Perish By Pedicure Read online

  Georgia waited in the car while she retrieved the poodle. It took more time than expected, because the veterinarian insisted on speaking to her in an examination room.

  “Spooks seems perfectly healthy to me,” the lady doctor said, giving Marla a kindly smile. “His blood work came out fine, and his heart is strong. It’s likely he just experienced an upset stomach.” She handed Marla a can of special dog food. “Give him a couple of tablespoons at a time to ease his digestion back to normal. If he keeps it down, you can go back to his regular Science Diet Canine Maintenance. Here are a few antinausea pills in case you need them.”

  Marla almost barfed herself when she got the bill. “One hundred ninety-five dollars? What for?”

  The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “The diagnostic profile came to one hundred fifty; the exam was thirty-five, and these pills add another ten dollars.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose it’s good to get his blood count every so often.” She stooped to scratch her pet’s ears after an attendant brought him to the front station. Fumbling with his leash, she stepped out of the way of his prancing legs. He certainly acted healthy enough, she observed as he charged ahead to her car once outside.

  “Hey, Spooks, how are you feeling?” Georgia said, a look of relief on her flushed face when she spied them. She raised her car window after Marla turned on the air-conditioning.

  “He’s okay, and I’m nearly two hundred dollars in the hole,” Marla replied, backing her Camry from the parking space. “My own doctor doesn’t even charge that much.” Spooks barked, his voice sounding hoarse. She had hated leaving him at the vets. “Anyway, we have to think about food. There isn’t enough chicken left over for all of us.”

  She didn’t have to worry. A pizza box sat on her kitchen counter at home. Evidently Vail had taken Brianna’s grandparents out for dinner. He’d ordered the pizza, knowing Marla wouldn’t have had time to plan ahead. What a wonderful guy, she thought, reading the note he’d left. She missed him already.

  “He’s a lucky catch,” Georgia told her when they were relaxing in Marla’s family room. They’d finished their meal, put the leftovers away, and had settled in for a quiet night to watch a movie. “I can tell he’s devoted to you.”

  “He needs me, and so does Brianna. They’ve been lonely since Pam died. And I didn’t realize how much I wanted a family until I met him. Stan, my first husband, only thought about himself. Dalton is special, and so is Brie.”

  “Are you going to have more children?”

  Marla rolled her eyes. “No way. It’s enough to have one teenage girl around. But I’m finding it very gratifying in a way I’d never expected. I’ve really become very fond of Brianna.” She chuckled. “Besides, I get to take her shopping and teach her how to use makeup. That’s fun. In turn, Brie keeps me clued in to what young people like to do these days.” Marla grabbed the remote, but her hand stilled when the phone rang. “Darn, not a moment’s peace around here. Hold on.”

  “Hi, it’s Heather Morrison,” said a familiar voice at the other end of the line. “You know, I’m one of the models at the beauty show.”

  “Sure, Heather. What can I do for you?” Did the girl need directions to her salon on Wednesday? Marla couldn’t conceive of any of other reason why she’d call.

  “I have something important to tell you.” Heather’s voice hushed. ‘1 can’t talk now. He’ll hear me. Meet me tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock inside the Turkish Bath down by Bal Harbour. We’ll talk then. There are plenty of private nooks where no one can hear us.” The girl rattled off an address while Marla scribbled on a scrap of paper.

  “North Miami Beach?” Marla said. “Isn’t there anywhere closer for us to meet?”

  “Just be there, okay? I have to go. Be careful who you trust, Marla. I’ll explain when I see you in person.” Click.

  Marla hung up, frustration seething inside her. What could this be about? Did it relate to Chris’s death?

  Her mind swept back to earlier in the day, when she’d trotted toward the exhibit booth with the crush of models, and Heather had spied the detective in the audience. The girl had begun to speak, but events interceded and she’d gotten cut off. Aware of Marla’s connection to a cop, she might be hoping to use Marla as a conduit to relay information.

  Or it could be a trap. The killer, threatened by Marla’s inquiries, might be working in concert with Heather. That seemed a bit far-fetched, but she wouldn’t toss out any possibilities. Nonetheless, it presented her with a dilemma for the next morning, not the least of which was the ten o’clock client she’d have to cancel.

  “What did the model want?” Georgia demanded. She’d turned on the TV, putting it on mute while Marla carried on her conversation.

  The truth trembled on her tongue until she recalled Heather’s warning. Had the girl meant for Marla to beware of her houseguest as well as the others on Luxor’s team? A needle of doubt pricked her mind.

  “She wants to talk to me. I agreed to meet her tomorrow. Maybe we’ll all go for a ride,” she said, thinking about her plans for the day with Larry and Justine.

  Georgia ignored her response. “Omigosh, Marla. Look at Spooks. He’s acting weird again.”

  Chapter Ten

  Spooks dashed from the family room, scraping his head along the wall in his mad rush down the hallway. Concerned, Marla stumbled after him. Was he still sick? She halted at the foyer when Justine and Larry burst in the front door, followed by Vail and Brianna. Hearing their laughter, Marla experienced a twinge of longing. She still felt like the outsider in their relationship.

  Greeting the arrivals, she forced a friendly smile. “How was your dinner?” she asked her guests. Without waiting for their reply, she addressed her fiancé. ‘Thanks for the pizza, Dalton. It was thoughtful of you. Where did you go?”

  “We ate at the Macaroni Grill. Brie has to do homework, so we’re leaving.” Stepping forward, he gave her a quick peck on the lips.

  Her nose picked up his favorite spice scent, but she tamped down her reaction. Bad timing. She turned her attention to the teenager, who’d bent over to pet Spooks.

  Brianna’s ponytail swung as she tilted her head. “What’s wrong with the dog? He’s pulling away from me.” She sifted her fingers through his crown. “Oh, yuck. Look here, Marla,” she said, parting his hair. She held the squirming animal while Marla knelt beside her.

  Spotting the black round blob attached to his scalp, Marla grimaced. “Ew, that looks like a tick. I can’t believe the vet didn’t find it.”

  “It must be hurting him,” Brianna said in a sympathetic tone. ‘Think how it must feel to have an insect digging into your head and sucking your blood.”

  “No wonder he’s been running around the house acting nuts.” Her heart went out to the poor creature, who licked her hand, a forlorn expression on his doggy face.

  “We have to go.” Vail propped an arm on his daughter’s shoulder. “Or do you want us to stay and help you?”

  She felt his in-laws’ eyes boring into her from behind. ‘Thanks, but I’ll manage,” she said, rising.

  “Listen, I realize you have to go into work tomorrow morning, but can you phone me and let me know your plans?”

  His gray eyes seared hers, and for an instant she felt as though she could peer into his soul. It couldn’t be easy on him, having Pam’s parents visit just when he’d prepared to move forward in life. Yet he’d put her in a tough position, and his attempts to mitigate the pressure weren’t working. Like, you should have thought of this before you invited them to stay at my place. It’s disruptive to my routine, too.

  “I got a call from one of the models at the show,” she said. “She has something important to tell me, so I’m meeting her tomorrow down on North Miami Beach. Maybe we’ll all take a ride. It’s near Bal Harbour, if we want to go shopping afterward.”

  “Okay, but be careful. One person has already been killed.”

  His words echoing in her mind, she grinned at her guests, who
stood staring at her after Vail and his daughter left “All right, who knows how to remove a tick? Or should I wait until I can take Spooks to the vet in the morning?”

  Georgia shook her head, waves of curly black hair fanning her face. “It’ll just drink more of his blood and get bigger. That’s so gross.” Turning away, she scurried off.

  Marla glanced at Justine, primly dressed in an ivory skirt, a white shell under a yellow jacket, matching white heels, and mother-of-pearl jewelry. Her ensemble clearly identified her as a tourist since the natives, many of whom were transplanted northerners, traditionally changed to autumn colors after Labor Day.

  “Don’t look at me, dear,” the older lady said, raising her hands. “I wouldn’t permit animals at my house. They shed all over and bring germs in from outside.”

  “I’m going to watch the game,” Larry said, vanishing toward the family room along with his wife.

  Gathering the poodle in her arms, Marla regarded the empty foyer. “Cowards. Would you believe I paid the veterinarian a couple of hundred dollars for a physical exam, and she found nothing? I told her Spooks had been rubbing his head,” she shouted after them. “Don’t you think the doctor should have looked him over more closely?”

  Resolving to call the vet’s office in the morning with the correct diagnosis, she pondered her next step. She had no idea how to remove a tick, but Georgia was right. She didn’t want the dog to suffer all evening.

  “I think you light a match, then blow it out, and touch the end to the tick to free it,” Georgia called from the hallway, “but I’m no expert.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Her stomach clenched.

  As a delaying tactic, she released the dog and went to her computer to search the Internet. She found an article that claimed the burned-match trick was a fallacy. “Disgusting,” she said, pressing a hand to her mouth at the sight of the silhouette of an eight-legged insect in the article. She might have a reputation for facing down bad guys, but bugs rattled her every time.

  Forcing her eyes back to the page, she read the instructions.

  To remove a tick, gently (so it doesn’t squish) grip its body with a tweezer. Loosen the head, then carefully pull back until the body is fully detached. Swab the area with antiseptic. Place the tick in a small jar in case the veterinarian wants to examine it.

  “At least Spooks is up to date on his Lyme disease shots,” Marla muttered to herself. ‘There’s no way I can do this.”

  Fortunately, her neighbor Goat was home, and when she pleaded for his help, the rangy man who worked as a pet groomer appeared at her front door within minutes. His straw hair askew, he looked like a beach bum, with his scrawny beard, colorful Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and boat shoes. “Ugamaka, ugamaka, chugga, chugga, ush,” he sang, dancing a jig to her relieved grin. “Your dog has cooties, but I’ve worn my booties. If you want my help, just give a yelp. We’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.”

  Marla was used to his riddles. “The bug is attached to Spooks’s head, not a rug. I hope you know what to do.”

  “Whoa, dude, who’s that?” He did a double-take when Georgia rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. She’d changed from her work clothes into a pair of capris and a turquoise tank top, making Marla marvel at how she didn’t seem affected by the cooler weather. The low-cut bodice offered a nice view of her bosom.

  Marla introduced them. An amused smile lifted her lips when she saw Goat’s face flush.

  He cleared his throat. “Let’s get the patient ready,” he said, taking the dog from her arms.

  “Do you need a nurse?” Georgia said in a simpering tone.

  His face turned a deeper shade of red. “Sure, whatever.”

  “You didn’t offer to help me,” Marla told her friend.

  “Goat knows what he’s doing.”

  “Oh, and I don’t?”

  “Actually, no.” Georgia trailed her neighbor into the kitchen while he rattled off a list of supplies for Marla to obtain. Larry gave them an annoyed glance from the family room couch. Justine didn’t even look up from the book in her lap.

  Goat performed the operation while Marla held her squirming pet and Georgia handed him tools like a trained assistant. The stylist prattled on about the show, Chris’s demise, and what a funk the investigation made for company employees. By the time they finished the surgery, Marla’s temples pounded. If she didn’t know her neighbor better, she’d think he was working extra slow to extend his visit.

  “This Christine person,” he said to her, “did she know anyone else in the neighborhood?”

  Throwing out a used alcohol swab, Marla gave him a startled glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Like, why does everybody think one of your friends killed her? Did she fly into town and go directly to the hotel for the show? Or did she have other, you know, people in Fort Lauderdale that she might have seen?”

  “We’ve assumed the guilty person was at the cocktail party.”

  “Oh yeah? And could you identify everyone there as belonging to the hair show?”

  Her gaze met Georgia’s surprised brown eyes. “Well, no.”

  “Omigosh,” Georgia said. “I kinda wondered if Chris had come in a couple of days early for a reason. I just figured she wanted to confirm our arrangements.”

  “Whoever she met could be important,” Marla replied. “I’ll ask Heather tomorrow. Chris might have contacted the models ahead of time. Heather has something to relate,” she informed Goat, “and it may have to do with Chris. I can’t wait to find out what she has to say.”

  Marla’s anticipation swung into high gear on Tuesday morning as she searched the street numbers for the address Heather had given her. The bathhouse was located in the Sea Breeze Hotel, just up the road from a famed beach resort on Collins Avenue. Palms lined the roadway. Condominium buildings obstructed the ocean view toward the east.

  “Why can’t you just drop us off at the shops, dear?” Justine asked, fingering her pearls in the rearview mirror. Larry was reading the newspaper beside her.

  “I thought we’d get there in time for lunch. Besides, you might enjoy the spa.” Not to mention there’s safety in numbers. She didn’t know what to expect from Heather, but her companions could cover her back while she scuttled into a corner with the young model. She hoped Georgia’s presence wouldn’t put a damper on their meeting, but she couldn’t very well get rid of just Georgia. “If you want a mud facial, I’ll treat you,” she told Justine. If this was an upscale day spa, they’d offer a complete range of services. She wouldn’t mind a soothing aromatherapy wrap herself.

  They’d brought swimsuits, just to be prepared, and after Marla parked the car, they emerged carrying beach bags. The Sea Breeze Hotel promised to have a pool as well as a sandy shore. Its faded turquoise exterior needed a fresh coat of paint, Marla noted as they trudged from the parking lot. The midday heat warmed her skin; the temperature had risen into the mid-seventies. It was a relief to walk into the cool, filtered air of the hotel lobby.

  Following directions from a clerk, they climbed down a spiral stairway to a set of double glass doors. And then they seemed to enter a time warp. A pair of hanging lamps cast a dim glow over an elaborately designed reception area, where a sign said, RUSSIAN AND TURKISH BATH SINCE 1892, NEW YORK AND MIAMI. The lamps, with their bulbous shapes, studded with colored stones, would have been at home in ancient Morocco. In a corner stood a pedestal holding a vase with a bouquet of jade, carnelian, and quartz gemstone flowers. It made a colorful splash against the wall, constructed of brown-flecked rocks. A collection of brass ornaments reminded Marla of Asian hookahs.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Georgia breathed, her eyes wide with awe.

  “Holy moley, I’ve always wanted to see a shvitz,” Larry said in the most enthusiastic tone she’d ever heard him muster.

  “Well, I never,” Justine huffed, regarding the decor with a moue of distaste.

  Marla wasn’t certain where Heather expected to meet her, so she approached the re
ception desk. She had to veer around an icy white marble statue of a goddess in the center of the floor, where it stood under a crystal chandelier hanging from the gold-painted ceiling. Its dim lighting was enhanced by flickering wall sconces that added to the eerie atmosphere. Benches placed around the lobby were carved from dark wood, further weighting the mood.

  Glad she hadn’t come alone, Marla spotted another sign: JACUZZI PIPES IN SALT WATER FROM THE OCEAN. Under this was a list of admission prices and special services offered. Besides a massage or a soap wash, you could get a Dead Sea salt scrub or a black mud treatment No thanks, Marla thought I just want to meet Heather and get out of here.

  “I’m supposed to meet a friend of mine,” she told the mustached man behind the counter. Giving Heather’s name and description, she was gratified by his nod of recognition.

  “She came in not so long ago. How many?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How many of you are going into the baths?”

  “Oh.” She glanced over her shoulder at the others and counted. “There’s four of us.” Realizing she’d have to pay for her guests, she withdrew her wallet from her purse.

  The swarthy-complexioned man waved his hand. “You pay when you leave.” He laid on the counter a set of small metal rectangular boxes like the kind in a bank vault. “Put your valuables in here, please. Wallets, cell phones, jewelry. I give you each your own keys, see?”

  He held up a wristband from which two keys dangled. “One key is for safety deposit box. When you check out, I give you back your valuables. Other key is for locker inside.”

  Oh joy. Justine and Larry are going to love this.

  “Maybe we should wait outside, dear,” Justine suggested, looking affronted when Marla said she had to empty her purse.

  “Not me,” Larry countered, for once going against his wife’s wishes. “I could use the Jacuzzi. It’ll help my arthritis.”

  “Jacuzzis breed germs. All that heat and moisture, and then you sit in the water with other people.” Justine shuddered.