Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9) by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page A

herself out of the tub and struggling into
some clothes.
    “Order you a Percocet, full body
cast, and a helper monkey?” Kimber guessed.
    “I need you to come with me to talk
to Uma. I want to ask her some questions about Jill.”
    “You want me to talk to a murder
suspect who has already taken out her anger on your body? What could possibly
go wrong?”
    “It’s not like Jill was bludgeoned.
She was poisoned—double poisoned. That’s not a crime of passion; that’s a
crime of forethought. Poison is the coward’s weapon of choice.”
    “Maybe, but it still gets the job
done,” Kimber said. “Fine. I’ll talk to the woman, if for no other reason than
that I know you’ll do it anyway without me. How do you know she’s still here?
It’s after eight.”
    “She’s working the night shift. I
checked.” The resort offered round-the-clock massages, just one of many
pampering services they provided on demand. It occurred to Lacy that for all
the resort’s comforts, she had experienced none. She hadn’t partaken any of the
delicious food and her massage had been masochistic in nature. If she tried to
have a pedicure, would she come away with one of those flesh-eating diseases?
    They walked, or rather Lacy
hobbled, to the salon where they were told Uma was on her break.
    “Let’s see if she’s outside. I
heard there’s an employee break area near the ski rental,” Lacy said.
    They exited the building and
rounded the corner, bracing themselves against the chill. The employee break
area was secreted away behind some bushes, just a picnic table on concrete.
    “I think prisoners have better
break areas,” Kimber observed.
    Uma sat on the lone table, smoking.
Lacy recalled Uma’s deodorant lecture and idly wondered if the cigarette was
organic.
    “I was wondering if I might ask you
some questions,” Lacy said.
    “Did you bring a black ambassador
so I’d talk?” Uma asked, rounding on them with angry, suspicious eyes.
    Lacy looked at Kimber. “She’s
black?”
    The joke was lost on Uma.
    “She’s not like that,” Kimber
defended. “Plus she’ll keep hounding you until you talk to her, so you’d better
get it over with.”
    Uma sighed, stubbed her cigarette
on the table, and pulled out another. “What do you want to know?”
    Did
you kill Jill? Better not open with that. “Did you and Jill get along?”
    “No one got along with Jill. She
was a stone cold demon.”
    “How so?”
    “Mean, rude, pushy, arrogant,
self-involved, conniving, you name it.”
    “Someone saw you arguing with her
last night.”
    “So?”
    “So it doesn’t look good that you
argued with her a few hours before she was killed.”
    She laughed mirthlessly. “If
everyone who argued with Jill yesterday is a suspect, that list must be
endless.”
    “What did you argue about?”
    Uma shrugged. “I don’t know.
Probably what we always argued about. She cheated and pushed me to help her.”
    “How did she cheat? What does that
mean?”
    “There’s a big board in the back
room that keeps track of client pounds lost, an incentive for the trainers. The
winner gets bonuses. Jill always won, Sven came in second, and Rodney third.”
    “Who is Rodney?” Lacy asked.
    “The other trainer. He’s on
vacation.”
    Lacy scrubbed him from her mental
list of suspects. “How did she cheat?”
    “Any way she could—extra
workouts, supplements, extra time in the steam room.”
    “How did she ask you to help?”
    “She wanted us to do whatever we
could to help push the clients for her.”
    “And did you help her?”
    “Sometimes, if she threw me a big
tipper.”
    Lacy couldn’t get a read on her.
Her delivery was deadpan, not like someone who was seething with anger. But maybe
she was a good actress. Or maybe she was a sociopath who lacked all emotion.
Lacy’s muscles leaned toward that explanation of things.
    “Can you think of anyone who had
reason to kill her?”
    “Everyone,” Uma said.
    “Anyone