A Body to Die For (28 page)

Though the sun had managed to find a hole in a layer of clouds, there was a rawness to the day, and it became unpleasant to
sit outdoors any longer. I returned to the inn. I was anxious to right things with Danny, but I needed to let the dust settle
first—and give her a chance to reconsider coming clean with me. Her answer had sounded defensive, and I suspected that she
wasn’t so much annoyed at me as troubled by the information she was withholding.

I showed up for my wrap treatment ten minutes early, using the main entrance of the spa off the parking lot. The reception
area was empty, except for a woman I didn’t recognize behind the desk. She asked if I preferred a terry robe or a waffle one
and then led me down the dim, hushed corridor to the changing area. There didn’t appear to be any coordinators on duty.

The women’s changing area was deserted, though I could hear the shower running. That meant at least one other client was on
the premises. Since I was early, I took my time undressing, folding my clothes, placing them in a locker. The water kept running,
but no one ever emerged from the shower.

Since the receptionist didn’t come to collect me, I found my own way to the relaxation room. The curtains along the walls
poofed out as I walked, ghostlike. I couldn’t help but imagine Anna last Friday night in the spa, alone at first, then caught
unawares by the murderer, the terror she must have felt when she realized what was going to happen to her.

I sat alone in the relaxation room for about ten minutes, not relaxing at all, with nothing for company but the endless gurgle
of water over stones in the fountain. When Cordelia finally stepped into the room, she was pleasant but cool. What about me
doesn’t she like? was all I could wonder.

She led me to a room toward the very back of the spa. It was either the one with the hose that Danny had shown me earlier
or an identical one—it was hard to tell because of all the twists and turns. A candle flickered on a small table in the corner,
and music played faintly, something new age–y tonight rather than Asian. Cordelia informed me that while she stepped out of
the room I should disrobe and lie face up on the table under the sheet. As soon as she was gone, I unbelted my robe and hung
it on a hook on the back of the door. Climbing onto the table, I spotted the Mylar paper below the layers of towel and sheets,
and the sight of it made my stomach lurch. A few minutes later Cordelia tapped on the door, and I called out quietly that
she could enter.

“Have you ever had a wrap before?” she asked, turning back the very top part of the sheet and smoothing it down neatly.

“No, never.”

“There are several steps in the process. First I give your skin a light brushing to exfoliate it. Then I use an actual exfoliating
rub all over your body. Last I put on the sea mud and wrap you up like a cocoon. The mud feels cool at first, but once you’re
in the wrap it gets warm and bubbles a little. I’ll massage your scalp during part of the time you’re in the wrap, and then
I’ll put a cool cloth over your eyes while you rest. If anything becomes the slightest bit uncomfortable, just let me know.”

“
Uncomfortable?
” I asked.

“Some people find the bubbling a little… well, it’s just different.”

For the brushing she used what appeared to be an ordinary hairbrush with natural bristles. Working in small circles, she covered
almost my entire body, including my breasts. Next was the rub, which she explained was scented with eucalyptus. After rubbing
it over my body, she turned on the hose, washing away every trace of the rub. After I’d dried off with a towel, I lay back
down again, this time directly on the Mylar paper, and she began smearing the mud on me.

The smell was yucky, like something emanating from the Dumpster behind a sushi restaurant. And though the feel of it was refreshing
at first, as soon as she folded the Mylar paper over my body and laid a towel on top, it turned hot and sticky, just as she’d
said. I felt as if I’d fallen into a pan of bubbling marinara sauce.

“Sea mud is a natural purifier,” Cordelia said, dimming the lights even more. “It rids the body of toxins.”

She began to massage my scalp, working firmly and rhythmically. I was struck again by the strength of Cordelia’s hands. They
were like a man’s, stronger, it seemed, than even Eric’s. I wanted to just lie there and luxuriate in it, like a cat getting
its head rubbed, but I couldn’t ignore how yucky my body felt, trapped in primordial ooze.

After a few minutes she stepped aside, and I heard the sound of her wringing out something with her hands. Then she placed
a cool, wet towel gently across my eyes.

“Relax now. I have to get a few supplies, but I’ll be right back. You’re going to love how your skin feels after you’re done.”

It had better end up as soft as a baby’s butt, was all I could think, because the experience was ranking right up there with
a pelvic exam in terms of enjoyability. I knew it would be easy enough for me to slip my arms out of my cocoon, but I felt
claustrophobic nonetheless. It probably had as much to do with my memories of Anna in the Mylar as it did with the hot, gurgling
mud. I saw her in my mind’s eye, that horrible silver mummy. I took deep breaths and started counting backward from one hundred.

After a short time, I heard Cordelia slip quietly back into the room. Through the towel I saw the room darken completely,
and I realized she’d turned off the lights. Next she placed a towel, or rather something heavier, a blanket, perhaps, over
the top of my body.

I opened my mouth to tell her it was much too hot when I heard the breath someone expels when they blow out a candle. The
room was now in total darkness.

“What’s going on?” I called out. Suddenly there was another towel, heavy, being placed over my entire face. I heard a sound
like tape being yanked off a roll and then something else pressing on my face. I felt a surge of panic. I could barely breathe.

I
TRIED TO
yell from beneath the towel, but my mouth couldn’t move enough to form words. I felt someone brush against my body, and then
through the towels I heard the muffled sound of the door closing. There was no way I could catch a breath, and my heart began
to beat wildly, as if it had lost all control.

As terror enveloped me, I tried to move my head, but something had locked it in place. Don’t panic, I pleaded to myself. I
concentrated instead on the blanket over my body. It lay there immovable, like a piece of heavy tarp covering a swimming pool.
I wiggled my arms inside the cocoon, trying to free them. They felt heavy as stone. But I kept up the wiggling until I managed
to pull my arms from my sides and stick both my hands through the opening in the Mylar. I could feel the blanket, and I began
to punch it, harder and harder. When I’d created a pucker of material, I scrunched it up with my hand and shifted it to the
left, piece by piece. Finally I felt the blanket slip to the ground.

I was nearly out of breath and frantic. My hands grabbed at the towel on my face, trying to tear it off, but there were strips
of tape on it, and they seemed to go all the way around the table. I began to rock my head back and forth, loosening the grip
of the towel and the tape until finally I was able to slither my body out from under it. My lungs felt ready to burst as I
took my first breath of air.

The room was in complete darkness. For one terrifying second I thought I heard someone breathing near me, but I quickly realized
it was my own breathing, working double time. I slithered off the table and carefully toed my way across the room. My hand
felt for the light switch, and when I didn’t find it in one second, I searched instead for the door. As soon as I touched
the doorknob, I yanked it open. I stood in the entranceway, covered from head to toe in mud, as Cordelia, a shocked expression
on her face, rushed toward me.

“What’s the matter?” she exclaimed. “I was just gone for a minute.”

“What’s the
matter?
” I shouted. “I should ask
you
that question. Someone taped a towel over my face. I nearly suffocated.”

“I—what do you mean over your face? I just put the one on your eyes.”

“Well then, someone paid me a visit when you stepped away. Here, look.”

I stepped back into the room and she followed, switching on the light and pushing the dimmer to high. On the floor in a heap
was a large white blanket. At the head of the massage table was a towel with what looked like two revolutions of duct tape
going across the top of it and then along the underside of the table.

“I, I didn’t put that stuff on you,” she stammered.

“Well,
somebody
did. And I’m getting out of here.”

“Let me wash you off first,” Cordelia said. There was concern in her voice, though as far as I knew, she was faking it.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’m not spending another second in this room.”

I yanked my robe off the hook on the door, shoved my arms into the sleeves, and tramped toward the locker room like a swamp
woman. For a split second I considered hopping into the shower there, but I didn’t want to spend any more time in the spa.
I hauled my clothes out of the locker and, wadding them up in a ball, stepped back outside again. Josh was standing there
waiting, Cordelia by his side.

“What exactly happened?” he said in a clipped tone. His voice was lowered, however, suggesting that he wanted to be sure no
other clients heard him.

“Someone came into the room when I was having a wrap and taped a towel over my face so I couldn’t breathe.”

“A wrap can be very intense. Once in a while someone has a—a sort of reaction to the confined conditions.”

“Oh please,” I said. “Next you’re going to suggest I had an LSD flashback.”

I turned to go.

“You’re not leaving here like that, are you?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll use the
back
stairs.”

I hurried down the corridor toward the smaller reception area, walking so quickly that the curtains along the walls stirred
as they would if a thunderstorm were on its way. I didn’t pass a single person on my way up the back stairs.

My heart was still beating hard when I closed the door to my room. I turned the dead bolt, put the chain on, and pulled the
small table in front of the door. I waited until I got to the bathroom to peel off the robe. After giving the water a minute
to turn warm enough, I stepped into the shower and watched the mud liquefy and run off my body. Then I lathered up and rinsed
off.

I felt slightly calmer when I stepped out of the shower, but not much. As I was slipping a robe on, someone knocked at the
door of my suite, making me jump.

“Who is it?” I yelled.

“Bailey, it’s me, Danny.”

I moved the table away, unlocked the door, and opened it. Danny stood there, her gray eyes wide in alarm.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“What did they tell you?” I asked as I ushered her into the room and closed the door behind her. I was curious if Josh and
company were spreading the “she went insane with claustrophobia” theory.

“Josh called and said that you thought someone had come into the room and put a towel over your head. Initially you accused
Cordelia but then thought it might have been someone else.”

“Not
put
a towel over my head. Someone
taped
a towel over my head.”

I ran through the story quickly for her.

“Do you think it
could
have been Cordelia?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what her motive could be. She doesn’t seem to like me all that much, but that’s hardly a reason
to try to hurt me.”

“I find it very odd that she left the room,” Danny admitted. “The therapist is supposed to stay in there with the client in
case they start to feel uncomfortable. Cordelia doesn’t do wraps on a regular basis, but I would think she would know the
correct procedure.”

“She said something about needing to get some supplies. And someone could have slipped in when she was gone.”

“Bailey, I’m honestly thinking it would be best if you left.”

“I have no intention of leaving.”

“But I’m worried about your safety.”

“It’s clear I’ve pushed someone’s buttons, but I promise I’ll be more careful. Besides, I’m planning to go to Wallingford
tomorrow, so I won’t even be around most of the day.”

She gave each of my arms a squeeze, and as she pulled away I felt something wet on my hand. I glanced down and saw a tiny
smudge of something brownish gray there and another on her sleeve.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s mud, I guess,” she said as she inspected it, holding a piece of her sleeve in her hand. “I went into the treatment room
you’d been in once they called me down there. I must have gotten it on me then.”

She said good-bye, and as she stepped into the corridor, she urged me to order something nourishing for dinner from room service.
But I had little appetite. After changing into jeans and a turtleneck, I took an apple from the basket on the coffee table
and lay down on the couch.