Death Rub Read online

  I briefly wondered if they treated every crime almost-witness with the same courtesy. Maybe keeping me vehicle-less wasn’t civility, at all. I exchanged the worries for dreams of a hot bath and an open bottle of wine. Arriving not necessarily in that order.

  ****

  When Dirk dropped me off at home, he pointed at a white pickup truck with a company logo parked before my house. Cam. I assured Dirk I’d be fine and levered my stiff body from his car.

  Cam jumped from his work vehicle and followed me to my door. I pretended I didn’t see his hunk-o-licious self, but his hand on my arm ended my acting attempt. Besides, my security lamp’s glow highlighted his tall, blond self just fine.

  “I saw the news bulletin. Maggie, are you okay?”

  The day’s events had exhausted my physical strength, attention span, and patience. I rounded on Cam’s six-foot plus frame. “As if you care, you jerk.”

  He stepped back, my virulent attack surprising both of us. “What do you mean? Of course I care. I thought we had...never mind.”

  “Yeah right.” I winced when I heard my jeering tone but didn’t back off. Nicole’s voice referring to me as a bimbo played in my head. “Your girlfriend came in and lorded it over me today. Then a client died, I ran a media gauntlet, got hauled to the cop shop, and you show up at my house saying you care. Right. Like I can believe you.” I turned my back and tried inserting my key into the lock. The operation took a few tries but the lock finally tumbled.

  Cam moved closer, his hand warm on my upper arm. His voice didn’t linger anywhere near that comfortable temperature. “What do you mean, girlfriend?” He crowded me against the door. “I don’t date anyone but you.”

  “You don’t?” If my voice had popped out sounding any higher, I’d think I’d inhaled helium. “Nicole Polk said you have a thing going.” My gaze ran over his muscled chest, encased in a tight cotton shirt. “She called me your bimbo.”

  “That woman has bat shit for brains.” He ran the fingers of one hand through his short, dark blond hair. “She came after me when my engagement fell through. I told her to get lost, but she didn’t back off.”

  I guess my “you’re so full of it” expression didn’t hold the answer he’d wanted. Although I knew Cam’s manners would preclude him from saying, “get lost” in a way Nicole would grasp, I still had doubts.

  He put his hands on my shoulders, his puppy dog brown-eyed gaze fully on me. “I mean it, Maggie. I haven’t been interested in seeing anyone again until you.”

  “But you’re so much-—”

  “Younger,” he finished. “Yeah, a few years stand between us. I know. So what? You’re still the woman for me.”

  Right. As if he’d turn down a spin in a classic Jaguar for a ride in my dilapidated Pinto. Metaphorically speaking.

  He shook his head. “Shit. Why am I even talking?”

  Cam put his hand on the back of my neck, pulled me closer and settled his lips over mine. He tasted like cinnamon with a piquant aftertaste of dark chocolate. His sandalwood soap added another scent layer. A musky odor all Cam’s topped off the aromatic mix. I relaxed into his flavors and heat before Nicole’s strident boasts echoed through my mind like a ghost’s shriek. Although I’d found security in his arms, I pulled away.

  “This isn’t a good idea.” I looked away, avoiding his gaze.

  Cam’s fingers tipped my face toward his in a gentle, yet firm grip. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m exhausted.” Truth? I didn’t know if I could stop myself from ripping him a new one once I started exploring his ties to Nicole.

  “So why don’t you let me rub your feet? Or make you tea or something? We could jump in the shower together. I know a few ways for releasing tense muscles.”

  This familiar refrain almost had me smiling. Almost, until Nicole’s face popped into mind. Even though my heart considered Cam my man, I’d been putting off having sex with him. You’d think a massage therapist would be more at ease with nudity, and I am. With everyone’s but my own in bed with a younger man.

  It’s not that my body had sagged, but I’d regularly seen Cam riding his bike over homemade ramps at age nine. I’d been sixteen, riding with then boyfriend Travis in his car. Worse, I’d babysat for Cam one night. I still remembered the cute starship p.j.’s he’d worn. Those kinds of memories made thoughts of sex with him tough even though he’d left childhood and a spindly body far behind. Sometimes living in a small town truly sucked.

  “Look, this isn’t the best time, all right?” I cringed hearing my shrill tone. I’d never been any good at hiding my emotions, and tonight had been no exception.

  He stepped away from me his back erect. “Fine.” He released his grip on my chin. “I’ll wait. Call me when you’re ready for the truth about Nicole.”

  His hurt tone punched me in the gut. My thoughts spun. I wanted to run my fingers over his high cheekbones. Instead, I stepped away, turned and went into the house.

  Nicole and I had never played well together. She’d made it her business to lure away any man I dated. Along with that history, another Realtor had sold my mother’s home at below market value. Bereaved and needing money for my mom’s medical bills, I’d taken what I could get, but I’d never been sure if the market really had been slow or if Nicole had stuck it to me, some way. After that, I’d stayed clear of her and her cronies with the exception of Dolores, knowing she and I mixed like members of opposing political parties. I had the feeling she’d scheduled a massage with me to screw me, again. Her opportunities for emotional torture must have slowed down.

  Unfortunately, her stated claim on him had been so clear, I questioned Cam’s honesty. I had good reason for not trusting men given my romantic history and Nicole’s poaching tendencies. Looked as though some things never changed.

  Chapter Two

  Persistent knocking sent me stumbling for the door. If the bright, unrelenting sunlight illuminating my living room gave an indication, dawn had welcomed the day hours before. When I opened the door, my stomach rumbled like a crack of thunder.

  Dirk and Matt waited, and because they were smart, didn’t comment on my stomach noises. Even so, I sensed nothing good would come of my answering the door in a shorty nightgown. I hoped they’d keep their wisecracks to themselves.

  “Good morning,” Dirk said.

  “Arrgh.” I turned and walked toward the kitchen, figuring they’d follow me like pigeons to torn bread. Had I been awake, I’d have been nervous. Instead, I used my brainpower for firing up the coffeemaker.

  Ten minutes later, my nasal passages were filled with the reviving scent of fresh coffee and I’d traded in my skimpy nightwear for shorts and a sleeveless top. I sipped my java and sighed. “So why are you here?”

  The detectives swallowed their coffee and in a synchronized move, placed their mugs on the table. Matt pulled out his notebook and a pen.

  Dirk tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “Did Ms. Dawkins use you as a masseuse on a regular basis?”

  “Yes. We had a standing weekly appointment.” I pushed my cooling mug away. Caffeine traveled my bloodstream, sparking my curious genes. “Is that all you wanted? You came over here to confirm what I told you yesterday?” Somehow I didn’t think so.

  Matt kept his head down, his pen poised over his notebook. Dirk leaned forward. “Can you elaborate on your relationship with Ms. Dawkins?”

  “Relationship? We didn’t have one. Well, I gave her massages. She paid me. Other than that, nothing.”

  “I’d like you to describe your past dealings with Ms. Dawkins.”

  “How far back do you want me to go? Come on, Dirk. We attended grade school together. Is that where you’d like me to start? Or did someone spill the beans on our high school days? We had adjoining lockers in junior and senior years.”

  He tapped two fingers on the table while watching me. “High school would be a good starting point.”

  I sat back. My thoughts spun like a gerbil on sugar overload. One persist
ent idea kept surfacing. “What did Nicole tell you? Or did she sic her daddy on your boss?”

  Dirk sighed. “Maggie, your class reunion starts this Friday. You work at a spa owned by a former classmate. Another high school buddy came in for an unscheduled appointment right before a third got murdered. It doesn’t take a genius to see a correlation.”

  Holy textbooks. Put that way, even my math-challenged brain added up the facts and arrived at the same answer. I began to feel like Carrie on prom night.

  Dirk leaned forward. “So tell me. What do you know about Clarice Dawkins?”

  I rubbed the top of my nose as I thought over his question. Would he believe “not much”? Perhaps not, yet it was the truth. Clarice could have been the original model for a private person. No one knew anything that she didn’t want known. And that said a lot for our little gossip-central town of Granville Falls. Rumors aren’t just part of life here, they’re an art form.

  As I mentally debated, a decisive knock sounded even as the kitchen door flew open. A dark head of hair swung in before the person’s face appeared, but I knew who had interrupted. So did Dirk, and he didn’t look too happy, if the muscle jumping in his jaw gave an indication.

  I jumped up. “Hey, Katie. Want some coffee?”

  My friend’s wide grin lit up the kitchen. “You bet!” She managed a surprised look. “Dirk. Matt. I didn’t know you were here. I’m not interrupting am I?”

  Dirk’s eyes narrowed.

  Matt kept his head down but I could see his shoulders shake and the corners of his mouth turn up.

  Dirk’s voice was soft, his tone hard. “You didn’t see my car? The one you must have parked right beside?”

  “That sedan is yours?”

  He stood and offered me his hand. “Maggie. Please call if you have any thoughts about Ms. Dawkins or her possible enemies. Or if you remember anything at all about the case that you haven’t already related.”

  Dirk faced Katie. “Remember what we talked about earlier. You need to stay out of this.” The couple watched each other silently before Dirk turned and left the kitchen.

  Matt winked at Katie, shook my hand and followed his partner out. I felt oddly deflated after they left, then realized the testosterone level dropped with their absence.

  “So, Maggie, are you ready to rock and roll?”

  “No way. I’m not getting between you and Dirk.”

  My friend shook her head. “You won’t be getting between anyone. I just want to help.”

  “Yeah, right. And Dirk’s parting growl counts as a love song.”

  She grinned. “Yeah. He’s sweet that way.”

  I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or sigh. Or both. I did neither. Instead, I felt sick at my stomach. “Katie, touching a dead Clarice is something I never want to experience again.”

  Her grin dropped and too late, I recalled her recent firsthand experience with murder. “Sorry, Katie. I didn’t think.”

  In an uncharacteristic move, she pulled me into a hug. “I wish we didn’t have this in common.”

  I roused myself and poured her a cup of coffee topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa. Sitting at the table, we sipped and sat quietly for a few minutes.

  Katie lowered her mug. “You know, the killer must be someone from our class.”

  “Were you eavesdropping? That’s what Dirk thinks too.”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I vote Nicole.”

  Laughter bubbled in my chest. “She really is a bitch, but I don’t think she killed Clarice.”

  “Why not? She was on the scene and she sure had motive. Though Clarice had just as much incentive for knocking off Nicole.”

  “She did?” My thoughts churned. Had I missed hearing the news reports, or worse, the rumors?

  Katie sipped her coffee, milking the suspense of her gossip stash to the limit. She licked the whipped cream off her upper lip and leaned forward in her chair.

  “The story is that Nicole put the moves on Clarice’s husband.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “I heard two different versions of what happened. One has Clarice kicking the SOB out of their house, and the other has him walking out. No one is sure what happened. You know Clarice.”

  I gulped java, ignoring the liquid’s heat. “Wow.” I hesitated. “That explains her cancelled future appointments. She told me last week that she planned an extended European trip. Said she’d leave right after the reunion.”

  “Really? Huh. Well, I hope Nicole did the deed and gets caught. That nasty piece of work belongs in jail for all the crap she’s pulled.” She slid a guilty look my way. “Now it’s my turn for an apology.”

  “No worries. She and Travis hurt me in high school, yeah. History.”

  I gnawed my lip. Sure, Nicole poaching my first serious sweetheart didn’t hurt anymore, but her plans for Cam could. Although I hadn’t exactly lived a nun’s life, Cam had been the first man I almost trusted in way too long. Since Travis.

  “Maggie.”

  I pulled my attention back to my friend. “What?”

  “I’m caught up at work today. Contrary to what Dirk thinks, I really came by to get you out of the house.”

  Of course. Katie never told anyone how she felt, she showed her friends she cared.

  “Let’s go downtown. Do a little shopping.” Katie’s eyes lit up. “And, if we run into someone who’s got the skinny on Nicole, well, I sure wouldn’t turn and walk away.”

  Now that made sense. My friend never exercised unless necessary but somehow kept her muscles toned. Maybe Dirk helped with the last.

  “I hear and I obey, oh great one.”

  She leaned back into her chair. A smug grin pasted to her face, she brushed her dark wavy hair from her forehead. “Better put on some makeup. We may see a certain tall, blonde, built someone.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, realized I’d lose and headed for the bathroom.

  ****

  We found a parking place downtown, not difficult mid-morning during the week. Katie wouldn’t tell me what she had planned, and I was too numb to care.

  She led my unresisting self down the street and around the corner. When I realized where she headed, I dug in my heels. Well as much as I could given the concrete sidewalk.

  “No.” I shook my head just in case she hadn’t noticed my abrupt halt. “No way can I afford this store.”

  We stood under the awning of Pierre’s, the most expensive clothing store in town. Women drove from Charlotte, even from across the region to shop there. Their couture stock was that incredible.

  Katie inclined her head toward me while appearing to study the window display. “Play along, okay? I heard Nicole plans on picking up her dress for the reunion sometime today. It needed alterations.”

  “A built-in push-up bra to show off her implants?” Had a twinge of guilt followed my comment? Nope. I didn’t even feel bad about my snarky remark.

  “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Okay. I promise I’ll be good if we see her.”

  “Geez, I hope not. Let’s go.”

  I reached into my purse and patted my wallet, apologizing that it wouldn’t see the interior of this shop anytime soon. My debit card normally makes periodic appearances in stores with signs reading, “Close Out Sale. Everything Must Go.” That wouldn’t be the case today.

  We walked in and I inhaled the store’s rarified atmosphere. If money has a scent, this place reeked. The carpet reflected wealth with a deep, soft texture and muted celery green hue. Multi-level crown molding topped off cream-colored walls. Jewel-toned dresses decorated padded hangers, and every sales person looked like a runway model. And that’s just the first twenty feet or so. After that, the store does a credit check before letting anyone walk further.

  Katie ignored the looks thrown our way by staff and other customers. I ducked my head, pretending to study the merchandise. Every tag had a bunch of zeroes bringing up the rear. I stuck my hands in my pockets.

  My
friend approached the closest employee. “Is Fiona here? My boss sent me for her alterations.”

  A clerk who reminded me of someone I’d seen on the cover of a glossy fashion magazine pointed to a back corner. I figured they imported their clerks because none of them looked like local girls. An older woman, likely the manager, motioned to an underling. Instead of letting us wander through the store alone, possibly tainting the merchandise with our presence, we were now accompanied by a disgruntled clerk. She wouldn’t be making a commission off us. Hey, life sucks sometimes.

  A young woman pushed her way through a set of heavy forest green drapes. Garment bags with the discreet Pierre’s logo were carried in each hand. Her blond hair had been twisted and pinned up neatly. She carried a few more pounds than the clerk, so her face looked healthy but not fat. A smock covered her upper body, but the way she moved implied athleticism.

  She hung the bags on a nearby rack and addressed the clerk. Her deep blue eyes held a twinkle. “You don’t need to stay, Mallory. This transaction will take a few minutes.”

  We waited until the clerk left on her search for better-heeled customers.

  “Katie, what brings you to this bastion of capitalistic extravagance?”

  “Fiona, this is my friend Maggie.”

  The young woman didn’t hide her scrutiny. “You’re the one who found your client dead.”

  I gulped. “Yes.”

  She clasped both my hands in hers. “I’m sorry for you.”

  The simple words held a wealth of sincerity. I relaxed for the first time that day.

  Katie stood with her back to the store. “What do you know about Clarice Dawkins?”

  She pursed her lips. “The dead woman? Nothing. She didn’t shop here.” Fiona removed the pencil from behind her ear and searched a crowded desktop. “Or if she did shop here, she didn’t need alterations.”

  Katie pretended to look through her purse. Keeping her voice pitched low she asked, “What about Nicole Polk?”

  Fiona dropped her pencil. “The bee with an itch? How much time do you have? Wait, forget it. I have a trunk load of work and don’t have weeks to give you.”