Dial Om for Murder (24 page)

A.J.’s
cell phone was ringing.

She stopped pacing in front of the empty parking lot of the Wild West City in Byram and snatched it up.

“Where are you?” she demanded.

Elysia’s voice crackled back indignantly, “Where are
you
? I’ve been waiting here since nine bloody forty-five!”

“Waiting
where
?”

“At Fairy Tale Forest in Oakridge.”

“What on earth are you doing there? You said to meet you at Wild West City.”

“I said we would meet where your father took you for your ninth birthday.”

“Which is Wild West City.”

“But I-I distinctly remember—” There was a funny pause.

Oh.

Elysia’s moment of doubt was understandable. Her memory of those years was sometimes a little cloudy, but not this time. In this particular case A.J. and her father had pulled a fast one, jettisoning the mater-approved fairy tale theme park in favor of the western amusement park. Funny how A.J. had forgotten all about that switcheroo until this moment.

She felt almost guilty remembering the illicit delight of that stolen day . . . the excitement of hay rides and make-believe gun fights . . . the pleasure of having her workaholic father all to herself, the relief of not having to worry about whether her mother would get through the day sober. If she closed her eyes she could once more smell the sawdust and popcorn and leather and horses. . . .

A.J. snapped out of it. “It’s moot, anyway, Mother. They’re
both
closed this time of year.”

She could practically here the wheels turning. “Were you followed?”

“Was I—?” A.J. turned to stare at the wild green hills behind the carefully reconstructed frontier town. It felt eerie out here all on her own in this little ghost town. The faded signs creaked in the wind. “No. Why would I be followed?”

“Because I made sure to shake any tail.”

A.J. closed her eyes, summoning inner strength. Alas, after the past few days she seemed to be running alarmingly low on inner strength. And the fumes were making her giddy. “Why would someone follow
either
of us?”

“Pumpkin, use your loaf. To
stop
us. I remember on an episode of—”

A.J. couldn’t take it. “Mother, if someone is following us, spying on us, planning to stop us from further snooping, then we’ve already done the worst possible thing. We’ve split up and we’ve both headed out to isolated areas where we could be picked off with no one around to help us.”

Elysia inhaled sharply and began coughing.

“Mother?
Mother.
” A.J. walked up and down the parking lot, listening tensely.

After a delay filled by muffled hacking and coughing, Elysia’s voice came on the line. “Never fear, pet,” she said hoarsely. “Just swallowed the wrong way.”

“Oh for—!” A.J. leaned weakly against the side of a wooden building. With an effort she got control. “Look, there’s no point skulking around because whoever is watching us already knows we’ve shared any information. The best thing is to get back to Stillbrook.”

“We’ll rendezvous at—”

“No.” A.J. repeated, “No. We won’t. I have to get to work, and you have to leave this alone. If you want to help Jane, then help her find legal representation, but we need to
stop
.”

“What’s happened?” Elysia asked sharply. “Has someone got to you?”

Talk about leading with your chin.

“You mean threatened me? Yes, as a matter of fact. But that’s not . . . that doesn’t matter. Jake—actually, that doesn’t matter either. But we have to stop this now.
I
have to stop this now.”

“Has that rozzer been at you? Has he been bullying you?”

“No. No more than I deserve. Listen. I can’t tell you what to do, but I can’t go on playing cops and robbers. We’re not accomplishing anything. In fact . . . we’re placing ourselves in danger.” A.J.’s eyes raked the verdant hillside as she strode to her car. She got inside and locked the door. “I’ll call you later, all right?”

“But we’re so close!” Elysia protested.

“Call me when you get back to town so I know you arrived safely.”

“So you
do
think we’re getting close.”

“No, I don’t. But someone else apparently does. I’ll talk to you later.” A.J. disconnected and started the engine.

What a way to start the morning. But her attempts to reach her mother at home and head her off had met with no success.

As A.J. drove, she listened to the local radio station: it was the usual mix of weather and traffic and the Boss—and then a special news bulletin. Wonderingly, she heard J.W. Young state to reporters that he believed in the innocence of his estranged wife, Jane Peters, and that he intended to stand by her.

“I’m going on record that I believe implicitly in the innocence of my wife, Jane Peters. Jane has remained a dear friend. She was a friend to Nicole. Anyone who knows Jane, knows the allegations against her are false and will be disproved.”

The newscaster came back on talking about startling revelations in the Nicole Manning murder case, and then it was back to weather, traffic, and the Boss.

A.J. arrived at Sacred Balance without incident—or any sign of pursuit—and gratefully immersed herself in the day’s work. She rarely worked Sundays, but work was what she needed right then. She needed to keep very busy because if she didn’t, she would start to think about Jake, and she wasn’t able to handle those thoughts yet.

Elysia called shortly after A.J. had settled down at her desk to say that she had arrived safely and that Mr. Meagher was arranging bail for Jane.

“How’s Jane holding up?”

“It’s not pretty. That child does not belong in a cell with the dregs of humanity.”

It was hard to believe that the tidy little local jail house confined the dregs of humanity within its four brick walls. Not that A.J. wasn’t sympathetic to Jane’s plight. Being arrested would be . . . awful. She was abjectly grateful Jake had not arrested her—or her mother.

“Does Mr. Meagher think there will be a problem getting bail for her?”

“He said the fact that she fled the crime scene and continued to flee could be a problem. Have you had a chance to reconsider—?”

“Yes,” A.J. said, cutting her off. “And no.”

“But I don’t understand. We’re making such marvelous progress. Someone is getting nervous, pumpkin, and that’s always a good sign.”

“
I’m
getting nervous. And that is not good. It’s the last thing I need right now.”

“It’s not like you to be so poor-spirited, Anna.”

“I’m not poor-spirited. I’m being sensible. For once.”

“Very well. If your decision is final.” Tartly, Elysia added, “At least Andrew is committed to the cause.”

“That’s another thing. Leave Andy out of this. He’s not in any shape to play detective. Stress is very bad for him.”

Elysia said huffily, “Andrew doesn’t find sleuthing stressful. There’s a difference between stress and stimulation. The dear boy enjoys the thrill of the hunt as any right-minded person would.”

A.J. bit back the words she would have—probably—regretted. Besides, Elysia was right about one thing. Andy did enjoy sleuthing. He was practically as big a nut as her mother.

“Are we still attending Nicole’s funeral this evening?” Elysia inquired. “To pay our respects?”

“To pay our respects, yes. I’m attending the funeral. If you’re attending it for any other reason than that, I don’t want to know.”

Elysia made a dismissive sound and rang off.

Confirming her mother’s opinion, Andy seemed remarkably chipper when he stopped by A.J.’s office midmorning before his next beginning yoga session.

“Have you heard from Ellie? I got the weirdest call this morning.”

“From who?”

She was immediately concerned that the anonymous caller might have phoned in with more threats, but Andy said easily, “From Elysia.”

“Oh. Right.” A.J. said, “I have heard from her. The sleuthing is on hold until further notice.”

“Why?”

“
Why?
” A.J. explained why in no uncertain terms.

Andy listened with raised his eyebrows and made no further comment. When she finally paused for breath, he excused himself and escaped to his workout. Feeling a little better for unburdening her soul, A.J. returned to her paperwork.

After that, the day was beautifully ordinary and delightfully dull.

When the afternoon classes had concluded for the day, A.J. held a quick staff meeting and broached her idea of bringing a doctor on board as the first step to implementing several yoga therapy courses.

“Yoga Cikitsa?” Lily stared at A.J. with an odd expression.

“What are we talking about here?” Denise asked, looking from one to the other.

“Yoga as a therapeutic-based practice,” Simon explained. “Medical or healing yoga. The program is grounded in classical yoga. We’d have to either get certified or hire another instructor.”

A.J. said, “I’ve been reading up quite a bit, and yoga therapy has been found to be useful in treating musculosk eletal problems, autoimmune disorders, MS, fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue, arthritis pain, hypertension, diabetes, asthma—”

“It would probably be very popular with my seniors,” Simon put in.

Lily said slowly, “And it’s had encouraging results with PTSD and other stress-related disorders as well as ADD, ADHD.”

“You want to hire a doctor as well as a new instructor?” Denise asked.

“I’m considering the idea.”

“I would love to train and get certified in Yoga Cikitsa,” Suze offered.

Lily made a dismissing sound. “The last thing we need is an inexperienced yoga instructor working with ill and disabled students. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Suze flushed painfully. A.J. pressed her lips together and kept her irritation to herself. Most Cikitsa programs required applicants to have three or more years teaching experience. Lily was right, but as usual she had phrased her objections in a belittling and hurtful way guaranteed to wither Suze’s youthful enthusiasm.

But if Suze was chastened, the other three instructors were guardedly enthusiastic, and A.J. felt that she had regained some of the ground she had lost in her recent clash of wills with her co-manager.

When the meeting ended, she went down to her office and to her surprise was joined by Lily a few minutes later.

“That wasn’t a bad idea,” she said grudgingly. “Actually, neither idea was bad. Starting Cikitsa sessions and bringing a doctor on staff. This doctor . . . did you have anyone in mind?”

“Not really.” Other than a couple of visits to a local chiropractor, A.J. hadn’t even seen a doctor on her own behalf since arriving in Stillbrook.

She couldn’t help it. Lily being pleasant made her more uneasy than Lily openly hostile. Warily, she asked, “Do you?”

“No. But I could ask around.”

“That would be . . .” A.J. discarded several possibilities, settling on, “helpful.”

Lily nodded, accepting her due.

A.J. waited. Lily seemed to have something on her mind. And after drumming her fingers absently—and irritatingly—on the edge of A.J.’s desk, she said, “Have you had a chance to look over the new slogans for the studio that we discussed?”

A.J. hadn’t really thought that battle was over, had she?

She said, trying to keep her tone neutral, “Lily, I’m not convinced that we’re at a point where Sacred Balance’s image needs a facelift.”

And Lily, also clearly striving to keep her tone noncon frontational, said, “We’ve already been over this, A.J. And we agreed that it’s time for a change.”

“We’ve discussed it, but we didn’t agree on anything. I said I would
think
about it.”

“Do you really not see how unreasonable you’re being?”

“I really don’t!” And once again, despite her very best of intentions, A.J. was agitated. “Why is this so important to you? Why is it such a matter of urgency?”

“Why are you fighting me every step of the way?”

“I’m not. I just . . .” Her gaze fell on Aunt Diantha’s photograph, and registering the serenity in her aunt’s expression, A.J. made a conscious effort to let go of her de fensiveness, her resistance.

Maybe if she could be more open, more vulnerable with Lily, they might make some progress. “Maybe it’s because I feel close to Aunt Di here. It’s comforting for me to feel like I’m carrying on her legacy.” She expelled a slow breath. “I guess emotionally I’m not ready to make a bunch of changes. Not that I won’t ever be—just that it’s too soon for me.”

Lily said in the patient tone of one speaking to a child, “It’s not just your decision, A.J. I’m co-manager here, and I think it’s time for change. I think this is the strategic moment for such a change.”

Okay. So much for openness and vulnerability.

“Then we’re in a deadlock.”

Lily smiled. “Maybe not. Why don’t we ask the rest of the staff how they feel about a change? We could vote on it. You keep saying you want us to be a real team.”

As A.J. stared at Lily she became uncomfortably, painfully aware that she did not want to put this motion before the rest of the staff—she wanted to have her own way on this. It was important to her. She did not want to compromise about something that meant so much.

And as this unpleasant realization took root, it occurred to her that perhaps this was why Aunt Diantha had thought it would be good for A.J. and Lily to work together.

“We could do that,” she managed.

“Good!” Lily was still smiling. “I’ll put something together for our next staff meeting.”

Twenty-one