Murder of a Botoxed Blonde Read Free

worn upon her arrival that morning, Skye began to feel back in control. She unwound the towel from around her head and combed out her chestnut curls. When her hair lay like a wet poodle down her back, she looked at the clock. Two hours until dinner. If she wanted some quiet time to relax and decompress, she couldn’t stay in the room.Trixie would be back soon, wanting to discuss what had just happened.
    Skye grabbed a book, and set out to find a place to sit and read while her hair dried. The old Bruefeld Mansion, now the Scumble River Spa, had recently been remodeled and enlarged by the new owners. The two wings of the main house had been converted into guest accommodations, the central building into treatment rooms and common areas, and the attic into staff lodgings. The basement had been renovated to provide an area for the mud baths and a private suite of rooms had been added to the first floor in the rear as living quarters for Margot Avanti and her husband, Creighton Burnett. In addition, VIP cottages, a gym with an indoor pool, and a hair salon had been built next to the mansion.
    With the vast space available, and the limited number of guests, Skye was sure she could find a quiet spot to be alone. She wanted to gather her thoughts before word spread of her performance this afternoon. Once everyone found out what a fool she had made of herself, hopping to the rescue like Crusader Rabbit, she wouldn’t find another peaceful moment for a long, long time.
    During her stroll around the ground floor, Skye noted that the turret she had observed on the outside was just for decoration, although there was evidence of a recently removed circular stairway. Next, she poked her head into the dining room, now cleared of food. She briefly considered sitting in the library, but the walnut paneling, hand-carved detailing, and towering bookcases were more intimidating than relaxing.
    The central courtyard, paved with cobblestones around an outdoor swimming pool, was appealing but the pool was closed for the season, and the patio furniture was stacked under plastic tarps.
    Finally, like Goldilocks she found a spot that was just right. As soon as Skye entered the solarium, she felt herself relax. Sun streaming through three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows made the room toasty warm. To the left was a pleasant view of trees leading down to the river, to the rightthe magnificent driveway swept from the house into the woods, and straight ahead were several acres of rolling lawn interrupted only by … what in the heck was that dark square ruining the perfect carpet of grass?
    Skye frowned and moved closer to the center window. Straining her eyes, she finally figured out what she was staring at: the Bruefeld family graveyard. Come to think of it, she had heard that the new owners had wanted to move the coffins to the town cemetery, but due to some law or maybe some restriction in the deed, they hadn’t been able to, and the family burial ground remained where it had been for a hundred or so years.
    She took one more look, then curled up on the floral cushions of a white wicker rocker. Opening her book, she stared at the printed pages for several minutes, sighed, and set the novel aside. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when she had been talked into spending her Thanksgiving weekend at the spa. It had all started on Halloween, when one of the spa owners had come to Skye for help …
    Skye stood just outside the rear entrance of Scumble River Elementary School and watched the students parade around the perimeter of the parking lot dressed in their Halloween costumes, which ran the gamut from beautiful princesses to ghastly monsters.
    As the school psychologist, Skye didn’t have much to do on a day like Halloween. She couldn’t test any students or observe in any classroom, and no one wanted to have a meeting. She’d spent the morning writing reports, but had decided to take a break from the