Free Murder of a Botoxed Blonde by Denise Swanson

ended by saying the riddle was thought to have been solved several times after the Bruefelds died, but the treasure was never found.
    Skye yawned and looked at the clock. Three in the morning. She lay back down and tried to make a mental list of what she knew so far, but her theories had as many holes in them as the lace on her bra.
    Still trying to make sense of the past twelve hours, she fell into an uneasy sleep. Four hours later, papers being slid under the door woke her up. They were computer printouts, one with her name on it and one with Trixie’s. The schedules indicated mealtimes, all the available activities, and reminders of the individual treatments they had signed up for when they checked in yesterday.
    This morning she had an appointment for a Miracle Mud bath at nine thirty. It was supposed to take away all aches and pains, as well as cleanse the impurities from the skin, and subtract ten years from one’s age. Wouldn’t Wally be surprised when he picked her up at noon to find her looking twenty-three?
    Skye’s stomach growled, reminding her that breakfast began in less than an hour, and unlike home, she was sharing a bathroom. After showering, she put on a pink velour jogging suit and French braided her hair, then woke Trixie.
    Trixie sat up in bed with her eyes scrunched closed and mumbled, “Breakfast? What’s the point? The food’ll be awful.”
    “Probably, but surely, there’ll at least be some form of caffeine.”
    Trixie slid back down, muttering, “Wanna bet?” She pulled a pillow over her head and was snoring before Skye made it out the door.
    As Skye approached the dining room, Esmé rushed past her without acknowledging they had ever met. Skye closedher mouth, swallowing the “good morning” she was about to utter.
    A buffet was set up against the wall opposite the fireplace, and she helped herself to slices of melon and pineapple and a cup of blueberries. A hot plate held egg white omelets, but the sign indicated the filling was cottage cheese and cod, so Skye passed. She couldn’t find any type of toast, muffin, or Danish. Finally, she settled for a container of unsweetened plain yogurt.
    Her biggest disappointment was no coffee, only herbal tea. While she sipped a glass of low-sugar, low-carb, low-calorie cranberry juice, she took a pad of paper from her tote and started making a list of supplies she needed to bring back with her this evening. Earl Grey tea bags, chocolate, Diet Coke, and bread topped the column.
    As Skye tried to decide whether she could get away with smuggling in a toaster, Margot glided gracefully into the chair opposite her. She was dressed in a sapphire blue linen pantsuit, and looked as if she had just enjoyed the services of the spa’s hair stylist and makeup artist.
    Skye made an attempt to smooth her French braid as Margot said, “I’m disappointed you didn’t catch anyone last night.”
    “Technically, we caught too many people,” Skye joked.
    “What’s your next plan?”
    Skye shrugged. “The only thing I can think of is to solve the riddle and find the darn treasure.” She popped a grape in her mouth. “I’ll be seeing the police chief this afternoon. Maybe he can point me in another direction.”
    “What?”
Margot swallowed wrong and started to choke. “This is a girls-only weekend. The police chief can’t come here.”
    “He’s picking me up out front. Remember when I agreed to do this, I told you I had to be gone Thanksgiving afternoon?”
    “Sort of.” Margot’s collagen-enhanced lips thinned. “I thought since you failed last night, maybe you’d cancel your fun.”
    “Sorry. This is a family thing.” Skye added to herself: notto mention a “new boyfriend thing” she didn’t want to mess up. “Trixie will still be here investigating.”
    “Investigating what?” Nancy Kimbrough pulled out a chair. “Mind if I join you two?” The
Spa
magazine writer was dressed in black yoga pants and a white tank top, her long black