Set Sail for Murder by R. T. Jordan Read Free Book Online

name is Rosemary Thyme. Please come in.”
    Polly eagerly followed Rosemary into a small room. “You’re only missing parsley and sage,” she joked.
    “They’re my middle names. It’s what comes from having parents who worshipped Simon and Garfunkel.”
    The room was the size of Polly’s tiny cabin. A massage table was covered with a starched and ironed white sheet. The lilting music filled this room, as did the seductive floral scent, which she could now see came from glowing candles.
    “Hang your clothes there.” Rosemary pointed to a hanger on the back of the door. “Rings or other jewelry can go there.” She pointed to the colorful abalone shell on a stand beside the massage table. “Get comfy, and call me when you’re ready.” Rosemary left the room and closed the door behind her.
    Polly took off her clothes while looking around for any indication of Laura Crawford having been there. Disappointed that the place seemed to be evidence free, she slipped under the sheet, which felt as though it had just come out of a warm clothes dryer.
    Rosemary entered and instructed Polly to lay facedown on the table, with her arms over the sides. As she rubbed warm scented oil into the palms of her hands, she said, “If I’m too rough, let me know. I’m stronger than I look. Some people like to be nearly pummeled. Others want a sensitive touch.”
    “The harder, the better,” Polly said as Rosemary began her treatment. With every stroke of Rosemary’s hands, Polly moaned in ecstasy. “I’ll take you home with me.”
    “I’m available for adoption or foster care,” Rosemary joked. After a moment of quiet she whispered, “I trust you won’t mind me telling you how much my grandparents loved you and your show.”
    Although her face was deep in the well of the massage table’s headrest, Polly rolled her eyes.
Would another murder in the spa make any difference?
she thought.
    “You can’t imagine how that makes me feel,” Polly managed to say. “I’m sure they’re proud of you and your talents, too. You make me feel as though I’ve died and gone to heaven. Just like Laura Crawford. She hasn’t a clue about what she’s missing. Or does she? I hope that her masseuse gave my dear dead darling the special VIP treatment.”
    Rosemary went from the warmth of sunny Ann-Margret, to the coolness of a Clinton under congressional questioning. “Yes, such a waste of life and talent,” Rosemary said in a steely tone. “No doubt the good Lord Himself joined St. Peter in the golden welcome wagon.”
    Just as Rosemary was about to knead Polly’s lower back, a quick rap on the door was followed by an uninvited head peeking in. “Sorry ‘bout last night, hon,” a female voice said to Rosemary. “That crazy Crawford creature waltzed her chubby calves into my room and expected me to evict the client I was working on. Said she was in a hurry. I knew you wouldn’t mind one last customer. We all need the tips. Frankly, I’m surprised she heard me, what with her barking at her cell phone, and me giving her the bum’s rush out the door. I noticed you couldn’t get away quickly enough. Can’t blame you! After that bloodcurdling scream, I thought someone was being murdered. Oh! Ha! I guess they were! Gotta go. Call me. Ciao!”
    As the door closed, Polly lifted her head and opened one eyelid to look at Rosemary whose face had turned red.
    Rosemary explained, “That was Talia, the nosy masseuse. She loves to start gossip. Yes, Miss Crawford was my client—she screamed like someone had stuck her with a white-hot poker. After I washed her face and slathered her flaking and puffy skin with my own special revitalizing emollient, she pinched her nose as if she smelled rotting eggs, and demandedto know all of the ingredients. That’s when she had a major meltdown.”
    “Cream of fish entrails and red tide seaweed?”
    “Garden variety hairy tree snails. Fresh from the Florida Everglades,” Rosemary said. “I shell a