Bad Karma

by Dave Zeltserman

  “And what mold is that?”

  “Petite and very attractive.”

  “Emily’s attractive. And she’s younger than I am!”

  Shannon didn’t argue the point—he knew the trouble he’d get into if he tried. Susan took another bite of her pizza, her eyes somewhat distant as she chewed. “There were only women there,” she said. “I didn’t think that was unusual for a yoga class. But now that you mention it they were all my size… and I guess all of them would be considered attractive.”

  “That’s what I saw when I went there, and later when I went to True Light’s compound.”

  “Why do you think that is?” she asked, but it was strictly rhetorical. He could tell by her tone and expression that she knew why. Shannon answered anyway. “Vishna’s taste in women for the harem he’s building.”

  Susan sat there stewing, a darkness clouding her face. “What a despicable place,” she said.

  “I agree. That’s why I don’t want you going back there. If for no other reason than it’s not good to be around that type of negative energy.”

  “Oh, but I am going back there, my darling. Anything I can do to help you nail that place, I’m going to. Also, the great all-powerful Vishna is supposed to make a visit in the next couple of days. I’m dying to see the look on his face when I tell him off!”

  Her eyes smoldered with anger, and while the passion made her more beautiful it also made her eat faster and with less awareness of what she was doing. Shannon watched helplessly as she tossed her remaining pizza crust on her plate and took the third and final slice of garlic and olive, too caught up in her emotions to realize what she was doing. He stared glumly at the two slices of broccoli pizza that were left for him before looking back at her.

  “The place is freakish over there, hon,” she said, the words tumbling out of her. “The instructor, a girl named Luanne, had this glazed, zombie look in her eyes. So did her assistant, Debbi with an i, and the rest of the girls there weren’t much better. And the positions they put us through were not yoga. I think they were designed more to cramp and stress the muscle than to stretch it. Anyway, it was tiring, and while we were in those positions Luanne and Debbi with an i would walk around the room and put their hands on our backs and whisper stuff to us about how our chakras were all wrong, and how we had all this hidden sickness that needed healing, but that Vishna could bring us to peace and health. At least that’s what they were doing when they weren’t having us chant.”

  “I heard some of that chanting when I was there. Something like: ‘Vishna the one true source’.”

  “That was one of them,” she said, nodding. “Also, ‘Vishna will lead us all to peace and serenity’. And my favorite: ‘open your hearts and minds to the touch of Vishna’.”

  “People there were buying it?”

  “They seemed to be. I’m so furious a place like that exists. Those poor girls who go there have no clue what they’re being sucked into. And they’re so young! Other than me, I don’t think there was anyone there older than twenty.”

  “Probably helped that you don’t look much older than that yourself, otherwise I don’t think they would’ve let you join the flock.”

  “I had that thought also, so I lied on my application and put down that I was twenty-five. I figured if they were as out of it as they looked I could pull it off.”

  “Even if they were bright-eyed and bushytailed you could pull off twenty-five.”

  “Right.” Susan rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m sure the bad lighting there, along with the incense-induced fog, didn’t hurt. As bizarre as the experience was, it was kind of fun trying to figure out what homeopathic remedy types all those people were.”

  “Did you figure any of them out?”

  “Still working on it.” As she took another bite of her garlic and olive pizza slice, she stared down at it, puzzled—her outrage toward Vishna Yoga having calmed to the point where she could taste what she was eating—then gave an equally puzzled look at the rest of the pie. “Oh, hon,” she said apologetically. “I’ve been stealing your half of the pizza!”

  “I didn’t even notice,” Shannon said as he avoided the chunk of broccoli on his slice.

  “Sure you didn’t. I’ll make up for it later, maybe see if I can buy some secondhand pom-poms after all.” Her face brightened. “Oh, I haven’t told you some terrific news I got! I talked with my Stramonium patient—the one who works as a psychic for police departments—and he’s had a remarkable turnaround. His checkup today showed that all of his systems have improved greatly. His heart, kidneys and liver were all failing before. Now none of them are. His doctor’s completely baffled as to what’s happened, and had to admit to him that it’s looking like he’s going to fully recover!”

  “That is terrific news,” Shannon said. “You gave him the remedy only a couple of days ago. Can it work that fast and dramatically?”

  “It definitely can, hon, as he’s proving. I talked to him about you also and he’s willing to meet with you. He has no idea if he’ll be able to contact those deceased students—he’s never done that before, but he’ll give it a try if you’d like. He’ll need articles of clothing from them. That’s what he uses when he connects to the dead and near-dead children that he finds. His name’s Les Hasherford. It’s probably too late for you to call now, but I’ll give you his number when we get back to the hotel and you can try him tomorrow.”

  “Les Hasherford,” Shannon repeated. “His name’s familiar.” He hesitated, his eyes squinting as he concentrated. “I think he consulted on a case in Watertown when I was on the force. If I remember right he helped find a little girl who had been buried in some perv’s basement. He saved her life.”

  Susan nodded, her eyes misting. “He told me about that when he found out I was from Cambridge. You don’t know what it means to me to be able to have this type of impact on his life.”

  “I’m proud of you, darling,” Shannon said.

  “I know.” Her eyes turned liquid as she closed them part way and flashed a smile that made him weak in his knees. “Right now I wish we had ordered room service,” she said, her voice a soft throaty whisper.

  Shannon nodded silently. He dropped twenty dollars on the table to cover the bill, then walked Susan out of the restaurant. Eddie had packed up and left his spot under the streetlamp and the rest of Pearl Street seemed desolate; the few college kids and transients they had passed earlier having already called it a night. Susan held him close as they walked, her thin arm wrapped tightly around his waist. In the cool night air he could feel her body shiver. It was so quiet and still out, as if they had all of downtown Boulder to themselves. When they got back to their room, Susan took hold of his hand and led him to the bed. He watched as she undressed and then he joined her. There was so much emotion in her, so much passion as her body buckled wildly under his, her breath hot against his face. It was a long time before they were done.

  Afterwards, Susan fell asleep quickly, her head nestled against his shoulder, her legs lying over his, one of her arms stretched across his chest. There was a contentment in her as she slept. Shannon had an arm around her side and could feel the rising and falling of her ribs as she breathed. He let his hand drop so that his fingertips touched her small hip and felt the coolness of her skin. He felt relaxed as he lay there, as if he could drift off easily. He almost did several times, but he tried to stay awake and concentrate on one of the lucid dream exercises Eli had given him. It was hard, though, his thoughts drifting away while his own breathing grew more shallow.

  Then he was simply drifting along, his body bobbing up and down as if he were riding waves at the beach. After a while he saw her in the distance. A shawl draped over her shoulders covered her as she sat with her knees bent to her chest and her hands clasped together around her legs. She looked so small and frail sitting alone, almost like a porcelain figurine. Long blond hair fell past her shoulders and ran halfway down her back. She turned to face him and he recognized her.
Reluctantly, he accepted that he would have to talk to her. The next thing he knew he was no longer floating peacefully in the current he’d been caught up in, but now had his feet rooted firmly on the ground as he stood next to her. He saw the headstone by her elbow, then all the others. As he read the words carved on the polished black granite stone next to her, he realized she was sitting by her own grave.

  “Linda Gibson?” he asked her.

  She nodded, her eyes glassy as she looked up at him. Her face was as expressionless as a doll’s. She pulled the shawl tighter around her.

  “The police are investigating your father now.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  “Did he kill you?”

  She shrugged weakly. “What do you think?”

  Shannon found himself shaking his head. “Your mother?”

  “No.”

  “But your father—he did abuse you?”

  “Yes, he did. Since I was twelve. He didn’t stop until I was fifteen. When I went to college he started on Gloria. There was no one to protect her after I left.”

  “Is that why your mother sent her off to France?”

  “No. Mom did that after I confronted her and Dad over Thanksgiving. Before that I don’t think it much mattered to her.”

  “Your mother knew what he did to you?”

  “She knew. I told her dozens of times, but she always acted as if I were making it up. She knew, though. It’s why she wouldn’t let me see a gynecologist until he stopped. She didn’t want anyone seeing the bruising and swelling that he caused.”

  “I’m so sorry, Linda.”

  “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

  “I’m still sorry that had to happen to you.”

  She nodded, her expression still little more than what could’ve been painted on a doll’s face.

  “Linda, who killed you?” he asked.

  She stared blankly at him, didn’t answer.

  “Can you at least give me a clue?”

  Her lips twisted into a slight smile. “Mit vergnugen,” she told him.

  He woke up then. For a minute or so, he tried to hold onto the peacefulness he’d felt when he’d been floating in his dream. It was gone, though, no remnants of it remained for him to grasp onto. Grudgingly he gave it up, and instead thought about the conversation his dream-self had with Linda Gibson. He decided that she was nothing more than the manifestation of his subconscious, brought up so he could work out his thoughts about her and the events of the past day. He got up, scribbled down some notes, then went back to bed. After a long time he drifted into something close to sleep.

  Chapter 11

  Shannon was up before the alarm clock rang the next morning. While he’d slept restlessly most of the night, he felt physically better than he had the last couple of days—less stiff and almost no pain cutting through his ribs when he sucked in air. Still, he couldn’t shake an overall feeling of uneasiness. Before leaving, he kissed Susan on the cheek and whispered to her that he was meeting Eli. She stirred, half awake, moving so she could brush her lips against his.

  “Busy day?” she said softly, her eyes barely open as she looked at him.

  “I think so. How about you?”

  “Mostly free. One appointment this afternoon.” She stretched her slender body in a way that reminded him of a cat. “It will give me time to shop for a pair of pom-poms. We’ll meet back here for dinner?”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “Me too,” she said, her voice drowsy and tailing off into a low murmur. She rolled onto her side, her eyes closed as she seemed to drift back to sleep. Shannon reached over and kissed her forehead, then left the room.

  When he got to Juiced Up, he found Eli standing in front of their usual morning haunt, his arms crossed and his eyes drooping half-closed as if he were falling asleep. He gave Shannon his typical deadpan stare and told him that the store was late opening up, then rapped a heavy set of knuckles against the glass door. A college-aged girl inside with red frizzy hair held up a finger to indicate one more minute.

  “Intolerable,” Eli muttered, grimacing to show his perceived injury. “They’re supposed to open at six thirty. It’s almost seven.”

  Shannon laughed. “Maybe if you weren’t decked out like a gang member she would’ve opened up already.”

  He gave Shannon a quick sideways glance and flared a nostril to show that a response would be beneath him. He then asked brusquely how Wichita was.

  “Flat.”

  “I would expect so,” Eli said, a bare trace of a smile ruining his deadpan expression. “You know full well I was asking whether it was eventful.”

  “In that case, I’d say so. Best apple pie I’ve had in years.”

  Eli turned and stared at him as if he were an idiot—or worse, that Shannon was once again trying to argue that the ’04 Red Sox were a better baseball team than the ’98 Yankees. The redhead working in the store interrupted them by unlocking the door and letting them in. Shannon stopped to tell her his theory on why she left Eli standing out on the doorstep. “But once I came along, one look at my mug and you knew it was safe,” he added. She laughed at that. “That’s right. His NY Yankees jersey and baseball cap screamed gangbanger—even though I’ve been seeing the two of you here almost everyday since I took the job.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I didn’t see you around yesterday.”

  “I was out of town. Spent the day in Wichita.”

  “How was it?”

  “Flat.”

  That caused her to both smile and roll her eyes. “What can I get you two?” she asked. Shannon pointed a thumb at Eli who had taken a table by the window and was sitting with his arms crossed while he sulked. “Bucky Dent over there would like a large chai –”

  “And a chocolate chip scone,” Eli interjected, his voice dripping with petulance.

  “- and a chocolate chip scone,” Shannon repeated. “I’ll take a black coffee as high octane as you can make it.”

  Shannon waited at the counter while she got the order together, then paid for it and brought it back to their table. Eli raised an eyebrow when he saw the coffee. “We’ve been meeting here almost three years,” he said. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you with a cup of joe.”

  “Could be,” Shannon said. “I’ve been avoiding it. Supposedly it antidotes homeopathic remedies, and I’ve been letting Susan use me as a guinea pig.”

  “What for?”

  Shannon made a face. “Rage issues I had dealing with Winters. I think it helped, the meditation maybe more. But this morning I need a cup. Badly. And if there were a pack of cigarettes on the table, I’d be smoking them also now.” He lowered his eyes to his coffee. “I used to be a two pack-a-day man. Quit cold turkey five years ago when I was in the hospital.”

  “Bill, I’ve got to tell you, you were in rare form this morning. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling a little antsy.” Shannon raised his stare and met Eli’s eyes. He was smiling, but it was a hard smile. “This whole cult business is bugging the hell out of me.”

  “You could drop the case.”

  “Not really, at least not if I ever want to look at myself in the mirror again. If I don’t help my client, nobody’s going to. Which would mean her daughter’s as good as lost.” Shannon stared out the window and watched as two squirrels darted across the cobblestone street and chased each other up a maple tree. When they were out of sight, he looked back at his friend. “Even without all that I couldn’t drop this—not without having to worry about those two Russians showing up at my apartment. One way or another I have to see this through,” he said.

  “Any idea how?”

  “A few, and they all center around finding out why a couple of Russian gangsters are acting as muscle for a cult.” He had other thoughts on the matter that he didn’t bother sharing with Eli. Once those Russians crossed the line and made it clear they’d come after him at his home, as far as he was conce
rned all bets were off. If he ended up having to flush them out and set them up for a long prison sentence, he’d do that. If he had to do worse, he’d do that also. He looked away and took a long drink of his coffee.

  “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

  “I know.”

  “So are you going to tell me about Wichita?”

  Shannon rubbed his jaw and could feel that the swelling was mostly gone from where he’d been hit. “I found circumstantial evidence that Linda Gibson had been sexually abused by her father. The Wichita police are looking into it now.”

  “You’re kidding? Jesus, Bill, you were there only one day!”

  “That’s all it takes sometimes when you’re good,” Shannon said with a tight grin.

  “And of course, modest.”

  “Of course.” Shannon’s grin turned into something more weary. “I picked up enough signals talking to Linda’s parents to make me suspicious about the abuse, but I also got lucky. Or as you like to say, maybe I created my own luck.”

  “And how did you accomplish that?”

  “When I arrived in Wichita I stopped off at their main police station to let them know why I was in town, and a local cop searched me out. He dated Linda back in high school and wanted to make sure I wasn’t there to dig up dirt on her. As it turned out, he also had his own suspicions. We were able to convince his captain to investigate the sexual abuse. It wasn’t easy. The guy looked absolutely crestfallen when he realized he had no choice but to take it on or risk the political fallout if it came out in the press. And I made sure that he knew it would come out in the press.”

  “How in the world can the police investigate the abuse now with the girl dead?”

  “They probably won’t be able to with Linda. But there’s another daughter who was shipped off to a boarding school in France.”

  “And you think he abused her too?”

  “It’s a good bet. If he did, he’s going to prison.” Shannon looked out the window, watching as a couple of kids in long baggy jeans walked by, one wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt, the other a Def Leopard one. He turned back to Eli. “Want to hear a coincidence? The cop who dated Linda also had an aunt murdered by Winters and his cousin.”