The robed figure had a heavy-looking object clutched in both hands and was propelling it downward with ferocious energy.
A dumbbell, Clare realized an instant before it crashed against the pillow precisely where her head had been resting a second before.
Shocked, she instinctively threw herself farther back out of range.
The movement took her under the waterfall. A heavy rush of water pounded down on her, obscuring her vision.
She reeled away from under the cascading water, groping blindly for the steps and something, anything, she could use as a weapon. Her hand closed over a towel. Useless.
She opened her mouth to scream.
The intruder whirled and ran from the room, pausing just long enough to slam the door shut.
Clare scrambled up the spa tub steps, grabbed the robe off the hook and raced toward the door.
The hall outside the spa room was empty.
Chapter Fifteen
The assistant manager’s name was Karen Trent. She was a very buff, very toned, very attractive blonde in her early thirties. She was also very concerned and very unhappy.
“Are you absolutely certain about what happened, Miss Lancaster?” she asked for the third time.
Clare, dressed once more in the black pants and brown T-shirt she had worn to the spa, faced her from the other side of the desk. Elizabeth, also dressed in her street clothes, and tight-lipped with anger, sat beside her.
“You saw that eight-pound dumbbell in the pool for yourself,” Clare said. “How do you think it got there?”
“I’m not saying that someone didn’t accidentally drop it into the spa tub,” Karen said soothingly. “But I’m sure that it wasn’t intentional.”
Clare’s senses stirred. Karen was lying but that was hardly a surprise under the circumstances. The assistant manager obviously suspected that something unpleasant had happened in the Tropical Experience Chamber, but she was going to remain in denial if at all possible. A lot of folks in her position would have done the same. No one wanted this kind of trouble, especially in an upscale spa. Bad for business.
“You weren’t there,” Clare said. “I was. I know what I saw.”
“I’m not disputing the events, only your interpretation of them,” Karen said quickly. “I think it is much more plausible that one of the clients opened the door of the Tropical Experience room by mistake, got disconcerted when she realized that the grotto was already occupied and dropped the dumbbell.”
The energy of the lie was tinged with desperation. Clare wondered if Karen was worried that her job might be at stake.
“The intruder tried to crush my skull with that dumbbell,” Clare said evenly. “Trust me, it was no accident.”
Elizabeth glowered at Karen. “Why do you think someone in the middle of a mudpack facial would go down the hall to the gym and borrow an eight-pound dumbbell in the first place?”
“Our clients are allowed free use of all the facilities, including the fitness center,” Karen said. “You know that, Ms. Glazebrook. Sometimes people get bored waiting for a mudpack therapy to conclude. They wander into the Contemplation Room or the Tranquillity Room or the fitness center.”
“You’re not going to call the police, are you?” Clare said.
“I really don’t see any reason to do so.” Karen widened her hands. “Of course, you and Ms. Glazebrook are free to do as you wish. If you do choose to file a report, however, please be aware that you have no evidence to back up your version of events except the dumbbell. As I just said, its presence in the pool can be explained in other ways.”
This was a waste of time, Clare decided. Now that she’d had some time to calm down she was starting to think more clearly again. It dawned on her that most of Stone Canyon still wondered if she had killed Brad McAllister six months ago. Karen Trent was probably lying because she was afraid she had a murderer sitting in her office.
There was another factor working against them, too, Clare thought. She exchanged a glance with Elizabeth and saw grim comprehension in her sister’s eyes. They both knew that the rumors of Elizabeth’s nervous breakdown had never gone away entirely.
Neither of them would be viewed as a star witness. The Glazebrook name would ensure that they were treated politely by the cops, but that was as far as the investigation would go.
Clare got to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth rose, stiff with anger, and followed her.
In the spa lobby they put on their sunglasses and walked out into the intense early afternoon sun. Heat radiated in waves from the parking lot pavement, creating a visible shimmering effect. Brilliant light sparked off the fenders of the parked vehicles.
The interior of the Mercedes was an oven in spite of the silver sun screen that Elizabeth had placed behind the windshield to deflect the heat.
Elizabeth folded the reflective screen and dropped it behind the front seat. She slipped behind the wheel, switched on the engine and cranked up the air-conditioning. Clare got in beside her. The buckle of the seat belt was too hot to touch.
“You know who it was, don’t you?” Elizabeth asked.
“I think so, yes,” Clare said quietly. “So do you.”
“That’s why you didn’t push Karen Trent into calling the police.”
“That and also because she had a point. I have zilch in the way of proof.” Clare gingerly fastened her seat belt. “Let’s face it, we both know that I don’t need any more trouble with the local authorities.”
“What are we going to do?” Elizabeth turned urgently in the seat. “She just tried to murder you. We can’t ignore that.”
“It would probably be smart if I left town as soon as possible,” Clare said. “It was my presence here that set her off.”
“Valerie Shipley is just like her son.” Elizabeth’s voice was dull with dread. “She’s crazy.”
“I agree. But we couldn’t prove that Brad was a wack job and I don’t think we’ll be able to prove that his mother is, either.”
Chapter Sixteen
A light gold Jaguar was parked in the drive of the Shipley home. Clare halted the rented compact behind it and turned off the engine.
She looked at the double front doors at the entrance to the large, sprawling house. Raw determination warred with a morose sense of futility. What she planned to do probably wasn’t going to work but it was the only option left. She could not think of any other way to get Valerie off her back.
She got out of the car and slung her purse over her shoulder. She gripped the strap so tightly she had a hunch she was leaving nail marks in the leather.