Amanda - The Phantom Canvas: Part V

Back at the Station

Baxter was reviewing Carlos's phone records when he caught fragments of conversation from the next desk over.

"...found her in the mud bath, poor thing..."

"...employee at Serenity Spa, right? What was her name again..."

"Emma Stevens. Twenty-nine, worked there about three months. Looks like she slipped, hit her head, drowned in the therapeutic mud..."

Baxter's pen stopped moving. Serenity Spa. He knew that name.

"...electrical cord near the tub, probably reached for it when she was losing balance..."

"Tragic accident. These spa places, all that steam and slippery surfaces..."

Baxter stood up, walked over to the other detectives. "Did you say Serenity Spa?"

Detective Martinez looked up. "Yeah, on Elm Street. Why?"

"Just curious. When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. Girl was found this morning by another employee." Martinez shrugged. "Open and shut accident case. Why the interest?"

Baxter returned to his desk, but his mind was racing. During his months undercover, he'd followed Carlos to Serenity Spa numerous times. Carlos used it as a meeting place—neutral territory where he could conduct business while appearing to be just another wealthy client enjoying the amenities.

Emma Stevens. Baxter pulled up his undercover notes on his computer, searching through detailed observations of Carlos's routine. There—three separate entries mentioning an employee named Emma who Carlos specifically requested for treatments. Always asked for her by name, always booked private sessions.

Baxter stared at his screen. Carlos murdered in his apartment. Emma dead at the spa where Carlos did business. Both within 24 hours of each other.

Coincidence?

In fifteen years of police work, Baxter had learned not to believe in coincidences.

He pulled up the spa incident report, scanning the details. Accidental drowning, electrical cord involvement, no witnesses, body discovered by cleaning staff. Clean, simple, case closed.

Too clean. Just like Carlos's apartment.

Baxter grabbed his jacket. "Randolph, I need to check something out."

"Where you going?"

"Serenity Spa. There might be a connection to our Carlos case."

"What kind of connection?"

"The kind that means we're looking at more than one murder."

---

Serenity Spa

The spa manager, a nervous woman named Patricia, led Baxter through the hallway where Emma had died. The mud bath room was still sealed with police tape, but Baxter could see through the glass door to the elegant treatment space.

"Emma was such a sweet girl," Patricia said, wringing her hands. "I still can't believe this happened."

"Tell me about yesterday," Baxter said, pulling out his notepad. "Emma's last shift."

"She worked the full day, seven to seven. Very busy schedule." Patricia consulted her tablet. "She had back-to-back appointments until late afternoon."

"Who were her last clients?"

"Two ladies. They booked the full luxury package—massage, facial, mud bath, pedicure. Three hours total."

Baxter's pulse quickened. "Do you have their names?"

Patricia scrolled through her records. "Amanda Ashford and Nicole Woodrow. They paid cash, which was unusual for such an expensive package."

"Cash?"

"Yes, Ms. Ashford insisted. Said she preferred not to use credit cards at spas for privacy reasons."

Smart, Baxter thought. No paper trail. "What time did they arrive?"

"Three PM. They were scheduled until six, but they left early. Around five-thirty, I think."

"Why did they leave early?"

"Ms. Ashford said she was feeling dizzy from the mud bath. Heat sensitivity, she mentioned. They skipped the pedicures and left."

Baxter made notes, his detective instincts firing. "Did Emma seem normal during their visit?"

"I didn't see much of her during their treatments. She was assigned to them exclusively for the afternoon." Patricia paused. "Although now that I think about it, she did seem tense when I saw her around four o'clock. I asked if everything was okay, and she said she was just tired."

"Did you see the clients leave?"

"Yes, they seemed fine. The blonde one—Ms. Ashford—looked a bit pale, but she said the heat had gotten to her. They were very polite, very nice ladies."

Baxter studied his notes. Two women spend three hours at the spa. Emma Stevens dies in the mud bath room. The women leave early, citing heat sensitivity. Emma's body is found the next morning.

"Patricia, I need security footage from yesterday afternoon."

"Oh, I wish I could help, but our camera system has been acting up all week. The footage from yesterday is corrupted. We're having it repaired."

Another coincidence. Baxter didn't believe in those anymore.

"Can you describe these women?"

"Ms. Ashford was older, maybe mid-forties, silver hair, very elegant. Ms. Woodrow was younger, brunette, seemed nervous but sweet. They appeared to be friends having a girls' day."

Baxter closed his notepad. Two women at the spa when Emma dies. Security footage conveniently corrupted. They leave early and pay cash.And somewhere in this city, these same two women might have been in Carlos's apartment that night.

"Patricia, if these women contact you again for any reason, I need you to call me immediately." He handed her his card. "This is very important."

As Baxter walked back to his car, pieces of the puzzle were starting to form a picture. He had names now. Amanda Ashford and Nicole Woodrow.

Time to find out who they really were.

---

Police Station - Records Division

Baxter's fingers moved across the keyboard, entering the names into the department database. Randolph pulled up a chair beside him.

"What we looking for?"

"Background checks. Criminal history. Anything that connects these women to our cases."

The screen populated with results. Nicole Woodrow first.

"Clean record," Randolph read over his shoulder. "Married to William Woodrow, works as a paralegal, lives on Maple Street. Parking tickets, nothing else."

"Too clean," Baxter muttered, clicking to the next screen. "What about Amanda Ashford?"

The search took longer. When results appeared, both detectives leaned forward.

"Corporate consulting. Systems analysis. Multiple addresses over the past five years." Randolph whistled. "This lady moves around a lot."

"Look at the pattern," Baxter said, scrolling through address history. "Never stays anywhere longer than eighteen months. Always high-end apartments, always short-term leases."

"Maybe her work requires travel."

"Or maybe she has reasons to keep moving." Baxter printed the records. "Cross-reference these addresses with unsolved cases in those cities."

"You think she's a serial killer?"

"I think she's someone who doesn't want to be found easily."

Baxter's desk phone rang. "Detective Baxter."

"Joe, it's Martinez. Remember that spa case you were asking about? I got something weird."

"What kind of weird?"

"The victim, Emma Stevens. I ran her name through the system out of curiosity. She's connected to several domestic disturbance calls from six months ago."

Baxter straightened. "What kind of calls?"

"Her family address shows up multiple times. Started with noise complaints, escalated to domestic disputes, welfare checks, then battery and assault charges. Final call was a mental health crisis intervention after an attempted suicide." Martinez paused. "Here's the strange part - Emma was at the center of every incident, claiming someone had deliberately sabotaged her family."

"Sabotaged how?"

"She kept insisting an outsider had manipulated them, turned them against each other."

What happened to the family?"

"Total implosion. Parents divorced after twenty-five years, sister left her husband, teenage brother arrested for vandalism. Emma moved out, got the spa job.”

Baxter felt the familiar chill of a case breaking open. "Martinez, send me everything you have on the Stevens family."

He hung up and turned to Randolph. "Emma Stevens wasn't random."

"What do you mean?"

"Six months ago, Emma's family imploded. She kept telling police someone was behind it, but nobody believed her. Now she's dead."

Randolph looked up from his computer. "You think it's connected?"

Baxter stood, pacing. "Emma was claiming someone had targeted her family. What if she was right? She dies in an 'accident.' Security footage is conveniently corrupted."

"You think one of these women knew her?"

"I think Emma saw something or someone she recognized. Maybe she got too close to the truth." Baxter stopped pacing. "And someone made sure she couldn't talk about it."

"That's a lot of assumptions."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I think we're looking at something bigger than two random murders." Baxter grabbed the printouts. "Run a deeper search on Amanda Ashford. Check for any connection to the Stevens family. And get me current addresses for both women."

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Nicole Woodrow's husband. If his wife was involved in two deaths yesterday, he might have noticed something unusual about her behavior."

Baxter headed for the door, his mind already working through interrogation strategies. Fifteen years of detective work had taught him that scared spouses often provided the best leads.

And William Woodrow was about to become very scared indeed.

—Sal