with the soft eastern background music playing. The sound of the gently tinkling water from a little fountain added to the ambience.
Belinda poked her head around the door. “Are you ready, Amelia?”
I said that I was, and she came into the room. After I lay down on the table, she put the first of what I assumed would be many potions on my skin and massaged it in. By the time she had applied the third lotion, we had only made small talk. I wasn’t quite sure how to launch into the subject of Harrison Blake. I was, however, encouraging her to talk freely and had urged her on when she provided any local gossip. Finally, I decided to go for it. “Clara Smith recommended that I come here,” I lied. “Such a shame about her husband, Nick, isn’t it?”
Belinda murmured her sympathies.
“The police say he was poisoned, that the poison was in his antacid bottle. Who would want to kill him, though?”
She didn’t answer, and I was afraid that she would refuse to speak about the subject.
I, too, refrained from speaking just then, because I remembered a sales seminar that my former boss had sent me on ages ago, in which the speaker had said that in a sales deal, the first person to speak is invariably the loser. I didn’t know if it applied to this situation, but I supposed I was about to find out.
“Nick was a terrible womanizer,” she finally said.
“I had heard that about him,” I said, “but I myself had never met him.”
“You’re lucky,” Belinda said. “I really shouldn’t say that, but he propositioned every woman he met. There must be several husbands in town who would be pleased he was dead, to tell you the truth.”
“What was the attraction?” I asked her. “Was he very good looking?”
Belinda continued massaging my face. “No, not really. The attraction was obviously his money. He gave all his women friends expensive gifts, and he was probably a good boyfriend to them, if you can overlook the fact that he was married, of course. He took them on expensive holidays. The only thing was, he had several women going at once.”
“But this is a small town,” I said, “wouldn’t they find out and be angry about it?”
Belinda stopped massaging my face, and applied a hot, lavender-scented towel to my neck. “Yes, that’s exactly it,” she said. “They did find out about it, and they were angry. Several of his ex-girlfriends are my clients, and I heard all about it, at great length I might add. He started getting girlfriends out of town so they wouldn’t all know about each other.”
“Do you think any of them could have killed him?” I asked her. She didn’t answer for a moment, as she dragged a strange steel thing that looked like a skinny robot over to me. “What’s that?”
“That’s the steamer,” she said. “I aim it at your face and leave it on for ten minutes.”
I figured she would leave the room while the steamer was on me, so hurried to ask about Harrison. “What about Clara’s brother, Harrison? He told me that he didn’t like being in business with Nick.”
“That’s for sure!” Belinda said, before she abruptly left the room.
There was nothing I could do, but lie under the steam. It was facing my nose and had a tickling effect, so I adjusted my position slightly so I could breathe more easily. I did find it relaxing, but I needed to find out about Harrison.
“Are you nicely relaxed?” Belinda said, as she returned to the room and switched off the steam machine.
“Yes,” I said. “That was lovely.”
“Have you ever had a chemical peel before?” she asked me.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Okay then, I’ll reduce the strength of it,” she said. “Are you going out anywhere tonight?”
I thought that a strange question. “No, why?”
“Oh, with some people, chemical peels can leave the face red for a little while. I always have to warn clients about that, in case they’re going directly to a party or going on a date. In that case, the chemical peel should be done the day before.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere at all,” I assured her, “not until tomorrow. No dates.” All the relaxation I had gained from the facial evaporated in a split second as my thoughts turned to Alder.
“This might smell unpleasant, and it might smell quite terrible at first, but then you’ll find it will dry quickly and smell better pretty fast.”
I didn’t find her words exactly reassuring. “I was interested in what you were saying before you went out of the room,” I said, “about Harrison. He told me that Clara had married down, and that Nick had no right being in the business. He was quite upset about Nick being in business with him.” I had of course exaggerated the conversation, but I did it in the hopes of drawing out Belinda.
I turned my head slightly to see her mixing something in a steel bowl. “Yes, it’s a wonder those two didn’t come to blows.” She shook her head. “It was all about China.”
“China?” I asked her. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Yes, they were arguing about the direction of the business. Nick wanted to sell the products in China, but Harrison was dead against it. However, he couldn’t veto it because Nick was so keen on it happening. Now that Nick’s out of the way, Harrison can get his wish. Now there’s no way those products will be sold in China.”
“I don’t understand what the problem with China is?” I asked her, but I shut my mouth quickly as she began to brush an evil smelling slime on my face.
“Tell me if it stings,” she said.
I assured her that I would.
“It’s the compulsory animal testing, of course,” Belinda said. “China insists on compulsory animal testing of all cosmetics products. Harrison’s company prides itself on the fact they don’t do any animal testing, but if they did sell their cosmetics in China, then there would have to be animal testing, by law. Harrison was against it, but Nick wanted to do it.”
“It stings,” I said urgently.
Belinda simply nodded. “Get up and walk around the room if you like,” she said calmly. “Some clients do that on the first time.”
The stinging increased. “It feels like a thousand ants are biting my face,” I said in a panic.
Belinda nodded again. “That’s good, it means that it’s working,” she said, obviously entirely unconcerned. “I’ll check back on you in five minutes.”
When Belinda returned, she looked shocked which somewhat worried me, and then removed the stuff from my face. “Don’t go out in the sun, and if you do, apply a lot of sunscreen,” she said. “I’ll apply some now. Remember, your face will be red for a while, so don’t worry about it.”
I took one last shot at information gathering. “Such a shame that Nick was going to divorce Clara,” I said, breathing deeply now that the acrid smell had gone, “and the property would then have to be sold and divided. I heard that the property had been in Clara and Harrison’s family for generations.”
Belinda stopped smearing sunscreen on my face. “Oh no, not at all! There was never going to be a divorce.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t Clara know about all Nick’s women?”
Belinda shrugged. “Of course she did. That was just it—she didn’t care. I think they had some sort of agreement.”
“D
o you mean an open marriage?”
Belinda removed the towels from me and indicated I could sit up. “I don’t think so, not in that way. I mean, there was nothing between them, nothing except the shared assets. I think they were friends more than anything. I suppose they were in love back when they married, but things change after time. After they fell out of love, neither wanted a divorce. They didn’t want to sell the property to split up the assets, and all the wealth was tied up in the land. Both of them were happy doing their own thing. Clara knew Nick had women, and Nick knew Clara was always off with younger men.”
I sat up, wondering why she had thrown a big towel over the mirror in the corner. “What a strange relationship,” I said.
Chapter 15
Thyme let out a squeal as soon as I walked through the door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Nothing.” She avoided my gaze. “How did it go?”
“It went fine,” I said. “Only I think the butler and Clara are looking a lot less like suspects now. The beauty therapist said that Clara and Nick pretty much had an open marriage—that each knew what the other one was doing as far as the affairs went, and they didn’t mind. However, Harrison seems more a suspect. I found out that he didn’t want the products to be sold in China because of animal testing, and Nick was trying to push it through. With Nick out of the way, Harrison gets his wish. Anyway, I’ll just go and have a look at myself in the bathroom mirror.”
Thyme put her hand on my arm to restrain me. “I’m desperate for a bathroom break. Let me go first, won’t you?”
Thyme wasn’t long at all. I hurried to look at myself in the little mirror, and saw that the light globe was missing. That was funny; it had been there before I’d left. I went back out into the showroom. “Thyme, what happened to the light globe in the bathroom?”
She shot a guilty look at the trash. “It blew while you were away. I haven’t had a chance to put a new one in. Anyway, I have to tell you what Dawson said.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Dawson came in while I was at the beauty therapist’s?”
Thyme smiled broadly. “Yes, he asked me out to dinner.”
I was delighted. I patted her on the shoulder. “Well done! That’s fantastic.”
Thyme shook her head. “No, I couldn’t accept, what with the happiness spell and everything. It just wouldn’t be right.” She hesitated for a moment, before pushing on. “Anyway, he told me something very interesting. Chris Blackwell is looking like a suspect now.”
I was intrigued. “Go on.”
“Dawson told me that Chris Blackwell is Clara’s son from her first marriage. His father died in a light plane wreck.”
I nodded, waiting for her to say something of importance.
“He’s a troubled youth. I mean, that’s obvious. And Dawson said that Chris had an argument with Nick and tried to stab him, but the family covered it up. Tinsdell told him, and asked him not to tell anyone. Dawson told me, and asked me not to tell anyone.”
I laughed. “And now you’re telling me, and asking me not to tell anyone.”
Thyme laughed, too. “Yes, and that’s not all. Dawson said that Chris has been in a lot of trouble with the police. He’s been up on charges such as drug possession, vandalism, resisting arrest, and stuff like that. Dawson said he got off on community service. We need to question him to see if he was the one who killed Nick.”
“Question him?” I said in disbelief. “How are we going to question him? It’s not as if we’re police officers, and he’s a rather obnoxious person.”
Thyme smirked, and I knew I was in for trouble. “Chris doesn’t know that we’re not police officers,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. I had a bad feeling where this was headed. “What do you mean?” I said carefully.
“He saw us go to his mother’s house and question her. For all he knows, we’re detectives. He keeps to himself. I’ve never seen him come inside the store, have you?”
“He doesn’t strike me as someone who eats cupcakes.”
Thyme’s smirk grew wider. “No, he looks like someone who chews on dried leather. Anyway, all we have to do is flash fake police badges, and flash them at him quickly.”
“Fake police badges?” I squeaked. “Isn’t that a federal offense? We can’t impersonate police officers—we could be arrested, Thyme!”
Thyme’s response was to pull police badges from under the counter.
“Where did you get those?” I asked her.
“The dollar shop. I left Camino minding the store, and ducked out for them.”
I looked at Camino, who responded with a cheery wave.
“Don’t worry, Amelia,” Thyme continued. “The police are off in La La Happy Land. They won’t be arresting us for impersonating them. Camino, can you mind the store while Amelia and I go out to question Chris Blackwell? We need to find out if he had an alibi.”
Camino happily agreed that she would.
“This is a bad idea, Thyme,” I said as I followed her outside and headed for the library, where Thyme had informed me that Chris was doing community service for his many offenses.
Chris was outside the library, scrubbing graffiti off the wall. He turned to look at us, a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth. “Follow my lead,” Thyme said.
“Sure. You won’t get any argument from me,” I said, looking around nervously to see if any police officers were in the vicinity.
“Get your fake badge out ready and do just as I do,” Thyme instructed me. She walked over to him. “Chris Blackwell?” she said abruptly. “I’m Detective Nettles and this is Detective Hughes.” She briefly waved her badge in front of his face, and I did, too. “We need to know your alibi for Nick Smith’s murder.”
Chris scowled. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and ground it on the pavement. He smelled of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke. I took a step backward. “You’ve already asked me this,” he said roughly.
“We’re the police, we ask things more than once,” Thyme said without missing a beat.
“I was at a friend’s house overnight,” he drawled.
“Name?” Thyme flipped open her notepad. I hoped Chris didn’t notice the price sticker with the name of the dollar shop on it.
“I’ve already told you,” he complained. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“As many times as we ask,” Thyme countered.
He snorted rudely. “I was working late here at the library, sorting books, then I went out drinking with friends at the pub. Then we went to Tamworth for the night, drinking.”
Thyme shot me a quick look. If this was indeed the case, then we would have to rule out Chris as a suspect.
“If you can tell us the name of the pub in Tamworth and the name of the friends you were with, that will eliminate you as a suspect.”
His expression did not change. “Will you stop bothering me then?”
Thyme nodded. “We will pass this information along to our superiors. I can’t guarantee what they’ll do, but I’d say you’ll have no more problems with the police. Not over Nick’s murder, at any rate,” she added.
Chris proceeded to tell us the people he was with, the pubs he had visited in Tamworth, and the friends with whom he had stayed overnight. Thyme had to flip over several pages to keep up with him.
She shut her notebook with a flourish. “Thanks for your cooperation. I doubt we’ll need to speak again, not if your story checks out.”
We hurried back to the store before anyone saw us. “What if he tells the cops that two women detectives questioned him?” I asked Thyme.
She did not appear the least concerned. “I doubt he does any more speaking than is absolutely necessary. Besides, the police are hardly likely to drag us in and put us in a line up.”
“Okay, what do we do now?” I asked her. “Do you want to call his friends, and I’ll call all the pubs he said was at?”
Thyme said that was a good idea.
&
nbsp; When we reached the store, Camino had several customers, so we apologized and took over selling the cupcakes while Camino went back to her barista stand.
In between customers, Thyme and I were busy on our phones. It turned out that Chris had, in fact, being at pubs the entire Saturday night before Nick’s murder. People I spoke to at the pubs remembered him, because he’d been thrown out several times. One of the pubs had even called the police because he had made a scene. When I cross checked with Thyme, she said that he had spent the night at a friend’s place in Tamworth.
“Apparently he was so drunk that he couldn’t move, and he spent the whole night throwing up,” Thyme said thoughtfully.
“Yes, that’s pretty much what I found out,” I said. “It doesn’t sound like he would’ve been feeling well enough to slip back and poison his stepfather’s antacid.”
Thyme nodded. “And Nick would have taken the antacid before his Saturday evening meal, so the poison had to be put in after that time, and before lunch the next day.”
“Unless Chris was pretending,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
I tapped my chin. “How about this for a scenario? Chris wanted to set up an iron-clad alibi. He went to several pubs in Tamworth and made sure he was kicked out of each one of them, and even caused a disruption to make sure the police were called, so it would be on record. And as this was usual behavior for him, no one would be surprised. He then went to his friend’s in Tamworth, and pretended to be sick. His friends weren’t to know if he sneaked out in the night and went back to poison the bottle of antacid.”
Thyme shook her head. “I think you’re stretching it too far, Amelia,” she said. “I don’t think he’s all that clever, And even if he was, that seems too much of a stretch. I think Harrison is the most likely suspect, at this point.”
