“Okay,” he finally said. “So who are we talking about?”
“Meagin March and Gio Aggiunta.”
“Both of them? You said a client.”
Milo said, “Amend that to clients.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The two of them are dead, sir. Murdered.”
Mikel’s mouth dropped open, revealing small white teeth and a large red tongue. His eyes popped and pigment began squirming beneath the spray tan, creating odd swirls of pallor and flush. As if he’d been dipped in raspberry swirl ice cream.
“How’s that possible?”
“Unfortunately it happened, Mr...”
“Dally. Mikel Dally. I’m the manager. You’re serious — yes, of course you are. Insane. This is such a shock. How did it happen?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
“Well, it has nothing to do with us,” said Dally. “That I can assure you.”
“We’ve been told Meagin and Gio met here.”
Dally slapped his arms across his chest. “I have no way to confirm or deny that.”
Noise from within the spa caused him to turn. Someone talking.
He cocked his head toward the opening. “What? Oh shit. Hold on.” To us: “There’s a leak in one of the whirlpools, I’ve got to attend to it.”
He rushed inside, leaving the door to swing shut. Milo caught it and we stepped into a low-volume, surround-sound concert. Flutes, whale chirps, tubular bells, back to flutes.
I’d expected something airy, sleek, and geometrical. This waiting space was clearly the former living room of an older house. One of the few properties from the twenties not destroyed to make way for the commercial strip that was now Montana. Exuberant moldings, textured dun stucco walls, a carved wood ceiling painted in the neo-Spanish style of pre-Depression L.A.
The air was cool and fragrant. The dominant aromas eucalyptus and rose petals. Then an after-tinge of oregano that brought pizza to mind.
Milo had caught that, too. His nostrils expanded and contracted.
We approached a high, carved wooden station where a young woman wearing a black shirt like Mikel Dally’s sat. A plaque on the wall behind her informed visitors that the spa had been blessed by Tibetan monks from the Gardenia Monastery in Lhasa in order to install an aura of serenity. A second placard, in smaller print, offered reassurance that all products utilized were cruelty-free. The largest board hung directly behind her and listed services offered.
Detoxifying scalp massage; neuro-mapped reflexology foot massage; Bulgarian black mud wrap; almond butter crème emolument for stimulating the lymphatic system; nontoxic manicure, pedicure, and palmar caress package; aromatic Icelandic sauna; eternally eddying rock whirlpool.
Three-figure prices for each item. Four figures for the “diurnal package.”
On the far wall, a teak door centered by an elephant carved in relief was marked Blessed Entrance.
The receptionist, young, apple-cheeked, ginger-haired, looked terrified. Sophie.
Milo smiled at her and pointed to the board. “Sounds like good stuff, maybe a nice reward for when I solve the case and can chill out.”
No sign of comprehension. He leaned in close. “Hi... Sophie. I’m Milo and this is Alex.”
She said, “Um, Mikel should be back soon.”
“Great. Don’t know if you heard but we’re here about Meagin March and Gio Aggiunta.”
“Oh,” she said. “Her I know, him... uh-uh.”
“Giovanni Aggiunta.”
Blank stare.
She said, “Mikel looked really upset.”
Milo said, “Maybe Gio wasn’t here as often as Meagin but he was definitely here.”
“I’ve only worked here for like six weeks.”
“Ah. You didn’t hear what I told Mikel outside?”
Head shake. “But it made him really upset.”
“Understandable. Okay, Sophie, I’m sorry to bring really bad news. Unfortunately that’s pretty typical because I’m a homicide detective.”
“Someone got killed?”
“Unfortunately, they both did. Meagin and Gio.”
“Ohmigod. Meagin? Really?”
“Sorry, yes.”
“Crazy,” she said, chin crumpling, eyes welling up, head shaking. “She was... so nice. Nice. All the time. Always nice.”
“How often did she come to the spa?”
“From when I was here? Maybe... four times?”
“So nearly every week.”
“I guess.”
“Like I said, sorry but our job is figuring it out.”
Sophie’s chin quivered. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it.”
“It is hard to believe, Sophie. So you saw Meagin four times but never Gio.”
“I don’t even know who he is.”
“Her boyfriend. They met here.”
“That happens,” she said, looking down.
He showed her a photo. She shook her head.
“So,” he said, “people meet here.”
“It’s relaxed, so...”
“What percentage of your clients are women?”
“I have no idea.”
“Most?”
“Yeah... Meagin and a guy, ohmigod, what happened?”
“Good question, Sophie. Did you ever observe anyone have any conflict with Meagin?”
“No, no, never. She was nice.”
The elephant door swung open and Mikel Dally stomped forward, wiping his hands with a black rag. Glaring. Surprised we were still here.
“Look, guys, I’ve got a situation. Serious clog, going to take a while to sort. I’ve got nothing to tell you and that’s the God’s honest truth. Soph, give these gentlemen complimentary A.F.’s and see them out.”
Milo said, “Here’s my card.”
“Sure, sure.” Dally stuffed it into his pocket, turned and shoved the elephant, offering a glimpse of an inner wall covered with wildly patterned madras cloth interspersed with brass bells. In his haste, he brushed against some of the bells, creating a reproachful clink before vanishing.
Sophie reached under the counter and retrieved two glass bottles filled with cantaloupe-colored liquid.
More tiny lettering. Agua Fria Custom Blended Herb Chai.
“Usually,” she said, “we take a deposit but it’s okay. For the glass. We recycle.”
Milo handed her a five.
“No, I can’t. It’s only a dollar each.”
“Keep the change.”
Sophie sighed. “Meagin was like that, too. The service providers get tipped but I don’t. She tipped me anyway.”
“Nice woman.”
“So nice. I can’t believe what you’re telling me, she didn’t deserve it... sorry, Mikel wants me to see you out.”
“Sure,” said Milo. “So there’s nothing you can tell us.”
The question perplexed her.
“Anything, Sophie, that could help us catch whoever killed such a nice person.”
“I wish,” said Sophie, stashing the five in a pocket and stepping out from behind the counter. “I really, really wish.”
We followed her to the main door and Milo opened it before she had a chance. Traffic on Montana seemed to have intensified. Daylight felt brighter.
Sophie said, “This is cray-cray insane. She was here last week so so happy. I can’t believe it.”
Milo said, “Here’s my card. If you think of anything.”
“I’ll take it,” she said. “But I won’t think.”
We got back in the unmarked.
Milo said, “Monks from Tibet. Wonder what that cost. If it happened.”
I said, “Maybe Lhasa, Ohio.”
“There’s such a place?”
“No idea.”
He laughed, retuned quickly to serious. “If we just learned something, I missed it.”
“Nothing new but confirmation,” I said.