If Looks Could Kill (3 page)

Martika reached for a crystal bottle. “See these fragrances? Essence of sage, mint, rosemary, orange blossom, and clove. They're all made at our beauty center from plants that grow in the herb garden and other places on the island.” She unscrewed the top and dabbed a bit behind Bess's ear. “It's lavender—my favorite.”

“Thanks!” Bess said.

“Come,” Martika said after a moment. “Let me introduce you to Squeeze.” She led them out of the dressing room and back into the bedroom.

“I see his cage,” George said, pointing to a Plexiglas structure in the corner that was more a tropical habitat than a cage. Inside it were plants and a small bubbling fountain.

“I don't see a snake,” Nancy said, examining the cage. “Unless he's hiding.”

“He'd be too big to hide,” Bess said.

“Squeeze?” Martika called out, searching the cage with her eyes. “Here, Squeeze.”

Her voice rose and reflected her panic when it became obvious that the cage was empty. “He's not here!” Martika said, aghast. “And the cage door is closed. Someone must have let him out.”

Bess's eyes grew round, and Nancy circled around to the back of the cage to search for the snake.

“Where could he be?” Martika asked.

Then they heard a piercing scream from down the hall. It was all the answer they needed.

S
QUEEZE
!” M
ARTIKA SPED
out of her suite and down the hall in the direction of the shrieks. Nancy and the girls followed close behind.

The screams were coming from a guest room around the corner from Martika's suite, where the door was open. Inside was a plump, middle-aged woman standing on a chair, clearly petrified. On the floor below her was one of the largest snakes Nancy had ever seen.

“Squeeze!” Martika cried in relief. “Bad boy! What are you doing out of your cage?” With a single deft motion, Martika hoisted the snake over her shoulder, petting him to keep him calm. “I'm so sorry, Mrs. Smythe,” she said breathlessly. “I don't know how this happened. Are you all right?”

The woman still seemed unable to speak. “Oh!
Oh!” was all she kept saying, as Nancy helped her down from her chair.

Martika backed away to keep the snake at some distance from Mrs. Smythe. “Squeeze is completely harmless,” she added.

Mrs. Smythe found her voice. “Harmless,” she gasped. She brushed the winkles out of the skirt of her dress and patted her hair into place. “It's a boa constrictor, for heaven's sake!”

“Please, Mrs. Smythe,” Martika pleaded. “It was just an unfortunate accident. You were never in any danger.”

Nancy led the woman to the couch and settled her there. She seemed to be quieting down a bit. “I can't imagine what my husband will say when he hears about this. He's a lawyer, you know.”

Martika frowned but then said soothingly, “I promise you, dear, that by the time you leave Cloud Nine you'll want to have your picture taken with Squeeze. I did, you know. They ran a layout with the two of us in
Chic.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Smythe said, her eyes widening with interest. She breathed deeply a few times. “Well, I really doubt that—”

“And, of course, your stay at the resort will be completely complimentary,” Martika interrupted. “You'll be my personal guest.”

“Well . . .” Mrs. Smythe said, happier but not completely mollified.

“And I'd love to do a beauty session with you,” Martika added.

This last offer seemed to touch the right button. Mrs. Smythe couldn't stop a smile from creeping across her face. “That would be nice,” she said, then focused on the snake again. “Is he really tame?” She inched forward to peer closer at the creature she'd been so terrified of just a few minutes earlier.

“Completely,” Martika assured her. “Why don't I give you an autographed copy of one of the shots I did with him?”

“Oh, would you?” Mrs. Smythe cooed. “That would be lovely!”

“Well,
you've
been lovely,” Martika said graciously. “And you won't say a word about all this, will you?”

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Smythe was blushing now.

“Really?” Martika said, backing toward the door. “That would be so helpful. You're so understanding, Mrs. Smythe. Now, I hope you'll promise to sit with me at dinner?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, I will,” Mrs. Smythe said. She waved goodbye as Martika and the girls retreated to the safety of the model's suite. There Martika opened the cage door and slid the snake back inside. That done, she heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into a white wicker chair.

“That was incredible, the way you turned her
around,” George said admiringly as she sat down on the loveseat.

“Really!” Bess agreed, taking a seat next to George. “I was sure she'd be calling her lawyer husband.”

“Well, thanks, girls,” Martika said, laughing at the thought of it. “I guess I can still turn on the charm when I have to.”

“I'll say,” Bess said. “Boy, Squeeze sure is scary, though.” She was staring at the cage, where the snake had curled up for a nap.

Nancy went over to it. Something had been bothering her about what had just happened, and now she knew what it was. “The door of your suite was locked, Martika,” she said. “Your terrace door, too. Right?”

The model nodded.

“So the question is, who besides you has a key?”

“The housekeeping staff has a master key. But the maids are too afraid to go near Squeeze's cage,” she said. “Besides that key, only my brother, Derek, has one,” Martika said. “But he wouldn't try to sabotage me. He's capable of pulling a prank now and then, but not this week. He knows how much this opening means to me.”

Nancy didn't say anything.

“Derek is careless,” Martika went on. “He probably left his key lying around somewhere and somebody got hold of it.”

“Like who?” Nancy asked.

Martika raised her hands and then dropped them. “I have no idea. Maybe someone on my staff is a spy for Christina Adams. She's got every reason to want to ruin me. If Cloud Nine is a success, if it gets great write-ups, if Preston Winchell decides to back more Martika Sawyer resorts . . .”

“I see what you mean,” Nancy said, nodding thoughtfully. “You could be a real threat to her.”

“She's been alone at the top of the spa business for so long,” Martika explained. “No one has even come close to challenging her. I'm a model, and to Christina a model has no brains or business sense. But when I got Preston Winchell to back me, she was really shaken. Christina was trying to get him to invest in her spas, but he put his money behind me instead.”

“Why would Christina need outside backing?” Nancy asked.

“Because she's deep in debt,” Martika told her. “She constantly borrows to open new resorts, and now every penny she makes goes to pay off what she owes. If I'm successful and open up a few more places like this, she could lose enough customers to bankrupt her.”

“I see,” Nancy said.

“On the other hand, if my opening week is a flop, and the magazines and newspapers report it that way, Preston Winchell could decide it's too
risky to keep backing me. And if he pulls out, it would be impossible to replace his money fast enough to stay open. If Christina can spoil this week for me, it could mean all the difference between success and failure.”

“And that's why you're so sure she's the one who wrote the notes,” Nancy said.

“Don't you think so?” Martika asked.

“I don't know,” Nancy said. “She certainly didn't have time to let Squeeze out.” Nancy was sympathetic but practical. “I'm afraid we've got to consider other suspects, too. What about Kurt Yeager? Excuse me for being so frank, but I heard you two had a pretty nasty breakup. True?”

Martika was silent for a moment before nodding and answering, “Yes, it's true. Kurt and I were very much in love at first. But then—I don't know—things went sour somehow. He couldn't take my success. After his movie career flopped, he became irrational and would fly into insane rages for no reason. It was like he became a different person. I never stopped caring about him really, which is why I offered him the job here. I figured he was pretty low and needed a boost.”

“Maybe he hasn't forgiven you,” Nancy suggested. “Maybe he's carrying a grudge, and this is his way of taking it out on you.”

“I suppose it's possible,” Martika said slowly. “He always was jealous, and I do know he resents
me because I dropped him. But I just can't believe he'd go this far.”

“One thing's for sure,” Nancy said. “Both Kurt and Derek knew where Squeeze was. Is there anyone else here who might have something against you?”

“Not that I know of,” Martika said. “But I'll give it some thought.”

“Now, if I could see those notes,” Nancy said.

“Of course,” Martika replied, leading them back into the outer room of the suite. Martika riffled through the drawers of her desk and pulled out two pieces of folded paper.

“They both arrived in the mail with a Saint Thomas postmark,” Martika told Nancy. “I know Christina's been sailing around the Caribbean for the last couple of weeks, so she easily could have mailed them from there. So could anyone who works here.”

Nancy examined the letters, which had clearly been printed by a computer. One said: “If you open Cloud Nine, its going to rain on your parade.”

The other note was similar in tone: “Call off your opening, Martika. This warning is from a frend.”

“The person can't spell at all,” Nancy commented. “Which tells us something, at least. Also the person says he or she is a friend.”

“Ha!” Bess broke in. “Some friend.”

“I'm so glad you're here, Nancy,” Martika said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of this. You just have to!” Nancy could see the desperation in Martika's face. “This place means everything to me.”

“I'll do my best,” Nancy assured her.

“Well, you'd better go unpack,” Martika said. “Here, let me show you where your suite is.” She led them to the door, then stopped short.

A folded piece of paper lay near a chair beside the door. Nancy hadn't noticed it before.

Martika bent down to retrieve it. Opening it with trembling hands, she studied it for a moment. “I was afraid of this,” she said, handing the sheet of paper to Nancy.

Nancy read the message out loud, her voice tight. “ ‘I mean bisness. This is only the beginning. Close down now—or die!' ”

N
ANCY EXAMINED
the note closely. “I think we have to take this threat seriously, Martika,” she said. “You called me down here to help, and I'm going to do my best to find the person responsible. But the person has now threatened your life, and I think you should call in the police now.”

Martika sighed with frustration. “I already told you, that's out of the question,” she said.

“Well, then,” Nancy persisted, “at least put your security staff on alert, and have a bodyguard with you at all times.”

Martika lifted her hands in dismay. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “How would that look? Me walking around with some big hulk in a uniform!”

“What about someone who knows martial arts?” Nancy suggested. “A woman, maybe. She
would draw less attention. People would just think she was your personal assistant.”

“Nancy,” Martika said, “your job is to find out who wrote these notes. I can take care of myself. Besides, whoever it is, I'm sure the death threat isn't serious. The person just wants to ruin Cloud Nine.”

Nancy shook her head slowly—she was getting nowhere with Martika. If anything more happened, she'd have to try again to convince her to go to the police.