He held the envelope close to his face. "It may be small, but it's a serious-looking key," he said. "I'd guess a safety-deposit box or a safe. But I haven't seen anything around here that this would fit."
Sarah shrugged. "There's no reason why it belongs here. Maybe it's the key for a safe back home?"
"So why carry it taped to her skin? Why not keep it in her purse?"
Before they could speculate further, Mike rushed in, looking as pleased as a puppy dog who has finally mastered continence. In his hand, he clutched a videotape. "Vince, I think I've got something for you."
Vince brightened visibly. Anything that might move this bogged-down case forward had to be worth listening to. "Shoot, Mikey," he said.
"You know we've got a team going through all the security videos?"
Vince nodded.
"Well, one of the guys brought me this tape from the camera on the corner of the main building near the path to the lake. It's timed just before the attack on Phyllis Talmadge. You can see Ms. Talmadge walking into range and almost bumping into King David and Raoul de Vries. They've got their backs to the camera, but they're obviously deep in conversation. Then Howard Fondulac comes up behind Ms. Talmadge and listens in while she's talking to them." He paused expectantly, but his boss seemed more frustrated than excited by the news.
"Damn," Vince said. "Why the hell don't they have audio on these tapes?"
"Sir, we don't need audio," Mike replied, obviously bursting to reveal something extraordinary.
"We don't?"
"No, sir. See, my sister, she was born deaf. When she was little, I used to take her to lip-reading classes. I've always kept it up. And I could read Ms. Talmadge's lips."
Vince felt his mouth fall open. "You're kidding me."
"No, sir." He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open. "This is what she said. I'm pretty much certain of it. 'I had to get out of that room. It's full of secrets. I could sense secrets and lies that touch all of us.' "
"You're sure about this?"
Mike nodded. "I watched it through a dozen times to make sure I wasn't mistaken. That's what she said."
"She never said a thing about running into those guys on her way to the lake," Vince said. "Why the hell would she keep quiet about something like that?"
Sarah Richmond stood up. "She's the one who got hit on the head and dumped in the lake, right? She might well have no recollection of it. Serious trauma to the head can often lead to patchy memory loss of the time immediately before the incident. There's probably nothing more sinister to it than that."
"Whatever. But we need to talk to the Talmadge woman. Now," Vince barked, delighted to have a purpose at last. "Let's head out to the hospital, Mikey."
"I checked with the hospital. She discharged herself this morning. She's back here, having a consultation with the nutritionist," he said. "She'll be done in about ten minutes."
"So what are we waiting for?" Vince demanded, heading for the door. "You did good, Mikey."
When Phyllis Talmadge emerged with her depressingly limited diet sheet, the two police officers were waiting for her. She seemed unsurprised to see them. "I had a feeling you'd want to talk to me some more," she said. "That crack on the head seems to have sharpened up my powers. I've already spoken to my agent about it, and she's arranging some press interviews so I can tell my public that far from being impaired by my injuries, my psychic abilities are stronger than they've ever been."
"Great," Vince said without enthusiasm. Just what the world needed. A reason for crackpots to smack their psychics upside the head when they didn't like their reading. He could hear the excuses now. But officer, I was only trying to help her get a clearer picture…
"Here's an example," the psychic continued, undaunted. She pointed to the small plastic bag containing the key that was still clutched in Vince's fingers. "That bag you're holding, it contains something belonging to the dead woman."
"Which one?" Vince said cynically. It wasn't too much of a stretch to guess that an evidence bag in the hand of a detective engaged in a murder investigation would contain an item that had been in the possession of the victim.
Phyllis frowned. "Why, Claudia, of course. You mean there have been more victims?"
Vince nodded. "We've just found Ondine dead. And Karen McElroy, the manicurist."
Phyllis nodded sagely. "I'm not surprised. I sensed there would be more deaths before the day was over. But whatever you've got in that bag didn't belong to either of them. It was Claudia's. The vibrations are unmistakable."
Intrigued now, Vince opened his hand and revealed the key. "You're telling me this key was Claudia's?"
"May I?" Phyllis said, reaching for the bag.
"Be my guest. But don't take it out."
Phyllis took the bag and placed it between her hands, which she folded into the shape of prayer. She raised them to her face, the tips of her index fingers against her lips. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Vince glanced at Mike, who was staring at the squat little woman with something approaching awe. He was surrounded by nutcases, Vince thought wearily.
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 hiddenness and fear there."
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 planned for her. That she didn't know about it meant nothing. He could explain it all away, if only he could keep calm.
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.