If she had thought she would get rest, relaxation, and privacy here, she had been sadly mistaken. The atmosphere at Phoenix was not what the glossy brochures promised. Phoenix was far from serene, what with the police patrolling around the grounds and the media trawling outside the gates.
Lauren closed her eyes and sighed deeply as Marguerite's muscled hands swirled the warm lavender oil laced with coarse salt across her back. She tried to relax, but the abrasive rubbing felt like sandpaper being pulled across her skin. Lauren had to concentrate on keeping still.
Her mind raced. If she tried to leave now, the press would swarm down on her. Vultures. They would salivate to have a new angle for their "death at the spa" stories. She could see and hear the headlines now: Lauren Sullivan, Top Box-Office Draw, Involved in Real-Life Murder Mystery!
Just what she needed. More publicity.
Of course her agent and publicist would not be unhappy. As far as they were concerned, any mention of Lauren in the media was a plus, as long as they spelled her name right. They said so frequently and worked hard to ensure that Lauren's lovely face often stared hauntingly from the pages of People or smiled for the Entertainment Tonight cameras, dazzling the viewing audience. With yet another new Lauren Sullivan film set to be released next month, they and the movie studio would relish all the publicity she could draw.
Marguerite's sturdy fingers were kneading the backs of Lauren's slim calves when the door to the treatment room opened quietly. Lauren heard the soft squish of rubber-soled shoes as they crossed the terra-cotta floor. She opened her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Miss Sullivan," apologized the young woman Lauren recognized as the keeper of the appointment book at the reception area.
"What is it?" Lauren tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. Naked and covered with the gooey salt mixture, she was annoyed at having her precious privacy interrupted. Not to mention the constant awareness that how she looked would be reported to God knew how many other people by the person who saw her in her messy, vulnerable condition. That was just the way it was. People were fascinated with her, but Lauren never really got used to it. It left her feeling very exposed.
"Excuse me, Miss Sullivan," the receptionist said softly. "But Detective Toscana is on the phone. He's ready to speak with you now."
"Oh he is, is he? That's great." Lauren sighed deeply. "Well, all right. I've had enough here. Tell him I'll be ready to talk to him in fifteen minutes."
Moments later, she stood in the Swiss shower and felt her body cleansed by the warm water that sprayed from a dozen jet needle valves. As the oil and mineral salt slid from her exfoliated skin, Lauren planned what she would tell the detective.
Those Chinese healers had it right when they came up with this, thought Howard Fondulac as he lay on his back in the darkened room and enjoyed his reflexology treatment. The Chinese thought all the energy paths that ran throughout the body converged in the feet. That each organ of the body was represented by a corresponding reflex point in the foot.
The fifty-five-year-old movie producer lay on the table while the tiny blonde reflexologist slowly worked over muscles that he didn't even know were there. Howard liked the feeling of the young woman rubbing and kneading his feet. There was something decadent about it. He felt like a king being pampered by a maiden slave. It had been a long time since he'd felt like royalty.
Now the golden-haired servant was rubbing each toe.
"What part of the body does the toe correspond to?" he asked.
"The sinus. I push here to release blockages and help reestablish energy flow." The woman continued her gentle pressure on the pad of his middle toe.
"Ahhhh." Howard sighed deeply and tried to envision his sinuses clearing. This was just what he needed. He was always getting sinus headaches. His doctor said he should cut out the liquor and quit the cigarettes. But maybe if he had this reflexology bit done on a regular basis when he got back to LA, it would take care of the headaches. He didn't want to give up the booze and the butts, his two favorite vices. There was little enough he enjoyed these days, and a man was entitled to some fun.
He lay in the darkened room and listened to the taped sounds of flute music and ocean waves crashing on the seashore. He tried to relax and clear his mind. That was what he had come for. Partially.
He'd also come to Phoenix Spa because Claudia had told him that Lauren Sullivan would be here.
He needed something, and he prayed that Lauren Sullivan would be it. His career was on the skids. He had been unable to raise the money to produce a film in years and, though he hated to admit it even to himself, the Hollywood powers that be thought Howard Fondulac was a has-been. He couldn't get anyone to take his telephone calls, much less set up a face-to-face meeting with him. But if he could get Lauren Sullivan interested in his project, those studio snobs would take his calls, all right. They'd be falling all over themselves as they lined up to kiss his massaged feet.
The blonde was firmly pushing her thumb up and down Howard's arch, and he smiled in pleasure as he imagined producing a Lauren Sullivan film. That would make him a player again. He had to get Lauren alone somehow. If he could just talk to her, he knew he'd be able to sell her on his project.
Even the jaded Detective Toscana was mesmerized as he watched Lauren Sullivan sweep into the room in her flowing purple robe. She was astonishingly beautiful. Toscana was careful to pay attention to the details of the movie star's appearance. He knew that when he got home Mary Elizabeth would be pumping him for information on her favorite screen star.
"Yeah, babe. She was gorgeous."
"No, honey. She didn't have any makeup on, but she still looked great."
"I couldn't be sure, sweetie, but I think that hair color is her own."
Mary Elizabeth never missed a Lauren Sullivan film. As often as she could, his wife dragged him with her to the movies. Toscana would sigh and groan as if he was going along only to please his wife, but the truth of the matter was that he found Lauren Sullivan easy on the eye and enjoyed her acting. He and most of the men in America, he'd wager.
Now, in his makeshift squad room, the object of so many fantasies sat across the table from him. He watched Lauren as she glanced at the postmortem pictures of Claudia de Vries that were tacked onto the wall. She quickly averted her gaze, but not before Toscana saw her wince in repulsion.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked the detective routinely. Not waiting for her answer, he lit up.
Lauren sat quietly, waiting for the questioning to begin. Her graceful fingers played absentmindedly with a strand of hair that had fallen from the loose bun she had pinned to the top of her exquisite head.
"How is it that you came all the way to Virginia to Phoenix Spa, Miss Sullivan? I would think there are plenty of other spas you could have chosen that would have been more convenient for you."
Lauren shrugged. "I guess I could have gone to Canyon Ranch or Palm Springs. They are certainly closer to LA. But as you may have observed, Detective Toscana, I've just had some plastic surgery done, and I wanted to go someplace where I wouldn't be tripping over people I know from Hollywood. I wanted privacy and peace."
"Well, you certainly haven't gotten the latter here, have you?"
"No. Unfortunately, I haven't. And with those reporters prowling around outside, I'm afraid I might not get the former either."