A Death at the Yoga Café

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  “Don’t be obtuse,” Ben snapped, the sudden irritability in his tone causing Keeley to take a step back. “You know what I mean.”

  Keeley wasn’t so sure that she did. Was he really so annoyed about the idea of her talking to Raquel about the murder? Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t told him about Raquel’s pleas for her to help, or her own acquiescence.

  “I don’t want to fight,” she said in a soft voice, and the anger drained out of Ben’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Keeley,” he whispered into her hair after pulling her back into his arms. “It’s just been a long day.”

  They kissed then, slow and lingering, and by the time Keeley had said her good-byes and gone upstairs to the apartment, a tension she hadn’t even known she was carrying had eased. It would all be fine, she was sure. If she found out anything useful, she would tell Ben, and surely he would see that her intention was only to help.

  She treated herself to a long bath with candles and scented oils, a few relaxing yoga poses, and then curled up on the sofa and, for once, fell asleep as soon as her head hit the cushion.

  The next morning, she woke to birdsong and the sound of her mother singing under her breath as she made tea in the kitchenette. Keeley sat up, shocked, and stared across the room at her.

  “Morning, dear.”

  “Morning,” Keeley said, feeling bemused. Since her arrival in Belfrey, Darla’s moods had been so mercurial that Keeley wondered if her mother was going through the Change. She was in her late forties, after all. As much as she quite liked this mellow version of her mother, it also made her feel strangely unanchored. If there was one certainty in life, it was Darla’s displeasure at anything to do with her daughter.

  “Would you like some help in the café today, dear?” her mother asked as she handed Keeley a cup of herbal tea. Keeley stared at her.

  “Er, that would be nice. Although I don’t open until ten today; I’ve got a class up at the leisure center. Why don’t you try it out?”

  Darla shook her head, her lips pursing in something like her usual expression.

  “I don’t think so, dear. I tell you what, why don’t I open up and watch the café for you? I can at least serve tea and toast and things.”

  “Really? I mean, thank you, that would be great.” Keeley watched her mother’s retreating back with something bordering on suspicion. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother was up to something; why else this sudden interest in the Yoga Café? She pushed back the thought that as her mother still owned the premises, she could take as much interest as she liked; Keeley felt a surge of possessiveness sweep over her at the thought of Darla taking over the business she had worked so hard to get off the ground. She was being ungrateful, she chided herself. Worrying about Raquel and Ben was making her close-minded.

  She showed Darla everything she needed to know to open up, prepared the salad bar, and left for her class at the center.

  Belfrey Leisure Center was the only one of its kind for miles, and so it attracted a lot of clientele not just from Belfrey but the neighboring towns and villages. It had an excellent fitness suite and a spacious, mirrored studio in which Keeley taught her classes. It reminded her a little of being in New York, especially with the fitness instructors with their suspiciously white teeth and perma-tans.

  The class was larger than normal, with a few of the older residents from Belfrey attending with Norma and Maggie, the local gossips. Maggie was a regular, although she spent most of the sessions peering at her fellow yogis as if she could discover any juicy secrets simply by osmosis. Keeley’s heart sank as she saw the two of them together, along with their friends. As she expected, within seconds the studio was full of chatter about Gerald and his tragic murder. Keeley unrolled her mat and turned on her stereo. Sounds of chanting set to the haunting sounds of pan pipes filled the room, only to be drowned out by the braying tones of Norma and company.

  “Namaste,” Keeley said, then repeated herself more firmly when the ladies continued to chatter. “Namaste!” she all but shouted. Finally Norma fell silent and looked around in surprise.

  “Let’s begin,” Keeley said. She led the class through a few Sun Salutations. They were great for the butt too. She found herself going at a slightly more vigorous pace than usual, perhaps in a bid to keep Norma and Maggie slightly out of breath and therefore less likely to start chattering. She then took the class through a series of standing poses, Seated Twists, and back bends before finishing with some core work. By the end of the class the women were glowing, and Keeley felt invigorated herself. Teaching always gave her a buzz. She was smiling to herself after the class as she packed away when she heard footsteps at the door to the studio. She looked up to see Duane.

  “Hey,” Keeley said, thinking he looked a little nervous under his glowing tan. “How are you?” She hadn’t spoken to him, she realized, since the day Raquel had argued in the streets with the mayor. The day of his murder.

  “I’m not too bad, Keeley, a bit shaken up with things if I’m honest.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said, giving him a hug. He squeezed her back more forcefully than usual, and when he stepped away she could see he was struggling to keep his composure. “I’m just really worried about Raquel,” he explained, blinking rapidly as though he was fighting back tears. He really does love her, Keeley thought. She wondered if Raquel truly understood that, and if she still would have gone off with Gerald if she had.

  “She came to see me yesterday.”

  “I know,” Duane said, looking a little sheepish, and Keeley sighed, thinking that Duane coming in to the studio wasn’t just a social visit.

  “If you’re coming to plead with me on her behalf, you don’t need to, Duane,” Keeley said. “I already agreed to help.” Duane was the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested, then at Keeley’s cynical smile he held his hands out beseechingly, giving her his best puppy-dog look. “Okay, she might have asked me to have a word yesterday morning. I haven’t seen her since, so I didn’t know you’d agreed. I’m so glad; there’s no one else to help her, Keeley. Everyone’s convinced she did it. Some of the village kids even threw stones at her yesterday.”

  Keeley bit her lip. “That is awful,” she said with genuine horror, feeling certain then that she had made the right decision. “I just hope there’s something I can do,” she mused aloud.

  “You found out who killed Terry Smith,” Duane pointed out.

  Keeley shook her head. “That was different. It was more a case of the killer coming to me.” And that certainly wasn’t an experience she was willing to repeat any time soon. “I’ll ask around a bit, hopefully I can find out something.” She had no intention of putting herself in danger again.

  Duane beamed. “I know you will. People like you, Keeley, they talk to you.”

  Keeley smiled, a little embarrassed at the praise. She hoisted her gym bag onto her shoulder, looking at the clock.

  “I’ve really got to get back to the café, Duane, I’ve left my mother there on her own.”

  Although it would probably be quiet as she was usually closed and there were no breakfasts being served, it was a good excuse to get away. She needed to think about her plan of action, and who to question first.

  She pushed away the memory of Ben imploring her to stop talking about the case. After all, she never had actually promised him.

  “When are you going to start?” Duane asked, looking eager and, Keeley thought, a little desperate. He must be really worried for Raquel.

  “I’m going to get this afternoon done at the café and then go and talk to a few people, including Edna.” She didn’t mention John the gardener, wondering if Raquel would have told him.

  Duane looked encouraged at that.

  “Thank you, Keeley.” He gave her another hug, squeezing her so tight Keeley wriggled away from him laughing.

  “All right, don’t crush me,” she laughed, eyeing Duane’s massive b
iceps.

  “Sorry, I forget how strong I am. But she will be pleased. Do you think Edna will tell you anything?”

  Keeley shrugged. “Who knows? Depends what there is to tell, I suppose.”

  “According to Raquel, there’s plenty. The mayor was hardly white as snow.”

  “Oh?” Keeley couldn’t help but feel curious at that. She had always thought there was more to Gerald’s jovial blustering than met the eye.

  “Apparently—” Duane lowered his voice and leaned in to her, looking out of the door to ensure no one was listening. “—he had a secret love child years ago, and had been keeping it quiet for years.”

  “Really? He told Raquel that?” Why on earth hadn’t Raquel told her this yesterday?

  Duane nodded. “Yeah, but she doesn’t really know the details. I bet Edna would, though; I bet she knew about everything that went on.”

  Keeley thought he was probably right about that, considering the run-in she had had with Edna earlier in the year. The woman struck her as someone who had a lot of knowledge of other people’s dirty laundry, and by all accounts she had been very close to her employer.

  “Raquel didn’t tell me about this.” She wondered why the woman hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Maybe she thought it wasn’t relevant?” Duane suggested. “It was years ago.”

  “Maybe,” Keeley said. Or maybe as it didn’t directly concern her, Raquel didn’t think it was of any importance.

  “I have to go, Duane. If you see Raquel, tell her I’ll be in to talk to her tomorrow.” She slipped past him and out of the door before he could crush her into another hug, hurrying out of the leisure center.

  All the way back to the café, she couldn’t stop herself pondering Duane’s revelations. It didn’t surprise her, somehow, that Gerald would have such a secret in his past; she supposed lots of affluent or powerful men did. It must have been a closely guarded secret too, otherwise it would have been brought up in the village speculation about his murder by now; she certainly would have heard about it from Norma or Maggie. Still, it didn’t sound as though it was a secret that could have any relevance to his death; perhaps Raquel had been right to not give it any importance.

  But if he had one secret, who was to say he didn’t have many others? One of which he could have been killed for? Keeley’s head was whirring with scenarios when she returned to the Yoga Café to find Darla happily in attendance, with two elderly customers sharing a pot of tea.

  “Did you have a nice class, dear? That didn’t take long.”

  “I’ve been nearly two hours. Have you been okay?”

  Darla tutted. “I’m not an imbecile, Keeley, of course I have. It’s been quiet, as you said. To be honest, I’ve quite enjoyed myself. I’ll happily hold the fort a little longer if you have anything you need to do.”

  Keeley went to decline, then glanced at the clock. She had time before the lunchtime rush to pop in and see Megan and share with her the information Duane had passed on. As she made her way to Crystals and Candles, it didn’t escape her knowledge that she couldn’t wait to tell Megan. But Megan was her friend; she trusted her. When Ben had asked her to stop discussing the case with people, she was sure he wouldn’t have included Megan in that. Although she had only been friends with Megan a few months, she had grown very close to her, and, apart from Ben, Megan was the one person in Belfrey she had really taken to her heart since her return. Megan was the person she shared her fears and insecurities with, and the one who knew she still woke up in the night sometimes, remembering the aftermath of Terry Smith’s murder. She was the person she sat and ate chocolate—albeit dairy-free—and watched rom-coms with, which Ben hated. Megan was her best friend, which, if she was honest with herself, she had never really had before. She had been a shy, quiet girl at school, with a handful of equally quiet and shy friends, and of course Raquel, who had wanted Keeley’s friendship when her latest plot hadn’t worked out according to plan or whenever she needed help with her homework. It made Keeley cringe at herself a little now to remember how accepting she had been of Raquel’s “pick-her-up put-her-down when it suited her” model of friendship. She wondered if the reason she wanted to help Raquel now was partly the old, people-pleasing Keeley rearing her head, but she didn’t think so.

  She had friends in London and New York of course, but they were more acquaintances than close friends, people whose company Keeley enjoyed but she never quite let her guard down with. In fact, Ben and Megan were perhaps the only two people in the world that Keeley felt really knew her, ever since her father had died. The thought of losing either of them caused a flutter of panic across her tummy; she remembered Ben’s annoyed expression the night before. She really hoped he was going to understand that she couldn’t just ignore Raquel’s pleas for help.

  As soon as she stepped into the smoky, otherworldly atmosphere of Crystals and Candles, she felt soothed. A variety of different-colored crystal charms hung from the ceiling, catching the light and sending prisms of color across the room, cutting through the smoke from the incense sticks that burned steadily in each corner of the room; vanilla and musk, she could smell today. A large oak table took up most of the room, covered in a variety of colored candles and a large selection of crystals and gemstones. In glass cabinets around the outside of the room stood the more esoteric items: dowsing rods, crystal balls, and tarot cards. A display stand near the till showcased Megan’s homemade creams and potions. There was nothing esoteric about these; even the most staid of Belfrey residents flocked to Megan for her foot soaks, body lotions, and dry-skin creams.

  Megan looked up from her seat behind the counter and gave Keeley a wide grin that turned into a look of concern as she eyed her friend astutely.

  “Is everything okay? You seem a bit on edge.”

  Keeley nodded, pulling up a stool next to Megan and sitting down.

  “I had a great yoga class. Then I saw Duane.” She recounted her conversation with her friend’s cousin. Megan sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t understand how he can even be trying to help her after the way she treated him. And this certainly isn’t your responsibility to get her off the hook. Still,” Megan cocked her head to one side, “they are right. You are good at that sort of thing.”

  “I am going to do what I can. Including talking to Edna,” Keeley confessed, “though I’m not sure she would tell me anything anyway. I’m a bit worried about what Ben’s going to say when he finds out, though.” She told Megan about the strained atmosphere between herself and Ben the night before, which had only really diffused with the arrival of Jack Tibbons.

  Megan looked thoughtful.

  “He’s just being protective, probably. He really loves you, Keeley, I don’t need to be a spiritualist to see that. But, you know, maybe he feels a bit put out too.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s the village detective, isn’t he? It’s all on his shoulders to solve Gerald’s murder, and let’s face it, it’s a pretty high-profile case. There are no real leads apart from Tom’s sighting of Raquel, and then people are asking you, his girlfriend, to solve it. It almost calls his ability to do his job into question.”

  Keeley hadn’t thought about that. It made sense; she knew how proud Ben could be.

  “Then maybe I should keep out of it,” Keeley said. Megan raised an eyebrow at her, then gave a mischievous smile.

  “But you don’t want to keep out of it, do you?”

  “Well, I suppose I feel bad for Raquel, and guilty that I accused her of the last one, and then it turned out she had nothing to do with it.”

  “Yes, yes,” Megan said, waving a hand in the air with impatience, “but it’s not just that. You like investigating, Keeley Carpenter, I know you do. And like I said, you’re good at it. Maybe you should join the police force yourself.”

  Keeley laughed. She could just imagine Ben’s face. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I am,” said Megan, without a touch of arr
ogance, just a simple self-assurance Keeley envied. Then she changed tack. “Do you really think that Raquel didn’t do it?”

  “Yes. I can’t explain why, it just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Then who? Edna’s too old, surely?”

  “Maybe.” Keeley told her about the gardener.

  “Seems like Gerald fired a few people on Raquel’s behalf.”

  “She certainly has a knack for causing trouble.”

  “Including my cousin. Do you know, it sounds awful and I feel guilty even saying it,” Megan began, then paused, picking up a quartz crystal and rolling it between her fingers. Keeley waited for her to go on, wondering what she was about to say. Finally, Megan blurted out, “Do you think it could be him?”

  Duane? Keeley felt initial shock at the suggestion, and by Megan of all people, but then when she began to think about it, it almost made sense.

  “He is besotted with her, and has done nothing but go on about how Gerald took her away from him,” Keeley mused. “So I suppose you could say there’s motive there. But really, Duane? You know him better than I do, do you really think he’s capable of that?”

  Megan shook her head, looking guilty.

  “No, I don’t think Duane’s got a bad bone in his body. He’s a little shallow, but not a killer. But who knows, love can easily turn into a destructive force. If he’s been wrapped up in his own jealousy for weeks, then seeing Gerald shouting at Raquel in the street, maybe he snapped.”

  “He didn’t seem his usual self earlier,” Keeley said, cocking her head to one side as she thought back to her conversation with Duane at the leisure center. “He was quite nervous and seemed on edge. But I took that to be because he’s worried about Raquel; he cheered right up when I said I was going to investigate. Surely he wouldn’t be like that if he had done it himself?”

  “I suppose not,” Megan said, looking relieved. “It’s just like you said: he hasn’t been himself. I sense there’s things he’s not telling me.”