Too Rich and Too Dead Page 6

  “Before I tell you about the wonders of Rejuva-Juice—and believe me, I intend to do exactly that…” Carly paused, a small smile on her lips as she acknowledged the laughter she'd clearly been anticipating. “… I'd like to show you some slides that will demonstrate the lengths I went to in order to bring you this amazing elixir. Lights, please!”

  The auditorium grew even darker. As a giant screen descended from the top of the stage, the excitement in the room became palpable. The first slide appeared, featuring the words “The Rejuva-Juice Story” superimposed over a shot of pristine jungle so lush Mallory could practically hear the birds chirping and the insects twittering.

  “The story of Rejuva-Juice begins in the Amazon rain forest,” Carly went on, “which is where I began my two-year trek. My goal was to discover what primitive people around the world use to maintain good health, high energy, and in many cases, a period of youthfulness that extends far beyond what those of us who live in so-called civilized societies enjoy.”

  Carly clicked the remote control she clutched in her hand, and another shot of the dense jungle appeared. This time, she was standing in the middle of it. Her khaki shorts and pith helmet might have looked ridiculous on someone else, but with her tall, slender frame and the mane of perfectly coiffed long blond hair flowing around her shoulders, she made safari clothes look even more stylish than the classic little black dress.

  “It took me three days to reach this village in Peru,” she told the crowd. “In one of the small cities I visited down there, I heard that deep inside the rain forest lived a tribe whose members routinely lived to be one hundred and twenty. The first day I spent twelve hours on a bus that bumped along a dirt road. I spent the two days that followed on a raft, drifting along the Amazon River.

  “Eventually, with the help of a native guide, I found the tiny village, if you could even call it that. When I arrived, I was treated like a queen, since no one who looked even remotely like me had ever visited. The people of the tribe had never seen hair my color before. ‘The color of the sun,’ they called it.”

  Funny, Mallory thought. And here I thought it was called Number 233—Light Golden Blonde.

  “Here in this village,” Carly continued, gesturing toward the screen, “I spoke with a shaman for hours—with the help of a translator, of course. Thanks to him, I discovered one of Rejuva-Juice's most important ingredients. It's a nut that grows in only one place in the entire world. That place happens to be located right outside the tiny cluster of huts.”

  Carly clicked through half a dozen slides of the Amazon rain forest. They included two close-ups of a strange-looking plant and another shot of an equally strange-looking gentleman, his chest elaborately painted in half a dozen colors. He was wearing what appeared to be a dried vine that he had looped around his neck several times. She explained that he was the shaman who knew about the secret nut and its miraculous properties.

  “But let's shift gears and travel to an entirely different part of the world,” Carly continued. “My next stop—at least, the next one that yielded an important discovery—was in the foothills of the Himalayas. I was staying at a tiny inn in Katmandu when I heard about a remote village where men of ninety-nine still fathered children.”

  I bet they don't rush to claim the first dance at their daughters’ weddings, Mallory thought wryly. Or to referee their soccer games.

  “I found another one of Rejuva-Juice's secret ingredients there,” Carly told the audience. “It's a powder that local women grind from a root. It's part of a plant that clings to the shallow layer of soil that barely covers the mountainside.”

  She flashed a few more slides onto the screen. These showed smiling locals dressed in brightly colored clothing. One shot featured Carly standing alongside them, but a few feet away, as if she was embarrassed by the bland colors of her own outfit. Another showed a shriveled-up man holding a baby that Carly claimed was his sixteenth son. It was impossible to tell whether his broad grin was due to the joys of fatherhood or all the fun he'd had getting there.

  “The next group of slides takes us to another stop of my journey, a tiny village in New Guinea,” Carly continued. The brown barrenness of the Himalayas was gone, replaced once again by greenery so dense that Mallory could almost feel the humidity against her skin. One slide after another flashed on the screen. Once again, they consisted of a couple of close-ups of an odd-looking plant, a few shots of the happy locals, and Carly.

  “You'll notice that I'm not wearing a hat in any of these pictures,” she commented. “That's because each of the small villages in New Guinea is ruled by a chief called a luluai, and only he is allowed to wear a hat.” Chuckling, she added, “Actually, the luluai of Mongo-Bongo liked my hat so much that I had no choice but to present it to him as a gift.”

  Once again, her one-liner was met with laughter.

  “Now if you aren't suffering too badly from jet lag, our next stop will be the jungles of Madagascar…”

  Mallory glanced around and saw that the crowd was really eating it up. Every pair of eyes in the auditorium was riveted on Carly and her slides. There was no whispered conversation, no fidgeting, not even any gum-chewing.

  I have to hand it to her, Mallory thought, once again experiencing a tinge of envy. Carly certainly knows how to give people what they want. And Rejuva-Juice is only part of it. The rest of it is Carly herself.

  Frankly, she didn't know whether or not Carly's magic potion worked. But as far as her audience's reaction went, it appeared that the fact that Rejuva-Juice may have been no more authentic than the Feejee Mermaid didn't seem to matter one bit.

  At the end of the evening, as Carly fielded questions from her adoring audience, Mallory sneaked out of the auditorium in search of some air, a cold drink, and a ladies’ room, not necessarily in that order. She expected to find herself alone in the washroom, since the theatrics hadn't yet ended. But she found she wasn't the only one who had bowed out. So had a short, somewhat stocky woman who stood at one of the sinks, washing her hands.

  Mallory nodded hello before disappearing into one of the stalls, glancing at her only long enough to notice that she didn't look as if she belonged in Aspen. Most of the people she'd seen up to this point looked as if they were healthy, rich, and owned more than their share of Gore-Tex. Yet this woman, who was probably in her early thirties, wore a wrinkled white blouse and plaid pleated skirt. Not only did her appearance suggest she might have mugged a Catholic school student; the blouse was untucked, the skirt was pulled too tightly around her thick waist, and the clunky black loafers she wore looked badly stretched out, as if she hadn't yet figured out that she was one of those people who should have been buying wide shoes.

  The fact that she was one of the few ordinary-looking people Mallory had spotted since arriving in Aspen made her feel an immediate connection to her.

  At last, she thought, someone who doesn't seem obsessed with impressing everyone around her.

  When Mallory came out of the stall, the woman was still there, this time peering into the mirror and forcing a comb through a headful of wiry dark brown hair that seemed to have a will of its own.

  “She's quite a showman, isn't she?” Mallory commented as she pumped soap out of the metal dispenser.

  “She certainly is,” the woman agreed. Grinning, she added, “There's nothing Carly loves more than being in the spotlight.”

  “You sound as if you know her,” Mallory observed, talking to the woman's reflection.

  “Not only do I know her, I work for her.”

  “Really? I know Carly, too. She and I went to high school together.” Mallory stuck out her hand, even though it was still damp. “I'm Mallory Marlowe. I'm just visiting Aspen for a few days.”

  “Harriet Vogel.” Smiling warmly, the woman shook her hand. “I'm Carly's accountant.”

  “Nice to meet you, Harriet.”

  “Same here. Where are you visiting from, Mallory?”

  “New York,” Mallory replied. “The
suburbs, actually. A commuter town called Rivington about half an hour north of the city.”

  “New York, huh?” Harriet's eyes grew wide. “Gee, I've always wanted to go there. I'd love to see a Broadway play and the Statue of Liberty and the Metropolitan Museum of Art… I don't suppose all those things are close to each other, are they?”

  Mallory laughed. “I'm afraid not. New York is huge.”

  “I have to get there one of these days. Hey, maybe since I was lucky enough to run into you, I should ask you to help me make a list of everything that's worth doing. But what about you? Are you here in Aspen visiting Carly?”

  “I'm mainly here for work,” Mallory replied. “I'm writing a travel article about Aspen. But this trip is also a chance to catch up with Carly. In fact, I just had dinner with her and Brett at their house.”

  “It's gorgeous, isn't it? I hope you were there in time for the sunset.”

  “I was—and I'm practically ready to move in.” Sighing, Mallory added, “Carly certainly has it all. Her house, her marriage… and especially her career. And not only is she amazingly successful, she also seems to find her work really fulfilling. She obviously believes in Rejuva-Juice.”

  “The company is her pride and joy,” Harriet agreed, nodding.

  “In fact,” Mallory continued, “I'm hoping to use her story as the centerpiece for my article. I'm planning to focus on why an entrepreneur like Carly would choose Aspen as the place to open her business.”

  “Then you'd better hurry up,” Harriet said offhandedly.

  Mallory frowned. “What do you mean?”

  A startled look crossed Harriet's face. Mallory got the feeling she'd just given away more than she'd intended.

  “I assumed you knew,” she said guardedly. “Since you and Carly go back so many years.”

  “We're still in the process of catching up,” Mallory said, hoping to come across as someone who was an insider, just like Harriet. “We haven't seen each other in a while.”

  Harriet hesitated for a few seconds before saying, “Let's just say there's a possibility that Carly and Rejuva-Juice will soon be parting ways.”

  Mallory opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to ask her to explain what she meant, Harriet said, “I should probably get back. Carly is always high as a kite after she gives a presentation like the one she gave tonight. The woman thrives on public attention. She'll expect me to be at her side, offering her a little adoration of my own.”

  With a little shrug, she added, “It's part of my job description.”

  Mallory was curious about that comment, too. But before she had a chance to pursue it, Harriet said, “Here, let me give you one of my business cards.” She opened her purse and pulled one out. “If you have any questions about Aspen, I'd be happy to answer them.”

  As she handed it to Mallory, she added, “It has my direct line at Tavaci Springs on it. It'll ring in my office, so you won't have to waste time going through the receptionist.”

  “Thanks,” Mallory said sincerely. “I'll let you know if I need any help.”

  “Great!” Harriet smiled warmly, then said, “And now I'd better get back.” Rolling her eyes, she said, “This is one of those jobs that doesn't end when I leave the office.”

  “Nice meeting you!” Mallory called after her as she sailed out the door.

  She decided it was time for her to make her departure, as well. While she was tempted to go backstage and congratulate Carly at the end of her lecture, she knew she'd be surrounded by fans. Besides, she was suddenly exhausted. Given the two-hour time difference, it felt close to midnight, and it had been an unusually long day.

  I'll tell her what a great job she did when I see her on Thursday, she thought.

  As soon as she stepped outside, Mallory was struck by the cool freshness of the mountain air. She inhaled deeply, meanwhile noticing how pretty the manicured, red brick town looked at night, with the streetlights and the glowing store windows casting a magical glow.

  She'd only taken a few steps when she spotted Gordon striding toward the opera house, his hands stuck deep in his pants pockets.

  “Good timing,” Mallory commented as he drew near. “The show should be over any minute now.”

  “Did I miss anything?” he asked, grinning. “A heckler, an unusual question… anything that might reveal my disloyalty?”

  Mallory laughed. “As far as I can tell the evening went exactly as planned. Although I have to admit that I didn't hang around for the Q and A.”

  “Shucks,” Gordon said, snapping his fingers. “If I'd known you were sneaking out, too, I'd have gladly traded watching the game for an after-dinner drink with you.” Teasingly, he added, “And you know what a huge sports fan I am.”

  “I'm afraid I wouldn't have been very good company,” Mallory replied. “I'm still on East Coast time, which means to me it feels two hours later. In about three minutes, my eyes are going to close—and stay that way for the next several hours.”

  “I could at least walk you back to your hotel.”

  “Thanks, but I'll be fine.”

  “Ouch!” Gordon cried. “Rejected again!”

  Laughing, Mallory insisted, “Don't take it personally. You just caught me at the end of an extremely long day.”

  “Aspen's a pretty small place,” Gordon assured her. “You may not have seen the last of me yet. And you can consider that a threat.”

  “I think it's a threat I can live with,” she replied, still laughing. “But for now, I've got a date with a pillow.”

  After they said good night, she turned and strode along the brick walkway, leaving the Wheeler Opera House behind. She was surprised at how much she'd enjoyed herself this evening. It had been fun reconnecting with Carly Meeting her husband and her friend Gordon, too. She was looking forward to Thursday's interview more than ever.

  But at the moment all she wanted to do was get back to her hotel room, climb into bed, and let her long day segue into a relaxing and restful night.

  Still, when she reached the Hotel Jerome, before stepping inside she couldn't resist glancing up at the dark blue sky. Studying the stars was something she liked to do when she traveled. Even though she didn't know the first thing about astronomy, she knew the configurations up above were different from the ones at home. Somehow, reminding herself of that simple fact always drove home the fact that she was someplace new, far away from all that was familiar.

  Tonight, she noticed that the stars twinkling above looked exceptionally peaceful. The sight of them was reassuring, as if nothing could possibly go wrong in the world tonight.

  Certainly not in Aspen, where history had merged gracefully with the present, designer duds could be purchased at an altitude of eight thousand feet, and visitors could have anything they wanted—even the chance to be young again.

  Early the next morning, as Mallory surveyed the breakfast she'd had delivered to her room, she marveled over the fact that although she'd been in Aspen for less than sixteen hours, elk sausage already struck her as commonplace.

  The ease with which she'd come to consider wild game one of the Four Basic Food Groups was causing her to realize how much at home she already felt here. She wondered if what made this press trip different from the others she'd been on was that this was the first time she'd come to a destination in which she actually knew someone.

  But she wouldn't be seeing Carly again for several days, and as she took her first sip of coffee, she decided that right after breakfast she would get going on what she had come to Aspen to do: explore it with the eager eyes of a tourist.

  With that thought in mind, she grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, hoping to get the day's weather report and maybe some news. She liked tuning into local stations whenever she traveled, since the reports generally gave her an idea of the area's character. Here, for example, she expected stories along the lines of “Polarfleece shortage creates panic at Aspen area ski shops” or “Skyrocketing truffle prices send executive chefs back
to the drawing board.”

  First, however, she had to decide whether to smear butter or orange marmalade on the warm, flaky croissant on her plate. She was so engrossed in making her first major decision of the day as she savored another sip of coffee that she was only half listening when she heard the handsome young anchorman somberly deliver a line that included the words “local woman,” “entrepreneur,” and “murder.”

  A local entrepreneur, murdered? she thought with alarm.

  Mallory immediately turned her attention to the television screen—and then felt her entire body go rigid as she saw the familiar face of Carly Cassidy Berman staring back at her.

  “The most important trip you may take in life

  is meeting people halfway.”

  —Henry Boye

  No!” Mallory cried, her hand jerking so hard that coffee sloshed out of her cup. With trembling hands she set it down, then leaned forward to get a better look at the TV screen.

  “According to police, early this morning an employee discovered Berman's body at the spa she founded, Tavaci Springs,” the newscaster continued. “Berman is the creator of Rejuva-Juice, a beverage she claimed had the power to restore youth and vi tality.

  “The police are asking anyone who has any information about the murder of Carly Cassidy Berman to contact the TIPS hotline at one-eight hundred…”

  Mallory was finding it difficult to take in any more of what the newscaster said. Blood rushed through her temples with such ferocity that she could hardly hear, much less think straight.

  Carly Berman… murdered?

  It just didn't make sense.

  I saw her last night! she thought, desperately struggling to make sense of the words the newscaster had just thrown at her. She can't be dead!

  Certainly not murdered!

  But slowly the meaning of what she had just learned began to sink in. Carly was dead. She really had been murdered. And the fact that Mallory had seen her only hours before was totally irrelevant.