Corpse Suzette

the morgue and see if Dr. Liu has anything else for me.”
    “Give Kenny Slug Breath my
regards.”
    “A one-finger salute?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Will do.”
     
    Savannah was upon Mystic
Twilight before she knew it. Rounding a sharp curve about a mile into the
canyon, she saw the entrance, a paved road with a discreet sign with a fancy,
intertwined M and T.
    She turned onto the road
and traveled another half mile or more between old gnarled oaks in a park-like
setting.
    As always, when venturing
into one of these canyons that were scattered among the hills of Southern
California, Savannah felt a strange mixture of peace and unease. With her car
window rolled down, she experienced the place with all of her senses. The
ancient oaks, the smell of wild sage in the air, the taste of dust, the feel of
the hot sun and dry wind on her skin, the sounds of birds, frogs, and crickets,
along with a distant rush of a creek over its rocky bed; she felt she had
stepped back in time.
    The Native Americans had
considered these valleys sacred, forbidden ground. And when she was there, she
felt like a careless interloper... as though the land itself was somehow aware
of her. Aware, and not particularly hospitable toward her.
    She always breathed a sigh
of relief when she left the valleys and returned to her own stomping grounds by
the sea.
    Rounding yet another
corner, she saw the spa, a large, square, flat-roofed building that looked like
it belonged in Morocco, not sunny California.
    The exterior walls were
stucco, painted a dark, terra-cotta. Mature palm trees planted all around the
building added to the feeling that it was some sort of desert oasis.
    As she pulled up in front,
she saw that a man-made stream crossed in front of the edifice, styled to look
like the natural creek beds in the area.
    The front door was an
elaborate, arched, wrought iron affair, surrounded by colorful tiles of deep
blue and gold... more of the Moroccan influence.
    She left the Mustang and
walked up to the door. She hurt her knuckles knocking on the door, and no one
answered. Gingerly, she gave it a push, and it creaked open with a spookiness
that she might have found delicious under other circumstances. But having just
seen a dead guy and knowing that a woman was missing, she wasn’t in the mood
for “creepy.”
    “Hello?” she shouted.
“Anybody here? Yasmina? It’s Savannah Reid. Yoo-hoo.”
    As her eyes adjusted from
the bright sunlight outside to the dark interior, she saw that the entrance was
at least two stories tall, as well as wide and deep. More of the blue and gold
tiles covered the walls and were arranged in ornate patterns on the floor. In
the center of the room was a massive fountain, but it was dry and looked as
though it hadn’t run for a long time.
    Three hallways branched off
from the entry, heading in numerous directions. And each hall was even darker
than the entrance.
    Savannah wasn’t eager to go
roaming and exploring, even if that was the job description.
    Mentally, she checked her
weapon, chose one of the hallways, and headed down it.
    Big girls aren't afraid of
the dark, she told herself.
    Well, Sergio probably
wasn't afraid of the dark either, and look at where that got him. He’s in a
drawer in Dr. Liu’s morgue with an autopsy “Y” incision on his chest, her self replied.
    “Anybody here?” she called
again.
    Her voice echoed off the
tiles and came back to her, sounding a bit less confident than she wanted to
feel. In fact, she sounded scared... and she wasn’t sure why.
    It wasn’t just the dark.
The dark felt ominous somehow. And the building didn’t feel empty.
    She felt as though
someone... someone in the dark... was watching her.
    Stopping in the middle of
the hallway, she looked back at the entry and its other corridors and said, “If
you’ve got something to say to me, come out and say it. Don’t hide in the
shadows like a coward.”
    She felt stupid. There was
probably no one there, but—
    Then she heard it: a
movement. It sounded like something had brushed against a wall. Softly. Barely.
But there.
    She reached for her gun and
pulled it from its holster.
    “Come on out,” she said. “I
mean it. Come out now and put your hands up or I’ll shoot you.”
    Her adrenaline was pumping,
her heart racing.
    She could almost hear
someone breathing, there in the darkness where she had just stood. Whoever it
was, was following her. At least trying to. But she wouldn’t stand for it.
    “I can see