Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (10 page)

“Yes, Ustelle phoned them before informing me. You shouldn’t have told her to do that. You should have sent for me. After all, I am a doctor.”

Skye noticed the medical bag in his hand and shook her head. “Listen, I know Esmé was your friend and I’m sorry, but she’s dead. No doctor can help her now.”

“How can you be sure?” Dr. Burnett challenged. “You need to let me examine her.”

Self-doubt nudged Skye. Could Esmé still be alive? Could Skye have missed a faint pulse? While she second-guessed herself, Trixie and May arrived, and Skye made a split-second decision.

But before she acted on it, she made a general announcement. “It looks like Esmé has been murdered. The police are on the way. Trixie, go to the lobby and make sure the police are coming. When they get here, bring them to this stairway.”

Trixie opened her mouth, then perhaps reading Skye’s “don’t mess with me” expression closed it, and trotted off.

“Mom, your job is to keep everyone from going past this point until the police arrive.”

May nodded, stepped next to Skye, and asked, “Where will you be?”

“I’ll be escorting Dr. Burnett to the victim so he can examine her, in case I’m wrong about her being dead.”

May nodded again, and took up a feet-apart, hands-on-hips stance at the top of the stairway.

Skye dipped her head at the doctor. “Do you have gloves in that bag?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Put on a pair and follow me.” Skye put her own hands in the robe’s pockets and led the way back to where she’d left Esmé.

Skye moved at a fast pace, but the doctor’s long legs allowed him to keep up with her. They were both silent. At the door to the mud bath treatment room, she paused. She had the weirdest feeling that she would walk through the door and find Esmé gone. Skye shook her head and focused. Evidently, she’d been reading too many mysteries; maybe it was time to switch to romances or science fiction.

Stepping across the threshold, she wasn’t sure what she felt: relief she wasn’t cracking up, or disappointment someone was actually dead. Ignoring both emotions, she pointed at the body. “She was submerged under the mud. Ustelle and
I lifted her out of the tub and laid her on the ground. I checked for a pulse and breathing.”

Dr. Burnett knelt next to Esmé, and wiped her face off with a towel before Skye could object. Now that the mud was gone, Skye could see that Esmé’s expression was one of puzzlement.

Using a stethoscope, Dr. Burnett listened for a heartbeat, then raised her eyelids with a gloved thumb.

Skye always wondered why doctors did that. Someday she’d need to ask.

He stood in one smooth movement with no hesitation or creaking, an impressive display for a man who had to be in his sixties, maybe older.

Skye asked, “So?”

“She’s dead.” He busied himself brushing off his khaki pants and straightening his powder blue cashmere sweater, not meeting Skye’s eyes.

“Then let’s get back and wait for the police.” Skye didn’t bother demanding that the doctor admit she had been right. Asking that of him would have been like asking an oyster to open itself and hand over its pearl without a struggle.

As they retraced their steps, Dr. Burnett blurted out, “When I heard Ustelle on the phone with the police dispatcher, at first I thought the victim was Margot.”

“Why?”

“I know you all think the problems we’ve been having remodeling and starting up are due to someone looking for the hidden jewels, but what if it’s someone trying to stop us from opening, trying to put the spa out of business? If that’s the case, then Margot would have been a logical target.” He gripped Skye’s arm. “That’s why I had to see the body.”

“I understand.” Skye knew this was as close to an apology as she would get.

“Esmé was a shallow, vain woman, but she didn’t deserve to die that way,” Dr. Burnett murmured almost to himself.

Skye was surprised by his comment. She would have thought most of the women who came to the spa would be shallow and vain. But the last part of his statement was even
more interesting. “What do you mean by ‘die that way’? Do you know what caused her death?”

“No.” He looked startled. “I suppose I don’t. Though I didn’t see any injury or trauma when I examined her so I assume she drowned in the mud.” He paused. “However, my examination was superficial; I was only looking for signs of life. I could easily have missed something subtle.”

When they reached the top of the stairway, Skye wasn’t surprised to see that a crowd had gathered. Loretta had joined May in keeping anyone from slipping by. The two worked well together, even under these appalling circumstances.

Most of the throng was milling in the hall, but Margot was nose-to-nose with May, trying to argue her way past the older woman. “I own this spa. I can go anywhere I damn well please.”

“No.” May’s short, calm answer belied the look in her eye. Skye knew that Margot was extremely close to pushing May into an explosion.

“Darling.” Margot caught sight of Dr. Burnett as he emerged from the stairwell and threw herself into his arms. “I’ve been so worried. What happened?”

The doctor opened his mouth, but Skye jumped in with, “It appears Esmé is dead. Other than that, it’s best not to discuss the details until the police have a chance to talk to everyone individually.”

Skye spied Frannie and Bunny in the pack and edged her way over to them. She grabbed an arm of each and whispered in their ears, “Try to herd this group into the lobby and keep them from talking. Circulate and listen to what the ones who won’t shut up are saying.”

Bunny nodded, and turned to go, then came back and asked, “She was in that Miracle Mud, right?” Today the redhead was dressed in tangerine, skintight French terry jogging pants that rode low on her hips, and a matching crop tank. A gold ring was fastened to her navel.

Skye nodded, wondering when fifty-something Bunny had had her belly button pierced.

“So, when you got her out, did she look younger?”
Bunny’s brown eyes were hopeful as she absently smoothed the wrinkles at their corners with her index finger.

“No.” Skye closed her eyes and shook her head. “She just looked dead.”

Skye was never so happy to hear anyone’s voice as she was to hear Wally’s. Bunny and Frannie had managed to move most of the crowd to the lobby, but Skye, May, and Loretta had stuck around to watch the stragglers and make sure no one slipped back and tried to get a peek at the body. It had been a long twenty minutes.

Wally was talking to a woman dressed in a tailored navy pantsuit with an unfamiliar-looking badge clipped to the breast pocket. Her dark brown hair was tightly drawn back and fastened at the nape of her neck, and black rimmed glasses both magnified and blurred her hazel eyes. When she laughed at something Wally said, giving his arm a little pat, Skye noticed her nails were long and painted a pale pink, which didn’t go with the rest of her appearance.

As soon as Wally saw Skye, he hurried toward her, leaving the woman with her hand hanging in midair and her mouth open. Catching Skye’s eye a second before Wally took her hand and pulled her around a corner, the woman shot her a look so full of jealousy and resentment that it stole Skye’s breath away.

Once they were out of the crowd’s sight Wally enveloped Skye in a hug. “Sweetheart.” He cupped her face, his strong hands cradling her cheeks and his concerned brown eyes locked on to hers. “Are you all right?”

Wally had turned forty the previous winter, but the silver in his black hair, and the lines around his eyes made him more handsome, not less. He radiated a strength that drew Skye like sugar water did a hummingbird.

“I’m fine.” Skye intended to give him a quick kiss, but it threatened to linger, and she reluctantly pulled herself out of his arms. She still wasn’t used to how demonstrative Wally was compared to Simon, but she found that she liked it. Gathering her thoughts she asked, “Where are the paramedics?”

“They’re not coming.” A line formed between Wally’s eyebrows. “We were told the victim was dead. Isn’t she?”

“Yes. In fact, Dr. Burnett, one of the spa owners, confirmed it.”

“Then no EMTs.” Wally gave her hand a little squeeze. “Tell me why you think she was murdered.”

Skye explained about the attendant not entering the mud bath room and not staying at her post in the waiting room. She also told him about the greenish-brown stains on the doorknob, towel, and rim of the tub, concluding with, “So, it seemed to me that if Esmé got in the tub herself, she wouldn’t have smeared the mud all over. But if someone held her under, her thrashing would explain the mud around the tub and on the steps, as well as on the murderer. He or she must have walked into the waiting room, closed the treatment room door once he was out, and then grabbed a towel to clean up.

“Heck, the killer could even have bathed; the shower’s right there. Someone walking around in a wet swimsuit or spa robe wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.”

“Sounds logical to me.” Wally had released her hand to take notes. “Where’s this mud room?”

Skye stepped back into the main corridor and pointed. “It’s down those stairs, and at the end of the hall.” For the first time since she had found Esmé’s body, Skye felt safe, and she was reluctant to lose that sensation by letting Wally out of her sight. “Shall I show you?”

“I’ll find it. It would be better if you stay here and talk to Special Agent Vail.”

“Special Agent?” Skye had never heard that title before.

“Yeah. She’s from the state police. Considering our circumstances, I called them to borrow their crime scene specialists, rather than the county’s unit.”

Skye nodded, knowing Wally was referring to the fact that the county sheriff was under investigation—an investigation in which Skye had played an integral part in instigating.

“So, about ten minutes after I called for the forensic unit, Special Agent Vail shows up at the police department. Seems she was visiting relatives in town, and her boss asked her to come by and see if I needed assistance.”

“I see.”

“And with Quirk on medical leave and so many of my part-timers away for the holiday, I grabbed the chance to get some help. I’ll introduce you two.” Wally motioned to the woman who had been sending Skye death ray looks from across the hall. As she approached, Wally said, “Ronnie, this is Skye Denison, the psychological consultant for the Scumble River Police Department. Skye, this is Veronica Vail, a special agent with the state police.”

Skye held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Special Agent Vail nodded to Skye, ignoring her hand, and turned to Wally. “Where’s the vic?”

Wally pointed to the stairs, repeating Skye’s directions, then said, “I’ll go take a look at the body. Ronnie, you can take Skye’s statement and help her with the witnesses while we wait for the forensic people to show up.”

The special agent pushed up her glasses. “I’m coming with you. I want to get a good picture of the crime scene.”

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear when I talked to your boss.” Wally drew himself up to his full six feet and looked down at the woman, who came up only to his shoulder. “The key word here is
help
, but I remain in charge of the investigation.”

“But—”

“Skye needs assistance with the witnesses. There are too many for her to handle alone. Since it’s Thanksgiving Day, I’ve only got a skeleton staff on duty. I’ve called in my other officers, but it will take a while for most of them to get back from wherever they’re celebrating the holiday.”

‘This isn’t the best use of my time.” She flicked Skye a dismissive look. “The witnesses are already contaminated.
She
should have isolated them as soon as she found the body.”

“Excuse me?” Skye was offended by both the condescending tone and accusation. “I isolated the crime scene and kept the witnesses together where someone not involved in the crime could monitor them, and that’s not enough for you?”

The woman turned her back on Skye and said to Wally, “
I want to see the body since we only have
her
word that it’s murder. I sure hope she didn’t drag us all out for an accident.”

“Skye has explained her reasoning and I agree the circumstances are suspicious.” Wally’s nostrils flared. “Either you stay here and follow my orders, or we call your boss right now.”

Skye saw something flicker in the agent’s eyes. Perhaps she was afraid her superior wouldn’t take her side.

Once she got herself under control, Ronnie Vail said, “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Wally nodded, then spoke over his shoulder to Skye as he headed down the stairs. “Send Simon down when he gets here.”

Shit! Simon, her lying, cheating ex-boyfriend, was the coroner. How could she have forgotten he would have to be called? So far this holiday weekend there’d been humiliation and murder. Now Simon. What was next? An earthquake? Flood? Tornado?

S
kye wasn’t surprised that Special Agent Vail took over, completely ignoring Skye. Truth be told, she was exhausted both physically and mentally, and happy to sit quietly in a chair and watch. Nevertheless, after a few minutes of rest, it dawned on her that she was wearing a robe that barely fit over a mud-covered swimsuit and she probably smelled like a dirty diaper. No way was she greeting Simon dressed like that. She needed to shower, and put on some real clothes.