Too Rich and Too Dead

by Cynthia Baxter

  “I happen to be an extremely close friend of the Bermans,” she replied haughtily. “I also work for the city of Aspen. May I ask what is happening here?”

  “Nothing you need to be concerned with, miss,” the detective assured her. “We're just bringing Mr. Berman down to the station for questioning.”

  “But I can assure you he had nothing to do with his wife's murder!” Astrid insisted.

  “That's what we intend to find out.”

  “But—but—”

  The detective had clearly lost interest in explaining himself to Astrid. He took hold of Brett's arm and began escorting him through the crowd. The uniformed police officer followed closely behind.

  “Wait!” Astrid called after them. “It's impossible that Brett had anything to do with Carly's murder!”

  The police detective ignored her. In fact, he and his captive were just a few feet away from the front door when Astrid added, “Brett couldn't have killed Carly! He spent the entire night with me!”

  “A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document

  that one shows to government officials whenever one

  reaches a border between countries, so the officials can

  learn who you are, where you were born,

  and how you look when photographed unflatteringly.”

  —Lemony Snicket

  Silence fell over the room as abruptly as if someone had just pressed the mute button on the remote. Mallory looked around and saw she wasn't the only person whose mouth had dropped open.

  With one important exception: the police detective. He simply looked skeptical.

  “I can prove it!” Astrid insisted. “Brett and I had… relations. I can even show you my bedroom. For goodness sake, the bed is still unmade! And there are other… things that would serve as evidence that we…

  Too much information! Mallory thought, wishing she wasn't holding a pocketbook so she could cover her ears.

  “Perhaps we'd better discuss this in private,” the detective suggested to Brett and Astrid in a low, even voice. “Why don't we find a quiet room where we can talk?”

  The three of them shuffled off to another part of the house, accompanied by the uniformed officer. By this point, he looked as if he couldn't wait to get home to tell his wife about this.

  Almost immediately, the room erupted into excited chatter. And from the level of the buzz, Mallory suspected it wasn't the dearly departed that the crowd was discussing.

  As she was wondering whether it was time to slip out the back, she noticed Harriet Vogel standing just a few feet away. The horrified look on her face told Mallory that Carly's loyal employee was just as surprised by this revelation as everyone else in the room.

  Mallory sidled over, anxious to get Harriet's take on what had happened. While their interaction the night before hadn't been long, she felt drawn to someone who managed to remain so unassuming and so centered—even in a place like Aspen.

  “It seems there were some secrets in your employer's house,” Mallory commented in a low voice.

  “I can't say I didn't have my suspicions,” Harriet replied gravely.

  “So you think it's true?” Mallory asked, surprised. “That Brett really was with Astrid all last night?”

  Harriet cast her a look of shock. “Are you saying that Astrid might have been lying?”

  “People lie all the time, Harriet. Especially when a murder has been committed.”

  “In other words, you think she could just be trying to protect him.” From the dazed look on Harriet's face, Mallory wondered if this new development had elicited feelings other than surprise. Perhaps even some along the lines of jealousy.

  “It's a possibility.” In Mallory's eyes, it was much more than just a possibility. As far as she was concerned, Astrid was simply doing what PR people did as a matter of course: putting a positive spin on anything and everything. Even if doing so required telling tall tales to the police.

  Deciding she may have been wading into waters that were much too deep, she quickly added, “But of course I barely know Brett. Or Astrid. Or even Carly, for that matter. It's really not my place to speculate about any of this.”

  Harriet suddenly shook her head hard. “I don't know about you,” she said, “but I think I've had enough. I've got to get out of here.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Mallory agreed.

  “Actually,” Harriet said thoughtfully, “I should get over to Tavaci Springs to make sure the place hasn't disintegrated into total chaos. I contacted the manager, Daisy, and told her to cancel all appointments for the rest of the day and to call the staff to tell them not to come in. But I'd like to go over myself to make sure everything is okay.”

  “That's probably not a bad idea,” Mallory said. Sighing, she added, “I suppose that when it comes to running a business, the responsibility never ends. And from what I've heard about Tavaci Springs, it caters to a pretty high-maintenance crowd, which means it probably requires some pretty high maintenance itself.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Harriet agreed. Suddenly she brightened. “Mallory would you do me a huge favor and come with me? The idea of confronting the place now that Carly—now that this has happened—is a little overwhelming. It's just too strange. I'd really appreciate the company. That is, if you're not too busy.

  “Besides,” she added, “this might be your only chance to see it, now that Carly's gone.”

  That's funny, Mallory thought. I was just thinking the exact same thing.

  Given the caliber of the vehicles she'd come into contact with so far, Mallory was surprised that Harriet drove a dark blue Ford Escort, the same model as the car she'd rented. Only Harriet's was at least six years old and had a large dent in the door.

  As she backed it out of the Bermans’ driveway, Harriet was strangely quiet. She continued to remain silent as she maneuvered along a winding mountain road for what seemed like a very long time.

  But Mallory's concern over her new friend's apparent distress paled beside her increasing nervous ness as the road got steeper, the drops more dramatic, and the curves more and more treacherous. When she finally mustered up the courage to take a good look out the window, she saw that right outside the car, only inches away from the tires, was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet.

  “Tavaci Springs is all the way up here?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  Harriet nodded. “Its remote location reflects Carly's philosophy. The idea is that being isolated enables the guests to focus only on themselves.”

  Mallory suspected that people who were in the habit of spending fifteen hundred dollars a day to drink magical youth-inducing potions were pretty much in the habit of doing that anyway.

  “In fact,” Harriet went on, “Tavaci Springs has very strict rules. Carly dubbed them Lifestyle Policies. No television or radios, no newspapers, no computers, definitely no cell phones.”

  “I bet there's one modern convenience that's more than welcome,” Mallory commented wryly. “Credit cards.”

  Harriet laughed. “You got me there.”

  She rounded a curve in the road that was so terrifying that Mallory closed her eyes. She figured there was no point in witnessing what the director of Thelma and Louise had so tastefully omitted.

  “Everyone at Tavaci Springs follows the same schedule,” Harriet continued. “Guests are awakened every morning at six with a soft knock at the door. They get a half hour to shower and dress before breakfast. Like all the meals, it's announced by a tinkling bell. In fact, bells are used throughout the day to move guests from one event to the next. Carly feels they're much more gentle than buzzers or even announcements made by the staff.”

  Mallory noticed that Harriet continued to speak about her former boss as if she were still alive.

  I guess it just hasn't sunk in yet, she thought sadly.

  “Carly feels there are four aspects to keeping young: physical, mental, spiritual, and occupational,” Harriet went on. “She calls them The Elements, and each day at Tava
ci Springs is specially planned to balance all four. The physical element is mainly addressed in the morning. Guests are led through a series of activities like mountain hikes, yoga classes, and Tai Chi. The mental element is rooted in meditation and lectures. Carly gives some of the lectures herself, but she also brings in experts in everything from meditation to colonics.”

  Silently Mallory thanked Astrid for putting her up at the Jerome, rather than Tavaci Springs. Cleansing the mind was one thing. Doing the same for any of her other body parts was something else entirely.

  “The spiritual element is primarily developed through the appreciation of nature.” The almost robotic way in which Harriet spoke made it clear that she'd given this little spiel once or twice before. “To take advantage of Tavaci Springs's surroundings—the spectacular mountains and forests, of course, but also the gorgeous sunsets and, at night, the moon and the sky filled with stars—a lot of the lectures and classes are held outside on the patio. We call it The Ledge.”

  “What about the occupational element?” Mallory asked, wondering if basket weaving was part of the Tavaci Springs regimen.

  “Carly believes that rewarding work is vital for staying young,” Harriet replied. “So guests at Tavaci Springs help maintain the facility.”

  “You mean like doing dishes?”

  Harriet chuckled. “Not quite, but you're not that far off, either. Gathering wood in the forest for the fireplace is big. So is food preparation, but I'm talking about really basic stuff like shucking oysters and shelling peas. Basically, we engage guests in activities that bring them closer to the natural foods they'll be eating and the processes involved in preparing them.”

  Keeps down the overhead, too, Mallory thought. That Carly was one crafty lady.

  She thought she was being punished for thinking ill of the dead when her shoulder suddenly rammed against the car door. But she saw that Harriet had merely made a sharp turn onto a poorly maintained dirt road.

  They drove only a few hundred yards before lurching to a halt.

  “Is there a problem with the car?” Mallory asked, alarmed. She pictured herself hiking down the horrendously steep mountain road that had almost proved too much for Harriet's aging vehicle. And going down was guaranteed to be even more terrifying than going up.

  “We're here,” Harriet replied with a shrug.

  Sure enough, after trudging behind Harriet a short distance, Mallory spotted a series of low wooden buildings nestled against the mountainside. The largest one, closest to the path, looked more like a hunting lodge than a luxury resort. In fact, she decided it was a classic example of the “Let's go shoot something furry and four-legged” architectural style.

  When Harriet tried the door and found it locked, she pulled a tremendous set of keys out of her purse. She switched on a light as the two of them walked inside, the echo of their footsteps an indication that they had the place to themselves.

  Given the rugged exterior, Mallory wasn't surprised that the interior also looked like something Teddy Roosevelt had designed. The walls were rough-hewn knotty pine and the lighting fixtures were made from the horns of some large, macho, elk-or mooselike animal. A huge stone fireplace dominated one wall. The seating was also made of crude-looking wood, big chairs and wide-legged tables with surfaces so rough she wondered if the Tavaci Springs guests suffered from chronic splinters.

  “This is the reception area,” Harriet informed her. “There's no front desk, since when guests first come in, they don't wait in line or fill out forms. In fact, they don't have to check in at all, since they've all made reservations in advance.

  “Instead, when they arrive, they sit down and make themselves comfortable while a staff member comes over to them with a mug filled with a steaming hot beverage made with Rejuva-Juice. The staff member, called a Nurturer, explains the Lifestyle Policies and tells them about the daily schedule. Each guest is also given a big box that's wrapped up like a present. Inside they find a few gift items designed to make their stay more enjoyable and more productive. Things like a fluffy bathrobe, rubber flip-flops, scented candles, and small bottles of special oils and lotions containing some of the same ingredients as Rejuva-Juice.”

  “Carly was certainly a wizard when it came to making guests feel important,” Mallory commented.

  “Definitely,” Harriet agreed. “No matter what her personal failings may have been, no one can deny that when it came to running a business, Carly was a genius.”

  Mallory was suddenly overcome with a tremendous wave of sadness, perhaps because she was seeing firsthand what a wonderful place Carly had built.

  Harriet must have felt it, too, because all of a sudden she gripped Mallory's arm and cried, “Oh, my God! I can't believe she's gone!”

  “I know, I know,” Mallory said, awkwardly patting her on the back. “It's such a tragedy. We're all in shock.”

  “I'm sorry,” Harriet said, pulling herself away. “It's just that this is all so sudden. So unexpected! I never thought Carly would just disappear like this!”

  Disappear? Mallory thought. Harriet makes it sound as if she suddenly decided to fly off to Gordon's house in L.A. for dessert and coffee.

  “Do you think the police will find her killer?” Harriet's voice sounded soft and high-pitched, like a little girl's. “I mean, they will find the person who murdered her, won't they?”

  “I'm sure they will,” Mallory assured her. “I know how hard the police work on a case like this. In fact, I ran into something similar just a few months ago.”

  Harriet blinked. “You did?”

  Mallory instantly regretted having brought up her past experiences with homicide. But now that she had, she had no choice but to fill her new friend in on the details. At least, a select few of them.

  “I was on a press trip in Orlando, Florida, back in January and someone was murdered,” she told her. “I ended up—well, let's just say that while the police worked on the case day and night, I did a little investigating of my own.”

  “Did you find the killer?” Harriet asked breathlessly. “I mean you personally?”

  Mallory thought for a few seconds, trying to come up with a diplomatic answer. “I suppose I played a small role in seeing that justice was served.”

  “Wow.” Harriet was silent for a long time. “I had no idea you'd ever done anything like that. You don't exactly seem like the type—”

  “Why don't you show me the rest of Tavaci Springs?” Mallory interrupted. “Since we came all this way. Besides, you said yourself that it might be my only chance to see the place. And to see what all the fuss was about.”

  “Okay,” Harriet said, sniffing. She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, a gesture that immediately made Mallory think of Jordan. It also reminded her that like her son, this woman didn't yet have a lot of living under her belt.

  Harriet squared her shoulders as she led the way through a doorway off to one side of the reception area. “This is the dining room,” she announced. With a wan smile, she added, “Carly insisted that we refer to it as the Digestorium. I still haven't decided whether that one was a bit over the top.”

  “Definitely over the top,” Mallory said, laughing. “Still, you can't help being impressed by Carly's creativity.”

  Peeking inside, she saw a cavernous room with windows on three sides. Like the furniture in the lobby, the tables and chairs were crafted from crude pieces of wood. Yet she spotted at least a few nods to the traditional definition of luxury. White linen tablecloths graced the tables, each of which was decorated with white candles and a clear glass vase filled with fresh white blossoms. She was relieved that staying young didn't require a completely Spartan lifestyle.

  “Beautiful,” she commented.

  “Now I'll show you the spa,” Harriet said, leading the way toward the French doors at the far end of the lobby. “Tavaci Springs offers two types of treatments: tranquilizing and energizing. Tranquilizing treatments are geared toward making guests look young, while energ
izing treatments make them feel young. The spa offers the usual treatments, too. You know, like facials and massages and body wraps. But they all use Rejuva-Juice's rejuvenating ingredients.”

  By that point, they had left the main building. They headed toward the back of the property, walking along a path made of uneven-edged squares of slate and bordered with beds of colorful wildflowers. Mallory stretched her neck to get a better look at the mountains. As she did, the sun warmed her face. All around her, the only sound was the cheerful chirping of the birds flitting through the trees. The place was so appealing, in fact, that she was beginning to think a stay here was worth the hefty price tag.

  But her mood shifted as soon as they crossed a small wooden bridge that arched over a soothing reflecting pool. To her left, Mallory spotted a small, rustic building, more of a hut than anything else.

  She knew immediately that it had to be the Mud Hut. If the building didn't look exactly the way she would have expected one called “the Mud Hut” to look, bright yellow plastic strips that cordoned it off from the rest of the property emblazoned with the words “Crime Scene. Do Not Cross” took away any lingering doubts.

  Mallory stopped dead in her tracks. In a choked voice, she asked, “Is this where—”

  “That's right,” Harriet answered quickly.

  “Oh, Harriet, it must have been so awful for you!” Mallory cried. “I know how fond you were of Carly. And to be the one who found her—”

  “Mallory, I know you mean well,” Harriet said, her tone strained. “But if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it.”

  “Of course,” Mallory said quickly. “We should probably go see the rest of the spa facilities.”

  As they walked past the Mud Hut, Mallory tried not to look at it. She noticed that that was what Harriet was doing. But she couldn't keep her eyes off it. It was the same experience she had whenever she drove by a car accident. There was something about a place in which something terrible had happened that made it impossible to ignore.

  She was relieved when they reached the much larger wooden building at the end of the walkway.