“Not necessarily, A.J. She’s seeing this hunky guy, and she’s already upset about not going to college with her pals. She wouldn’t necessarily enjoy being bounced back to rehab, and that’s what helping her would amount to, right?”
A.J. said reluctantly, “I’m sure Aunt Di would have tried to find another way.”
“You think so?” Andy’s lip curled. “Your aunt was the type who’d burn you at the stake for your own good.”
A.J. stared at him. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, she now glimpsed at least part of the reason for the antipathy between Diantha and Andy.
It was hard to stay peeved at a man who cooked you cheddar and bacon mashed potatoes. By the time Andy served the cheesecake he had picked up at Tea Tea! Hee!, A.J. had moved past her earlier constraint, and they bickered amiably over the merits of their favored suspects. Andy clung to the belief that Chloe’s fragile demeanor concealed the heart of a murderess, while A.J. insisted that Michael Batz was the most logical contender.
So by the time they finished the dishes and settled down to business, A.J. was feeling more relaxed than she had for some time. They spent the rest of the evening hammering out the details of a letter to A.J.’s clients that managed to be both reassuring and vague about the future, and directing them—at least temporarily—to Andrew.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Andy asked when they had finally agreed on the wording.
“No. But I’m going through with it.”
He studied her unhappily. Whatever he might have said was interrupted by the phone ringing in the hall. A.J., who was lying on the floor in the hope of giving her aching spine some respite, turned her head cautiously toward the clock on the mantle. Eight o’clock.
“Can you get that?”
Andy nodded and rose, giving wide birth to Monster, who lifted his head from his paws to glare at him inimically as he passed by.
Andy returned a moment later. “Do you get a lot of hang-up calls?”
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever was on the other end didn’t want to talk to me.”
“It was probably just a wrong number.”
“Could be. He—or she—hung up when I said hello.”
“Something to remember when you’re teaching your own classes: start out with the more complicated poses. As the class progresses, your students’ bodies and minds tire.” Lily studied the small group of aspiring yoga teachers before her. “Okay. Let’s run through our Asanas.”
Let’s run through our Asanas?
A.J., seated in the rear of the class, thought that sentence alone summed up everything she disliked about Lily’s attitude and teaching style. Admittedly, she was biased, both by her antipathy toward the other woman and her own youthful introduction to Aunt Di’s more spiritual and loving approach to yoga. This Teacher Training class was comprised of aspiring instructors, not novices; so perhaps that’s why Lily’s approach was so…aggressive.
Perhaps.
As disloyal as it felt, A.J. had to question Aunt Di’s judgment in wanting her and Lily to work together. Watching the other woman in action, A.J. grew more and more convinced they were never going to be a team.
It could happen.
Sure. And maybe one day A.J. would learn to love soy patties as much as bacon burgers, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“Larry, are you sure you want to be here this morning?” Lily asked a tall, skinny young man. The young man turned a painful plum color and nodded humbly.
A.J. had to bite back her objection. She knew it was already irritating Lily that she was simply observing and not taking part in the class. Lily wanted A.J. on the mat; she wanted to be able to demonstrate—both to A.J. and everyone else—that A.J. knew nothing about yoga or teaching. A.J. would be the first person to admit that she had a lot to learn, but she knew instinctively Lily would not be the right person to teach her. She was not sure, observing the lead instructor in action, that Lily was the right person to teach anyone.
Surely Aunt Di had been too shrewd about people to miss the fact that A.J. and Lily were like chalk and cheese—to risk a dairy reference. Had she believed that their differences were complementary and that grief would bring them together? Or was this teaming yet another example of the stubbornness that had led Aunt Di to design a building that was contrary to most rules of architecture?
“Nice job, Andrea. That’s right. Invite the pose into the body. Larry, take a look at Andrea….”
Rather than creating a safe learning environment, Lily seemed to be deliberately fostering a competitive atmosphere. Her focus was entirely on technique rather than spirit, and instead of inspiring and challenging her students, she criticized.
As A.J. watched Lily walk through the rows of students, she could almost see the tension rippling in her wake as she barked out orders, fixing postures, belittling some students, and pointedly praising others. She watched the students, muscles quivering, faces tense as they struggled to hold poses—many of them clearly being pushed beyond their limits.
It was like…Extreme Yoga.
“Suze, maybe you need to rethink the teaching thing,” Lily said to the receptionist in that sweetly sarcastic tone.
A.J. felt a rush of anger as she watched poor Suze flush and then go pale. For a moment the girl looked as if she were going to burst into tears, but she managed to control herself.
“Sorry,” Suze muttered.
Lily shook her head as though she simply didn’t have the strength to continue dealing with idiots. A couple of other students snickered.
So much for finding a sacred balance. A.J. rose from her mat, rolled it up, and headed for the doors. She had seen enough for one morning.
The problem was, what could she do about it? Given the terms of Diantha’s will, she wasn’t exactly sure—and neither was Mr. Meagher—that she could fire Lily. Aunt Di couldn’t have been clearer about her desire for the two women to work together.
A.J. trusted Aunt Di; it was difficult to accept that such a wise and wonderful woman could simply have been…wrong. That she could have been mistaken in her assessment of both Lily and A.J.
A.J. proceeded downstairs to the offices.
Simon Crider looked up from his desk and nodded politely as she passed his door.
A.J. smiled in return. Simon was the sort of man A.J. could picture her aunt turning to—not someone like Michael Batz. Aunt Di had made such odd choices during the past year; it was hard for A.J. to accept some of those decisions. And as she considered her reluctance, it occurred to her for the first time that maybe there was a smidgeon of truth in a comment Elysia had made. At the time it had seemed unfair, but maybe she did have trouble accepting imperfection—weakness—in the people she loved.
Disquieted, A.J. entered Aunt Di’s office—her own office now—and sat down, idly shuffling through phone messages. She was surprised to see that Nicole Manning had called.
Her cell phone rang. She opened the desk drawer, pulled her purse out, and found her cell.
She didn’t recognize the number and considered letting it go to message, but then she remembered the hang-up call the evening before.
There was just an outside chance….
She picked up.
“A.J.?”
Her heart gave a little leap at the familiar deep tones of Jake Oberlin.
“Oh. Hello,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound quite like her own.
“Listen,” he said in a hurried tone that sounded nothing like his usual one, “I just got a call over the radio. Your aunt’s farmhouse is on fire. You better get out there right away.”
“Fire?” she shrieked, jumping to her feet.
“The fire department is on the scene. I’ll meet you there. Watch your driving—”
The phone dropped from A.J.’s nerveless fingers. She grabbed her purse and ran out of the office, oblivious to the crowd of chatting and laughing clients making their way from the top floors as classes ended.
Pushing t
hrough the glass doors, she sprinted to her car. Monster, she thought with sickness pooling in her stomach. Oh, Monster.
Her next thought was even more frightening: Andy.
Twenty-one
Fire trucks were parked in the front yard of Deer Hollow Farm, and streams of water were shooting into the sky, hitting the trees and raining down on the smoking roof. A.J. pulled up next to a police SUV and fell out of the car on shaky legs. Trucks rumbled, exhaust and smoke billowed around her, and male voices called back and forth as she made her way to the front. The fire appeared to have been contained, but most of the front porch was gone, reduced to a charred skeletal framework.
She looked around, searching for Andy…for Monster. She couldn’t see them anywhere. Stella Borin stood talking to someone who appeared to be the fire chief. A.J. pushed through the milling firefighters.
“My hus—friend,” A.J. gasped, reaching Stella and the fire chief. “Is he all right?”
“Nobody was inside the house,” the man in the yellow slicker replied. “You’ve got some smoke and fire damage in the front parlor, and the hallway’s a loss, but the porch took the worst of it.”
“My dog,” A.J. interrupted. “Did he get out?” She had left Monster penned in her bedroom just to make sure he didn’t nip Andy when she wasn’t around to control him.
“Oh no!” cried Stella as the fire chief shook his head reluctantly.
“I didn’t see any—”
Barking interrupted him, and they all turned to see. Jake, thoroughly exasperated, came around the corner of the house, dragging Monster on his leash. The dog was frantically trying to hump the cop’s leg, barking crazily all the while. The firemen began to laugh.
“My hero!” hooted the fire chief, and Jake’s face, if possible, grew even darker.
“I think this belongs to you,” he told A.J. as she ran forward. He handed over the leash.
She nearly threw her arms around him, but that crack of the fire chief’s held her back.
“Where did you find him?’ she asked instead, kneeling down to hug the panting dog. Monster slimed her with his tongue and gazed adoringly up at Jake.
“He was running loose in the pasture. I remembered seeing a leash on your back porch, so I grabbed it and then I grabbed him.” Jake’s green eyes studied her face. “You okay?”
“I think so. I haven’t seen the damage yet. And…Andy seems to be missing.”
“Andy?” His voice changed. “Oh. Right. The ex. He’s still staying with you?”
“Only while we hammer a few things out.” She wasn’t sure why it seemed important to explain, but Jake was listening attentively, so she added, “He’s going to be taking over my clients and projects while I try to get the studio back up and running.”
“So…the partnership is back on?” It was asked neutrally, but something in the question made A.J.’s heart beat a little faster.
“Only the business partnership. And even that’s…probably temporary.”
His gaze sharpened, but their attention was distracted by the crunch of tires on gravel. Andy’s car pulled up and Andy got out.
“Oh, thank God,” A.J. breathed.
Andy pushed through the crowd, his face bewildered. Monster growled softly as he reached them.
“What the hell happened?” Andy could hardly seem to tear his gaze from the porch.
“Where have you been?” A.J. cried.
“I drove into town to pick up some things for dinner.” He stared past her to Jake. “How did the fire start?”
“We don’t know yet.” Jake excused himself and went over to talk to the fire chief.
“You just went to the market yesterday,” A.J. said.
“I was going to make lasagna for dinner.”
A.J. said, sounding uncomfortably accusatory, “You don’t like lasagna!”
“You do!”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
They both fell silent. A.J. stared at Andy, unwillingly recognizing what lay at the root of her anger. She said, struggling for calm, “Jake found Monster running loose in the pasture.”
Andy looked down at Monster as though expecting an explanation. As none was forthcoming, he said to A.J., “That’s a good thing, right? You’re glad the dog’s okay?”
“I left him shut in my bedroom so he wouldn’t bother you.”
Andy looked confused. “I let him out before I left. I didn’t think I should leave him shut in all day.”
“But you’re afraid of him.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Andy said indignantly. “He’s not Cujo.” He stared at her. “If I hadn’t let him out he’d probably be dead from smoke inhalation.”
“I know.”
“Well…” Andy stared at her. His eyes went wide. “You don’t think I had something to do with the fire?”
“I…” She swallowed hard. She had told Andy she was planning to change her will, and that was true, but she hadn’t signed the new will yet. Hadn’t seen the urgency. But eighteen million dollars was one heck of a motive. True she would never have suspected Andy of being capable of murder, but then she had never known he was capable of sleeping with another man. She had to accept the fact that she really didn’t know Andy.
On the other hand, it was hard to picture Andy being cold-blooded enough to murder her aunt—because if this was about money, she also had to consider that he might have killed Aunt Di so that A.J. could inherit so that he could then kill A.J.—but too soft-hearted to let her dog die. Especially when he didn’t particularly like the dog in question.
“A.J.!” Andy looked stricken. “You can’t think…”
“No, of course not,” she exclaimed. She wasn’t sure whether that was true, but she had to say it for both their sakes.
Stella joined them, her face grim. “A.J., there’s a chance this might be arson.”
Was that a news flash from the spirit world, because if so, Slapsy Malone seemed to be asleep on the job.
“I was just telling the chief that UPS nearly misdelivered a parcel to me this morning. It was addressed to Diantha, so I caught the driver and gave him directions over here. Now they think that package might have contained some kind of incendiary device.”
“This proves we’re getting very close,” Elysia said darkly, pouring A.J. another cup of tea.
“Close to what?” A.J. asked. Half of her attention was on the murmur of Andy’s voice from the other room, where he was talking to Nick on the phone. They had driven to Elysia’s after being allowed to pick up a few clothes and necessities from the farm. Deer Hollow was now officially a crime scene. The suspected crime: arson.
“To solving the murder, naturally. The killer clearly feels that you’re becoming a threat to his safety.”
“Mother, no one could seriously think my sleuthing skills are a threat. Besides, the parcel was addressed to Aunt Di, so if there was some kind of incendiary device inside, it was aimed at her.”
“No, no!” Elysia waved an impatient hand. “They addressed the package to Di to avoid confusing the delivery people. The killer sent the bomb—”
“It wasn’t a bomb!”
Elysia waved this away, too, and reached for a lavender legal pad on the coffee table. “I’ve been jotting down a few notes on the case….”
Andy appeared in the doorway. He seemed to have trouble meeting A.J.’s eyes.
“That was Nick,” he said unnecessarily.
Elysia picked up a purple pen and scribbled something on the pad. Then she chewed on the end of the pen, staring into space.
“He wants to know when I’m coming home,” Andy said.
“There’s no reason for you to stay,” A.J. answered. “We’ve settled what we needed to, right?” She ignored Elysia’s ferocious scowl. “You can start back this evening or…now.”
“I feel bad leaving you in the lurch.”
What are you doing??? Elysia communicated with her eyes. A.J. avoided her ga
ze.
“Everything’s fine,” A.J. assured him. “Everything’s under control here.”
Elysia looked ceilingward as though seeking divine intervention.
“Are you sure, A.J.? If you need me to stay…”
“I’m sure.”
The minute Andy left the doorway Elysia threw down her pen and pad, rattling the teacups. “Crikey, pumpkin. The man is begging you to give him a reason to stay, and what do you do? You practically shove him out the door.”
“He wants to go home. His boyfriend wants him home. I want him to go home.”
“I don’t follow your strategy.”
“It’s not a strategy, Mother. Andy and I are divorced.”
“That is a mere technicality.”
“It’s not a technicality; it’s reality. Our marriage is over.” She listened to the words, and for the first time they brought no pain. A.J. gave a little relieved sigh. “I’m ready to move on.”
Elysia moaned. “Please tell me it’s not that big, dumb ox…that fascist copper.”
“It isn’t anyone,” A.J. said, her cheeks hot. “And he’s not a big, dumb ox. Although he probably is a fascist.”
Elysia ignored this weak attempt at humor. “He’s not your style, Anna. Believe me. I know men. He would not be good for you. He’s not in your league.”
Anna. Wow, her mother really was rattled.
“Mother, I have no idea what you’re talking about. My league? Was Andy in my league? Because he was apparently playing for the other team.” She reached for the legal pad her mother had tossed aside, and studied it.
Elysia had jotted down several notes next to four names:
JOHN BAUMANN—Made threats against Di, blamed her for his failing business, bee farmer—motive and means. Does he have an alibi?
“I thought you believed John Baumann wasn’t capable of murder?”
Elysia said coolly, “Personally, I don’t. But we have to look at this objectively. We have to look at this with the cold, clear logic of the professional.”
The professional what? A.J. wondered, but she kept that thought to herself.
Elysia added, “After all, someone killed Di, and as that someone is still at large, we have to assume that he or she is someone who doesn’t appear capable of murder.”
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