of her for her initiative. “Jessica wasn’t upset, really, more like…confused. She has a lighthearted way of saying things that makes you think it’s not a big deal.”
She’d just referred to Jessica in the present tense. The thought made her nose stuff up and a tremor run across her bottom lip. “She gave us her card and it went through fine. Everything was resolved.” Her voice broke on the last word.
The detective’s neutral expression gave nothing away, but Naomi thought she sensed a coolness in his manner. Why didn’t he believe her?
“Did you have any other problems with Ms. Ortiz?”
“No, not at all.” True, Jessica had always been a bit demanding and self-centered, but always so sweet-natured about it, even when Naomi told her no.
The detective paused a long moment. Could he read her not-quite-kind thoughts about Jessica? Naomi folded her hands in front of her to prevent herself from fidgeting. She swallowed. When would this be over?
“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt Ms. Ortiz?”
She shook her head. “Jessica is—was so nice.” She took a deep breath. Calm down. “She was gorgeous, and that made some clients jealous of her.” She remembered Ms. Cormorand and Ms. Fischer. “And she talked a lot about herself, so that annoyed a few clients. But nothing that would make someone want to kill her.”
Detective Carter nodded as he took notes in his notebook. “I’ll speak to Ms. Itoh now. I might have more questions for you later. You also might not want to leave Sonoma anytime soon.”
This wasn’t happening to her. This couldn’t be happening. Jessica dead and herself a suspect! She couldn’t breathe. She was going to faint. No, she shouldn’t faint—she wouldn’t.
Naomi beckoned to Aunt Becca, who walked over. The detective hadn’t mentioned wanting to speak to her aunt alone, but Naomi backed up a few steps, enough to give them the semblance of privacy.
The detective turned to Aunt Becca. “Ms. Itoh—”
“Call me Becca, Detective,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back—faintly, responding to her charm, but not unreservedly. He consulted his notes. “You are a hostess for the spa?”
“Yes. We have two receptionists for here in the lobby area—” she nodded toward Sarah and Iona, who stood wide-eyed and stiff against the far wall “—but for the entire back area of the spa, I am general hostess to see to the clients’ needs.”
“And you’re also related to the Grants?”
“I’m their mother’s sister. I came to live with them after she died many years ago. It’s been so wonderful to raise my nieces. But I think sometimes Augustus is a little overwhelmed by having four women in the house.”
Aunt Becca must have been more nervous than she let on, because she was certainly running off at the mouth. The detective’s soft gray eyes seemed to smile at Aunt Becca’s rambling, but they were probing at the same time.
“Miss Grant?” a nervous voice whispered.
Naomi turned. Sarah and Iona stood at her shoulder, hunched over as if that would make the detective notice them less. “Yes?” she whispered back.
Iona cast a glance at Detective Carter. “Sarah and I were talking…We caught a glimpse of Ms. Ortiz when…well, when you first found her and before the police came. And we were both just noticing—”
“It’s so strange,” Sarah said, nodding. “We figured you wouldn’t mind if we mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what?” Naomi asked.
“Well, when Ms. Ortiz came in this morning, we both noticed her necklace.” Iona’s voice, already low-pitched, dropped even lower. “And when we saw her—you know, in the massage room—she wasn’t wearing it.”
“What necklace?” Detective Carter asked.
Iona started and Sarah turned pale as the detective’s eyes turned on them. Iona licked her lips. “Well…it might not be anything…”
Sarah shrugged. “It might just be in her locker, because who wears jewelry when they get a massage?”
“But we noticed she didn’t have on her Tiffany diamond necklace.”
“Did Ms. Ortiz have a locker?”
“Yes.” Aunt Becca dipped a hand into her silk pants pocket. “I have the master key. Sarah, will you find out Ms. Ortiz’s locker number on the computer, please?”
Sarah was off in a flash, her slender heels clicking smartly on the lobby’s tile floor as she headed to the receptionists’ desk. She hustled back with a breathless, “Number twenty-one.”
Naomi led the way back toward the women’s locker room, stepping under the yellow police tape, and Aunt Becca gave the key to Detective Carter. He opened cabinet twenty-one, and all three of them peeked inside.
There was a cream suit that looked expensive, hanging from the clothes bar. Salvatore Ferragamo shoes casually tossed on the floor. A minuscule Chanel clutch purse.
The detective rummaged in the purse but shook his head. No necklace. “We need to search the other lockers.” He raised eyes that were no longer soft gray, but steely.
Naomi glanced at Aunt Becca.
“I’m sorry, Detective, but we’ll need to insist on a warrant.” Aunt Becca’s voice was low but firm.
His mouth tightened. “You do realize we’re trying to solve a murder.” While his tone remained light and slightly gravelly, there was a frustrated edge to his words.
Aunt Becca licked her lips. “I do realize that, Detective, but you also have to realize that clients come to the Joy Luck Life Spa specifically for privacy and anonymity. We had a starlet in room thirty, a movie producer in room forty-five, and the CEO of a Fortune 500 company in room twelve.”
The detective’s cheek twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react to the impressive list.
“If we allowed you to search the lockers without a warrant, we’d lose our reputation and our clients. I’m afraid I must stand firm on this, sir.” Aunt Becca’s eyes narrowed at the same moment Detective Carter’s did, and they glared at each other with similar bulldog expressions. It was almost comical. Except for the fact he was a policeman.
Naomi’s stomach lurched. How could Aunt Becca have the backbone to stand up to him?
Detective Carter’s expression faded slowly. He straightened. “I’ll be back with that warrant, Ms. Itoh.” His low voice made it sound like a threat.
Aunt Becca nodded and gave a faint smile. “You do that.”
Naomi’s stomach didn’t settle, even when the detective followed them out of the locker room. They had to do this to protect the spa, but were they allowing the murderer to go free?
FOUR
Devon had already checked into his hotel in downtown Sonoma when he noticed that his cell phone was missing.
That alarmed him more than usual, simply because it had been such a bad day.
Where had he last used it? He didn’t remember using it any time today. He hadn’t called his sister or his admin, who had the day off since he wasn’t taking appointments today.
He didn’t remember dialing anyone for any reason. He’d avoided calling his sister to tell her what happened. Rayna disliked Jessica with a passion, but the news would still shock her. Plus, Jessica’s death meant it would be next to impossible to recover their mother’s Tiffany necklace now. It was probably lost somewhere in Jessica’s apartment, and he’d certainly never be able to show up and look for it.
He reined