by Tracy Weber
Keep dreaming, buddy.
Not an inch of counter space had been spared in this newest culinary disaster. The sink overflowed with pots, pans, plates, and cutting boards. The walls were dotted with greasy spots of red goo. How one man could create such chaos when cooking a supposedly one-dish entrée was truly beyond me. I smiled away my momentary irritation, wrapped my arms around him from behind, and nuzzled his neck.
“I see you’re cooking. Smells delicious.”
The pups woke up to my voice, spied Bella, and galloped toward her as if they’d been separated for over a decade. Mutt slid to a stop by colliding with Bella’s leg. She gripped Bella’s tail between twenty-eight puppy-shark teeth and pulled. Jeff leapt for her face, apparently planning to swing from her lower lip. Bella flattened her ears to her skull and begged with her eyes for me to make them stop.
“Come on guys, leave her alone.” I scooped a pup in each arm and deposited them in their ex-pen. Bella swished her tail gratefully.
I scratched the top of her head and gave her a cookie for bravery. “You know, I love it that you’re so nice to them, but you’re allowed to defend yourself.”
Michael dipped a clean spoon into the mixture and offered me a taste. The flavor of sweet red tomatoes burst through an instant before my tongue spontaneously ignited.
“What do you think?” he asked. “More habaneros?”
“Nope. It’s perfect.” I pointed at my two mournful inmates. “I hope those guys start calming down soon. Bella’s getting tired of them using her as a teething toy.”
“Better her than my tennis shoes,” Michael replied. I wasn’t so sure.
“Sorry about your plants today,” I said. “I know you were looking forward to that garden.”
“No worries. It’ll give us an excuse to spend more weekends at the Ballard Farmers Market.”
“The market is awesome,” I replied, “but we still have a problem. How are we going to keep the little monsters from destroying the house the next time they escape?”
“I have a plan.”
Michael placed a lid on the kettle and wiped his hands on the Messy but Cute apron I’d given him on his birthday. He reached into a bag on the table and pulled out a dark brown teddy bear.
“It’s adorable, Michael, but it won’t entertain the puppies for long. They’ll destroy it in ten seconds flat.”
“It’s not a toy, it’s a nanny cam. It’s going to show us how Mutt and Jeff are getting out of their crate. I conned Tiffany into putting in more overtime tomorrow so I can work part of the day from home. I’ll set up the nanny cam, lock them in their crate, and work on ordering and bookkeeping from the office. When they get out … ” He pretended to jump out from a corner. “Busted!”
Bella jumped up and scanned the area for evil intruders. Michael tossed her another cookie. “Once I have the little monsters’ escape act on tape, I’ll figure out how to stop them.”
I smiled. “You know, for a dog food store owner, you’re pretty smart.”
He gathered me in his arms and planted an enthusiastic kiss on my lips. “For a yoga teacher, you have great taste in boyfriends.”
My belly—and a few body parts considerably lower—tingled. I glanced at the stairs leading up to the bedroom. “Want to—”
The timer on the stove dinged. Michael kissed the top of my head. “Hold that thought. The cornbread’s done. First we have dinner, then dessert.”
The chili was mouth-burning delicious, but it was nothing compared to dessert. For the first time since the pups’ arrival, we even had seconds.
The next morning passed in a whirlwind of group classes, private clients, and long-overdue studio paperwork. Before I knew it, the time had arrived for my afternoon yoga sessions at the Lake Washington Medical Center. I took a quick detour home to pick up Bella and give her a break from the puppies who—according to Michael—had made zero prison breaks, filmed or otherwise.
My motives for rescuing Bella were partially selfish. I knew she’d enjoy the alone-time, but I also wanted her present for my evening walk with Summer. Bella was large and imposing, but she put most people at ease—unless they had facial hair, wore a postal uniform, or drove a UPS truck. If Summer was distracted by enough Bella therapy, she might slip out a few extra secrets. Besides, what fun was taking a walk without a dog?
I pulled into the employee parking area on the tenth floor of the hospital’s garage, cracked open the windows and sunroof, and filled Bella’s water bowl.
“Okay Baby Girl. It’s nice and cool in here. Perfect for your nap. I’ll be gone a couple of hours. When I’m done, we’ll meet Summer and go for a walk.” I picked up her leash. “Do you need to take a bathroom break first?”
If Bella understood my words, she chose to ignore them. She stretched her body across the entire back seat of my Honda, nestled her head against the seat back, and started snoring.
“Sweet dreams, Puppy Girl.”
My intestines rumbled, still suffering from the after-effects of extra hot chili. Evidently I was the one who needed the bio break. I journeyed through the parking garage, took the elevator down, and walked across the lobby of the main hospital building toward the old perinatal unit.
I hesitated outside the employee break room. My stomach felt queasy, and not from the habaneros still making their way through my system. Rationally, I knew that the room was just an empty space with four institutional-beige walls, some utilitarian furniture, and that oh-so-important restroom. Rationally, I knew that Dr. Dick’s body was long gone and that the static-electricity-like charge of violence had left with him. Emotionally, however, I still felt an eerie sense of danger—of evil—lurking inside. My overactive imagination whispered, Don’t go in there.
My intestines spoke louder.
I cracked open the door, glanced inside the break room, and whispered, “Anyone here?”
“Just us caffeine addicts,” a male voice replied. The orderly smiled as he pushed past me, holding up a Styrofoam cup. “My fourth cup today. I seriously need to go decaf.”
He wasn’t the only one fighting a case of the jitters. I released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding and eased through the door. One quick stop and I’d be on my way. I slipped into the ladies’ room and entered the stall closest to the door.
A syringe clattered to the floor. A hand in the stall next to me reached down and snatched it up again. Evidently I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
The voice sounded familiar. “Justine, is that you?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the woman on the other side of the metal wall replied. “Yes.”
Of course! Justine. Why hadn’t I thought of talking to Justine? She’d been at the hospital on Saturday, and she was friends with Rachel. I wasn’t sure if she knew anything that would help, but I’d be crazy not to ask.
“Hang on for a minute, would you? I need to talk to you.”
When I exited the stall, Justine was standing near the sink. From the glassy sheen of her eyes, I assumed she’d been crying. She glanced at my reflection in the mirror and smiled. “Oh hey, Kate. I didn’t realize that was you.” She placed the syringe in a sharps container affixed to the wall.
I hesitated, unsure whether I should ask about the tears in her eyes or pretend that I didn’t notice them.
She must have misinterpreted my concern. She pointed to the sharps container. “Diabetes. Had it since I was a teen. I can usually keep it under control, but the stress of the last few days has my blood sugar way out of whack.”
“Are you upset? You look like you’ve been crying.”
She smiled. “No, but not because I don’t want to. I’m exhausted.” She rubbed underneath her eyelids. “The watery eyes are courtesy of my allergies. They’re going as crazy as my blood sugar.”
“I thought you’d be home with Nicole.”
“I’d like to be, but I can’t. I’m scheduled to work a double shift again today.” Justine turned on the faucet and lathered up her hands. “Mom’s home-care assistant promised to let me know if Nicole needs anything. They’ll be fine, though. Nicole doesn’t need a babysitter. Rachel doesn’t give her nearly enough independence.”
“How’s she doing? Nicole, I mean.”
Justine shrugged. “About as well as can be expected. She’s a tough kid.” She turned off the tap and shook water droplets from her hands. “You said you wanted to speak with me?”
“Yes, about Rachel, or at least about the mess she’s in. I don’t believe she killed her husband. Do you?”
Justine pulled two paper towels from the holder and slowly dried her hands as if carefully considering her words. “No. At least I don’t think so.” She tossed the towels into the trash can without meeting my eyes.
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” I said.
She turned toward me. “How can either of us know for sure? You saw Richard that night at the studio. He claimed he was going to kick Nicole out, and it sure looked to me like he meant it. I can’t imagine Rachel harming anyone, but when my daughter was alive, I’d have done anything to protect her. When someone you love is threatened … ” She glanced down at her hands, then back up again. “Let’s just say that if Richard was planning to harm Rachel’s daughter, I could understand the impulse to strike first.”
Unfortunately, so could I.
“I spoke to the police yesterday,” I said. “Rachel’s case doesn’t look good.”
“It’s early yet,” Justine replied. “If Rachel didn’t kill Richard, they’ll figure out who did.”
“I wish I had your confidence. They won’t keep looking if they think they’ve already arrested the murderer.”
Justine didn’t reply. I continued. “I’m not a cop—or a private investigator, for that matter—but I’ve helped solve crimes before. I’d like to find the real killer. That’s why I need to talk to you.”
She frowned and looked pointedly at her watch. “Can we do this later? I’m already late for my shift.” She turned and reached for the door.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by Justine’s hesitation. To her, I was just a yoga teacher. For all she knew, the past “crimes” I’d helped solve were yoga sequencing errors. Justine had a job to do. When nurses were late to their shifts, patient care suffered. I’d have to convince her that talking to me was a good use of her time.
“How about tomorrow morning?” I asked.
Justine’s shoulders slumped. When she turned back to face me, her face wore a resigned expression. “I have to take care of my mother tomorrow morning, then I need to get some sleep. After that, I work graveyard. I won’t be up and around again until Thursday evening.”
Later than I’d hoped, but it would have to do. “That would be perfect,” I told her. “I’m hosting a Sound Bath at the studio Thursday night at eight. Why don’t you and Nicole come as my guests? You’ll love it.”
“Sound Bath?”
“It’s hard to explain, but it’s deeply soothing. I’ll treat you and Nicole to the class, and we can talk afterward.”
“No guarantees, but I’ll see if we can make it.” Justine hesitated halfway out the door. “Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone about the diabetes, including Nicole. I prefer to keep my health issues private. The last thing Nicole needs is to worry about me being sick.”
“Of course. No problem. I’ll see you Thursday at eight.”
I hoped.
A few minutes later, I pushed all thoughts of murder out of my mind and shifted into yoga teacher mode. I departed the break room and smiled at the blonde nurse seated at the nurse’s station.
“Got any customers for me today?”
She handed me a sheet of paper. “Yes, but only two.”
“That’s actually perfect.” Having only two clients would allow me to spend as much time as needed with each student and still easily make my six o’clock meeting with Summer.
She handed me a clipboard. “The first is in 472. She was admitted yesterday. Preterm labor with quadruplets. We’re trying to keep her from going into full labor for a few more days—longer if possible.
I felt my face whiten. “Quadruplets? As in four? Baby humans?” I tried to imagine Rene’s body with double the babies, but I couldn’t. “I take it Sun Salutations are out.”
The nurse grinned. “She’s confined to bed right now. Stick with one of those meditations everyone raves about.”
The second name on the list was familiar.
“Kendra asked for me again? That’s awesome.”
I’d met with Kendra the prior week, and the session hadn’t gone well. She was hospitalized with borderline preeclampsia, a serious pregnancy complication that would cause any mom-to-be stress. In Kendra’s case, the stress often escalated to PTSD-like panic. Kendra’s first baby had been stillborn eighteen months ago. She was terrified that she was about to lose her second.
I’d taught her a practice designed to help her relax and let go of the past, but if her tense expression and shallow breath had been any indication, she’d experienced fear-laced annoyance instead. I’d left the session convinced that she’d hated our time together. Evidently I’d been wrong.
“How is her blood pressure?” I asked.
“Still higher than we’d like, but it seems to have stabilized.”
“Would some gentle arm and leg movements and a relaxing breath practice be safe?”
The nurse smiled. “Sounds great.”
Approved plan in place, I went to work.
I taught the quadra-mom a thirty-minute practice designed to create space: in her body, for the four babies growing within; in her mind, so she could remain sane while caring for four needy infants; and in her heart, for the love she already felt for each child.
Our work was more symbolic than physical, but by the time we finished, her face wore a peaceful smile. Proving once again that yoga wasn’t really about the body. It was about healing the mind and restoring the spirit.
Kendra was up next.
I planned to lead her through a relaxing sequence that would calm her energy, center her thoughts, and hopefully lower her blood pressure. It wouldn’t fix the root cause of her health issues, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. At worst, she could use the practice to relax after the baby was born.
I knocked on the door. “Hey, Kendra. It’s Kate.”
“Come on in.”
She sat in a rocking chair facing a large window that overlooked Lake Washington. A bouquet of fragrant yellow roses brightened the windowsill; the sun bathed her face and brought out the auburn highlights of her hair. Mount Rainier stood in the distance, guarding her.
She turned toward me and smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You look great! How are you feeling?”
“Better, actually. I wasn’t sure about the meditation you taught me last week, but I practiced it every day for ten minutes like you told me to. It helped with my stress. A lot. I’m feeling quite a bit better emotionally, thanks to you.”
I smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.” And a little surprised, but I didn’t tell her that. I’d take my victories wherever I could find them.
“Now I have a different problem,” she said.
I sat in the chair next to her. “What’s that?”
“Back pain. The lying around all day is killing me. I swear they’re giving me sugar pills instead of Tylenol. I’m ready to go into labor just so I can get the strong stuff.”
“How soon will you be able to deliver?”
“They’d like to let the baby’s lungs develop for a few more days, but it won’t be long. My section of the floor is being transferred to the new building
tomorrow, so at least I’ll have more interesting surroundings. Hopefully I’ll get a room with a view again.”
She winced and placed her palm against her low back. “I don’t suppose you smuggled in any morphine, did you?”
I smiled. “Sorry. Controlled substances are beyond my scope of practice. But I have a meditation that might help.”
I ditched my original plan and taught her a Full Body Scan meditation. The practice was surprisingly effective in reducing chronic pain. It didn’t change the pain per se, but it helped practitioners learn how to focus their minds on something else. In essence, it taught people how to disconnect from their pain and lessen their emotional reaction to it.
“Do you want to lie down?” I asked.
“If it’s okay, I’d prefer to stay sitting. I love feeling the sun.”
As she turned her face to the light, I invited her to close her eyes and deepen her breath. Several minutes of mind-focusing breath practice later, I brought her attention to her feet.
“Inhale and feel your toes … ”
By the time we’d gone from toes, to legs, to belly, to back, the lines around Kendra’s eyes had softened. As we continued up through arms, hands, chest, neck, and face, her breath became smooth and subtle. Her posture changed. I would have sworn that I felt her low back muscles release.
When we finished, she opened her eyes and smiled. “You know, I think that helped!”
“You seem surprised.”
“Honestly, I am. That was great.” She winked. “But I won’t argue if you smuggle in a few dozen Vicodin next time.”
A gruff male voice interrupted from the doorway. “It’s about time you got some relief.”
I turned toward the sound and froze.