Tamara gave a pouty face. “He let me think he didn’t know I was teaching there, that he just ran into me. When I found out the truth, I couldn’t decide if I was mad or flattered.”
“Apparently, flattery won?” CeCe asked.
Tamara turned her mouth down in an exaggerated frown. I sighed. Even her frowns were adorable.
“No, I was mad, but after a while, I forgave him and focused on the wonderful things we had in our relationship, so here we are.” She waved her hand around the room. “I couldn’t believe he wanted me to come home and meet his family, right? I had never met them when we were kids.”
“I do remember you, Sheriff.” Tamara looked toward my sister, sitting unobtrusively on the other side of CeCe. “You were a deputy then, and you gave Deangelo and me one of those speeches about getting outside and playing instead of making out in the movie theater on Sunday afternoons.”
Cindy frowned and looked intently toward the pair. “Was I nice about it?”
Tamara tinkled her laugh once again. “Of course, Sheriff.”
“That’s not what you said at the time. I think you called her a b-“
Tamara quickly put her fingers to Deangelo’s lips, then glanced back to Cindy. “Perhaps, but I was just a kid. In hindsight, you could not have been kinder.”
Cindy raised her root beer glass in a silent cheer, then set it back down and looked around the pizzas to select her next piece. She grabbed one from right in front of me and waved in under my nose.
“OOOhhhh, ahhhhhh, smell that sausage, sis.” Then she pulled it back and took a big bite off the triangle on the end, not easy to do when she was laughing so hard. My big sister liked to give me a hard time about being vegetarian.
Everyone laughed and Cindy held up her pizza slice and took a small bow. “I’m here every night, folks, keepin’ it real.”
I rolled my eyes. “A funny sheriff, that’s what every small town needs.”
Our eyes met, then she looked toward the door, worry flickering across her face. If you didn’t know you, you might have missed it. But I could tell. She was unsettled by the scene with Jerry and Sandy.
Chapter 2
The next morning after the 9 o’clock Mamas and Me Class, I jogged down Main Street to the Corner Mercantile for a few needed studio supplies. A little bell dinged to announce my arrival as I snagged a red basket. Surprisingly, Jerry McIntyre stood fully upright and seemingly functioning at the cashier’s counter, Jennifer Parks standing opposite, her hand on his arm.
They both turned when the bell dinged, Jennifer’s mouth arching downward and Jerry squinting his eyes to see who it was. Jennifer leaned toward him and said something in a low voice. Jerry jerked away from her and turned to fuss with something on the counter behind them. She stared at him for a long moment, then turned toward the front door.
I gave a little quick wave to them both and hurried for the far aisle. I didn’t want to get in the middle of their apparent argument. Besides, I needed to make this a quick trip and get back to the studio. We were completely and surprisingly out of tissues at The Yoga Mat. One of my students apparently had quite the cold. I tried to remember whom I had heard sniffling this week but couldn’t quite identify the culprit.
Since we were nearly out of antiseptic wipes and paper towels as well, I decided to buy a couple of back-up containers. I typically bought most of my paper products during runs to the big-box stores in Sacramento, but I wasn’t sure when I would make it later this week, what with Goddess Tamara’s weekend workshop taking a huge chunk of my time and energy.
Besides, I liked to support local retailers. After all, karma, right? If I wanted other local businesses to support me, I needed to support them in turn. To be fair, several had dropped in for classes at the studio, although only a couple had purchased passes.
After gathering what I needed, I approached the cashier’s counter that ran along the store’s large front window.
“Morning, Jerry.”
He looked at me as if he couldn’t quite place me. His blood-shot eyes seemed remarkably focused, considering how I had seen him last. He didn’t usually run the front counter and I rarely ran into him. I wasn’t even sure he knew who I was.
“I’m Mariah Stevens, Jerry. Remember? I opened the yoga studio down the way about nine months ago?”
Jerry smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes, and how has the gestation period of your baby gone?” He reached for my basket and began setting my items on the counter to scan.
I gave a surprised laugh. I hadn’t really considered that the first nine months could be considered a gestation period for my studio. Tilting my head to look at him, I responded. “Things do seem to be doing okay right now.”
He smiled again. “Then you have assuredly set a stable foundation. Well done. First time business owner?”
I nodded and couldn’t quite keep a grin off my face.
“Best of luck to you then. Owning your own business has all the ups and downs you might expect, but I wish yours great success.”
I paid for my items and started out the door, mulling over the longest conversation I’d had with Jerry since I moved to town last year.
I very nearly skipped down Main Street toward The Yoga Mat. I still loved seeing the logo in the window and the lights on inside.
Wait a minute, why were the lights on inside? I was the only one teaching this morning and I had turned them off when I left.
I jerked open the door. Stormy met me with a “shh” sign, her pointer finger to her lips.
“Stormy, what is going on?”
“Mariah, shhh. The Goddess is embodying the space she’ll be working in.”
What the heck? I peeked over the top of the partial doors into the dimly lit studio. Tamara sat in a lotus position on a mat in the middle of the room, her eyes closed. Lotus was hard on ankle and knee joints, so I typically recommended students sit with their legs in the less-difficult crisscross or a stacked position. That, and my thighs were a little too thick to make the position comfortable. Clearly, stick-woman Tamara did not have the same body issues.
I pulled Stormy into my office. My office, I reminded myself. “What is she doing here? Why did you let her in?”
Stormy’s shoulders drooped and she raised her hands palm up in the “I don’t know” position.
“I ran into her outside the hotel and she remembered me, so she asked if she could come to” – at this, Stormy used air quotes – “ ‘embody’ the space where she would be holding the workshop. I said I would have to check with you, and then she followed me here, like a puppy.”
“Well, she can’t stay. I have a class starting in twenty-five minutes.”
“I told her that. I didn’t know what to do. She just scooted past me into the studio. Next thing I know, she’s chanting on a mat in the middle of the room.” Stormy picked up the purse she had set down and looked at me pointedly. “I tried to text you, and I didn’t leave her alone here.”
She looked back over her shoulder as if she were afraid Tamara would pop out at her any second. “Can I go?”
I threw back my head and blew out a breath. “Yes, ya coward. Go.”
Stormy smiled and blew me a kiss. “I’ll be back for my shift at three o’clock.”
“Stormy?” She paused to look back. “Thank you for taking care of the studio and not leaving her here.”
Stormy simply smiled and nodded, then slipped out the door.
I sat in my office, wondering just how to handle this bizarre intrusion. Picking up a couple of Red Jasper stones on my desk, I ran them back and forth through my hands. Of all the Jasper stones that are common to this area, the Red Jasper was believed to encourage and enhance stamina and endurance. In fact, some people carried Red Jasper as a way of boosting their chi, or their life force. I liked to think of chi as our “juice,” like an electrical current.
I had kept a Red Jasper stone on my desk and carried one since Cindy had given them to me shortly after she moved to Jasper nearly t
wenty years ago. It was in my purse and I was so used to having it that I nearly forgot about it.
According to some crystal experts, Red Jasper helps people face unpleasant situations and rectify unjust situations. Well, if this wasn’t an unpleasant situation, I didn’t know what was. I tapped the rock on my desk and took a deep breath.
Checking my watch, I stepped through the doors into the studio, clearing my throat loudly. Tamara’s eyes remained shut and she continued to chant softly.
“Excuse me, Tamara?” I tried again to get her attention. She barely registered the sound, so I raised my voice.
“Tamara!”
The Goddess’ eyes flew open and she looked at me wide-eyed. Her expression changed to one of shock and reproach. “Mariah, as a yoga instructor, surely you know not to interrupt someone when they are meditating?”
I nearly bit my tongue biting back the comment I wanted to say. Remember all of those workshop payments.
“It can’t be helped this time, Tamara. I have a class coming in shortly.” Which you would have known had you waited for me with Stormy.
Surprise flew across Tamara’s face and she shook out her hands and uncrossed her legs, standing up in one fluid motion. “I wonder why that girl didn’t tell me, right?”
“She did.” Then I stared at the Goddess and shrugged. I could tell that discussing it with her would be a waste of both our times. As we walked to the door, I turned to Tamara. “You didn’t mention needing time to ‘embody’ the studio when you visited the other day.”
Tamara turned toward me and took one of my hands in both of hers and looked deep into my eyes. “After you left the pizzeria last night, your friends told me all about that poor woman being killed in your studio last month. I wanted to make sure that the negative energies were gone.”
I pulled my hand away from hers, feeling anger well up inside, both at Tamara and whatever “friends” had ratted me out. My voice came out louder and sharper than I intended it to.
“We’ve had many happy experiences in the studio, before and after Patricia’s death. Her passing was unbelievably sad but believe me when I say it has not impacted our energy.”
I tried to smile to make up for my tone, then shoved through the doors to the lobby. Who did this Goddess person think she was coming in here and accusing my studio of bad vibes? I had thoroughly cleansed the studio, both physically and energy-wise, after the death and again after the arrest.
Fortunately, the practical part of my brain kicked into gear.
Remember the workshop payments, remember the workshop payments.
I did not want to anger the Goddess and have her pull the plug on the workshop when we’d worked so hard to make it happen.
Wheeling around to face her, I lowered my voice. “If you’d like to stay for class, you’re more than welcome.”
Tamara stepped away from me, her eyes narrowed and mouth pursed. She shook her head and put her hand in front of mouth as if she were pulling air out of her face. Then she threw the air to one side.
“I’m not in the right space for a class just now. I have a few things to do before I meet Deangelo later today.”
With that, Tamara swept out of the lobby through the double glass doors. I watched her go and then smacked my forehead with my palm. Stupid. I could not afford to anger this so-called goddess if I wanted to financially survive.
The only way I had been able to bring Goddess Tamara to Jasper was by using money left to me from the student who had been killed in my class. I figured (actually, hoped and prayed) that the publicity would prove heartening for my little studio. Though the cost was considerably higher than most of my workshops, the risk seemed to be paying off.
The studio door flew open. Maya Anderson, the reporter from the local weekly, stuck her head inside. “Everything okay, Mariah? Just took a couple of snaps of the Goddess Tamara, and she did not look happy.”
“Maya! You cannot put those pictures on your website!” It was all I could do to keep myself from grabbing the camera phone right out of her hands. I clasped mine together to keep from doing that. “Please, don’t add to the problem.”
“So everything is not okay?” Maya dug in her hefty shoulder bag and pulled out a notebook. “What’s the scoop?”
I gave her the best stink-eye I could. “What’s the scoop? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Tell me what’s going on or I will have to put pictures of unhappy Tamara on my newspaper website.”
I waved my hand as casually as I could. “It’s nothing. Tamara just wanted to have some private time in the studio, but I have a class coming in shortly, so I couldn’t let her right now. She wasn’t happy about it.”
“That’s is?”
“That’s it.”
“Then why are you in such a tizzy?”
“Tizzy?” I decided honesty was the best policy. “Look, Maya, I really need for this workshop to go off well. I just can’t afford any more negative publicity.”
Maya gazed at me sympathetically and shrugged, shoving her notebook back into her bag. “Okay. Not much of a story anyway. But okay if I post them after the workshop?”
“Knock yourself out.” I grinned at her.
Maya gave me a two-fingered salute, then ambled back out the door, no doubt going to find some other poor unsuspecting subject for her relentless camera. Don’t get me wrong. As a former newspaper reporter myself, I completely understood. I just didn’t like it when she pounced on me.
Blowing out a big breath of air, I hurried back into the studio to wipe down the mat Tamara had left on the floor and put out my own mat at the front of the room. I set a yoga block and a strap next to the mat to use in class. Putting a citrus scent in the diffuser, I brightened the lights so students could find their places in the studio. I looked around the room and nodded in satisfaction. I was ready. Bring on the next class.
Classes the rest of the day were uneventful, a fact I had learned to appreciate after last month’s disaster. After the five o’clock Vinyasa class, Josie waited for me to lock up so we could eat at the diner on Main Street. Though I tried to convince myself to cook meals at home, it was easier and more convenient to eat out. Since my divorce, it wasn’t much fun to cook just for one.
Josie tucked a backpack over her shoulder. She had changed into her sheriff’s deputy uniform because she was on the night shift tonight. Before we headed to the diner, she wanted to swing by her apartment.
“I left my mascara at home. I thought I had it in my backpack.”
“Really?” I looked at her askance. “That’s what you need?”
She shrugged. “Everyone has their vices. Mine is having fabulous eyes!”
We laughed as we crossed the street and followed the sidewalk for a shortcut behind the Jasper Inn, the only hotel on Main Street.
We both knew I rarely even put on makeup, since I would just sweat it off during class.
“One of these days, you’ll meet someone you want to wear makeup for.” Josie gave me an elbow as we came around the corner. I was still laughing as Josie came to a dead stop.
“Jos-?” I started, then followed her eyes. Her mouth fell open and she stared.
Josie’s little sister, Angelica, a knife in her hand, stood over a man slumped on the hotel’s back steps.
Chapter 3
“Angelica, put down the knife.” Josie reached behind her waist and pulled out her gun, gently slipping off the safety.
“Josie, surely you don’t think you’ll need that,” I whispered.
“Be quiet, Mariah. I need to concentrate and do my job.”
“Josie! Help! He’s been hurt.” Angelica waved the knife in the air as she called to her sister.
Josie took a breath and spoke firmly to her sister. “Angelica, set the knife on the ground next to the victim and put your hands in the air where I can see them.”
Angelica’s expression faltered. “What? Josie, I need your help. Come here.”
“Angelica! Now!” Josie barked, sta
rtling her little sister.
Angelica’s eyes were huge, her hands bloody. She looked at her hands as if surprised to find a knife there and quickly threw it to the ground, then reached back to pull tangled hair away from her face. She spotted the blood on her hands and slowly raised them in the air.
“Step away from the body.” Josie’s voice shook ever so slightly. If you didn’t know how strong her voice normally was, you probably couldn’t even tell. But I could.
“Josie, what are you doing?” Angelica reached her hands toward her sister.
“Hands up!” Josie barked again, then turned to flip on her shoulder radio, requesting backup and an ambulance.
She stepped closer to Angelica and kicked away the knife, then tucked her gun in its holster and leaned down over the man, whose face was turned away from us. She shook her head before turning to look hard at her sister.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Angelica’s voice was a squeak. “I was supposed to meet Tamara upstairs and when I came up the sidewalk, I saw him lying there.”
“Why did you have a knife in your hand?”
“I took it out. It seemed wrong that it was in him, so I pulled it out. Then he started bleeding more.”
The man looked dead from where I was, but even I knew dead men don’t bleed. Josie tucked her gun back in her belt and leaned over him again, reaching a finger to his neck.
“His pulse is faint, but I think it’s there.”
I scooted next to him and leaned down toward his mouth. “Oh my gosh, it’s Jerry McIntyre. Jerry? Jerry, can you hear me?”
Jerry coughed, then gasped. His eyelids fluttered. “Goddess,” he whispered.
“What? Jerry, I could hardly hear you.” I motioned Josie down next to me so we could both hear him. “Jerry?”
As if on cue, sirens blared in the background, growing louder with every breath. Josie looked at me and shook her head. We couldn’t have heard him even if he had tried to speak again.
Two sheriff’s pickups screeched to a halt in the parking lot. Cindy jumped out of one car. Neil Samuelson hopped out of the other.
Goddess, Guilted Page 2