by Cassie Miles
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “How did Loretta get her hands on a gun?”
“It belonged to Ruby who stuck it in her purse before we left the house. Have you ever seen her closet?”
“Not my thing.”
“It’s huge with a zillion shoes and outfits, all with accessories to match. I think her gun falls into that category. It’s something she carries when it’s chic to be armed.”
The description sounded exactly like Ruby—flashy, flamboyant and not very practical. Still, he liked her and the general, too. Noah was glad to have them back on the roster of ARC clients. He’d already assigned bodyguard duties to Greg and Zoey, as well as Tony Vega who was becoming an indispensable part of his operations. Noah had no problem with leaving Tony in charge while he pursued another avenue of investigation. He and Gennie were on their way to Boulder and had almost reached their destination. Afternoon sunlight highlighted the Flatirons west of town.
“When we get to MIME,” he said as he exited the highway, “we need a strategy to talk to Murano.”
“He’s not the killer,” she said. “I should know because I’m his alibi.”
“But he’s in the middle of all these different pieces. He’s the general’s golf buddy, and he had an altercation with Ruby. Also, Kenneth Warrick works for him. That’s our secondary objective—find Warrick and question him.”
“He’s already pulled a disappearing act. The feds have been searching for him all over the place, and they’ve come up empty.”
“We’ve got an advantage.” He reached across the seats and touched her shoulder. “We’ve got you.”
“Me?”
“Warrick sent you two messages. He did that weird thing with the flowers that he knew you’d understand. And he made an actual physical appearance in the ballroom. As far as we know, you were the only person who noticed him.”
“He’s taunting me.” Her gaze hardened. She probably thought she was coming across as fierce, but he was momentarily mesmerized by the bright blue of her eyes. She cleared her throat and continued, “He wants to make me feel bad, to show me that he’s so much smarter than I am.”
He recalibrated his focus. No matter how much he wanted to reassure her, he had to treat her like a colleague. “Do you think he killed Slocum?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” She hesitated. “The complicated plotting and strange getaway seem like things Warrick would do. He’d get a kick out of outsmarting the FBI.”
“But you have doubts about his guilt.”
“When I was in the hospital, recovering from my injuries, I had a lot of time to consider my feelings about that man. I spent days blaming myself, thinking that I should have known him better and then I could have prevented the explosion. Not true! I wasn’t responsible for his actions and couldn’t take anything he did personally. Warrick is motivated by two things—money and power. If he thought he had something to gain from killing Slocum, he’d do it.”
He appreciated her insight. “Why be so dramatic about the murder?”
“Ego,” she said.
Anna Rose had said something similar. “Explain.”
“He’s a showboat. If he committed the murder, you can bet that he’s staying nearby so he can watch everybody running around and investigating. He’s probably laughing his ass off.”
The idea of Warrick thinking for one minute that he’d bested ARC, local law enforcement and the FBI enraged him. Noah was beginning to take this investigation personally. “The general and I were talking about the power angle. Warrick might be involved in arms smuggling. If Slocum found out and tried to blackmail him, that makes a neat motive for murder.”
An incongruous grin stretched her wide mouth. “Lucky for us, I have a way to prove or disprove that theory.”
“What’s that?”
She waved a blue cell phone at him. “This is the magical key that unlocks Dean Slocum’s secrets. He sent his blackmail photos, letters and receipts to this phone that belongs to Loretta. I swiped it from her purse.”
He was glad to have this advantage but surprised that she hadn’t followed the rules. “How come you didn’t hand this evidence over to the FBI?”
“If the feds had asked for the phone, I would have given it to them. But they were too busy being condescending to me. I really disliked the guy who kept twirling his pen between his fingers like a miniature baton, acting as though I didn’t deserve his full attention. I wanted to grab his ballpoint, stab it into his thigh and watch him bleed.”
“You’ve got a dark side, Gennie.”
“Is that a problem?”
What had he expected? During the exercise at his cabin, she’d picked the lock, slaughtered the guys who were posing as guards and bested him in hand-to-hand combat. “No problem at all.”
“I’m a rational person. I was trained as a soldier, and my first loyalty is to the people who care about me. In this situation, that’s ARC.”
“Do you know how to unlock her phone?”
“Nope.”
“Call Anna Rose. She’ll figure it out.”
While Gennie made the call and fiddled with the electronics, he concentrated on the GPS instructions that would lead them to Murano’s institute in the mountains outside of town. Following a paved two-lane road, they crossed a wide field where bright red and blue wildflowers were starting to appear. Gennie probably knew their names and meanings and could use them to predict the future or make tea. After the field, he drove into a forest.
“That does it,” she said as she finished her call. “Loretta’s phone is unlocked and I’ve sent copies of the files to Anna Rose. Do you think we should read a couple? I’m curious to see the letter from Ruby.”
“Let’s wait until after we’re done at MIME.” He wanted her to focus on what they were about to face. “Warrick will have to make contact with you.”
“That won’t happen unless he thinks he’s alone with me.”
That was the obvious flaw in his plan. He wanted to use Gennie as bait, but he couldn’t risk leaving her vulnerable. “Too dangerous.”
“I’m armed and can protect myself,” she said coolly. “If it makes you feel better, I can put in my earbud and microphone.”
Noah still wasn’t crazy about the idea, but he couldn’t think of any other way. “If you need backup, don’t hesitate to call out. I’ll stay close.”
“And I’ll be careful.”
Her casual promise didn’t reassure him, but he’d spent the past week watching her train and practice marksmanship. He had to trust her. “Try to get him to say something incriminating.”
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Use your feminine wiles.”
She scoffed. “I’ve never found my wiles to be useful. It might be better if I break his nose or shoot off a kneecap. I have that dark side, remember?”
“Please take this seriously, Gennie. Warrick could be dangerous.”
When the SUV emerged from the forest, they had a view of Murano’s Institute. In the distance, he saw a massive stone lodge. Farther up the hillside were several A-frame cottages.
“Murano might be a jerk,” she said. “But this place is spectacular. It reminds me of Oz.”
“And we’re going to see the wizard.”
Chapter Thirteen
Noah didn’t know much about Murano’s philosophy, but the guru must have been doing something right. MIME was obviously a high-end operation. The fields, hillsides, creeks and forests that made up the grounds were prime real estate that had been developed with care, enhancing the indigenous rocks and trees. The centerpiece was a four-story lodge built from cedar and natural stone. Seven chimneys protruded from the roof. At the south end was a square tower with an open cupola on the top.
At the entrance, Noah waved off the valet and parked the SUV himself. He wanted to be p
repared if they needed to make a quick exit. The parking area was at the north end of the lodge. This vantage point overlooked a large swimming pool built into the surrounding rocks.
Gennie stared down at the rippling water with wisps of steam rising from it. “Do you think it’s heated by a hot spring?”
“There are a lot of thermal pools in the area, some of them are mineral rich and supposedly therapeutic.”
“I’d love to take a swim.”
“Me, too.” If they hadn’t been here investigating a murder, they could have stripped down and slid into the warm caress of a natural hot spring pool. He couldn’t stop his imagination from picturing her as a water sprite, naked and wet and beautiful.
“I wouldn’t mind signing up for a long weekend of soaking,” she said. “There are probably spa treatments and a masseuse.”
“And a gourmet restaurant that features certified organic ingredients. Murano’s chef provided some of the canapés for the fund-raiser, and they were great.” He shrugged. “I guess you could say that this is the first-class pass to Nirvana.”
“Fine with me,” she said. “I’ve always preferred luxury to self-flagellation and fasting.”
While Noah thought of the many ways he’d like to pamper her, they hiked to the house and climbed the four stairs to a stone veranda that stretched across the front. There weren’t many people around. The four who sat in carved wood chairs on the veranda smiled, nodded and went back to their afternoon relaxation. Inside, Noah and Gennie were greeted in the vast, open lobby by an attractive blond woman wearing moccasins, a long skirt and lots of turquoise jewelry.
When he asked her how many people were staying here, she told him that they were at 80 percent capacity in the lodge and all the private cabins were occupied. This afternoon, most of the patrons were in a lecture hall, listening to a renowned astrophysicist discuss the role of the stars and planets in everyday life. She ushered them into a waiting room, served them bottled water from a small refrigerator and told them that Dr. Murano would be with them shortly.
A giant TV hung on the wall opposite the southwestern-style sofa. The high-resolution screen showed continuous images touting MIME. Gennie leaned back on the sofa, sipped her water and subtly scanned the plants, the decorative glasswork on the side tables and the casual decor. Looking for hidden surveillance cameras? That was exactly what he’d done when he walked through the door. Though he hadn’t spotted the telltale glint of a lens, he assumed they were being watched.
She picked up a remote from a coffee table and activated the sound that went with the screen images. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’m curious about what happens here.”
“You’re just looking for a reason to hang out at the hot springs.”
“Yes, please.”
The image on the screen showed a Native American sweat lodge that looked like a flat-topped tipi made of canvas and bent branches with heated stones inside. The narrator discussed how several tribes used the sweat lodge to expand their consciousness and compared their ritual to sauna and hot yoga. The Murano version of enlightenment included bits and pieces from many other theories, religions and lifestyles, which the narrator called “global stimulation and awareness.” Noah thought the Institute’s philosophy fit into the category of “whatever feels good.” Fine with him, he didn’t judge. If rich people wanted to throw their money away on a slick con man, that was their right. The scary part was that Mitch Murano had a good shot at becoming the next state senator from Colorado.
Murano swept into the room and rushed toward them in a burst of enthusiasm that had to be phony. Why would he be thrilled to meet them again? His shoulder-length black hair swirled around his high cheekbones. His loose white linen shirt emphasized his healthy tan.
With a two-handed grip, he clasped Gennie’s hand. “So good to see you. I’ll enjoy showing you around.”
“I like what I saw of your pool,” she said.
“The hot springs are extensive. Several of them flow through underground grottoes with mysterious, glowing rocks.” He turned toward Noah and gently patted his shoulder. “You’re doing well. I’m glad you’re already up and around after what happened.”
Noah took offense to being treated like a victim. Murano’s comment made him feel like less of a man. “My injuries were minor.”
“But you were unconscious.”
“I was drugged.” He didn’t yet have the official results back, but he knew what had happened. He was hit twice by a stun gun and doped up. “The dose wore off, and I was fine.”
“Still,” Murano said, “it must have been traumatic.”
His words sounded sensitive but there was a condescending sneer behind them. He reminded Noah of how Gennie felt about the FBI agent with the twirling pen. Noah curbed his hostility. There was no point in alienating a potential witness.
Gennie pointed to the ongoing narrative on the TV where an array of jewelry, glass bowls and sculptures were displayed. “That’s your family, right? You’re descended from the people in Italy who make Murano glass like the vase over there and the bowl on the table.”
“Distantly related.” He used the remote to turn off the TV. “My roots have been in America for six generations, but I reconnected with the family in Italy and did some importing before I discovered my true calling.”
“Meditation and enlightenment,” Noah said. “Where did you get your training?”
“My MA is from Naropa, right here in Boulder, and my doctorate from Berkeley. I’ve studied at many other learning institutions, but most of my work is intuitive. I tailor each program to the specific needs of the client.”
“Zoey Potter,” Gennie said. “What program did you use with her?”
He raked his fingers through his long thick hair, dragging it off his forehead. He frowned. “I don’t remember her.”
“What about Ruby Haymarket?”
Noah appreciated Gennie’s blunt interrogation. If he’d asked those questions, he would have come off as being aggressive. She could get away with borderline rudeness because her blond hair and big blue eyes made her appear sweet and innocent. He smiled to himself, remembering her dark side—a deep intriguing secret.
“Ruby doesn’t like you very much,” Gennie said. “Why is that?”
“We never found common ground,” he admitted. “All she wanted from me was a weight-loss program. I was sorry it didn’t work out because Roger and I got along so well, and he was concerned about his wife. I had hoped to set up a couples’ meditation for them, to enhance their relationship.”
“Couples’ meditation,” Noah said. Some of Murano’s ideas were intriguing, might as well try to give him the benefit of the doubt. “How does that work?”
“It’s based on Kundalini yoga meditations and exercises to open the root chakra in order to get in touch with your sensual energy.”
“Sounds sexy,” Gennie said.
“It’s powerful but not for everybody,” Murano said.
“Give me an example,” she said.
“Let us suppose for a moment that you and Noah are a couple. I can evaluate your ability to join together and bond by asking one simple question. You must answer simultaneously.”
“Okay,” she said. “Ask.”
“What is the most important factor in a relationship?”
Noah only needed a second to respond. “It’s love.”
“Trust,” she said just as quickly.
Murano gestured like a magician who had just pulled a rabbit out of his hat. “And that, my friends, is why you are not a couple and never will be. Noah’s natural power and energy arises from his fourth chakra, his heart. Gennie’s strength comes from a more logical and thoughtful place, possibly focused on the sixth chakra, the third eye.”
They’d never be a couple? Noah’s momentary good will toward Murano vanished. He felt like picking up the lead
ed glass bowl on the table and beating him over the head with it. The time had come to get down to business. “We came here to ask you a few questions about one of your employees.”
“The man you call Kenneth Warrick.” Murano paced across the room and adjusted the position of a pear-shaped vase on a table. Though he didn’t appear agitated, his attitude was a few degrees less smug. “I won’t be much help. We’ve met but I barely know the man. I have over three hundred employees, including the part-timers.”
“Really,” Gennie said. “This is a bigger operation than I thought.”
“The operation of the lodge and restaurant is equivalent to running a small hotel, and this isn’t my only location. I maintain an office in town to handle my contacts, publications and lectures to promote my programs. Ever since I stepped into the political arena, my workload has expanded exponentially. I’ve needed to hire new people.”
Noah asked, “Did you interview Warrick before he joined your security detail?”
“I did not,” he said. “The man in charge of security does the interviewing and hiring.”
“Were you familiar with Warrick’s history in Afghanistan or his prior relationship with General Haymarket?”
“The FBI asked these same questions,” Murano said.
Noah picked up on the fact that Murano hadn’t actually given him an answer. While he’d been talking about himself and his accomplishments, his replies sounded glib and direct, almost rehearsed. Talking about Warrick wasn’t so clear-cut.
There was something the guru wasn’t telling them, something he wanted to hide. Was it about Afghanistan or the general or both? Noah took a shot. “Ruby Haymarket recognized Warrick. Did she tell you?”
“Ruby said a great many things.”
Again, he didn’t answer. Murano was going to be a great politician. He’d already developed the tactic of dodging the truth. Noah pressed forward. “Dean Slocum was an extortionist. Did he ever approach you?”
“Are you accusing me of a crime?”
