Deadly Intent

“No, I doubt it’s common knowledge. I found out from Devon’s mother at a charity event we attended together last year.”

“How long have they been divorced?”

“At least two years. Before Jessica started coming to our spa.”

“Ahem.”

Detective Carter stood in front of her. Her heart slammed into gear like a revving truck engine.

“Miss Grant, could I speak to you alone?”

Naomi glanced at Aunt Becca, but her darling aunt, the woman who had protected and raised her since Mom died, threw her to the wolves. “Why certainly, Detective. I’ll just be over there.” Aunt Becca pointed to the receptionists’ desk several yards away. And then she was gone.

Could the detective smell fear? His “kind eyes” penetrated her sharply. Did he know she’d overhead part of his conversation with Dr. Knightley? His penetrating gaze made her struggle not to look away guiltily.

“Your father is the owner of this spa, but where is he?”

“At home, recovering from a small stroke he suffered a few months ago.”

“By himself?”

“My younger sister, Monica, is a registered nurse, and she left her hospital in San José to come home to nurse him.” And wasn’t too happy about it, either, but Naomi had to give Monica credit for making the sacrifice.

“Your mother is…?”

“She passed away when I was in junior high school.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

His sympathy made her blink harder. Mom’s death still felt like pinpricks in her heart, and Jessica’s death revived the old ache. She missed her mother’s murmuring endearments to her in Japanese, softly so Dad wouldn’t hear and complain he couldn’t understand.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“My older sister, Rachel, is a dermatologist who does research in a laboratory facility built into the back of the spa. She develops the skin treatments we use. She was in her lab all morning and didn’t know about any of this, so we didn’t ask her to come out here. Did you need to see her?”

“Probably not.” He consulted his notes. “So Ms. Ortiz was a regular client of yours?”

“Yes, she came to the spa every few months. Her last visit was about four months ago.”

“Your staff mentioned that she always requested you for her massage.”

The way he said it was almost as if he’d caught her in a deliberate omission. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“You were with Dr. Knightley when you found Ms. Ortiz?”

“Yes.” Images of poor Jessica, weak and dying, made her press her lips together.

“Describe what happened for me.”

She told him in a low voice. She didn’t really want to go over it again.

“You mentioned that the massage room is yours. Do all the objects inside the room belong to the spa, or are some of them your personal items?”

“Well, yes. I have my own aromatherapy oils, some knickknacks—”

“A bear statue?”

The way he said it made her start to shiver again. “Yes, a teddy bear statue. It was a birthday present from Aunt Becca.”

“It’s larger and heavier than most of the other statues in the room.”

“It was a special commission from the artist who did the small stone statues in all the rooms—he usually does larger pieces. The teddy bear one was very expensive.”

The detective stared at his notebook, but she got the impression he wasn’t really reading it. His eyes lifted to hers. “The statue has a lot of fingerprints on it, Miss Grant.”

“I…I touch it all the time.” Her breath came in gasps. “It has that big round tummy. I rub it all the time. Because it’s cute.”

Detective Carter looked like the word cute wasn’t even in his vocabulary.

Her heart grew heavy. “Are you saying it was…the murder weapon? My teddy bear statue?”

Her statue. Her room. Her client.

Naomi pressed her hand to her mouth, only then aware of how badly she was shaking. She pressed the other hand to her stomach, to stop the roiling there.

“Several of your staff members mentioned that you had an argument with Ms. Ortiz this morning?” The detective’s mild tone had an edge to it.

“Not an argument,” she said hastily. “She…The last time she was here, her credit card had been declined. She gave us a second one, and that was fine. But because of that, this time I asked her to run her card through before her treatment.” She’d thought she was being a good manager-in-training and that Dad would be proud of her for her initiative. “Jessica wasn’t upset, really, more like…confused. She has a lighthearted way of saying things that makes you think it’s not a big deal.”

She’d just referred to Jessica in the present tense. The thought made her nose stuff up and a tremor run across her bottom lip. “She gave us her card and it went through fine. Everything was resolved.” Her voice broke on the last word.

The detective’s neutral expression gave nothing away, but Naomi thought she sensed a coolness in his manner. Why didn’t he believe her?

“Did you have any other problems with Ms. Ortiz?”

“No, not at all.” True, Jessica had always been a bit demanding and self-centered, but always so sweet-natured about it, even when Naomi told her no.

The detective paused a long moment. Could he read her not-quite-kind thoughts about Jessica? Naomi folded her hands in front of her to prevent herself from fidgeting. She swallowed. When would this be over?

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt Ms. Ortiz?”

She shook her head. “Jessica is—was so nice.” She took a deep breath. Calm down. “She was gorgeous, and that made some clients jealous of her.” She remembered Ms. Cormorand and Ms. Fischer. “And she talked a lot about herself, so that annoyed a few clients. But nothing that would make someone want to kill her.”

Detective Carter nodded as he took notes in his notebook. “I’ll speak to Ms. Itoh now. I might have more questions for you later. You also might not want to leave Sonoma anytime soon.”

This wasn’t happening to her. This couldn’t be happening. Jessica dead and herself a suspect! She couldn’t breathe. She was going to faint. No, she shouldn’t faint—she wouldn’t.

Naomi beckoned to Aunt Becca, who walked over. The detective hadn’t mentioned wanting to speak to her aunt alone, but Naomi backed up a few steps, enough to give them the semblance of privacy.