The Cure is Murder – Chapter 13

Trude in the shop

“It suits you beautifully,” the shopkeeper said. “Much better to fill it out. And the colour! The blue flowers are so sweet and fresh on you. It´s springtime after all. We sold one in red the other day. The client insisted. But I think this one is much nicer. Back to the future and all that, eh?”

“Wonder who bought the red one,” Trude thought. “Hope it´s no one I know. No one at the spa. No one going to the dance.”

Trude back at the spa

“Look what I got! Isn´t it gorgeous?  

Beate

Beate Ashbrock worked at the Ministry of the Interior and kept fit by coaching young handball players – male and female. She herself had been on the handball team when she first came to the Ministry as a young clerk. It was actually the team of the young conservatives, but the conservative party had been in power so long that a certain bleeding was not unnatural. Beate was in her early fifties, lean and blonde. Her chipmunk cheeks were the only sign of some outside help to her complexion that bore not one wrinkle to attest to her age. Beate was loyal to the cause and a workaholic, both features having contributed to her burnout and her subsequent stay in Spa Waldfriede.

Three weeks of light sport, medical attention, massages, tasty meals, and the occasional lecture on self-love to punctuate the friendly evening card games with her table mates were just what the doctor ordered. At her table, there was even a quiet charmer who obviously shared her political leanings since a scar graced his rugged face from the right eye to the side of his mouth. How she would have liked to run her lips over its length. Beate Ashbrock´s aim was to use the three weeks to seduce this man, and after that, who knew? She would live in the present and take it one day at a time. It would soon be dinner time, so she fluffed her blonde hair and took out her Guerlain Rouge G lipstick, the one with the matte finish – the glossy ones looked less genteel – and applied it to discreetly tinge highly kissable lips that she was sure would not fade through a whole meal, if the advertising was to be believed. Anyway, what did she have to lose?