Gossip Can Be Murder (7 page)

Chapter 8

A whispered expletive came from Shirley’s chair. Five sets of eyes peeked through nearly-closed lashes. I watched openly as she rose from her chair and marched over to Rex Storm’s seat. The phone emitted another ring. She took a handful of the wide collar of his silky black shirt and hauled him upward and out the door. As the door whooshed softly closed, I caught her words: “Mr. Storm—”

I checked out the room. Nearly everyone had given up the pretense of meditating. Nicole Mayhew surprised us all by taking charge.

“Come on, everyone, this is important. Let’s get back to it,” she said.

With a collective deep breath, we all closed our eyes and tried to get back to our peaceful state.

Forty-five minutes later, refreshed and feeling amazingly light inside, I joined Linda in the dining room for lunch.

“So, how are you liking it so far?” she asked.

“Interesting. I’ve got notes for you on meditation techniques.”

“So . . .” She cocked her head. “Did you like it?”

“Meditation was great,” I said truthfully. “Really. I never imagined that thirty minutes of quiet time would make me feel so good. I’m going to start using it on those especially crazy days at the office.”

“Good! I’m glad I didn’t drag you up here for nothing. And yoga?”

“Well . . . that was also interesting.”

“What.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ve never been to a yoga class before, so I don’t know what it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah . . .” Those blue eyes fixed on me.

“Does the instructor usually yell at people?”

“Yell? You’re kidding.”

“Well, she got pretty testy with a few people. Half the class walked out before it was over.”

A waiter approached our table. “You ladies are with the Lightness in Living conference?” At our nods he placed a small aperitif glass in front of each of us.

I took a whiff. Ginger?

“Our lunches are part of the program,” Linda explained. “We’ll be eating the food recommended in the nutrition classes. This is an elixir designed to help stimulate the digestion.”

A tentative sip zapped me with a sweet-sour-hot flavor. Once past the initial surprise of the unusual combination, the taste really grew on me. I finished off the small glassful in a couple more swallows.

“So,” Linda said, “you were saying about the yoga class?”

“Odd. I’d pictured it as a very soothing, centering experience. Rita, our instructor, was anything but centered, I’ll tell you.”

“Hmm, that
is
odd. Well, maybe she was just having a bad day.” She shrugged. “You have a massage this afternoon, right?”

Our waiter reappeared just then, with colorful plates beautifully presented. Lunch consisted of a thick bean soup, a small salad, and a vegetable mixture of squash and tomatoes. Everything was delicious and we concentrated on nothing but food for the next few minutes. A minor stir began on the far side of the room. Pat Girard and two other doctors breezed through, on their way to a table.

“Well, I heard that she actually yelled at one of her students,” Pat said as they took seats at the table next to ours. Her attire today consisted of a brilliant turquoise broomstick skirt and boots of the same shade, a burnt orange top and heavy squash blossom necklace.

I raised an eyebrow at Linda.

“Word has it that she won’t be working here long,” Pat continued. “In fact, her last job ended . . .” Her voice dropped as she fiddled with her napkin.

One of the other doctors, a tall, thin woman in her late forties, piped up. “When I was with Blue Cross we had this patient—” She seemed to realize how well their voices were carrying and dropped hers to a whisper.

“I certainly hope my doctor doesn’t gossip about me in restaurants,” I murmured to Linda.

“She certainly doesn’t.” She winked. “But you better be nice to me or I might start.” She took a spoonful of the rich, flavorful soup. “Besides, you’re never sick. What would I say?”

“Good point. Plus, I’ve still got some dirt on you from eighth grade history class.” We chuckled over the absurdity of it all, and at the three gossipers with their heads together over the other table.

Linda glanced at her watch. “Oh, gosh, I better make some calls before our afternoon sessions start. I’ve got someone else handling the emergencies, but I told Raylene I’d call in a couple times a day and see if anyone needs me.” She laid her folded napkin on the table. “Take your time over dessert. There won’t be a check so don’t worry about any of that.”

“Okay, see you later.” I wasn’t about to pass up dessert.

The waiter brought it a minute later, a stemmed glass of chocolate mousse with a fresh fruit garnish. He set a glass at Linda’s place and rushed away before I could correct the error. Well . . . surely it wouldn’t hurt . . .. Okay, I’ll admit it right now, I finished them both.

When the waiter came back to make sure everything was all right, I commented on the fabulous chocolate concoction.

“Yes, very good, isn’t it? It’s also very high protein, you know. Made with tofu.”

I did a hard swallow. He chuckled and cleared the glasses. “It fools everyone,” he said.

I wandered leisurely through the main lobby on my way to the spa, refusing to feel guilty about the two desserts. If they were made of tofu, even chocolatized, they had to be healthy. Besides, I’d eaten all my veggies—I was entitled. In the reception area of the spa building a dark-haired young man greeted me. After checking my reservation he handed me a folded cotton robe and pointed me toward the ladies dressing rooms.

Ten minutes later I met my masseuse, Joanne, and was shown to a room where the light shone softly from indirect fixtures. Scented oil perfumed the air with a tantalizing aroma of spices and flowers.

“I see that you’ve signed up for our signature massage, the Total Body and Soul Experience,” she said. “It’s designed to both invigorate and relax, to improve the flow of energy through your body, and to infuse you with a profound sense of peace.”

A tall order. “Sounds fabulous,” I said.

“I’ll leave you alone for a couple of minutes. Leave your robe here and lie down on the table, face up. Just close your eyes and relax.”

After that big lunch I’d probably be doing well if I weren’t snoring before she came back.

As it turned out, Joanne was absolutely right. I did feel both invigorated and relaxed by the end of my hour and a half. I floated out of the room wondering what it would take to hire her away from here and have her just stand in the corner of my office. I could go for one of those treatments every afternoon. I showered and changed, using the herbal shampoo and conditioner provided in the locker room.

By the time I drifted back to the room for nutrition class, I felt ready to meditate some more then report for happy hour. The tension of the morning in Rita’s class was nearly forgotten. I did my best to focus on the information on food preparation, but they didn’t cover one single thing you could defrost and reheat in under five minutes. I’m not exactly a crack chef, you’ve noticed, and I found my attention wandering. Luckily, the handouts covered the important stuff for Linda’s benefit.

When the class took a short tea break I surreptitiously peeked at the readout on my cell phone. I’d missed a call from Ron an hour ago. I ducked out to the courtyard and called him back.

“Where are you?” he said querulously.

“Geez, grumpy, you need to relax. You know where I am. Santa Fe. I told you about the whole thing with Linda.” I felt my mellow mood slip. Took a deep breath “What’s up?”

“Drake’s deposition has been moved up to this week. I need copies of all of your simulator data.”

Although I’d left notes about all this on his desk, I told him where to find it, working to keep my voice level. Clearly I was picking up on Drake’s attitude about the case; getting it over with might be the best thing to put everyone’s tempers back on an even keel. I spoke with Ron for another minute then made the excuse that I needed to get back to class.

I trailed back inside, my former state of elation now almost completely gone. At least I wasn’t sleepy anymore, so I diligently began taking notes on the six food tastes and the importance of eating the right combinations of food for your body type.

The entire group had made it for the afternoon session, including Rex Storm, who’d apparently taken the chastisement seriously after his cell phone incident this morning. He’d taken a seat as front-and-center as one could get, grabbing the limelight even here. Nicole was studiously taking notes while Gerald lounged in a half-sprawl in his chair. Dina sat straight up in her chair, obviously taking it easy on her tender back muscles.

Trudie, I noticed, had stationed herself as near to Rex as she could and spent more of her time staring at him than watching the instructor. From my vantage point, it became clear that Trudie’s fascination with the aging rock star could easily border on obsession. I wondered if Rex had picked up on it.

Chapter 9

I left the afternoon meditation session, again feeling refreshed and relaxed all at once. I headed for the room, thinking it might be a good time to catch Drake.

He answered his cell on the third ring and I could hear jukebox music and voices in the background. To keep from shouting above the din, he excused himself to someone there and told me he would step outside.

“Sorry, hon,” he said. “Those guys can’t seem to just quietly drink a beer after work.”

“I talked to Ron earlier. He told me about your deposition being moved forward.”

He made a snarling noise. No surprise.

“Maybe we could meet in Santa Fe for dinner before you go back to Albuquerque?” I suggested.

He jostled the phone a little and I heard him flipping pages in that little notebook he keeps in his shirt pocket. “Yeah . . . day after tomorrow should work. I think we’re finishing up the job here by early afternoon. Could we make it a late lunch? Early dinner?”

“Either. You set the time and I’ll be there. Meet at the airport?”

We’d just finalized the plan when I heard a key card in the lock. “Linda’s back—gotta go, love you.”

“So, did you pick up any more gossip from good old Pat?” I teased as Linda came into our room.

“Sheesh—that woman!” She kicked off her shoes and flung herself onto her bed. “I’m amazed she made it through medical school. Truly, she spends more time poking into everyone else’s business than studying the material.”

“Speaking of which, here are the notes I took in class today.” I handed her several sheets, along with the handouts Shirley had given us. “And you were right about the massages. The one I had today was fabulous.”

“I told you. Boy, I could’ve used one myself.” She rolled over and rested her head on her crossed forearms. “I think I’ll schedule one for tomorrow.”

As it turned out, we ended up at the spa at the same time on Tuesday. After another of Rita’s contentious yoga classes, I was more than ready for it.

“I hate to agree with Pat, but I can’t believe Rita still has a job. Especially at a place like this,” I told Linda as we made our way to adjoining changing rooms. “She’s alienated everyone in the class already, and it’s only the second day. Dina didn’t even come. She’s nursing a sore back from the first class. And Gerald Mayhew skipped too. He strikes me as a guy who doesn’t put up with a lot.”

I gathered my clothes and stuffed them into a locker. Here I was, being as bad a gossip as Pat. I better watch my mouth.

This time I got an entirely different massage treatment, one that involved dribbling warm oil over my forehead. As awful as the description sounded, the reality was quite pleasant and I found myself once more leaving with a sense of peace and contentment.

“I’m not calling Ron at all today,” I told Linda as we sat in a bubbling hot spa an hour later. “He and Drake are just going to have to work out their own stuff on that helicopter case. I’m not getting into it. I’m here to enjoy myself.”

“Live in the moment, Charlie,” she said. Her voice sounded drowsily happy.

“It sounds sensible, doesn’t it?”

“It
is
sensible. All this worrying takes its toll on your body, you know.”

“Yes, doctor.” I grinned as she squinted at me.

She was right about that and I knew it.

Dinner consisted of a big salad with a wonderful variety of greens, dotted with spicy chunks of tofu. More of that stuff. I’d never found anything appealing about it, but had to admit that the chefs here knew what they were doing. Everything was delicious. Dessert this time was a warm fruit cobbler with a crispy topping. I couldn’t spot any tofu in it, but you never knew.

After dinner, Celeus Light gave an inspirational talk in the courtyard. Everyone bundled up in sweaters and sat on cushions around the glow of an open fire pit. Beyond the plantings of bright chrysanthemums and the low adobe wall, everything was velvet black. Light’s talk was about letting go of anger and stress in our lives. His charismatic voice flowed in soothing tones, softly coaxing us to shed negative feelings, switching them for an attitude of joy. He glided among the participants, his flowing long jacket brushing at shoulders as he passed through the group.

I sat cross-legged on my cushion, as did everyone, with my hands lying in my lap. With my head slightly bowed and eyes nearly closed I checked out the rest of the group. Once again, Gerald Mayhew didn’t seem to be taking the class very seriously. He clearly was here at Nicole’s wishes, although I couldn’t help but remember her comment in the hallway, about his health being their reason for attending. Rex Storm, surprisingly, was very much getting into the mood, eyes tightly closed, body swaying slightly as Light talked. Trudie, his forty-something groupie, sat close and timed the swaying of her own body so that she could occasionally bump shoulders with Rex.

Pat and her two doctor friends formed a tight little group on the opposite side of the fire pit. They were all clearly enthralled with Dr. Light. Dina listened closely, but kept her eyes open and hadn’t yet fallen under the power of the swaying bodies around her.

Light was in his element. Clearly, as I listened to his cadence I could tell that he picked up the mood of the audience and fed back from it. The longer the talk went on, the more they swayed. The more they swayed, the richer his voice became. I felt myself being pulled in, yet I held back. There was just something too cult-like about it.