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come for a massage died of a heart
     attack in the men’s locker room.”
    “Was there something suspicious about his death?”
    “No, no. I didn’t mean to imply that,” she said. “He was in his late sixties, and the autopsy showed that he had a weak heart
     valve, one of those things that had never been diagnosed. But to have two deaths here… The next thing you know, people will
     be saying the inn is
cursed.
”
    “Did the police get involved?”
    “Yes, actually Detective Beck. The man who died—William Litchauer—was fairly prominent, and his wife and son were all up in
     arms. They threatened to sue, but there were absolutely no grounds. Everyone who has a treatment here signs a waiver that
     stipulates we aren’t liable in these matters—unless of course there’s negligence on our part. And the police found nothing.”
    “What’s your impression of this Beck guy?” I asked. My voice sounded oddly bright as I spoke.
    “He can be brusque, but he was also very thorough. He interviewed a number of people at the spa and seemed to give the case
     his full attention.”
    “On the surface, the two cases certainly don’t
sound
connected,” I said. “We’re not even sure whose body was lying there tonight.”
    “I’m almost positive it’s Anna,” she said mournfully. “Detective Beck asked me for her emergency contact number because they
     found her purse in the employee locker room—and besides, there’s no sign of her in her room.”
    “You said earlier that Anna had a nine o’clock appointment. Was she in charge of locking up the spa tonight?”
    “Yes. Josh, the manager, usually leaves about six, and either Piper or Anna closes up. This was supposed to be Piper’s night,
     but Anna apparently switched with her earlier in the week.”
    “Have you called Josh?”
    “No, I couldn’t with that policeman sitting there. I’ll try him first thing in the morning. He’s going to be as devastated
     by this as I am.”
    “I wonder if he’ll have any ideas on who might have done it.”
    “Are you thinking it might be someone who works at the
spa?
” she asked, clearly distressed.
    “I feel it’s got to be someone who either works at the spa or is
familiar
with it. Like someone in Anna’s personal life—or even a client. Because how else would the person have known about the Mylar
     paper?”
    Danny pressed her hands tightly to her face, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she looked at me pleadingly.
    “Bailey, you’ve got to help me. Please.”
    “Of course I will, Danny. You know you can lean on me.”
    “No, I mean you have to help figure out who did this. Your mother told me how you solved that murder last spring—of your boss’s
     nanny. If the police don’t find Anna’s killer, it will hang like a pall over the inn and the spa.”
    She was right, of course. If the murderer wasn’t apprehended quickly, the spa’s business could suffer. One death was bad enough,
     but now there were two. And though one had been an accident and the other a homicide, people would connect them in their minds,
     assuming that there really
was
something cursed about the inn and the spa—kind of The Golden Door meets
The Shining.
My mother’s final onshore request suddenly rang in my ears over the sound of the crackling gas fire: “Keep an eye on Danny.
     I’m worried about her.”
    “I’ll do whatever I can, Danny,” I said.
    “Oh, Bailey, thank you,” she said, squeezing my arm.
    “Look, I’m not sure how much I can accomplish between now and Monday, but since I’m staying right here in the inn, I may be
     able to learn a few things. People might be more comfortable talking to me than to the cops. We just have to be careful not
     to interfere with their investigation. And I wouldn’t let this Beck guy know I’m asking questions. Trust me, he’ll be less
     than thrilled.”
    “Fine. And since I’d planned for you to talk to Josh, why don’t we just proceed with that. I’ll