Amanda - The Phantom Canvas: Part II

The cart wheels scraped against linoleum as Nicole turned the corner into the cereal aisle, eyes scanning her shopping list. Whole grain bread, check. Milk, check. William had texted about needing—

Metal crashed against metal.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Nicole looked up from her scattered list to see familiar silver hair and that same elegant composure. "Amanda?"

"Nicole!" Amanda's face lit up with what looked like genuine delight. A box of organic granola sat upended between their tangled carts. "What are the odds?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you lived—"

"I moved." Amanda straightened the granola box with practiced efficiency. "The divorce was finalized last month. Fresh start seemed like the right call."

"You moved here?"

"About twenty minutes north, actually. Lovely area. I can see why you and William settled down here." Amanda's cart held the groceries of someone cooking for one—single portions, prepared salads, a bottle of wine. "How are you two doing? Still cooking together?"

"Actually, yes. We made pasta from scratch last weekend."

"That's wonderful." Amanda's attention was complete, focused. "You look happy."

"I am. We are. That week really changed things for us."

"I'm so glad." Amanda reached for a box of steel-cut oats, studying the label. "It's funny how perspective can shift everything, isn't it? You start seeing patterns you missed before."

A woman with twins in a double stroller maneuvered around them, toddlers reaching for colorful cereal boxes. Amanda stepped aside gracefully, creating space.

"Are you working here?" Nicole asked. "The consulting thing?"

"A small project. Nothing too demanding." Amanda placed the oats in her cart. "Actually, it's nice having some time to myself. I'm discovering I quite like my own company."

"Good for you."

"Although I have to admit, I miss having people to cook for. My daughter's with her father most weekends now." Amanda's smile carried just enough sadness to seem real. "Would you and William be interested in dinner sometime? I'd love to catch up properly."

Nicole nodded. "He'd love that. We both would."

"Perfect." Amanda pulled out her phone. "Are you free Saturday? I could make that risotto we talked about—properly this time."

---

Saturday Evening

"I still can't believe you ran into her," William said, adjusting his collar for the third time. "In the cereal aisle of all places."

"She seemed really good," Nicole replied, checking her lipstick in the hallway mirror. "Settled. Like the divorce was the right choice."

"Lucky for us she moved here." William grabbed the bottle of wine they'd brought. "I was thinking we should get her contact information for Dr. Morrison. She might want to know how well her approach worked."

Nicole paused, hand on the doorknob. "You think Amanda would want that? Being reminded of everything?"

"Maybe not." William shrugged. "We'll see how the night goes."

Amanda's apartment was a sleek rental in one of the newer complexes—furnished but personal, like someone who'd learned to travel light. She answered the door in dark jeans and a cream sweater, hair pulled back, more casual than they'd ever seen her.

"You found it!" She hugged Nicole, then William. "Come in, please. I hope you're hungry."

The risotto was already simmering, kitchen windows fogged with steam. Amanda had set the dining table with real plates, cloth napkins, candles. Everything felt effortless, welcoming.

"This smells incredible," William said, handing over the wine.

"Thank you. I may have gotten a little carried away." Amanda opened the bottle with the efficiency of someone who'd done it many times alone. "It's been a while since I cooked for anyone besides myself."

Nicole looked around the apartment—clean lines, neutral colors, expensive but temporary. "Do you like it here? The area?"

"It's perfect for now." Amanda poured wine into three glasses. "Close enough to my daughter when she visits, but far enough from... well, everything else."

She handed them each a glass, raised her own. "To new beginnings."

They settled in the living room while Amanda finished the risotto. William was laughing at Amanda's stories about apartment hunting, asking questions about her consulting work.

"So what kind of project brought you here?" he asked.

"Family business, actually. Father and son who can't agree on anything." Amanda stirred the risotto, tasted it. "The son thinks the father's too old-fashioned, the father thinks the son doesn't understand legacy. Sound familiar?"

William laughed. "Every family business ever."

"The interesting part is they're both right." Amanda added more stock to the pan. "The father built something valuable, but the son sees opportunities the father can't. Neither one trusts the other's judgment."

"How do you fix something like that?" Nicole asked.

Amanda looked up from the stove, met Nicole's eyes. "You help them see what they're really fighting about. It's never actually about business."

Nicole watched Amanda stir the risotto. "What is it about?"

"Fear," Amanda said simply. "The father's afraid his life's work will be erased. The son's afraid he'll never be seen as his own person." She turned back to the risotto. "Once they understand that, the business part becomes easier."

William nodded approvingly. "That's exactly what happened with us, isn't it? We weren't really fighting about schedules or responsibilities."

"You were fighting about being forgotten," Amanda agreed. "Both of you."

The risotto was perfect—creamy, rich, better than anything they'd managed at the resort. Amanda had paired it with a simple salad and crusty bread. They ate slowly, conversation flowing like old friends catching up.

Soft music played from William's phone on the kitchen counter. Amanda paused mid-bite, head tilted.

"Oh, you're into classic jazz now? That's new."

William looked up. "What do you mean new?"

"Just didn't strike me as your type of music." Amanda cut another piece of bread. "Take Five, right? Dave Brubeck?"

"Actually, I've been into jazz since I was a kid." William set down his fork. "My dad used to play it all the time when he was working in his office with the door closed. He said it helped him concentrate."

Nicole turned to look at him.

"The family used to joke he just didn't want us hearing what business he was discussing." William laughed. "Mom would knock on the door when dinner was ready, and all you'd hear was Thelonious Monk or Miles Davis before he'd tell her to come in."

"What kind of business?" Amanda asked.

"Insurance claims. Nothing exciting. But he treated every case like it was classified." William reached for his wine. "I probably picked up the jazz habit from sitting outside his door doing homework. It does help you focus."

Amanda nodded. "Music as a barrier. Interesting."

"Not a barrier," William said. "More like... a buffer."

Nicole was still looking at him. "You never told me that."

"About the jazz?"

"About your father. The closed door."

William shrugged. "Didn't seem important."

"I have to ask," Nicole said during dessert. "Are you dating anyone?"

Amanda smiled, shook her head. "Not ready yet. I'm still figuring out who I am when I'm not performing for someone else."

Nicole set down her fork. "That's exactly what I was doing. Performing."

"We all do it," Amanda said. "The question is whether we realize it in time."

"Time for what?" William asked.

Amanda's pause was so brief Nicole almost missed it. "To stop."

Amanda stretched, covering a small yawn. "I'm sorry, but I think I need to call it a night. The divorce has been more exhausting than I expected."

"Of course," Nicole said, already reaching for her purse.

"Actually," Amanda said, turning to Nicole. "I saw this lovely spa place downtown when I was apartment hunting. If you're not busy tomorrow, would you like to join me? I could use some company, and I suspect we both could use some pampering."

Nicole glanced at William.

"Go," he said immediately. "I've got a mountain of work to catch up on anyway. I'll probably be stuck at the office until after eleven."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You two should make the most of a girls' day." William was already stacking their plates. "I'll handle cleanup here, Amanda. Thank you for dinner."

"Perfect then," Amanda smiled. "Nicole, shall I pick you up around ten? We can make a whole day of it."

---

The Spa

The eucalyptus steam curled around them as they sat side by side in the sauna, white robes loose, hair pulled back. Amanda had booked them the full treatment package—massages, facials, the works. Nicole was already more relaxed than she'd been in weeks.

"This was exactly what I needed," Nicole said, closing her eyes.

"I thought so." Amanda adjusted her towel. "You looked tense last night during dinner."

"Did I?"

"Just something around your eyes. I recognize it." Amanda leaned back against the cedar wall. "I used to carry stress the same way."

Nicole opened her eyes. "When?"

"The last few years of my marriage. Always watching, always managing everyone else's moods." Amanda's voice was quiet, conversational. "You do that with William."

"Do what?"

"Check with him before you answer. Last night when I invited you here, you looked at him first."

Nicole was quiet for a moment. "I guess I wanted to make sure he was okay with it."

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"He wouldn't be. I just..." Nicole trailed off.

"You just what?"

"I don't know. I've always done that."

Amanda turned to look at her. "Even before you were married?"

"I think so. Maybe. My mom always checked with my dad before making plans." Nicole wiped sweat from her forehead. "I probably learned it from her."

"What happened if she didn't check?"

Nicole was quiet for a long time. "He'd get this look. Not angry exactly, but... disappointed. Like she'd forgotten something important."

"Did William ever give you that look?"

"No," Nicole said quickly. "William's not like that."

"But you still check."

"Yeah."

The steam hissed around them. Amanda waited.

"It's stupid," Nicole said finally.

"What is?"

"Being almost forty and still afraid of disappointing people."

Amanda nodded. "What disappoints William?"

"Nothing really. He's very..." Nicole searched for the word. "Accommodating."

"That must be nice."

"It is. It's just..."

"What?"

Nicole shifted on the bench. "Sometimes I wish he'd have stronger opinions about things. Like, really care about something enough to argue for it."

"When was the last time you two disagreed about anything important?"

Nicole thought. "I honestly can't remember."

"That's unusual for a couple."

"Is it? I thought it meant we were compatible."

Amanda smiled. "Or one of you is doing all the accommodating."

---

The Massage Room

Nicole lay face down on the massage table, a heated towel draped across her back. The therapist worked her shoulders with practiced efficiency while soft music played overhead.

"God, this feels amazing," Nicole murmured into the face cradle. "I haven't been this relaxed in months."

Amanda was on the table next to her, getting her own massage. "The mud bath is supposed to be incredible. Want to try it after this?"

"Mmm, maybe. I'm so comfortable I might just melt into this table."

"I think I'll go ahead and try it," Amanda said. "Meet you for pedicures after?"

"Perfect," Nicole said, her voice already dreamy. "I'm not moving for at least another hour."

Amanda finished her massage first. She wrapped herself in a robe and padded barefoot toward the mud bath area, following signs down a quiet hallway lined with eucalyptus plants.

The mud bath room was private, dimly lit, with a single large tub filled with warm therapeutic mud. A wall of mirrors reflected the soft lighting. Amanda was alone except for the attendant who greeted her.

"First time?" the woman asked, not looking up from arranging towels.

"Yes, I'm excited to try it."

The attendant turned around.

Amanda's blood stopped moving.

Emma. David's sister. Thinner than before, hair pulled back severely, wearing the spa's uniform. Her face went through the same shock of recognition.

"You," Emma whispered.

Amanda stepped backward toward the door, but Emma moved faster, positioning herself between Amanda and the exit.

"You destroyed my family." Emma's voice was quiet, controlled. "My marriage. My father. Everything."

"Emma, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Shut up." Emma's hands were shaking. "I know exactly what you did. How you targeted each of us. How you made us turn on each other."

Amanda raised her hands, palms out. "Emma, you're upset. You've been through a lot—"

"Because of you!" Emma's voice cracked. "My husband left me. My father's in therapy again. My mother blames herself for everything. Tyler won't even apply to college because he thinks he's genetically doomed."

She stepped closer. "I lost everything. My home, my marriage, my family. I'm working at a lousy spa because I can't afford my apartment anymore."

"I was trying to help—"

"Help?" Emma laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. "You studied us like lab rats. Found our weaknesses and pressed until we broke."

Amanda's eyes darted around the room. The mud bath behind her. Mirrors on the wall. No other exits.

"I've thought about this moment every day for months," Emma said. "What I'd do if I ever saw you again."

She moved toward the controls for the mud bath. "This is perfect, actually. Justice."

"Emma, listen to me—"

"Get in."

"What?"

"Get in the mud bath." Emma's voice was dead calm now. "You're going to have an accident."

Amanda backed toward the tub. "People know I'm here. My friend Nicole—"

"Will think you slipped and hit your head. Tragic accident. These things happen in spas all the time."

Amanda felt the edge of the tub against her legs. The warm mud bubbled gently, innocuous looking.

"Emma, please—"

"Take off the robe."

Amanda untied the robe with trembling fingers, let it fall to the floor. She stepped into the mud, feeling it coat her skin, warm and thick.

"Deeper."

Amanda waded in until the mud reached her waist, then her chest. She could feel the weight of it, the way it made movement sluggish.

Emma picked up a long-handled tool used for stirring the mud. "All the way down."

"Emma, don't do this—"

"You didn't give my family a choice."

Amanda sank deeper, the mud now at her shoulders. Her feet barely touched the bottom of the tub.

Emma raised the tool like a weapon. "I want you to know what it feels like when everything falls apart."

Amanda saw the reflection in the mirror behind Emma—her own terrified face, Emma's figure raised to strike.

Emma swung down hard.

Amanda ducked sideways, the tool missing her head by inches and splashing into the mud. She lunged forward, grabbing Emma's wrist.

"Let go of me!" Emma tried to pull back, but Amanda held on, using Emma's momentum to yank her toward the tub.

Emma lost her balance, teetering on the edge. Amanda pulled harder, and Emma toppled forward into the mud with a splash that sent waves across the room.

Now they were both in the tub, struggling in the thick, warm mud that made every movement slow and deliberate. Emma thrashed, trying to get to the surface, but Amanda was stronger, more focused.

"You ruined everything," Emma gasped, mud in her hair, her eyes wild.

Amanda got her hands on Emma's shoulders, pushing her down. "I gave your family clarity."

"You gave us hell!" Emma fought back, her fingernails scratching at Amanda's arms.

They wrestled in the mud, neither able to get solid footing or leverage. Emma managed to break free and tried to climb out of the tub, but Amanda caught her ankle and pulled her back down.

This time when Emma went under, Amanda was ready. She planted her knees on Emma's chest and pushed her head beneath the surface with both hands.

Emma's arms flailed wildly, splashing mud everywhere. Her body bucked and twisted, trying to throw Amanda off. Bubbles rose to the surface as Emma tried to scream underwater.

Amanda held her down, watching Emma's reflection in the mirror across the room. Watching the thrashing grow weaker. Watching the bubbles become smaller and less frequent.

Finally, the movement stopped.

Amanda stayed pressed down for another full minute, counting her heartbeats. When she finally released Emma's head, the body floated just beneath the surface, perfectly still.

Amanda climbed out of the tub, dripping mud on the floor. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, looking at Emma's submerged form.

Then she went to work.

She found an electrical cord near the control panel and stretched it toward the mud bath, letting it dangle close to the edge. She scattered towels on the opposite side of the room, arranging them as if someone had slipped while reaching for them.

She positioned Emma's body to look like she'd fallen forward, struck her head, and drowned. The mud would make it difficult to determine exact cause of death.

Amanda rinsed herself quickly in the attached shower, washing the mud from her hair and skin. She dried off, put her robe back on, and checked herself in the mirror. A few scratches on her arms, but nothing that couldn't be explained by spa treatments.

She walked calmly back to the massage area, where Nicole was still lying face down on her table, eyes closed.

"How was the mud bath?" Nicole asked without opening her eyes.

"Actually, I started feeling dizzy from the heat," Amanda said, settling onto a chair nearby. "Might be early menopause symptoms. I had to get out pretty quickly."

"Oh no, are you okay?"

"I'm fine now. But I'm wondering if we should call it a day. Maybe go get drinks somewhere with better air conditioning?"

Nicole finally lifted her head. "You do look a little pale."

"I was thinking that new place downtown. The one with the rooftop bar. Since William's working late anyway, we could make it a proper girls' night."

"That sounds perfect." Nicole sat up slowly. "Let me just get dressed."

Twenty minutes later, they were walking out of the spa together, Amanda's arm linked through Nicole's as if nothing had happened.

"I can't believe how relaxed I feel," Nicole said as they got into Amanda's car.

"That's the whole point," Amanda replied, starting the engine. "Sometimes you need to let someone else take care of you."

As they drove away, Amanda watched the spa disappear in her rearview mirror. By the time Emma's body was discovered, they'd be across town with a solid alibi and a bar full of witnesses.

The perfect crime, disguised as the perfect friendship.

—Sal