Club Dread by Carolyn Keene

guests would come through.”
    An idea popped into my head.
    â€œActually, that’s part of the reason I’m here,” I said. I leaned in and dropped my voice, as though telling Ciara a secret. “I heard that Jasmina used to come here. I’m her biggest fan!”
    â€œOh yeah, she used to be in here all the time. She was the sweetest thing in person. Used to come here after all her big concerts.”
    â€œWas there anything in particular she liked?”
    Ciara pointed up to one of the platforms that rosefrom the spa floor. I could just make out an empty massage table at the top. “Ask for Petrovitch. Though I can’t tell you what she liked about him.”
    That sounded odd. But it was a lead, and I had to follow it. Perhaps this Petrovitch might be able to shed some light on what happened to Jasmina.
    I climbed the long spiral staircase up to the platform. A very tall man stood at the top with his back to me.
    â€œPetrovitch?” I asked.
    He turned to face me. “Yes?” I detected an accent in his voice, but I couldn’t make out where it was from.
    â€œHi,” I said. “I’m Nancy.”
    He stood there waiting, his arms crossed. I tried again.
    â€œI heard you knew Jasmina. I’m a huge fan of hers.”
    He might as well have been made of stone.
    â€œI, uh, wanted a massage.” I’d never had a massage before, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Petrovitch didn’t seem like the type to engage in idle chitchat.
    He pointed to the table, and I lay down. His large hands touched my back, and I felt him knead the muscles of my shoulders as if they were bread dough. It felt unexpectedly good, but I couldn’t get into it. I tried to relax, but my mind was on the case.
    â€œYou are very tense!” he said. “It’s good to have a real challenge, for once.”
    â€œAre most of the people here not very tense?”
    â€œHa! They wouldn’t know tense if it bit them. All the guests here, with their money and their easy lives. They don’t know from hard times.” As he spoke, Petrovitch seemed to get angrier and angrier, and his hands became rougher and rougher. In fact, the massage was becoming downright painful!
    â€œThey don’t even notice us, the people who work for them—who do everything! We might as well not exist.” His accent became more obvious as he became more excited. He clenched his hands harder and harder on my sore muscles. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
    â€œOw!” I said. “Enough! Stop.”
    My words seemed to snap him out of his anger and he stepped away from the table.
    â€œI let myself get carried away. I am sorry. Sometimes, it is hard for me to work here. Please, let me get you something to drink.” He seemed embarrassed and stared at his feet while he spoke. Then he hurried down the spiral staircase before I could respond.
    I lay there for a moment, my back aching. This massage had left me feeling worse than I had felt before he started. Petrovitch was the first unhappy employee I had met at the Wetlands. Was he angry enough to take out his feelings on the guests? Perhaps especially so on a rich celebrity?
    I sat up and noticed that Petrovitch had left hisappointment book on the floor. I was alone on the platform. Glancing quickly down the spiral staircase to make sure he wasn’t going to be back anytime soon, I picked it up.
    Starting at the beginning, I found many entries with Jasmina’s name, and some with her room number. Petrovitch must have also been seeing her outside the spa. I heard heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs. Petrovitch was returning. I turned the pages quickly, looking for any information that might be important. Finally, I found the last entry with Jasmina’s name—on the night of June 23.
    That was the night Jasmina was attacked!

CHAPTER 8
    FRANK
MAKING A SPLASH
    â€œWhere’s your brother?”