“Lily,” Simon Crider said.
She ignored him, going into her office and slamming shut the door.
“Is it true?” Simon asked A.J.
“Yes, it is.”
The staff looked stricken. This was probably like a second death for them, A.J. realized.
“Cool!” said the pouty blonde student A.J. had seen earlier. “I think it’s great news! It’s about time something happened to shake things up.” A couple of the others nudged her and made shushing sounds.
“Murder isn’t enough for you, Jennifer?” the male student Lily had addressed as Stu said.
The blonde gave him a level look and raked her manicured hand through long silky hair. “Di always told us to speak our minds.”
“Yeah, and look what happened to her,” someone muttered.
There was a funny silence, and then everyone was very busy again. While the kids finished changing shoes and grabbing their gear, A.J. studied her staff. Suze looked wide-eyed, Simon somber.
“I’m sorry,” A.J. said after the last of the young adults had filed out with a reluctant over-the-shoulder glance or two. “I had planned to announce the changes at a meeting later this week. I haven’t had time myself to think what this means.”
“Are you going to keep the studio open?” Simon asked.
“Yes.” A.J. didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t look as comforted as she’d hoped. But then the negative energy emanating from behind Lily’s closed door was like radioactive fallout.
A.J. said carefully, “But I feel the studio should remain closed for the next few days. Until I’ve had a chance to meet with you all. Until after the funeral.”
“Lily won’t like that,” Suze said uneasily.
“That’s unfortunate.” A.J. knew she had to work to repair the very bad first impression she had made. As much as she personally disliked Lily, the yoga instructor probably had the loyalty—and sympathy—of every staff member. “I know this is hard on her. Hard on all of you. I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.”
Neither Simon nor Suze said anything.
A.J. said to Suze, “Would you mind putting up a sign saying that the studio is closed for the next four days?”
“Sure!” Suze ducked behind the counter and reappeared with felt pens and paper. She began to scrawl huge letters on the paper.
Into Simon’s funereal silence, A.J. said, “I’ll be in touch within the next day or so.”
He nodded.
Her work done—and the destruction of everyone’s day complete—A.J. retreated to the parking lot and her car. She let herself in and sat for a few moments breathing heavily, as though she’d run a mile.
Then she started the engine and began to drive.
She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. She glanced at the bag of forgotten pastries on the seat next to her.
Elysia.
She could talk to Elysia. She pulled to the side of the road, turned, and headed back across the valley.
Oh God, she was running home to her mother.
Eleven
“You think Lily Martin killed Diantha?”
A.J. nearly choked on her pastry. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you think it.” Elysia had on her Master Detective expression. “And it makes perfect sense. She certainly had motive.”
A.J. was feeling a lot calmer after the scenic drive to her mother’s farm. On impulse she had stopped by Deer Hollow to pick up Monster, and the dog had thoroughly enjoyed his trip, head stuck out the window as he sniffed and sneezed into the breeze on the drive through beautiful green rolling hills, past old farmhouses and new horse ranches, over one-lane bridges that spanned the shining Delaware River.
“I’m sure other people had motive as well. According to Suze MacDougal, Diantha fought with Michael Batz the week before she died.”
“Oh, that boy couldn’t hurt a fly.” Elysia tossed Monster a bit of pastry.
“Please don’t feed him that garbage, Mother.”
“Garbage? Are you referring to the pastries you brought for my consumption?”
“You know what I mean.”
Elysia was already on another track. “Mark my words, pumpkin, the female is always the deadlier of the species. What about this Suze? I remember from 221B Baker Street that the person who discovers the body is always a prime suspect.”
“I can’t picture that,” A.J. said. “She really doesn’t seem like the type.”
“But that’s just the point. It’s always the person you least suspect.” She sipped her tea. “I’m worried about this child, Clara.”
“Chloe.”
“Right, Chloe. I wonder if I should talk to her.”
“Why?”
“I’d hate to see her start using again.”
A.J. opened her mouth but controlled herself. It was difficult for her to believe her mother could provide counseling to a troubled teen; her mother hadn’t been sober enough during A.J.’s adolescence to provide much in the way of anything but comic relief—depending on your sense of humor. A pep talk from Elysia was liable to drive the kid back to drugs.
On the other hand, A.J. was surprised and impressed to find that her mother cared enough to want to talk to Chloe. From what Nancy Lewis had said, it sounded as if the young woman had been special to Diantha.
She compromised and changed the subject. “Why do you think Aunt Di changed her mind about leaving the studio to Lily?”
“Who says she did?”
“It seems to be common knowledge that she originally planned to leave the studio to Lily.”
Elysia said dryly, “Common knowledge often boils down to rumor and speculation.”
“So Aunt Di never talked to you about leaving the studio to Lily?”
Elysia sighed. “We never talked about the studio.”
“But you were a shareholder.”
“A mere technicality. I loaned Di part of the money she used to start the first studio. It wasn’t a big deal. She could have paid me back, but she chose to give me shares instead.” Fairness seemed to compel her to add, “The shares are, of course, worth ten times the original amount.”
“So you were really never involved in any decisions regarding the studio?”
“Never.”
A.J. thought this over, munching on her almond-iced pastry. “Do you know if she and Lily quarreled or if she had any reason not to trust Lily?”
Elysia was oddly silent. She said at last, “The thing is, pumpkin, they needn’t have quarreled. Lily needn’t have done anything. You know how your auntie was. If she believed that Lily had violated some sacred yoga principle, well, that might have been enough to get her excommunicated.”
“Okay, but then why leave the studio to me?”
“Who knows. She was getting on, after all.”
“What are you saying, Aunt Di was senile?”
Elysia made a face. “Of course not. But she was always a little…eccentric. It would be a mistake to place too much importance on one of her whims.”
A.J. stared unseeingly out the window at her mother’s immaculately tended rose garden. “Did she know about Andy and me?”
“That your relationship was having a few growing pains? I suppose I might have mentioned it.”
“We weren’t having growing pains, Mother. We divorced.”
Elysia savored a bite of pastry without comment.
“If she had totally lost faith in Lily, I don’t think she would have asked her to stay on and manage the studio.”
Elysia sighed. “It’s not as though Di planned to shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon, pumpkin. The truth is, she might quite as easily have changed her will back again in a few months. That’s something we’ll never know.”
One of many things they might never know, A.J. feared.
It was late afternoon when A.J. pulled into the drive at Deer Hollow. She braked sharply at the sight of the familiar Volvo parked in front of the house. Aunt Di’s car.
; For a moment she couldn’t connect the dots. Then the obvious answer occurred: the police impound must have released the car.
She pulled forward slowly, parked, and got out. Sure enough there was a sticker on the windshield that indicated the car had been released from custody. She tried the door handle. It was locked. Hopefully whoever had dropped off the car hadn’t left with the keys.
Monster trotted off to investigate some especially alluring bushes, and A.J. slowly walked up the stairs and let herself into the house. Sure enough Diantha’s keys had been dropped through the letter slot. She knelt to pick them up, and studied them thoughtfully.
Heading into the bedroom, she dug through her suitcase. Luckily she had brought a comfortable pair of sweats, a T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Not because she had planned on working out, but because these were the things she liked to wear around the house when she didn’t have to worry about the way she looked. Maybe she’d go down to the studio and finish checking around on her own. It had been too awkward to really explore that morning with staff and students observing her every move. While she was there perhaps she’d try a few warm-up stretches—just to see if it helped her back at all. And maybe it would be easier to go through Aunt Di’s things if she started with her studio office. Baby steps.
Driving to the studio took about fifteen minutes. A.J. parked in the empty parking lot and considered the building uneasily. She wished now she had brought Monster. The place looked very big and very empty—and they were a long way from town.
But, according to the police, the studio had been unlocked when Diantha was killed, so odds were, A.J. was perfectly safe inside the secured building. Unless Diantha’s murderer was one of the staff and had a key….
She shook off her nervousness and got out of the car. How likely was it that the murderer was still lurking around the studio on the off chance that A.J. might show up on the spur of the moment? After all, what would the motive be for getting rid of A.J.?
A.J. walked up to the glass doors, taking in Suze’s homemade sign. It took a couple of tries, but at last one of the keys worked.
As she stepped inside it occurred to her that there might be an alarm system. She waited, but nothing happened.
That was one of the first things she would do: install a state-of-the-art alarm system.
Locking the doors behind her, A.J. walked through the eerily silent lobby. As she passed the gift shop, she paused.
Well, why not? It was her gift shop after all. And there was no better incentive for getting in shape than the excuse it offered for going shopping. She stepped inside and was astonished at the selection of workout gear hanging off racks. There were tidy shelves of mats and bags and exercise balls, pillows, bolsters…. Good lord, there was a lot of stuff in here. All high-end merchandise. It seemed such a long way from that little studio on Seventh Street.
A.J. browsed and found a cute pair of black yoga pants and a cotton T-shirt with a vintage print of a giraffe. The giraffe symbolized stretching, and that was exactly what A.J. intended to do—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Maybe even spiritually, depending on how much time she had.
She grinned at herself and selected a nice thick mat to cushion her back and a bolster for her neck. She was going to take this nice and easy, but she definitely needed to concentrate on getting back in shape.
She picked a CD titled Hearts of Space—Slow Music for Yoga from her aunt’s extensive collection, unplugged Diantha’s CD player, and carried it upstairs. She unlocked the first studio, plugged in the player, and sat down on her mat feeling a bit self-conscious.
But after all, how hard could it be to sit there and breathe properly?
Crossing her legs at the shins, she tucked each foot beneath the opposite knee and rested her palms on her knees. She drew in a deep breath through her nose. She could feel the hardwood floor through the cushion of the mat.
What was this starting position called again? Sukhasana. That was it. One of the easy poses. In fact, it was called Pose of Happiness.
A.J. didn’t know about happiness, but it was simple enough, and good for strengthening the lower back and opening up the hips and groin area.
She focused on her breathing, focused on emptying her mind, on relaxing her muscles.
A floorboard squeaked behind her. She spun around, but there was nothing there. Just the normal sounds of an empty building.
She forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths.
Spine straight, push the seating bones into the floor…. She could almost hear her aunt’s voice.
Ten slow, deep breaths. On the next inhale, she raised her arms, stretching above her head. It felt good to reach out. She could feel the stretch all the way to her fingertips. She exhaled and lowered her arms slowly.
She repeated the motion. Breathing in and stretching up, breathing out and bringing her arms down ten times.
The next exercise she recalled was one she had always enjoyed as a child: Dog and Cat. A.J. moved cautiously onto her hands and knees, hands in front of shoulders, legs hip-width apart. She inhaled and tipped her tailbone and pelvis up, like Monster wanting his hindquarters rubbed. She lifted her head up, feeling the stretch in her neck and jawline.
Exhaling, she reversed the spinal bend, arching her back like a cat.
Ten times A.J. moved from dog to cat position. These were gentle stretches, but she could feel the pull all along her back muscles and shoulders. Which probably indicated just how totally out of shape she was.
She’d never really studied yoga, although she’d always accompanied Aunt Di to the studio during her summer vacations. In those days, her young body had been flexible and toned; it had been easy and fun to show off in class where she had always been by far the youngest “student.” Aunt Di had used her to demonstrate positions and exercises; A.J. had enjoyed the attention, although yoga had been no more meaningful than the jumping jacks in gym class.
Later, during the Hell Year of her parent’s separation, the studio had provided sanctuary from her mother. She had attended sessions faithfully. The soothing music and necessity of focusing on each movement had helped to calm her, but in all honesty, she had pretty much missed whatever philosophical message her aunt had hoped she would absorb. In those days all she had wanted was to grow up and get away as soon as she possibly could.
A.J. caught a glimpse of her scowling expression in the wall of mirrors. Those were not good memories.
Concentrating on the stretches was relaxing. She moved swiftly but carefully through the rest of the beginning positions that she could recall: Mountain, Forward Bend, Proud Warrior, Triangle. She remembered more than she had expected, but she was a heck of a lot stiffer than she’d hoped. If she did decide to stay and run the studio, she would have to get into shape herself.
If she did decide to stay…?
Now where had that thought come from? She wasn’t seriously considering staying, was she? Moving to Sopranosville? Of course not. Aunt Di could not have seriously expected that.
A.J. finished up with Corpse Pose, lying back, feet slightly apart, arms at her sides, palms facing up. She closed her eyes, gently breathing in and out—slow, deep inhalations. She could imagine Aunt Di’s quiet voice telling her to relax each part of her body: her feet, her calves, her thighs, her hips….
Soften the muscles in your face, feel the skin release, soften the top of your head….
That wouldn’t be hard, A.J. told herself grimly. Apparently my entire head is going soft.
She sat up. Hopefully she hadn’t done any damage to her back. She did feel more relaxed, her muscles pleasantly tired.
She rose, rolled up her mat, unplugged the CD player, and went upstairs to find the showers.
She found the locker room and showers without problem, stripped, and stepped under the spray of hot water for a few refreshing moments…until she remembered the shower scene from Psycho.
Okaaay. So much for the soothing spa stuff.
Turning the taps off
, A.J. grabbed a towel out of the stack of clean ones waiting on shelves. She quickly towel dried her hair and changed back into her sweats and T-shirt, stuffing her new workout gear in her purse.
She was walking along the upper gallery when she heard a sound drift up from the ground floor. A.J. froze. What was that? It was definitely not the sound of the building settling. There it was again. The slide of a file-cabinet drawer?
She drew back, running softly on the balls of her feet to the window at the end of the gallery. The giant picture window gazed out over the treetops and parking lot below. She spotted a red pickup truck parked next to her rental car.
Whoever was downstairs had to know she was in the building, right? So it couldn’t be someone afraid of discovery. Most likely one of the staff was here to pick up something. There was no reason not to; she hadn’t forbidden anyone access to the building. Still, there was something…furtive in that quiet slide of drawers.
Cautiously A.J. crept down the main stairs. As she neared the ground floor, she glanced at the front doors. The little red flag on the door indicated it was still locked. So whoever was here definitely had to be someone with keys, a staff member.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stood listening. Another drawer slid shut with a bang, instantly followed by a muffled exclamation, as though whoever it was hadn’t meant to let the drawer shut so hard.
Lily, A.J. thought. Lily going through file cabinets and maybe taking files she had no right to?
A.J. hesitated. She wasn’t sure she wanted to confront Lily on her own. Not that she believed Lily had killed Aunt Di—but someone had. And someone had tried to mow down A.J. only a few hours after Lily had learned A.J. stood in the way of her ownership of Sacred Balance Studio.
Of course, Lily would have to be crazy to attack her after making her enmity so widely known. Then again, she’d have to have been crazy to kill Diantha—and if she had killed Diantha, she wasn’t going to put up with A.J. as an obstacle for much longer.
A.J. reached for her cell phone. Either way she looked at it, this thing with Lily was getting way out of hand. If Lily was back in the studio, going through files after A.J. had expressly said she wanted the studio closed until she could meet with everyone, well then, Lily was behaving inexcusably. And while A.J. knew the price of bad publicity, there was a limit to what she could put up with.
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