Deadly Intent

“People do unexpected things all the time in the heat of a moment.”

“I know Devon Knightley. Besides, I’m a very good judge of character.”

Naomi pressed her mouth closed, because she couldn’t really argue when Aunt Becca’s track record on who and who not to hire for the spa had been one hundred percent so far. What if she was right about Devon?

Naomi shook her head. “I can’t just stand here waiting.”

“You’re going to get in trouble.”

“I’m the acting manager of the spa. I can go wherever I please, which includes near the receptionists’ desk.”

Aunt Becca sighed and released her elbow. “You were never this stubborn when you were just head massage therapist.”

“I didn’t have to be this stubborn before Dad had a stroke and put me in charge.”

With that parting shot, Naomi tried to nonchalantly make her way toward the receptionists’ desk. It was a massive marble affair, but hopefully she could stand at one end and still overhear the conversation at the other end.

Detective Carter glanced her way as she approached, but she nodded professionally and then bent her head to fiddle with the appointments computer at the far end of the desk. He turned back to Dr. Knightley without hesitation, so he must not have been upset at her being nearby.

Good.

Except she couldn’t hear a thing.

She stared at the computer screen intently, as if that would make her ears work better. All she could make out were a few random words: “Jessica,” “talk,” “known.” Devon’s voice was louder than the detective’s, so she mostly heard his answers to questions.

How could she get closer without attracting notice?

“I didn’t like her, but I didn’t kill her!”

Devon’s exclamation made her jump. Her hand knocked the computer mouse askew.

Which gave her an idea…

She glanced at Devon and Detective Carter, but neither seemed to notice. Devon’s face had turned a motley shade of red, while the detective coolly surveyed his notebook.

She casually knocked her hand into a holder of pens and sent them scattering across the desk. Immediately she bent to pick up the one pen that fell onto the floor.

She slowly slid her hand with the pen toward her left, closer to the two men. If anyone saw her slithering along on the floor, she could show the pen as her excuse, and the pens strewn across the desk would explain the rest.

She inched her body closer to them and strained her ears. The voices sounded even more muffled because of the desk. Why hadn’t she thought of that? If she got closer…

If she got caught…

Her heart pounded, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment. This wasn’t a smart move, but she didn’t care. She had to find out why Devon had so conveniently showed up, asking for a woman who was already bleeding to death in her massage room.

She crawled as quietly as she could toward the other end of the desk. Devon and Detective Carter’s voices grew louder, but not just from her proximity. It sounded like tempers were rising and they couldn’t keep their conversation low-pitched.

“I told you, Detective, I haven’t seen her in—”

“Then how did you know she’d be here this weekend?”

A minuscule pause. “I spoke to her personal assistant and found out.”

“And why did you speak to her assistant instead of Ms. Ortiz directly?”

“Jessica’s impossible to talk to on the phone, and I didn’t have half an hour to spare to try to keep her focused enough to answer my questions.”

That sounded like Jessica. She loved rambling during her sessions, telling Naomi things she probably shouldn’t know. But Jessica did that same rambling when Naomi had to settle her spa account, too, which had annoyed her.

Naomi bit the inside of her lip. It seemed wrong to remember being annoyed at her. Jessica hadn’t been a bad person. Naomi had even liked her, in a way.

“Detective, you have to understand this is just a coincidence.”

“And you have to understand, Dr. Knightley, that in my business, coincidences don’t happen very often.” The detective’s voice had deepened, grown more gravelly.

“I had nothing to do with her death.”

“Why did you need to speak to her now?”

“My sister’s wedding is in six weeks.”

“Why didn’t you try to contact Ms. Ortiz before this?”

“I did, but she wouldn’t take my calls.”

“And so you decided to force a confrontation in a public place.”

“I hoped she would be reasonable in public.”

“Any particular reason you picked this place?”

“I thought she’d be in a better mood here. She’s always happy to come here.”

“But she’s not happy, Dr. Knightley. She’s dead. Your ex-wife is dead.”

“What do you mean, you knew?” Naomi stared at her aunt as they stood on the other side of the foyer.

“Of course, I knew. I wouldn’t be a very good hostess if I didn’t know things about my clients’ personal lives.”

“Why would you need to know that?”

Aunt Becca gave her a hard stare. “Think about it. I might stick two mortal enemies in sessions at the same time so they’d meet in the common lounge, or in session rooms next to each other. The spa prides itself on giving high-profile clients a relaxing experience. Meeting someone you don’t like is not a relaxing experience.”

“But knowing things like that…Isn’t that gossip?” She had a hard time believing her religious aunt would stoop to something like that.

“It’s not gossip. I get my information from the clients themselves or the people involved.”

As acting manager, maybe Naomi ought to know these things as well. “Am I the only one who didn’t know he’s her ex-husband?”