by Tracy Weber
I had to get out of there.
I made a lame excuse about a contagious rash, ignored Michael’s annoyed expression, and scooted to the sauna, where I hoped I could hide alone. For once, the universe was on my side. The sauna was completely empty. I turned off the lights, claimed a corner on the top level, and closed my eyes.
Before long, I began to relax. My breath lengthened. The knots in my shoulders loosened. The hot tubs obviously weren’t for me, but perhaps Michael was right about the rest of the spa. Perhaps all I needed was some alone time, completely enveloped in warmth.
I mentally coached myself through a “safe place” meditation. A guided visualization designed to make the practitioner—me in this case—feel peaceful and safe.
Imagine that you’re alone on a warm, sandy beach. Feel the sun bake your shoulders as your feet sink into the white sand. I sighed and snuggled deeper into my towel. Wiggle your toes and feel the texture of—
The door slammed open and two loudly chattering women entered the space.
“Getting off mid-afternoon is the only thing good about this job. I thought this day would never end.”
I recognized them both. The first, a twenty-something blonde, was one of the center’s cleaning staff. She would have been cute—in a perky, cheerleader sort of way—if she ever stopped scowling. The second, a mid-thirties Hispanic woman with a long dark braid, was the waitress I’d seen serving breakfast at Eden that morning.
I scrunched down in my dark corner and hid my face, but I needn’t have bothered. Either the two friends didn’t see me in the dark room, or they didn’t care that they had an audience.
Maidzilla—my new nickname for the blonde—continued. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here. This crappy job isn’t worth risking my life over.”
“You don’t really think we’re in danger, do you?” the waitress asked. “Kyle called a staff meeting after breakfast. He told us not to worry. He said the yoga teacher didn’t do it, but the police had all but arrested the real killer.”
“Yeah, Emmy fed me that load of crap, too. They’re just trying to keep us all from freaking out and quitting.”
Emmy and Kyle had followed through on their promises to talk to the staff, after all. Good for them.
Maidzilla continued. “What’s going on between those two, anyway?”
“Emmy and Kyle?”
“Yeah. They’ve seemed awfully chummy lately.” I didn’t have to see her face to read her expression. The sneer was written all over her voice.
“Oh, come on. Emmy’s getting married in a few days.”
“When has a wedding ring ever stopped Kyle? If you ask me, those two spend waaaaay too much time together.”
I wrapped my arms around my shins and cradled my knees to my chest. Emmy and Kyle? A couple? Granted, I hadn’t spent much time with them, but they didn’t seem like lovers to me. Not even friends. Could I have missed something?
After a brief moment of silence, the waitress replied. “You’re just jealous because Kyle isn’t interested in you. Why would Emmy have an affair? She and Josh seem great together.”
Maidzilla’s voice got lower. She leaned toward her friend and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “So you think. Those two fight all the time. If Josh had an IQ higher than an eggplant, he’d have dumped Emmy a long time ago. She’s managing this place into the ground. If her father doesn’t cough up some money soon, they’ll be out of business before Christmas.”
Bruce was Emmy’s new investor? That was one interesting tidbit she failed to mention. A tidbit that gave her a whole new motive for wanting Monica out of the picture.
“I’m telling you, something is going on between Emmy and Kyle. All you have to do is look at them. They’re doing it.”
I was beginning to wonder if Maidzilla was right. Emmy and Josh seemed to truly be in love, but appearances—especially of relationships—could be deceiving. Emmy herself said that she and Josh and been fighting lately, and she opted to include Kyle, not Josh, in our plans. Could Emmy be fooling me after all?
Before the two women could finish their gossipy conversation, the lights turned on, the sauna’s door opened, and three boisterous teenagers invaded the space. My newfound sources became suddenly mute. If I wanted more details, I’d have to find an excuse to talk to them later.
I leaned back and rested my head against the sauna’s warm cedar planking, discouraged about more than Monica’s murder. Why were relationships always so hard? Emmy and Josh, Rene and Sam, Michael and me: all of us struggled.
Rene and Sam were the one happily married couple I knew, and they might not make it until Monday. How could I expect anything different from Michael and me?
Beads of sweat dotted my body, and not from the sauna’s dry heat. The air felt stiflingly thick—too thick to breathe. I had to get out of there.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” I stumbled over three pairs of unclothed legs, threw open the door, and took deep, desperate gulps of fresh air. After a quick stop at the changing area to pull on my sweats, I ran for the stairs. I didn’t even take the time to put on my shoes.
“Kate, wait!”
Michael jumped out of the tub. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry Michael, I can’t stay. I have to get out of here.”
“OK. Let me grab my pants.”
I hated to risk hurting his feelings again, but I couldn’t be with him right then. I needed to think. “It’s okay, hon. I know you’d rather stay here.”
He didn’t disagree.
I gave him my best impersonation of a smile. “I”ll meet you back at the cabin later.” I ran down the stairs, putting as much distance between me and the spa area as possible.
fifteen
I ran straight back to the cabin. I wanted to be alone, but not by myself. I needed Bella.
The scene at the cabin was much as I left it. Sam brooded on the couch while Rene hid in the kitchen, washing already-clean dishes. I clipped on Bella’s harness before accosting Rene. “You haven’t talked to him yet?”
“Not yet. I’m still working up to it.” She scanned the area behind me. “Where’s Michael?”
“I left him back at the hot tubs.”
Rene raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Left him?”
I sighed. “Don’t ask. I wouldn’t even know how to answer.” I held up the leash. “I came back to grab Bella in case she needs another walk.”
Rene dried her hands and draped the towel across the faucet. “I’ll come with you. Let me grab my jacket.”
“Sorry, Rene. Not this time.”
She didn’t argue. She picked up a magazine and sat on the couch next to Sam, studiously ignoring him. Bella looked from Sam, to Rene, then back to Sam again. To my horror, she lifted her upper lip and clearly exposed her canines.
“Bella! Stop that!” Bella responded to my admonishment by nudging my hand, as if expecting me to give her a cookie. Sam squeezed deeper into the corner and visibly shuddered. Rene giggled.
I apologized to Sam and pulled Bella out the door. Once it was securely closed behind us, I knelt on the deck, gently placed my hands on either side of Bella’s face, and touched her nose with my own—a move that, done by anyone else, might well have resulted in a nose-ectomy.
“What’s going on with you, girl? Sam is our friend.”
Bella responded by licking my face and gently swishing her tail.
“OK, sweetie, we’ll walk.”
I wasn’t ready to see Michael, so I avoided the path that went past the spa and guided Bella toward the upper campsites, where I hoped we would be alone. As we meandered along the desolate trail, I was struck once again by Elysian Springs’ silence. You’d think I’d be used to tranquility in the yoga business. After all, that was the whole point: to find moments—no matter how fleeting—of inner ca
lm.
I went to great lengths to create Serenity Yoga’s peaceful environment. Multiple water fountains, live plants, soft music. I even hung signs at each doorway that reminded students to speak softly and turn off their cell phones.
None of it made much of a difference. Even inside the practice room, my so-called silent meditations were often dotted with sound. Echoes from the apartments above; traffic noise from busy Greenwood Avenue; the steady beep, beep, beep of delivery trucks backing into the alley.
But not here.
Here, I heard only rustling leaves and the subtle, breath-like sounds of the ocean. I tried to merge with that silence in a moving meditation, carefully treading heel to toe in the gentlest, quietest way possible.
Perhaps if I fully connected with this tranquil space, I would experience nirodha—the state of mental clarity the yoga teachings promised. Perhaps I would decipher the committed-relationship code. Perhaps I would solve Monica’s murder. Heck, I would have settled for figuring out how to cure Bella’s bellyache. I communed with nature for a good twenty minutes before the universe replied.
Good luck with all that.
I gave up and tried to simply enjoy the day. The sun had burned through the morning’s fog and left the sky powder blue. An angry jay scolded from above. Dew drops fell from the branches of a Madrona tree and splashed on my shoulder.
I looked down at my jacket. Seriously?
Make that doo drops.
I bent down and picked up an oak leaf to wipe the bird waste off my jacket. Two teardrop-shaped indentations blinked back at me.
“Look Bella,” I said, pointing down at the ground. “A deer’s been here.”
Bella’s gaze followed my fingertips, then stopped. Her eyes widened; her ears pricked forward; the hair on her shoulders stood up. She thrust her nose to the ground, took two quick sniffs, then jumped back, as if the scent had scalded her nose. Her wide-eyed expression telegraphed her thoughts.
Monster tracks!
She glued her nose to the ground and launched forward, zooming after the scent like a low-flying rocket. I stumbled behind her.
“Bella, slow down, it’s okay!”
My words had zero effect.
We zigged and we zagged. We dodged fallen branches and barreled between trees. I tried to stay upright behind her, unsure whether we were fleeing the perceived menace or chasing it.
The pursuit ended as quickly as it began. After several hundred feet, Bella stopped running, lifted her nose to the sky, and sniffed. She circled the area a few times, then sat down and furrowed her brow, as if considering her options.
“Did you lose the scent, sweetie?”
She gazed at me through wide, silent eyes.
I smiled and ruffled her ears. “C’mon Tracker Dog. Let’s head back.”
We followed the narrow, winding footpath back toward the cabin. Bella buried her nose in the leaves again, as intent on the scents of this new trail as she’d been on the one that she’d lost.
A good yogi would have tried to stay present and fully embrace that beautiful moment. A good girlfriend would have spent the walk figuring out how to salvage her relationship.
I contemplated murder.
Or at least how to solve it. I certainly had no shortage of suspects. To know Monica was to dislike her. Since we all had access to Bandit and his rhinestone-studded leash, I focused on motive and opportunity.
Dad used to say that nine times out of ten, the killer was a family member—usually the spouse. (Yet another stellar recommendation for marriage.) Not only was Monica a witch with a capital B, but I strongly suspected that Bruce’s back wasn’t the only one she’d scratched with those burgundy claws. If I could tell Monica was cheating, Bruce probably knew it too.
Infidelity and mortal irritation. Excellent reasons for divorce. But murder? Murder might be cheaper than alimony, but it seemed a little extreme, especially for Bruce. I couldn’t articulate why, but Bruce didn’t feel like a killer to me. Dad would have mocked using intuition to rule out a suspect, but Dad didn’t teach yoga. The practice had sensitized me to energy. Bruce’s energy seemed tamasic—dull and depressed—not angry. It certainly wasn’t murderous.
Bella lunged toward a squirrel. I barely noticed. “Leave it,” I said absently.
The timing wasn’t right, either. Bruce couldn’t have murdered Monica after I dropped off Bandit, at least not before I found her body.
I stopped walking, suddenly sick to my stomach.
How long had Monica been floating in that hot tub when I started CPR? At the time, I assumed that she was still alive—or at least close enough to try to resuscitate—but she could have been dead for hours. Partially digested pancakes gurgled up from my belly.
Best not to think about that, at least not after eating two breakfasts.
I made two mental notes: first, find out if the coroner had determined Monica’s time of death; second, ask the hostess what time she spoke with Monica that morning.
Bella stopped to relieve herself—again. I cleaned it up and moved on to the next suspect.
Helen was another viable suspect, with more than one motive. Monica destroyed her marriage and was threatening to ruin her daughter’s wedding. I may have been the only one who heard Helen and Monica argue, but that didn’t make Helen’s threats any less real.
As for opportunity, I assumed she had plenty. Helen hadn’t been in yoga class that morning. Was she in bed, sleeping off a hangover, or at the spa, ridding herself of a whole different kind of headache? I’d have to ask Emmy where her mother was the morning of Monica’s death.
Thinking of Emmy sent an ache from the base of my sternum to the pit of my throat. Lord, how I didn’t want Emmy to be the killer. But as much as I liked the small, unassuming woman, I had to admit, she had motive galore, especially given the conversation I’d just overheard. Monica had destroyed her parents’ marriage and threatened Elysian Springs. Emmy gave Monica the keys to the spa and suggested that she use it alone. She practically set Monica up for the kill.
Bella stopped to snack on yet another patch of tall grass. I sat on a moss-covered tree stump and played with her leash, wrapping and unwrapping it from around my fingers. If Emmy and Kyle were having an affair, they could have murdered Monica together. Kyle wasn’t nearly as mellow as his dreadlocks and stoner hat would imply. He almost decked Monica that night at the party. But I, of all people, knew that having a bad temper didn’t make you a killer. Besides, what was his motive? Killing off disgruntled diners didn’t seem like the smartest way to build a clientele.
A loud crash startled me upright and jerked me out of my trance.
“What is it, girl?”
Bella froze at attention, staring off-trail at a brown shape barely visible through the thick undergrowth. I gripped both sides of her harness.
“Easy girl, don’t frighten her.”
A young doe stared back, deep brown eyes unblinking, as if daring me to make the first move. Light puffs of steam billowed from her nostrils.
I smiled, hoping to let the doe know I meant her no harm. “Hey there, lady. Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you.” I whispered to Bella, “Easy, now. Sit. Stay.”
Bella miraculously complied. Her body remained as still as a doggie statue, but her ears, brow, and eyes morphed through multiple expressions. From terror, to wariness, to curiosity, to confidence.
I amused myself by imagining her internal conversation. Hmmf. You’re not so scary. She cocked her head to the side. But what manner of beast are you? Her brow furrowed as she sniffed the air. Wide set eyes. Definitely not a hunter. Long, skinny legs, good for running. Pointy ears like a bunny rab—
Bella’s eyes grew huge. She stood up, tensed every muscle, and shifted her weight forward. It’s a huge bunny rabbit!
She looked back at me beseechingly, begging me to let her chase the delightful n
ew prey. Her ears twitched with anticipation; a long line of drool oozed from her lower lip; her tail whipped back and forth in a deer-induced frenzy.
I pulled some treats out of my pocket. “Bella, I said stay.”
All of that time-intensive training must have paid off. Either that or Bella was too busy scarfing down lamb lung to chase after buckskin. Bella and I spent less than a minute with that graceful creature, but our friendship’s short duration didn’t make it any less powerful.
It was as if the universe had sent me a sign. A symbol of my dilemma with Michael. A preview of my upcoming choice. Ambivalence quivered through the doe’s muscles. Indecision twitched her nose. She suspected I wouldn’t hurt her, but she wouldn’t give me the chance. One wrong move and she’d be gone. She leaned over and nibbled at a branch, never taking her eyes off mine.
Stay or flee? Stay or flee?
Which would it be?
A frustrated female voice whispered behind me. “I’m telling you, we can’t do this here. If Monica figured it out, someone else will, too.”
I gasped and the doe bolted, gone so quickly she might have been an apparition.
I scooted off the trail and crouched in the underbrush, hoping to hear more.
Toni’s voice replied. “I’m tired of all of this sneaking around. Make up your mind. Either you’re in, or you’re out.”
Who was Toni talking to, and what were they hiding? I peeked through the leaves, but I couldn’t see them clearly.
A rumble vibrated deep in Bella’s throat.
The hair on the back of my arms stood up. Bella never growled without reason. She only made that low, threatening sound when she sensed danger: footsteps outside our home late at night; a stranger peeking through my bedroom window; a brown-suited psycho-killer delivering packages …
I wrapped my hand around her muzzle. “Quiet,” I whispered. I shifted position, but I still couldn’t see who Toni was talking to. I grabbed onto a low branch. If I could contort my neck around this trunk …