Sven smiled sourly. "He was like always, only louder. He chewed me out in front of the crew on the shoot."
"Chewed you out, how?"
"He fired me. But he was always doing that. I paid no mind to it. And it wasn't me he was mad at, it was Deer. He said he'd tear his balls off and push them down his throat. Blamed him for the whole blackmail thing."
Feeling left out, I said, "Did you see the blackmail letter?"
Sven gave me an irritated glance. "He told me about it. Half a million. For that he'd get the recordings back."
"Would Mr. Perkins have paid?" Ariana asked.
Sven laughed harshly. "You kidding me? Jarrod was a mean motherfucker. He wouldn't pay a cent."
I said, "Was anything missing from the house?"
Sven swung his heavy head around. "What?"
"Was anything missing?"
He frowned. "Only scripts. Jarrod always had his desk piled with movie scripts. But they were gone. I figured the police…"
He heaved himself to his feet. The chair seemed relieved. "I know you're working for Deer. I wanted you to hear my side of the story." His face contorted with anger. "Fucking cops. Once they think it's murder, it'll be me. Easy target. Dumb bodybuilder. They won't look any further."
There was something almost pathetic about Sven as he leaned forward earnestly and said to Ariana, "I didn't do it. Please believe me."
After he'd gone, Ariana said, "I'd hate to think he's right, but if murder's on the table, Sven Larsen's the easy target, with opportunity and motive. Why look any further?"
"Why would anyone take scripts?" I asked. "What would be the point?"
Ariana looked thoughtful. "That's a good question."
We discussed it for a few minutes, then I changed the subject. "I've ordered some garden furniture. I'm paying."
"Fine." She tilted her head. "I've got a feeling there's something more."
"I do have this idea…"
Wary, Ariana said, "Yes?"
I explained my vision of a laundry room. Ariana listened without comment. When I ran out of steam, she said, "So you've given up on the idea of an apartment? You're going to stay here instead?"
"In the short term, yes."
"And in the long term?"
"Do you still want to get rid of me?"
Ariana blinked. "Is that what you think?"
"I know you wanted me to get lost that first day, and probably the second and the third." I grinned. "Hell, that whole first week."
"I admit it was a surprise to have you arrive out of the blue."
"I know you wanted to freeze me out. But lately you've stopped. Why is that?"
"Exhaustion," said Ariana.
I was sending a bunch of postcards back to Oz to assure friends I hadn't been mugged or carjacked yet. I took them to the front desk, where there was a basket for outgoing mail. Melodie took a call, then said to me with open curiosity, "Dr. Deer's wife is on the line for you." She shoved the receiver at me. "You can take it here."
I chatted with Elise for a few minutes, then handed the phone back to Melodie. She looked at me so expectantly, I grinned, "You're dying to know what that was about, aren't you?"
"I sure am."
"Elise wants to take me to some spa place today. She's says it's a gift from her for putting myself on the line at Deerdoc."
"No! Which one?"
"I think she called it Pampering Hands."
"Pampering Hands?" Melodie looked at me with something approaching awe. "They've got a real exclusive clientele. You know who goes there? Cameron Diaz, and George Clooney, and Oprah Winfrey when she's in town…" She shook her head in wonderment. "You have all the luck, Kylie. You've barely hit the ground, and you're going to Pampering Hands!"
I left her calling the receptionist hotline.
"What am I letting myself in for?" I asked Elise. "I've never been to one of these spa places. You'd better tell me what to expect."
She flashed me a smile. "I'd like it to be a complete surprise."
"I'm not too sure I'm ready for it."
"Trust me," she said. She ran a light and turned left to a chorus of horns. "I just know you're going to love Pampering Hands. When I'm tense and tired, there's nothing better. I try to go at least once a week."
We glided down Rodeo Drive, Elise's blood-red Rolls Royce convertible getting plenty of stares. She patted the pale cream leather of her seat. "Birthday present from Dave. Sensational car, isn't it?"
I smiled at her, warmed by her unaffected pleasure in luxury. "Terrif," I said, "but I'd worry every time I parked, in case someone scratched it."
Elise gave a airy wave. "When I'm out I never park the thing myself. There's always valet."
The proof of this statement was demonstrated when we drew up at the curb in front of a gorgeous little building made to look like a miniature Greek temple. Almost before we'd stopped, two blokes wearing black jumpsuits with the words pampering hands spa on their chests had our doors open.
"Ms. Deer! Welcome to Pampering Hands!"
We were met at the door by a slim young woman wearing a white tunic and sandals. "Ms. Deer! How wonderful to see you again."
She turned her smile on me. It wavered for a moment when she saw my black eye, which was now an interesting shade of khaki, and my still-swollen nose. Even so, I thought she might still say it was wonderful to see me too, but she didn't. "And your guest…?"
"G'day. Call me Kylie," I said.
"What a lovely name."
"It's Aboriginal for boomerang."
The woman seemed a bit thrown by this. "How fascinating."
She glided off toward a big stone altar affair and consulted a screen set into its surface. "Ah!" she exclaimed with professional delight. "Ms. Deer, I see you've chosen for yourself our ultra-detoxifying mud wrap, followed by a Ayurvedic Shirodhara. And for your friend…"
"Kylie," I said.
"And for Kylie you've chosen a salt exfoliation, followed by the Pampering Hands full-body massage. An excellent regimen for one's first visit to our wonderful spa. And then, of course, both of you will complete your pampering with a relaxing Pampering Hands mineral salts spa bath."
As she led us down a white marble corridor, I said to Elise, "I can make a stab at what a mud wrap might be, but what's the thing you're having after it?"
Overhearing me, the young woman said in reverent tones, "Ayurvedic Shirodhara is a wonderful, ancient East Indian ritual. Warm sesame oil is poured over the third eye in one's forehead, followed by an Indian head massage. We highly recommend it, to release blocked energy and to clear the mind."
"Sounds wonderful," I said, with just a touch of mockery.
She gave me a patronizing smile. "Would you like me to explain your salt exfoliation and full-body massage?"
"Please don't. Let's leave it as a wonderful surprise."
I was left alone in a candlelit room, furnished with a massage table. I felt its surface and found it was heated. Beside was a chrome bench covered with a multitude of exotically shaped bottles containing lotions and oils. I discovered they were warmed too. My skin prickled: Someone was watching me.
A short, tunic-clad woman with alarmingly muscled arms had soft-footed it into the room. "I'm Veeda," she hissed, peering at me with an evaluating stare. "Your first time here at Pampering Hands Spa?"
"Too right."
"Please disrobe completely."
"What? Everything?"
"Everything."
I met up with Elise again in the mineral salts spa bath. "Phew," I said, slipping into the bubbling water beside her. "I'm exfoliated and massaged to the billy-oh. There isn't a bit of me that hasn't been pounded and squeezed."
"You didn't absolutely love every moment?" She seemed astonished.
"I'm not used to total strangers getting quite that intimate with my body," I said.
"Who was your masseuse?"
"Veeda."
"Oh, Veeda. I've had her." Elise chuckled. "She has a particularly vigorous approach and a firm touch."
"Crikey, she sure does."
"But don't you feel relaxed?" Elise asked. "Renewed?"