Vartann sat down opposite the distressed spa owner. Ray did the same. The detective took out his notebook. “Why don’t you tell us all about it?”
“I wish I could help you, gentlemen!” She took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. “But I don’t understand any of this. Our snakes are perfectly harmless!”
“Apparently not all of them.” Vartann got right down to business. “So you say Ms. Segura arrived early this morning for her massage?”
“Yes, an hour before opening.” She displayed a trace of irritation. “It was quite irregular, to be sure, but she was very insistent.”
“Really?” Vartann asked dubiously. “She was that keen on having live snakes dumped on top of her?”
“Don’t sound so skeptical, Detective,” she chided him. “Serpents have been associated with healing since time immemorial. The ancient Mesopotamians believed snakes to be immortal, achieving rebirth every time they shed their skins.” Her spiel had a well-rehearsed tone to it. No doubt she was accustomed to people resisting the idea of snake massages. “Indeed, to this day, the medical profession is symbolized by a serpent entwined around a staff.”
Ray nodded. “The Rod of Asclepius, not to be confused with the Caduceus, which features two snakes.” Although deriving from different mythological roots, the two symbols were often mistaken for each other and used interchangeably. “Moses also healed his people with a staff topped by a serpent.”
“Precisely!” She beamed at Ray as though she had just found a kindred spirit. “Our serpentine brothers and sisters are meant to soothe those in need, not inflict pain on the innocent.
“Uh-huh.” Vartann sounded unconvinced. “Too bad it didn’t work out that way.”
“I assure you, I feel absolutely terrible about this,” she said. “Ms. Segura is a very dear friend of this salon. It grieves me deeply that she’s come to harm.”
Ray wondered again if anyone could have deliberately added a coral snake to the vivarium in the Cleopatra Room. “Did she have an appointment? Did anyone know she was going to be receiving a snake massage this morning?”
“Not at all. It was completely spontaneous. We were not expecting her at all.” Alexandra Nile frowned at the memory. “Truth be told, it was actually something of an imposition. I routinely avail myself of the serpents’ soothing caresses every Monday morning, before we open our doors, to ensure that my body and spirit are in tune and fully prepared for the inevitable stresses of the coming week. But this morning, I sacrificed my own treatment to accommodate Ms. Segura.” A sudden gasp escaped her lips. A hand went protectively to her throat. “Good heavens! I just realized . . . that could have been me!”
Interesting, Ray thought. Perhaps Rita Segura had not been the intended victim at all. “Do you know of any reason why someone might want to harm you?”
Madame Alexandra’s hand came away from her throat. “Don’t be absurd. I’m in the business of helping people. Why would anyone want to hurt me?” Her eyes narrowed as the full implications of Ray’s question sank in. “But . . . you don’t actually think that someone arranged this on purpose, do you? That’s ridiculous.”
“We’re not ruling out any possibilities,” Vartann said. He took control of the interview again. “These snakes of yours, any more on the premises?”
“No.” She clung to her teacup with both hands, visibly unnerved by the disturbing turn the conversation had taken. Worry lines cracked her immaculate makeup. “The Cleopatra Room is currently the only therapeutic space set up for the serpentine massages. The rest are reserved for more conventional treatments.” She sighed ruefully. “I had been contemplating adding vivariums to some of the other chambers, to keep up with the demand, but I suppose I shall have to reconsider those plans in light of these unfortunate circumstances.”
“You might want to hold off on that,” Ray agreed. The attack on Rita Segura was unlikely to increase the popularity of the snake massages. The Nile would be lucky if the bizarre incident stayed out of the papers. “And are the snakes kept in the Cleopatra Room at all times?”
“Naturally,” she stated. “In deference to our more sensitive clients.”
“Yeah,” Vartann said. “I can see where some people might not like seeing them carried from room to room.” He grimaced in sympathy. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“Snakes are not repulsive, Detective.” Madame Alexandra segued back into lecture mode. “They have been part of nature for over one hundred and thirty million years. Did you know there are over two thousand different species? And that many life-saving medicines have been derived from snake venom?”
This was true, Ray conceded. Not just antivenims, but also blood thinners and other pharmaceuticals had been developed from the unique properties of snake venom. Including promising new treatments for lupus and other disorders.
“Right.” Vartann cut off her sales pitch. “So where exactly do you get your scaly miracle workers?”
“Our serpents are supplied by a supposedly reputable dealer, a man named Chip LaReue.” She spelled out the name for their benefit, then moved quickly to deflect any blame from herself. “If you wish to know how a venomous adder invaded this sacred temple of healing, I suggest you talk to him.”
“We’ll do that.” Vartann wrote down the name. “There any bad blood between you and this LaReue character? Unpaid bills? A financial dispute?”
“Not at all.” She bristled, offended by the very suggestion. “If anything is amiss here, I suspect it is criminal negligence and carelessness on Mr. LaReue’s part.” Perhaps realizing how accusatory she sounded, she softened her tone. A weary sigh conveyed that she spoke more in sorrow than anger. “Please understand, gentlemen, it truly pains me to point a finger at another soul, let alone an individual with whom, up until now, I have had a most cordial and satisfactory business relationship. I believe we are placed on this Earth to understand our fellow travelers, not judge them, but, frankly, I can think of no other explanation for this dreadful turn of events. Mr. LaReue must have accidentally included the wrong snake in his last shipment. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”
Ray found it the most plausible scenario as well, but knew better than to rush to judgment. He’d investigated more than a few cases where first impressions had proved misleading. “What about the masseuse?” he asked. “Heather Gilroy?”
“Oh, her,” Madame Alexandra said disdainfully. “I can’t believe that silly girl ran off to let me deal with this unpleasantness. Well, if she thinks she still has a job here, she is sorely mistaken.”
So much for not judging others, Ray thought. “Did she say anything to you before she left?”
“Just that it wasn’t her fault. That everything was proceeding normally, until the snake struck Ms. Segura.”
Vartann jotted that down in his notebook. “So you didn’t actually witness the attack?”
She winced at the word attack. “No. I arrived mere moments later, attracted by the commotion.” She faltered, momentarily overcome by the memory. Tea sloshed over the brim of her shaking cup. She put it down on the desk to avoid spilling any more. “I arrived just in time to see Rita collapse onto the floor.”
“And what happened next?” Vartann asked.
“Well, that’s when Heather abandoned me. She panicked and ran out the door.” Madame Alexandra shook her head, as though she still couldn’t believe the missing woman could be so irresponsible. “I called 9-1-1 and attempted to make Ms. Segura comfortable until the ambulance arrived.” She looked anxiously at the two men. “Do you know if she is going to be all right? Have you heard anything?”
Ray had little to offer her. “We expect to hear more from the hospital shortly.”
“Can you please let me know the moment you do?” The spa owner wrung her hands. “I cannot tell you how worried I am about poor Rita.”
Ray considered the victim’s prospects. Coral snake venom was nothing to take lightly, but, under ordinary circumstances, the prognosis was good
provided the correct antivenin was administered in time. He was reluctant to comment on Rita Segura’s medical condition, however, since he had not personally examined her or reviewed her treatment. He was here as a criminalist, not a physician.
“What can you tell us about Heather?” he asked. “Has she been working here long?”
“Not really,” Madame Alexandra said. “Perhaps a month or two. I can’t say I know her well, but she seemed competent enough. Until this morning, that is.”
Vartann nodded. “Do you know of any reason why she might have had it in for Ms. Segura?”
Good question, Ray thought. After all, it was Heather Gilroy who had apparently placed the venomous snake on the victim. They had to consider the possibility that she had done so deliberately.
“Not at all,” Madame Alexandra said. “I believe she may have personally tended to Rita before, but I am not aware of any animosity between them. As I said, Ms. Segura was one of our most valued customers. A trifle demanding at times, but still . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine that anyone here would mean Rita harm.”
“Well, we’re going to need to talk to Heather anyway,” Vartann said. “I assume you have contact info for both her and Mr. LaReue?”
“My assistant can help you with that.” She got up from behind her desk and stepped out into the hall. Her fingers snapped imperiously. “Brian!”
A slight, middle-aged man emerged from an adjoining office. He hesitated at the sight of the uniformed police officers stationed in the hall, as though uncertain whether he would be allowed to respond to the summons. “Er, is it okay if I go over there?”
Vartann signaled the uni to let him through.
“This is Brian Yun, my assistant manager,” she explained. “I am certain that he can provide you with whatever information you require.” She sagged against the doorframe and dramatically placed the back of her hand against her brow. Fatigue showed upon her haggard countenance. “Now then, gentlemen, unless you have any further questions, I am sorely in need of some private meditation to recover from these harrowing trials.”
“I think we’re done now,” Vartann said. “Although we may have more questions for you later.” He turned to Yun and introduced himself and Ray. “Your boss said you might be able to help us.”
“Of course.” Yun was a short, potbellied man with a receding hairline, far less dramatic in appearance than his flamboyant employer. Wearing a plain white business shirt and a tie, he reminded Ray of his financial advisor. Worry lines creased a round, pink face with a weak chin. “You can expect our full cooperation.” He dabbed at his brow with a linen handkerchief. “I’m still in shock over this whole thing. Poor Ms. Segura! I don’t understand this at all.”
“Were you here when it happened?” Vartann asked.
Yun shook his head. “No, thank goodness. I arrived a little after eight, to find the whole place in turmoil. The ambulance had already taken Ms. Segura away.”
He guided them into his office, which was notably smaller than Madame Alexandra’s. A cheap IKEA desk appeared meticulously tidy and well-organized. A framed photo of a white Persian cat rested atop the desk, next to a computer. An old-fashioned rolodex supplemented his hard drive. A small fridge hummed in the corner. “Can I offer either of you gentlemen a Snapple?” he asked. “It’s my only vice.”
“No, thank you,” Ray said. There was only one extra seat in the office, so he remained standing while Vartann sat down across from Yun. A door closed in the adjacent room as Madame Alexandra sequestered herself. Ray wondered how Sara was faring in the Cleopatra Room. Had all the snakes been apprehended yet?
Yun positioned himself in front of his keyboard. “Very well. How can I help you?”
“We’re going to need contact information for both Heather Gilroy and Chip LaReue,” Vartann said. “As well as a complete inventory of all the snakes you’ve purchased from Mr. LaReue.”
“No problem.” Yun flipped through his rolodex and produced two cards, which he handed over to the detective. Then he tapped away at his keyboard, calling up the inventory data. “I hope Heather isn’t in too much trouble. She’s a sweet girl, really. I’m sure she just panicked. I really can’t blame her. It must have been a frightful experience.”
Snakebites tended to frighten people, Ray admitted. He still wished Heather had not run. “What’s she like?”
“Nice girl,” Yun insisted. “Saving up for college, I believe. Wants to be a physical therapist. A bit young and inexperienced, but she seemed to be fitting in. And she was comfortable handling the snakes, which was a definite plus. Believe me, it wasn’t easy finding staffers who were willing to work with those creatures.” He shuddered. “Understandably.”
Ray noted his reaction. “Not fond of snakes?”
“More of a cat person myself,” Yun confessed. He turned the framed photo on his desk around to face his visitors. He smiled weakly. “As you can probably tell.”
Ray admired the photo, which depicted a plump white feline scowling into the camera. A sparkling rhinestone collar adorned the cat’s neck. Large amber eyes glared balefully. The cat clearly did not like having her picture taken.
“A beautiful animal,” Ray said. “Persian?”
Yun nodded. “My beloved Fala.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Alas, she passed away a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ray said automatically. By now, the standard-issue condolence came readily to his lips. “So you don’t actually handle the snakes yourself?”
“Thankfully, that’s not part of my job description.” Yun gestured around his office. Folders and ledgers were arranged neatly on the shelves. An inbox was overflowing. “I serve in a more administrative capacity. My job is to keep everything running smoothly, so that Madame can focus on maintaining the proper therapeutic atmosphere.”
“I understand,” Ray said. “Behind every successful boss, there’s an able assistant making sure no balls get dropped.”
Yun acknowledged the compliment. “I certainly like to think so.” A printer beneath his desk spit out the inventory sheets they had requested. He reached down and retrieved them for Vartann, mustering a philosophical sigh as he did so. “They also serve who only push the paper.”
“Beats playing with snakes, I guess.” Vartann finished copying down the necessary addresses and phone numbers into his notebook. “What about Chip LaReue? You ever deal with him?”
“Naturally.” Yun reclaimed his rolodex cards. “He came highly recommended when we first started searching around for someone to supply us with snakes.” A pained expression came over his face. “I must say, I feel just horrible about this whole ghastly business. I can’t help blaming myself a little.”
“And why is that?” Ray asked.
Guilty eyes sought absolution. “The serpentine massages were my idea, you see.”
“Is that so?” Vartann said. “Okay, I’ve got to ask. What made you think that would catch on?”
“I read about it in Time magazine,” Yun divulged. “Then did some research online.” He leaned forward, trying to explain his reasoning. “There’s hundreds of spas and salons in Vegas. I figured we needed to offer something special, that no one else was offering. Madame agreed, at least until today.” His face went pale and he sank back into his seat. “Oh Lord, you don’t think she’s going to blame me for this fiasco, do you?”
“That’s between you and her.” Vartann’s tone made it clear that he had more crucial matters to worry about. “Getting back to LaReue, he have a grudge against this place? Any reason he might want to sabotage your business?”
Ray recalled that Vartann had asked Madame Alexandra the same question. She had denied any bad blood between her and her supplier, but perhaps Yun had a different take on things. Or might be more willing to air any dirty laundry?
“Not that I can think of,” Yun said, echoing his boss’s statement. “This is the first time we’ve ever had any problem with his snakes.” He shrugged. ?
??I suppose anyone can make a mistake, but what a tragedy that poor Ms. Segura had to suffer for it.” He stared miserably at the other two men. “Are you going to be seeing her at the hospital?”
“Probably,” Ray said.
If she survived. If not, he would be seeing her at the morgue.
“Well, when you do,” Yun requested, “would you please tell her that everyone here is thinking of her, and that we’re all terribly sorry for what happened.” He started flipping through his rolodex again. “Perhaps I should arrange to have some flowers sent to the hospital.” He looked to Ray and Vartann for guidance. “Would that be appropriate?”
“I have no idea,” Ray said. Snakebite etiquette was not his forte.
6
UNLIKE HER FORMER roommate, Debra Lusky managed to exit the trailer without incident. Catherine wasn’t sure what they had gotten out of the interview, except maybe that Jill had lousy taste in friends. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could deliberately set up a friend to be frightened for her life.
If anyone tried to pull a stunt like that on me . . .
Then again, she recalled, a bunch of the guys at the lab, including Nick and Greg, had recently staged a mock “kidnapping” of Henry Andrews, the lab’s toxicology whiz, as a birthday surprise. From what she’d heard of the prank, poor Henry had been utterly convinced that he had fallen into the hands of dangerous criminals—until the guys pulled off their ski masks. It seemed you could never underestimate how far some people would go to play a practical joke.
Just the same, she thought, nobody had better volunteer me for Shock Treatment. Not if they know what’s good for them.
She watched Debra leave, then withdrew back into the trailer. Over by the makeup table, Brass was on the phone to someone. “What? Did you remind him that we happen to be investigating a possible homicide?” He scowled in irritation. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”
He snapped the phone shut with more force than was strictly necessary.