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Phyllis's eyes snapped open and her hands fell away from her face. "There's no mistake," she said. "This key was definitely Claudia's."
"I don't suppose your guiding spirits told you where I'll find the lock belonging to the key?" Vince said, struggling to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
"Not exactly," she admitted, handing it back to him.
"I didn't think so. Now, we have a couple of questions for you-"
"But it's somewhere in that room you're using to interview us," Phyllis interrupted.
"What?" Vince exclaimed.
"That key. Whatever it opens is in that room."
"But there's nothing in there with a lock," he protested.
Phyllis shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I trust my powers. There must be a hidden safe or something like that. When I was in there before, I was oppressed by the feeling that the room was filled with secrets," she added triumphantly.
Mike gasped. "That's what you said to King David and Raoul de Vries."
Phyllis looked puzzled. "I did?"
"On your way to the lake. You told them you had to get out of the interview room because it was full of secrets and lies."
"I don't remember that," she said, confusion furrowing her brow. "But you're right, I did experience the aura of hidde
Vince rolled his eyes. "I guess there's only one way to check this out. We need to search that room."
If Christopher Lund had known what had befallen Ondine, he would have been in no mood for relaxation. But so far, he was ignorant of her fate, and all he was conscious of was the need to unwind. He had nothing to fear. Only Claudia had known about the terms of their deal. Now, if the payments came to light, he could explain that Claudia was paying up front for Ondine's endorsement of the spa, which would be completed with an illustrated brochure. So what if Ondine denied all knowledge of the arrangement? She seldom knew very far in advance what he had pla
The steam cabinet would help, Dante had assured him. It would sweat away impurities, leaving him cleansed and languid, ready for the gentle aromatherapy massage that would follow.
It was just as well he wasn't claustrophobic, Christopher thought. For someone who didn't like confined spaces, the steam cabinet would be a decent facsimile of hell. Only his head was in the open air. The rest of his body was enclosed in the cabinet, sealed with a padded collar. The temperature was thermostatically controlled by a feedback system that reacted to the sensors Dante had carefully placed in a dozen locations around his body. And as a fail-safe there was a reassuring call button in the armrest of the cabinet, which could be used to summon help if he felt he was overheating.
He closed his eyes and felt the sweat trickling down his face as he let the saxophone of Ke
His blissed-out state was abruptly halted by the clatter of something falling to the floor. Suddenly alert, Christopher looked around him in confusion. The person standing in front of the control panel obviously wasn't a member of staff. And the screwdriver that was still rolling toward him wasn't part of any health regimen that Christopher had ever heard of. The person turned to face him, eyebrows drawn down in a ferocious glare. With a surge of fear that turned his insides liquid, Christopher realized he was looking into the eyes of a killer. A killer who had just removed the cover of the panel containing the thermostatic controls for the steam cabinet.
His first thought was the panic button. He fumbled for it, his fingers slick with sweat and steam. He pressed as hard as he could, feeling relief creep through him.
As if possessed of X-ray vision, the killer produced a predator's smile. "No point in hitting the panic button, Chris. I already fused the controls. It'll look just like a short circuit. It's just you and me now. You and me and the big heat."
"What's going on?" the agent stammered. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"It's called vengeance. You killed Ondine, now I'm going to kill you."
"What? Are you crazy? Ondine's not dead!"
The killer crossed the room in a few short strides and slapped Christopher's face. "You bastard. There's no point in pretending. I know what you did."
"Okay, okay. You say she's dead. But why would I kill Ondine? She's my meal ticket." Christopher's voice was a squeal of anguish.
"I don't know why you killed her. Maybe she finally got wise to your chiseling little schemes. All I know is that I saw you leave the building. You were ru
"I don't know what you're talking about." Christopher could feel the temperature rising now. His fingers were starting to swell, his throat to dry up. "I swear," he said desperately. "I didn't even know Ondine was in the manicure studio. Let me out of here. You're making a big mistake. Kill me, and Ondine's killer walks free."
The killer ignored the desperate pleas and replaced the cover on the control panel, screwing it firmly down.
"You've got it all wrong," Christopher sobbed. "Let me out of here, I promise I won't tell a soul. We'll track down the real killer together."
The killer glared at him. "You expect me to believe you? I don't think so."
Terror gripped Christopher. He opened his mouth to scream, but it was already too late. As his jaws widened, the killer moved fast, a hand snaking out to grab one of the small towels on a nearby table. Powerful fingers stuffed it into Christopher's mouth, making anything more than a muffled mumble impossible, then pinched his nostrils tight between thumb and forefinger.
Watching Christopher's face turn from scarlet to purple, the killer didn't flinch. There was a cold relish in the eyes that stared down into Christopher's panicked gaze. At last, Christopher broke their locked stare, his eyes rolling back in their sockets and suddenly dulling. The killer waited a few moments to make sure that the cheating murderer in the steam cabinet would never breathe again, then pulled the towel out of his mouth and carefully wiped both sides of Christopher's nose. There was no point in risking the possibility that the police would be able to lift fingerprints from the skin. As promised, the death would look like nothing more sinister than an unlucky accident. Nothing could bring the beautiful, fragile Ondine back. But at least she had been avenged.