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“Well, it has nothing to do with us,” said Dally. “That I can assure you.”
“We’ve been told Meagin and Gio met here.”
Dally slapped his arms across his chest. “I have no way to confirm or deny that.”
Noise from within the spa caused him to turn. Someone talking.
He cocked his head toward the opening. “What? Oh shit. Hold on.” To us: “There’s a leak in one of the whirlpools, I’ve got to attend to it.”
He rushed inside, leaving the door to swing shut. Milo caught it and we stepped into a low-volume, surround-sound concert. Flutes, whale chirps, tubular bells, back to flutes.
I’d expected something airy, sleek, and geometrical. This waiting space was clearly the former living room of an older house. One of the few properties from the twenties not destroyed to make way for the commercial strip that was now Montana. Exuberant moldings, textured dun stucco walls, a carved wood ceiling painted in the neo-Spanish style of pre-Depression L.A.
The air was cool and fragrant. The dominant aromas eucalyptus and rose petals. Then an after-tinge of oregano that brought pizza to mind.
Milo had caught that, too. His nostrils expanded and contracted.
We approached a high, carved wooden station where a young woman wearing a black shirt like Mikel Dally’s sat. A plaque on the wall behind her informed visitors that the spa had been blessed by Tibetan monks from the Gardenia Monastery in Lhasa in order to install an aura of serenity. A second placard, in smaller print, offered reassurance that all products utilized were cruelty-free. The largest board hung directly behind her and listed services offered.
Detoxifying scalp massage; neuro-mapped reflexology foot massage; Bulgarian black mud wrap; almond butter crème emolument for stimulating the lymphatic system; nontoxic manicure, pedicure, and palmar caress package; aromatic Icelandic sauna; eternally eddying rock whirlpool.
Three-figure prices for each item. Four figures for the “diurnal package.”
On the far wall, a teak door centered by an elephant carved in relief was markedBlessed Entrance.
The receptionist, young, apple-cheeked, ginger-haired, looked terrified.Sophie.
Milo smiled at her and pointed to the board. “Sounds like good stuff, maybe a nice reward for when I solve the case and can chill out.”
No sign of comprehension. He leaned in close. “Hi…Sophie. I’m Milo and this is Alex.”
She said, “Um, Mikel should be back soon.”
“Great. Don’t know if you heard but we’re here about Meagin March and Gio Aggiunta.”
“Oh,” she said. “Her I know, him…uh-uh.”
“Giovanni Aggiunta.”
Blank stare.
She said, “Mikel looked really upset.”
Milo said, “Maybe Gio wasn’t here as often as Meagin but he was definitely here.”
“I’ve only worked here for like six weeks.”
“Ah. You didn’t hear what I told Mikel outside?”
Head shake. “But it made him really upset.”
“Understandable. Okay, Sophie, I’m sorry to bring really bad news. Unfortunately that’s pretty typical because I’m a homicide detective.”
“Someone got killed?”
“Unfortunately, they both did. Meagin and Gio.”
“Ohmigod. Meagin? Really?”
