Truth or Dare (29 page)

37

T
he trio on the small, intimate stage consisted of piano, guitar and bass. They were playing “Sweet Lorraine,” a signature Nat King Cole piece, and they were doing it the way it was supposed to be done. The sound was upbeat and lovely. But it wasn't having its usual effect on him, Harry thought. It wasn't taking him to that special place.

He swallowed some of his beer and settled deeper into the cushions. Last Exit was only lightly crowded tonight. He and Arcadia were seated in what had become their usual booth.

“You got a lot of regrets about the way things turned out?” he said.

What he really wanted to ask was,
Are you sorry that you're sleeping with a guy like me instead of one of those classy executive types you went with when you were in the big time?
But he was
afraid to say the words out loud. He didn't want to corner her. In his experience, you had to take the moment and not look too far ahead.

She met his eyes across the top of her martini glass and he knew immediately that she had understood the question behind the question. Sometimes it seemed like they could almost read each other's minds.

“No,” she said. “Not a single one.”

She put her glass down, leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Harry.”

A sensation for which he had no words unfurled inside him.

“I love you.” The words sounded rusty in his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he had used them. Maybe never.

She touched his cheek. “I love you, too. You're my soul mate, Harry.”

The music finally started to go to work, taking him to that special place.

He knew then that this new feeling did have a name, after all. This was what folks meant when they talked about being happy.

He reached across the table and took Arcadia's hand. Her fingers intertwined tightly with his. They sat close together and let the music sweep them away.

38

D
exter Morrow left Whispering Springs the following day. When he was sure of his facts, Ethan picked up the phone and called Zoe at her office.

“A moving company just finished packing up his household belongings. He gave them an address in Florida. I checked, and he's signed a lease for a condo just outside Miami. He is definitely moving out of our neck of the woods.”

“Where is Morrow right now at this very instant?” Zoe asked bluntly.

“Honey, you've got to get past this tendency to be so suspicious of people.”

“You're a fine one to talk.”

“It's okay for me to be suspicious. I'm in the suspicion business. However, if it will put your mind at ease, rest assured that
I checked and Morrow did indeed purchase a one-way ticket to Miami. Trust me, he's gone.”

“You're sure?”

“How about a little credit here? I'm a trained detective.”

“Well, okay. If you're positive.”

“I am. What do you say we try another date now that we know I'm not quite so likely to ruin the ambience by gettting into a brawl in the restaurant parking lot?”

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second but he caught it and the pause made his heart sink a little.

“That sounds great,” she said.

The enthusiasm sounded forced. He pretended not to notice.

“Tonight?” he asked.

“Okay. But this is the day I'm scheduled to take in one of the meditation sessions at Tabitha Pine's house. I may be a little late getting home.”

“I'll make the reservations for seven.”

He hung up the phone and sat there for a long time asking questions that had no answers.

 

The street in front of Tabitha Pine's desert estate was lined with expensive cars. Zoe spotted Lindsey Voyle's Jaguar near the front.

A uniformed housekeeper opened the door. Not sure of what kind of psychic vibes to expect inside a meditation guru's home, Zoe entered with more than her usual degree of caution.

Nothing bizarre shouted at her from the walls. The house had the usual, very low-level background hum common to new construction but that was about it.

She was shown into a vast white-on-white great room that looked out toward the mountains. Zoe counted twenty people seated in rows on neatly arranged white pillows. Lindsey Voyle was in the front row. She regarded Zoe with cool eyes.

Zoe saw at once that she had made a serious fashion error. All of the other meditators-in-training wore white yoga-style outfits. In her black leggings and purple tee shirt she stood out like a badly bruised sore thumb.

Tabitha Pine was the only other person in the room not wearing white. She was draped in flowing silver and gold silks, her long gray hair piled high in a strange hairdo reminiscent of a figure on an ancient Roman coin. She occupied a low, white lacquer-and-gilt chair.

She gave Zoe a radiant smile.

“Welcome to our group of seekers, Zoe. I'm so glad you could make it today.”

“Thanks.”
Like I had a choice if I want your business.

Aware that she was the only one standing, Zoe hastily sat down on the nearest available pillow. She found herself next to an attractive woman with stylishly cut blond hair.

The woman leaned over and lowered her voice. “Is this your first session?”

“Yes.” Zoe noticed that no one else was wearing shoes. She pried off her sandals and assumed a cross-legged position. “What about you?”

“I've been attending for the past month. Very enlightening.”

Tabitha rang a tiny crystal bell. A hush fell on the small crowd.

“We gather here today as seekers, open to truth and new
perceptions,” Tabitha intoned. “We walk the long road of enlightenment together, learning from each other and from those who have walked this path before us. The skills we study appear to be uncomplicated, but it is the nature of reality that what appears most simple is, in fact, the most difficult to know and comprehend.”

Tabitha directed them to rest their hands, palms up, on their knees.

“Close your eyes and allow your senses to open wide. Look at the world from deep inside. Go to the special room in your mind, the place where the light is pure and warm and clean. This is your own private space, a place where there is no stress, no tension, a place where you do not have to think or plan or feel. . . .”

Zoe obediently closed her eyes and tried to get into the spirit of the thing, but after about five minutes acute boredom set in.

“Allow yourself to simply exist in the moment, conscious only of the present. . . .”

Zoe peeked through her lashes and saw that Lindsey Voyle was concentrating furiously. It was evident that the woman couldn't even relax in the middle of a meditation exercise.

Surreptitiously she examined the spacious room, feeling for the natural flow of energy, contemplating various ideas for positioning the furniture.

“Release the past and the future. Float on the crest of the wave that is the present. Understand that you are a part of the great cosmic tide. . . .”

Window treatments were going to be especially tricky in the Pine residence, Zoe decided. The house had been positioned to
capture the view, not with regard to heating and cooling issues. The intensity of light that would pour through the windows in the summer would be a major problem. The architect had obviously decided to rely entirely on the air-conditioning system, rather than roof overhangs.

“Let yourself float toward the horizon. This is the astral plane. Our perceptions are so much different here. . . .”

It was a huge house. Tabitha would no doubt want to stick with the white-on-white scheme. But maybe she could be made to see that there were other neutrals that would work as well and would not invite so much glare in the summer.

“We are all one with the universe. . . .”

The forty-five-minute session seemed interminable, but eventually Tabitha urged her audience to return to their bodies and awaken to the present.

“We have used far more psychic energy than you probably realize,” Tabitha said, rising gracefully from the ornate chair. “So please refresh yourselves with the herbal tea that has been prepared for you. It is my own special blend.”

The woman who had been seated next to Zoe smiled as they both got to their feet.

“Well? How did it go?” she asked with enthusiasm. “Did you get anything out of the experience?”

“I don't think I'm very good at meditating,” Zoe admitted, wondering why she felt apologetic.

“It takes practice, just like anything else. I've been attending the sessions for the past month and I feel I've made a great deal of progress. I've been a lifelong worrier but meditation is teaching me to relax and take things as they come.”

“That's wonderful.”

“I've still got a long way to go.” The woman grimaced. “For example, I haven't worked up the nerve to tell my husband that I signed up for the classes because he'd never in a million years approve. He's a good man, but he's a very linear thinker, if you know what I mean.”

“Everything is suspect unless he can view the hard evidence for himself?”

“Exactly. And anything that is even remotely connected to metaphysical philosophy is, by definition, a fraud or a scam or the product of a fevered imagination, as far as he's concerned.”

“My husband holds a similar enlightened opinion,” Zoe said dryly. “But to his credit, he seems to be able to deal with the fact that I'm, uh, sort of into metaphysics.”

“Lucky you.”

“Not that it's any of my business,” Zoe said, “but if you're not telling your husband about these sessions, how are you explaining the cost? This is an expensive course.”

“In our household, I handle the finances. It's been that way since the beginning of our marriage because my husband has got his hands full running his business. Don't laugh, but for the past few weeks I've been reduced to writing checks to myself for cash and then giving the money to Tabitha so there's no paper trail for my husband to find. I'll have to come clean one of these days, but I'm dreading it. I know there will be a major scene.”

“Paper trail?”

“Hey, I'm not married to a private detective for nothing. You live with one long enough, you pick up the jargon. By the way, I don't believe I've introduced myself. I'm Daria Radnor.”

Zoe started to laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“Is this a case of psychic intercept, or what?” Zoe put out her hand. “Zoe Truax. I'm married to Ethan Truax. Truax Investigations?”

“Of course. I'm delighted to meet you. Nelson has mentioned your husband on several occasions. There's a bit of competition there, I'm afraid, but frankly, I think he secretly envies Ethan a little for having gotten out of the corporate rat race.”

Before Zoe could respond, Tabitha wafted over to join them.

“Zoe, I'm delighted that you could make it today. I was so anxious for you to participate in one of my sessions before you started to draw up your proposal. It really is the only way you can get a true feel for the sort of energy flow I require in this space.”

“The experience was very helpful,” Zoe said politely. She was aware of Lindsey Voyle watching them from the other side of the room.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes, studying Zoe with a peculiar, unsettling intensity. “So often we get locked into the pattern of viewing the world around us from a single, narrow perspective. When we do that, we fail to open ourselves up to other realities and possibilities.”

“Very true,” Daria agreed.

“I have a theory.” Tabitha touched Zoe's arm and then instantly withdrew her fingertips, as if she had been burned. Her eyes widened briefly. Then she swallowed and relaxed into an oddly knowing smile. “I believe that it is fear that makes us avoid those other perspectives. We must get past that fear if we are to find the answers to our questions.”

For the first time that afternoon, Zoe picked up a trace of unusual psychic energy in the great room. It flickered a bit and then disappeared.

Tabitha turned away in a cloud of silver-and-gold silks and walked off to join another group.

A light-headed sensation came over Zoe. Her palms tingled. She could hardly breathe.

It is fear that makes us avoid those other perspectives.

 

“You're kidding.” Ethan paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Daria Radnor is taking meditation lessons?”

Seated on the other side of the table, Zoe smiled, not bothering to conceal her satisfaction. “Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon for the past month.”

“Damn.” He thought about the strain he had seen in Nelson's face. “The poor guy thinks she's having a wild affair.”

“I didn't know what to say. I couldn't bear to tell her that her husband was so worried about the possibility that she was cheating on him that he tried to hire you to tail her. So I kept my mouth shut.”

“Always a wise decision.” He took a bite of his salad. “Can't go too far wrong that way, I always say.”

“Well? What are you going to do about it?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, Traux. You have to do something.”

Absently he listened to the muted background noises around him. The intimate little restaurant was crowded this evening. Singleton had suggested the place when Ethan explained that he
was reluctant to take Zoe back to Las Estrellas so soon after the unfortunate incident in the parking lot.

What the hell
was
he going to do? “Probably nothing. Eventually she'll get around to telling him about the sessions.”

“
Eventually.
That could be a long time. Weeks, maybe. Daria obviously has no idea that Nelson is suffering. Who knows what impact his growing suspicions will have on their relationship.”