Free Murder of a Botoxed Blonde by Denise Swanson Page B

minutes early, where an attendant would work a deep conditioner into her wet hair. No makeup or jewelry was allowed. The guest was asked to consult with Dr. Burnett prior to the treatment if they wanted Botox injections while they had the mud bath.
    Skye showered, and despite instructions to wear nothing underneath the spa robe, put on an old one-piece swimsuit. After twisting her wet hair into a towel and slipping on flip-flops, she headed to the Miracle Mud bath area of the spa, following the small map that had been included with the appointment’s instructions.
    In order to reach the special suite Margot and Dr. Burnett had had constructed from the mansion’s basement, Skye was directed down a flight of stairs and through a tiled hallway. According to her directions, at the end of this passage was a room that contained two uniquely designed ceramic vats that heated the Miracle Mud and kept it at a constant temperature.
    Skye emerged from the corridor and saw a pair of large windows with a river view. In fact, it almost looked as if the water was flowing straight into the spa. How had they done that? Skye summoned a picture of the mansion and realized it had been built into a hill, allowing for the back to be level with the shore, and making it easy to pipe in the Miracle Mud.
    Finally, tearing her gaze from the view, Skye saw a small desk and chair near a doorway. The chair was empty and there was no sign of the attendant, but Skye could hear loud music coming from the treatment room beyond.
    She hesitated, thinking maybe the woman was settling another guest into the bath, since the brochure indicated two tubs were available.
    As she stood there, unsure of what to do, Skye looked around. Besides the desk and chair next to the door leadinginto the mud bath room, there was a wall with several shower heads attached and drains along the floor, nearby a rolling cabinet of the special silvery colored towels that were the spa’s trademark, and a small alcove with a shampoo sink and chair.
    Shoot. She hated waiting, but she didn’t want to have to walk all the way back to the main reception area. She tried calling out, “Miss, Miss. I’m here for my nine-thirty appointment.” Could the attendant hear her over the loud music? She moved closer to the closed treatment room door and raised her voice. “Anybody there?”
    Still no answer.
    She should turn on her heels and get Margot. No, that was silly. She’d just take a little peek. If the attendant was busy she’d wait; if no one was there, she’d leave.
    Her flip-flops made a soft flapping sound as she crossed the small space. She nearly stepped on a wadded towel stained with greenish-brown steaks laying on the floor near the door. She reached for the knob, but hesitated before grabbing it because there were greenish-brown smears similar to those on the towel, coating the brass surface. She bent over and sniffed. It smelled herbal.
    Taking a tissue from her robe pocket, she used it to release the door without getting her hands dirty, then laughed at herself for being so fastidious when in a few minutes her whole body would be covered in mud. She eased open the door and called out, “It’s now or never if you don’t want me to come in!”
    Skye counted to ten, then swung the door wide, but didn’t cross the threshold. The room was a twelve by twelve tiled room with a mud vat on either side of the doorway. The music was even louder in here and Skye spotted a hot pink portable CD player on a shelf next to various bottles, bath brushes, and silvery towels. The song sounded familiar, and Skye caught herself humming, but she couldn’t quite come up with the words.
    At first the room appeared empty, but then she noticed a pink and black silk kimono hanging from a hook near the door, and on the floor underneath matching satin slippers layon their sides. Skye stepped back, ready to close the door, when something stopped her. Where was the robe’s owner? Surely, no one would