Bad Games 2 - Vengeful Games (31 page)

He hasn’t called yet, has he?
Probably shouldn’t have slept with him on the first date, ya dumb slut.

And then, like so many spontaneous opportunities in her career, a beautiful one hit Monica square on. She’d needed a distraction before leaving the spa. There was already one planned she felt confident in, but this new one was just too irresistible to pass up.

The receptionist quickly put her smart phone back on the desk as if caught by her employer. She smiled wide at Monica. “So what do you think?”

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Monica said again. “I will definitely be coming back soon to schedule—” She stopped there on purpose, her eyes fixed excitedly on the smartphone resting by the receptionist’s right hand. “Is that the new Droid?”

The receptionist picked up her phone and displayed it proudly. “Yeah—I just got it last week.”

“I’ve been looking into those. Can I see it?”

“Sure.” The receptionist handed it over.

Monica gave it a harmless going over, leaned her elbows on the counter, and knocked a container of brochures onto the desk. A good many fluttered to the floor. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the receptionist said as she squatted down behind the desk to collect the brochures.

Monica went to work on the smartphone—found Contacts, found the phone’s vCard, memorized a number, brought the screen back to where it had been when she’d first handled it.

The receptionist rose from behind the desk with all the brochures.

Monica faked embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

The receptionist smiled as she placed the brochures back into their container. “It’s okay. No problem whatsoever.”

Monica held the smartphone in her right hand, in the receptionist’s line of vision. Below the desk, in her left hand, Monica was punching a number into her own phone without looking.

“Here’s your phone,” Monica said when the girl was finally done with the brochures. “It’s nice. I may just have to get one.”

The receptionist took her phone back. “Thanks. Did you want to schedule something today?”

“Not yet. I want to go home and check my schedule first. But you can rest assured I’ll be back.”

The receptionist smiled. Monica said goodbye and headed for the entrance. She had planned on dialing the front desk en route to the door in hopes of a distraction, fairly confident it would work. If it didn’t, she could have easily talked her way out of any actions that followed. Now, she dialed the receptionist’s smartphone instead, positive the blocked number flashing on the screen of her Droid (
perhaps it was
HIM,
calling
from some private line at work!
) would elicit hope and excitement … and a turn of the back for some privacy.

It did. The receptionist snatched her phone and immediately gave Monica her back before answering. Monica opened the entrance door to make it sound as if she’d gone, then banked left into the facial and body treatments area. She immediately brought her phone to her ear and began listening to the eager receptionist’s voice go on like a skipped record: “Hello? Hello?
Hello?
”

Monica grinned and hung up.

Chapter 64

“You ready?” Domino asked Amy.

It was like asking a kid if she was ready for ice cream. Amy, dressed in humble sweats and a sweatshirt with her purse over one shoulder, nodded immediately.

Four of them were at the front door: Domino, Amy, Briggs, and Allan. Patrick watched from the kitchen.

Domino touched Allan’s shoulder. “
Anything
seems funny you pull out. I want you frosty every second. A goddamned snowman.”

Allan said, “Yup.”

Domino turned to Briggs. “Keep the tail as far back as you can—watch for anyone following. Stay in the lot for a spell after they arrive and do a sweep. Call in when they’ve arrived safe.”

Briggs nodded.

No one but Amy was smiling. Patrick spotted this and shook his head from the kitchen. Amy approached him.

“Would you stop worrying?” she said.

Patrick was out of words. He had made his point—several times. Over the course of their relationship he’d always made a concerted effort to see things from his wife’s point of view during a debate, to be an understanding husband. But this—this he just didn’t understand. And Amy said he wouldn’t understand. Because he wasn’t a woman. Deep down Patrick wondered if that was a line of manipulative bullshit his wife was feeding him. Or maybe Amy’s reasoning held some merit, and short of switching brains with her, he’d
never
understand. But did that change anything? Whether he understood or not, the issue—the main issue—was that she was taking what he felt was an unnecessary risk for something as menial as a massage.

No, he didn’t get it at all. But it was happening all the same. She was going.

“No, I won’t,” he replied.

“Patrick, this is no different than going to the park, or going shopping. I think it’s safer even.”

Patrick’s expression demanded elaboration.

“I’ll be in one spot the whole time. When we’re in the park or in a store we’re moving around, there are tons of people …”

“You’re safer in crowds. Domino said so.”

Amy stood on her toes and kissed him. He accepted the kiss but did not pucker.

“I’ll be back soon. I’ll be back a new woman, you wait and see.”

Patrick’s expression stayed flat.

“And I’ll be so relaxed and rejuvenated,” she continued in a sensual whisper, “that I just may reward my understanding husband with something special tonight.”

Their sex life had been less than eventful since arriving back from Pittsburgh—no easy feat for an uninhibited couple that had once managed to have sex on a public beach during the day. Patrick’s libido
had
started to nudge anxiety aside these last couple of weeks, if only for a nice quickie. But what Amy was doing now put everything below his waist on lockdown. She was using sex as a tool. It angered him and he wouldn’t accommodate her.

Patrick took a step away from her and said, “Enjoy your massage.”

Amy cocked her head, studied him, but ultimately shrugged and said, “Okay. Love you.”

His anger swelled from her indifference to his manner. He did not reply as she turned and left with Allan and Briggs.

Chapter 65

A slender woman stepped out of the facial and body treatment area inside Image Spa. She wore a white robe with white slippers (both bearing the Image Spa emblem), had a white towel wrapped around her head, and her face was covered in a green mud mask.

The woman walked with a casual grace towards the massage area at the far end of the spa, glancing at the reception desk as she passed. The receptionist, busy with a potential customer, never once glanced in the robed woman’s direction. The robed woman smiled and opened the door with the sign that read:
Shhh … Quiet Zone.

Chapter 66

Christopher Allan and Amy Lambert were waiting for the OK from Dan Briggs. Briggs was doing a sweep of the lot and surrounding areas.

“Looks good,” Briggs’ voice echoed into Allan’s earpiece. “I’m still going to hang around for a bit though.”

Allan tucked his chin and spoke into his collar. “Okay. We’ll be here for a bit—probably around two hours. Give me a head’s up when you’re heading back.”

“Will do.”

Allan opened the front door to the spa and entered first. He and Amy approached the front desk.

“Hi, Amy, how are you?”

“I’m doing okay, Julie. Really looking forward to my massage.”

Julie’s eyes ping-ponged between Amy and Allan. “Well Lana should almost be ready for you, you can head on back now if … um … are you two together?” Her eyes locked on Allan. “Are you scheduled for something too?”

Amy shook her head. “No, he’s a friend of my husband’s—visiting from out of town.” Amy felt fine telling the lie, and yet, uncomfortable with the actual truth dressed up as breezy wit that followed. “He’s my bodyguard for the day.” She smiled wide and it felt all wrong, like her teeth had gone crooked.

Fortunately, Julie returned a genuine smile, looked at Allan, and motioned straight ahead towards the chairs that occupied reception. “You can have a seat there if you like, sir. Would you like some tea or—”

“Water, please,” Allan said. “But I’d like you to bring it to me once we’re settled. Thank you.” Allan spoke with such assuredness that Julie immediately began nodding, as if she’d received an order as opposed to a request.

“No problem,” Julie said. “If you two head on back, I’ll bring you your water in a minute.”

“Thanks, Julie,” Amy said.

Allan nodded a thank you then led Amy towards her massage.

*

Amy and Allan entered the tranquil waiting room. The space was empty and Allan used the opportunity to pull his gun from his belt and give it a quick check. Amy watched the man with a hesitant eye as he stuffed the gun back into his waist line before whispering into his collar.

“We’re inside, Briggs. You there?”

“
Here. She getting her massage?
”

“Not yet. I’m gonna secure the massage room first. They have a waiting room right outside. I’ll be on guard there. I’ll hit you up the moment I’ve checked the massage room and she’s on the table.”

“
I’ll be here.
”

The door to the massage room opened and a short woman dressed in dark blue scrubs stepped out. The woman had blonde hair and pale-blue eyes with only the faintest of lines in her milky skin, despite her fifty-plus years.

“Hello, Amy,” Lana said, her Russian accent thick, but more exotic than a burden; she spoke strong English. “It is good to see you.”

“Hi Lana, it’s good to see you too.” Amy looked at Allan, then at Lana. “This is my husband’s friend, Christopher.”

Lana extended her hand and Allan took it. She shook it hard. “It is nice to meet you, Christopher. Are you interested in massage?”

Allan said, “I am, actually. Would you mind if I had a look?”

Lana smiled. “Of course you may.”

All three entered the room. It was quaint but purposeful. A massage table dressed in sheets and blankets stood in the center. Candles already lit in three of the four corners flickered the only source of light. A sound system overhead whispered out gentle beats and rhythms coupled with ocean waves, and a tall rectangular dresser in the fourth corner presented an array of oils and creams on its countertop. What you saw was what you got—underneath the massage table was clearly visible, and the drawers that ran the length of the rectangular dresser would fail to house a small dog, never mind a person. Only one potential risk stood out: another door on the opposite end of the room, and Allan pointed to it.

“What’s in there?” he asked.

“Shower room,” Lana said. “My clients like to sometimes shower after or before massage.”

Allan squinted. “Before?”

Lana only nodded.

“What if you’re with another client?” he said.

“There is another entrance outside in waiting area.”

“Was that the second door I saw?” he asked.

Again Lana just nodded.

“So if someone wanted to, they could enter this room through that second door?”

“If I am with client? No—I lock the door.”

“Is there anyone in the showers now?”

“Yes—my last client should be.” Lana studied Allan. A tiny smile appeared on the corner of her mouth. She turned and looked at Amy as she continued. “You do not have to play this ‘he is my husband’s friend’ game with me, Amy. I know you well. You are good, faithful client. I know what happened to you. And I know what happened just.” Lana looked at Allan but continued speaking to Amy. “He is your protection until the bad man is caught, yes? It is okay, I do not mind. I am not afraid.”

Amy glanced at Allan, then back at Lana. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, he’s my protection.”

“Okay then,” Lana said. “And I am guessing you want to look in shower room now?”

“Yes,” Allan said.

“Okay. Give me a minute. I will go in and tell my client. Then you come in and look.”

“Thank you,” Allan said.

Lana walked through the connecting door to the showers.

*

Lana walked past a row of lockers and onto the tiled floor. Three shower stalls were straight ahead. Left and right were empty, the curtains bunched to one side on both stalls. The middle stall’s curtain was drawn tight. The water was running.

Lana approached and raised her voice to the curtain. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“I have a man coming through.” She did not want to tell the truth and scare her client. “He is looking for his wife’s ring. She left it here maybe. Are you almost done?”

“Actually, I’m not. I only just got in. He can come in and look, I’ll just stay in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just please let me know when he’s gone.”

“Okay, I will.”

Lana returned to the massage room.

*

“Okay, so my client, she is in the shower,” Lana began. “I tell her you are looking for your wife’s ring she lost. My client, she says she will stay in the shower while you look and I will tell her when you leave.”

Allan said okay, and followed Lana into the showers.

*

Monica was pleased Lana had not questioned her identity as Elizabeth when she spoke to her through the shower curtain. As she had predicted, the running water and a cupped hand over her mouth had dulled the intricacies of her voice.

Monica was not beneath the running water—Elizabeth’s corpse was. Monica was dry and off to one side, her gun also dry and resting on one of the porcelain shelves. The other necessary items were locked safely away in one of the lockers. When she heard Amy’s protection enter and begin opening and closing a few of the locker doors, she felt a brief jab of worry, but the metallic echoes of his indiscriminate opening and closing of the doors made his actions sound more arbitrary than necessary—kicking over stones even though he knew nothing of worth was beneath them.