Roses Are Red; He's Dead (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 9) (2 page)

I glanced over at a table in the corner of the living room that had a simple touch tone phone. “Sure. I’ll do that. And thanks for the basket.”

The woman walked off, pleased that I wasn’t angry about her forgetfulness. A man loitered on the stone path. He seemed to be studying me. I couldn’t place it; something about him seemed off, but I ignored it since this was Greg’s and mine’s weekend to relax.

“Who was that?” asked Greg when I closed the door.

“Just the maid,” I said. “She forgot to set this in here.”

I placed the fruit basket on the kitchen counter. The fruit looked delicious so I helped myself to an apple. The crunch and juice in it was just what I needed.

Chapter 2

I finished my apple and pulled out the brochure. They had a spa and it was open from six in the morning until nine at night. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. “Greg, I think I’ll go to the spa. You don’t mind do you?”

“Nah, go ahead,” he replied. “Get that tension in your neck worked out.” He rubbed my shoulders a bit.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you for supper.” I pecked him on the cheek.

“It’s at seven.”

I waved at Greg, grabbed my key card, and headed off to the spa. The past few weeks, I had built up a lot of stress and my shoulders and neck constantly ached. The spa was brightly decorated with big windows to allow as much sunlight in as possible. Flowers lined the walls—real, not fake—providing a fresh aroma, which I found enticing and suddenly wished that spring would arrive. I was so sick of snow.

“Hello, may I help you?” asked he lady behind the desk.

“Yes, I was wondering if I could get a massage? Do I need to make an appointment or…”

“Oh, not at all. Everything around here is available to our guests; no appointment necessary. I just need your name.”

“Mel.”

“Is this your first massage?”

“Yes.” I could just imagine the look on Jackie’s face if she saw me here getting signed up for a massage. She usually had to drag me to a salon to get my nails and hair done.

“Okay, Mel, if you’ll follow me.”

I followed the lady to the back of the parlor where she took me to a private room. The place was inviting with its soft lighting that accentuated the wood floor and walls.

“There is a bathrobe and some towels there. You just help yourself. Someone will be in with you in a moment.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I dropped my stuff and undressed, wrapping one of the towels around myself. The table I laid on had a velvety, plush cushion that hugged my body as I sunk into it enticing me to fall asleep.

“Mel?” said a voice as someone walked in.

“Yes,” I said, sitting up.

“I’m Mindy.”

“Good to meet you.”

“Is this your first massage?”

“Yes.”

“Any aches and pains you want me to work on?’

“My neck and shoulders have been really tense lately.”

“Okay, well let’s have you lie down.”

I found myself descending into a world or bliss and relaxation. For a small person, Mindy had some strong fingers. She used lavender oil on my back; the scent filled my nostrils, making me relax even more. I must say, I should have done this earlier. Greg knew what he was doing when he had us come up here.

“You have a lot of tension in your shoulders,” said Mindy. “Do you have a stressful job?”

“Not really,” I replied, feeling even more relaxed. “I work at a local candle store, but I also go to school full-time at the university.”

“Oh. Just starting?”

“No, it’s my third year. I hope to graduate next May with a degree in filmmaking.”

“That’s cool. You want to direct movies?”

“Yeah,” I said. This is the most I talked to any stranger. “I like making films. Short movies, documentaries—that sort of thing.”

“That’s really neat. Maybe you can get in on the Sundance Film Festival.”

I laughed. “Not likely.”

“You never know. Though you might want to take it easy next semester. All work and no play can lead to a very stressful life.”

“Yeah.” I was not about to tell her that I also tend to get visited by ghosts who want me to solve their murder or some mystery. That is a great way to get locked up in the nuthouse. “Guess I ought to take it easy sometime.”

“You here alone?”

“No, I’m here with my boyfriend. He brought me up as a surprise.”

“How nice. We get a lot of couples up here.”

I found myself growing sleepy. This was exactly what I needed.

“Mindy,” came a voice through the intercom, “please come to the front desk.”

Mindy sighed. “I’m so sorry about this. One of our masseuses called in sick. I’ll be right back.”

I told her not to worry about it. I felt so comfortable that I just figured I would take a short nap. Unfortunately, relaxation was not to stay. A small noise sounded outside the door. I ignored it, sure that it was just someone walking past. It happened again.

Perturbed, I sat up, hoping that it would go away. The same sound happened a third time, but more insistent. Moaning, I stood up and approached the door. Thinking that maybe I should let it go, I almost turned away, but the same sound rattled the door for a fourth time. I opened it. A man leaned back in a chair—his head lolled to the side as though he were asleep—in the hallway. Something was wrong.

“Sir?”

No response.

“Sir?” I said, moving closer, while hugging the cotton towel to my body.

Eerie silence. Something was definitely wrong and that prickly feeling you get on the back of your neck struck me.

“Sir?” I touched his shoulder. He flopped over and crashed to the floor, unmoving.

In a bit of a panic, I ran to the front desk, my bare feet slapping the wood floor, while I clutched my towel. “He’s dead!”

Heads turned in my direction as I entered the lobby area as a group of girls walked in.

“You need to get some paramedics or something,” I said, breathless. “There’s a dead guy back there.”

“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” said the lady at the desk.

“I am calm,” I said, “but there is guy in the back and he is not breathing.” I stopped speaking as I realized that all I wore was a towel, and there were an awful lot of people in the lobby staring at me. I wrapped my towel tighter.

“Call security,” said the gal at the front desk.

Within moments, security showed up and I led them to where I had found the body and stopped short. It had gone. Nothing was there; not one sign of a body having been there.

“Where is he?” asked one of the security guards.

“He was right here,” I said, moving closer.

Everyone looked at me as though I was crazy.

“I swear!” I had a throwback to the Christmas parade a year earlier, where I witnessed a woman get murdered and no one believed me because we found no body. What was going on here? I know I saw a man sitting in that chair and he was anything, but alive. “I’m not lying!”

“No one said you were,” said one of the men present, “but there is no one here.”

“I know there was a man in that chair. I approached him when he didn’t respond and then he fell over.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just sleeping?”

“I know a dead body when I see one.” The moment those words exited my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them. The guard’s eyebrows raised. “Look, he wasn’t breathing.”

“We’ll search the premises, but is it possible that you imagined it?”

I stood my ground. Not likely.

“People here sometimes nap and when they wake up, they think something happened when it didn’t.”

Okay, so I had been dozing a little, but that wouldn’t explain the body. Something didn’t add up. “Perhaps,” I relented, knowing I was not getting anywhere with those surrounding me. “I’m going to get dressed.”

I went back into the room and put on my clothes. So much for a relaxing massage. As I reentered the lobby, everyone stared at me. They must have thought I was nuts; even I wondered if I was, but I know I hadn’t imagined it. Security reiterated that they found no body and that there was no cause for alarm. Just the mistake of someone who had had too much of the perfumed oils. Mortified, I left, walking back to the cabin, hoping no one saw me and that I didn’t get us kicked out. That would have been a great way to repay Greg’s hard work on this romantic getaway.

“Hey,” said Greg as I walked through the door. “How’d it go?”

“Not good,” I replied.

“Oh?”

“I saw a dead body an—”

“Oh, no!”

“It’s not like I set out to find these things. But the guy was gone by the time help arrived.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He was.”

“But dead people don’t…”

“Get up and walk away, I know. They said I imagined it and now everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you are,” Greg hugged me.

“Maybe I did imagine it,” I mumbled.

“They didn’t find anyone, right?”

“No.”

“So, it could have been a trick of your mind. You have been a bit stressed lately and sometimes the mind plays tricks when it’s tired.”

“You’re right.”

“Anyway, I got us reservations at the gourmet restaurant here. They are at seven.”

I kissed him. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know I am.” Greg wrapped me in his muscular arms and held me close. “How about we visit the hot tub they have here and work up an appetite.”

As much as I wanted to, finding that man at the spa, and then having him disappear, rattled me a little, besides piquing my curiosity. Dead bodies don’t just vanish into thin air and I wanted to know why this one had.

“Rain check?” I said. “I think I need to get some fresh air. And it will give me a chance to find some interesting things for us to do tomorrow.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve ghost hunting.”

“It won’t.” I wasn’t planning on finding any ghosts. I just wanted to make certain that I hadn’t imagined the man at the spa.

I wandered around on the deck past the occupied lounge chairs as people lay in them, expecting to get a tan even though it was still winter. Still marveling at the how they managed to keep the outside deck and patio are so warm, I examined one of the floor panels.

“You lose something?” a woman asked me.

I looked up, imagining how stupid I looked, crouched on my hands and knees, running my fingers over the smooth deck floor. “Yeah,” I said, “but it seems to have disappeared.”

“Oh? What was it? Maybe I can help you find it?”

I rose to my feet, brushing my hands on my jeans. “No, that’s okay. It was only an earring—costume jewelry. Nothing special.”

“Better that than some expensive ring your boyfriend got you.”

I gave the woman a quizzical look. She shook her dirty-blonde hair, allowing it to brush her shoulders with each wave.

“My boyfriend bought me a very expensive ring—diamond, you know—and I accidentally flushed it down the toilet. So embarrassing!”

“That stinks,” I said.

“Yeah, no kidding,” replied the woman, bunching her cashmere wrap around her shoulders.

“So are you here with your boyfriend?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s him over there.” She pointed at a man wearing a white, turtleneck sweater and sunglasses, getting two drinks from the outdoor bar. His chiseled jaw screamed gorgeous and his jet black hair complimented the woman’s blonde. “Patrick!”

The man smiled and walked over, while dodging the oblivious crowd. I had to commend him on not spilling a single drop of their drinks as he navigated the crowd and before reaching us.

“This is Patrick,” said the woman, “my other half. And I’m Aimie.”

“Mel,” I said.

“Well, Mel, nice to meet you. Oh, look it rhymes!”

We chuckled at that. People were always making rhymes with my name.

“Are you here alone?” asked Patrick.

“No,” I replied, “Greg, my boyfriend, is in our cabin, resting. I just wanted to get some fresh air and explore a little bit.”

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” said Aimie. “Here we are in the middle of February and we’re not even wearing coats. I think it’s great how they manage to keep this deck heated so you can enjoy yourself.”

“What about that grass over there?” added Patrick. “Bet you never thought you would see that in winter.”

“Not normally,” I said.

“We should sit down,” Aimie suggested.

“Yeah, here,” said Patrick, handing her a drink. “Do you want one?” he asked me.

“No, I’m fine,” I said. Before I knew it, the other drink had been shoved into my hand.

“There are some chairs over there,” said Patrick. “You two go get them and take the drinks. I’ll go get another.”

Aimie and I did as Patrick had suggested, not that we needed much persuading. We found three lounge chairs and moved them closer together, forming a circle. I sank into the white cushions and marveled at how soft it was. Normally, when you sit in a lounge chair, you can still feel the bars through the cushions, but not on this one. Its pillow must have been three times as thick, and ten times more comfortable. Patrick came back within minutes with another drink—the same kind as Aimie’s and mine—in his hand.