“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” he said.
Maggie sat down on the floor next to the tub.
“Are you ready for what’s coming tomorrow?” he asked her.
“My only regret is that I won’t get to see Sammy baptized,” Maggie said.
“Patrick and Curtis are going to keep an eye on your dad at the service station,” Scott said. “Ian will probably be over there as well.”
“Dad will need some booze just to get through it,” Maggie said. “I don’t want him shaking with the DTs.”
“Patrick will know what an appropriate amount is,” Scott said. “After all, he’s a professional.”
“Sean’s going to walk me up the aisle,” Maggie said.
“I think your dad might be relieved about that,” Scott said. “Less pressure on him.”
“Claire’s really outdone herself,” Maggie said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her.”
“Is she still stuck on that Scottish guy?” Scott asked.
“I think she’s just lost right now,” Maggie said. “She hasn’t found her bearings yet.”
“Ed’s spending a lot of time with her,” Scott said. “I think he’s serious.”
“She could do worse,” Maggie said.
“That’s my best friend we’re talking about,” Scott said. “He’s a man among men. He’s my best man.”
“And she’s my maid of honor,” Maggie said. “That’s a start.”
“Did Hannah mind?”
“No,” Maggie said. “She wants to walk with Sam anyway.”
“Will she behave?”
“Of course not,” Maggie said. “It wouldn’t be our wedding if Hannah didn’t somehow leave her stamp on it. I fully expect Van Morrison himself to sing ‘Into the Mystic’ from the balcony.”
“Will your mother ever forgive you?”
“Are you kidding me? This is the day she’s been waiting for since the day I was born. And she’s crazy about you.”
“So no pinching?”
“Oh, there will be pinching,” Maggie said, “but not until it’s all over and we’re well and truly hitched.”
“I love you, you know,” he said.
“I know,” Maggie said. “And I love you.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
“I don’t think you washed very thoroughly,” she said.
“I didn’t,” he said. “On purpose.”
“Well then,” she said. “Let’s take care of that right away.”
When Sarah called later with the toxicology report, salicylic acid was on the list of what was found in Mamie’s bloodstream. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell if it was from the tea, or from aspirin in a bottle. Mamie had aspirin in her medicine cabinet, and there was no proof she was given, or drank, willow bark tea. Everything that was in her system she had a prescription for, and the levels were consistent with the amounts she was prescribed.
“So if it was a crime, it was very well executed,” Sarah said. “And I seriously doubt we’ll be able to trace Courtenay’s death back to Knox. He’s bound to have hired that out through several layers of contacts.”
Scott hung up feeling disappointed and frustrated. Maggie had heard only his side of the conversation, but did not ask any questions.
“I’m sorry,” was all she said.
Scott put on his boots and tied them.
“Where are you going now?”
“To tell Claire,” he said. “I don’t want her to hear it from someone else.”
Claire had spent the day wrangling seminar attendees. They were divided into four groups, so 25 of them at a time were able to receive spa services while the other three groups attended the seminars. Every spa session was booked for the entire weekend, clear up until the seminars ended at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday.
After a mass refusal and a threat to walk out, the masseuses and Reiki Master had filled out and signed their confidentiality agreements, albeit with fictitious names, as Claire suggested. Because Joy had not hired nor communicated with them previously, she was none the wiser. They were thrilled with the generosity of the tips they were being given. The attendees reported how good the treatments were, and just as Jeremy predicted, Anne Marie was pleased, and Claire was back in her good graces.
Throughout the day Claire evaded Joy, who kept waving her new-hire paperwork at her. As thorough and tenacious as Joy was, there would be no way Claire could sign a fictitious name and get away with it. At one point Claire sneaked into a seminar session to hide from her, and was appalled at how the attendees were being treated.
Each person was called up in front of the group, before whom one was required to bare one’s soul, only to be castigated by Anne Marie for every bad thing that had ever happened to that person. The main tenant of Anne Marie’s religion was that every traumatic experience was caused by the “reactive mind” being “negative,” and drawing “negative experiences” in to that person.
No one escaped unscathed; not the incest victim, the cancer survivor, nor the mother who had lost her baby son to SIDS. Claire watched as, one by one, Anne Marie convinced them that what had happened was a lesson they had planned for themselves before they came to earth in this incarnation, and that they had drawn their misfortune to themselves through a toxic combination of negativity and bad karma.
When someone asked for a break or something to eat or drink, she was denied, even though amenities, beverages, and food were obviously available. If someone complained or disagreed with what was going on, this person was immediately shamed by Anne Marie, with the support of the staff members and the complicit passivity of the rest of the group. It was like watching each person be psychologically tortured, and then punished for having a normal emotional reaction.
“You have to free your mind,” Anne Marie exhorted. “Your tears are only your reactive mind having a negative reaction to what it perceives as a negative experience. Let your negative thoughts go, and replace them with this mantra: ‘Everything that happens is meant to happen, and I am always fine.’”
This was said to a woman sobbing over the recent loss of her job and her husband. Claire wanted to ask this woman, “Why did you spend your money on this seminar instead of some professional counseling?”
Claire could only sit through one session of this before she escaped out a side door temporarily unguarded by the women in white. She confided in one of the massage therapists what she had witnessed and the woman was properly appalled.
“Before we came I looked up Anne Marie’s organization on the Rick A. Ross Institute’s cult awareness site,” the woman whispered. “There are lots of negative comments on there about her ministry. Evidently she charges people for a series of classes, each one more expensive than the next. The knowledge they gain has to be kept a sacred secret, and they only get to know her powerful techniques at the highest, most expensive levels.”
“It sounds like a scam,” Claire said.
“It’s classic cult behavior,” the woman said. “There’s all that secrecy so no one compares notes, and then all the money goes to one powerful person who doesn’t have to pay taxes because it’s a church. Those women on her staff don’t even get paid. They volunteer all of their time and pay for their own travel and lodging. They’re also expected to pay for all the classes and for the privilege of living at the ranch. She must be brainwashing them.”
“Why did you agree to come, then?” Claire asked her.
“The money they’re paying is awesome,” she said. “Plus I knew I wouldn’t have to attend the seminar. I told my partner if I didn’t come back on Sunday she should call the FBI. She lost a sister to Yogaville in Virginia, so she knows you can’t mess around with these kinds of people.”
“I feel like I need to do something,” Claire said.
“But what?” the woman said. “They’re all here by their own free will.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Joy enter the basement, and hid
behind the sheet wall, saying, “You didn’t see me.”
As soon as Joy left the basement, Claire grabbed her handbag.
“I’ve seen enough. I’m leaving and I probably won’t be back,” she told the massage therapist. “You all have my cell phone number; call me if you need help getting out of here.”
“Don’t worry,” the massage therapist said. “We’ve all agreed that if it gets too weird we will all go together.”
Claire checked that the coast was clear and then left by the back door. She ran down the hill through the park like the women in white were on her heels, and didn’t stop until she got to Ed’s office.
“Hey,” he said when he saw her. “You didn’t come to make me run, did you? I was enjoying my day off.”
“I have a story for your paper,” Claire said. “A whopper.”
Claire and Ed worked on the story until it got dark outside. Claire looked at her phone and saw it was nine o’clock.
“Oh my gosh,” she said. “I have to go to the Thorn right now. I was supposed to meet someone there at seven.”
“I’ll be down in a little bit,” Ed said. “I want to get this down to a more manageable size and then lay it out. I’d like to get some pictures of Anne Marie and Gwyneth together.”
Claire ran all the way to the Thorn, her heart pounding in her chest. She had meant to go home, take a shower, fix herself up, and be there in plenty of time to welcome Carlyle to Rose Hill. Instead she was two hours late, sweaty, and wearing flat shoes, of all things. When she reached The Rose and Thorn, she flung the door open, and searched the dark interior.
He wasn’t there.
“Patrick,” she called out. “Was someone in here looking for me earlier, around seven?”
“I’ve been looking for you all my life, darlin’,” one of the locals said, and his buddies all laughed.
“No,” Patrick said. “Nobody asked for you.”
Claire sat down at the end of the bar, in the seat where her father used to greet and bid farewell to all his customers, and checked her phone. There were no messages for her from Carlyle in either email or texts. She imagined plane crashes, car wrecks, and how many hospital rooms there were between here and California.
She checked her special file and there was one text from Sloan, from earlier in the day.
“Nice try,” it said.
Deflated, Claire lay her head down on her arms on the bar.
“Hey,” Patrick said as he approached. “Are you okay?”
“Just peachy,” Claire said.
“You want a drink?”
“I do,” Claire said, as she raised her head. “Vodka and pineapple juice, with a sword, a lime, and an umbrella.”
“Coming right up,” Patrick said.
Banjo wandered down the aisle, tail wagging. The dog sniffed Claire’s leg, sat down, and looked up expectantly.
“I have no treats,” Claire told him.
Banjo got up and went back to the other end of the bar, where he circled around three times before laying down in his bed.
Scott found her there, after having looked everywhere else in town, and finally trying Ed’s office. After Ed heard what happened to Courtenay, he called the Pendleton Press to give them the info for their Saturday edition. He told Scott he’d follow him to the Thorn later.
Scott’s voice shook as he told Claire what had happened.
Claire looked ill.
“That poor stupid girl,” she said. “I warned her. I told her these were evil people she was playing with. They’re going to get away with it, too, aren’t they?”
Scott nodded.
“I’m afraid so.”
“But isn’t there something Sarah could do, or the feds could do?”
“Knox planned it out perfectly,” Scott said. “So far nothing leads back to him.”
“But she told Pip.”
“It’s all hearsay, and it’s Pip. You know?”
“Do you think Trick knows Knox killed Mamie?”
“Yeah, I do,” Scott said. “And I think he’ll probably drink himself to death over it by the end of the year.”
“What about Phyllis Davis?” Claire said. “Where is she in all this?”
“I don’t know,” Scott said. “I don’t think she knew about that bequest. Think about it; if she had known about the money everyone else would have, too. When she’s drinking, which is every day, she can’t help herself. That’s how I found out who killed Theo Eldridge. Her being at Mamie’s that day may have just been a coincidence.”
“No,” Claire said. “She was in it up to her neck, and Trick was worried about her. She’s the weak link. We can break her.”
“I don’t see how,” Scott said. “She doesn’t trust me, and she’s afraid of them; probably even more so after she finds out about Courtenay.”
“Poor old Pip,” Claire said. “How’s he taking it?”
“Hard,” Scott said. “He really seemed to love her.”
“Pip has no trouble falling in love,” Claire said. “Deeply, passionately in love. The problem is he also has no trouble falling right back out again. The minute things get difficult, or uncomfortable, he’s long gone.”
“I feel like I let Mamie down,” Scott said. “And I hate Knox thinking he got away with it.”
“Let’s tell him that we know,” Claire. “At least we’ll have the satisfaction of him knowing we figured it out. He thinks he’s so smart.”
“He’d just spit in my face,” Scott said. “I’m afraid I might hurt him if I see him any time soon. I can’t go to jail right now; I need to get married tomorrow.”
“We can’t let him get away with it,” Claire said. “I’ll think of something.”
“Be careful,” Scott said. “You said it yourself; these are evil people.”
“Wait’ll you read the paper on Sunday,” Claire said. “Anne Marie is gonna get hers, at least.”
Claire told Scott all about the seminars, and what Ed was going to publish.
“You may need police protection,” Scott said. “Remember your own advice to Courtenay.”
“I’m not going back to that Inn,” Claire said. “Tomorrow is all about your wedding, and Sunday will be reactive-mind-karma day for Anne Marie Rodefeffer.”
“What?”
“You’ll know all about it after you read the article.”
“I’d at least like to walk you home,” he said. “Let’s be prudent.”
“Ed will walk me,” Claire said. “He’s coming around later.”
“I’ll keep you company until then,” Scott said. “I’m not supposed to see the bride now until the wedding.”
“Aw, sweet,” Claire said. “Let me buy you a drink. This can be your bachelor party.”
“This is going to be his bachelor party,” Patrick said. “Thanks for ruining the surprise, Claire.”
“You really don’t have to,” Scott said.
“Nope,” Patrick said. “We really do.”
Sam and Ed walked in together.
“I’ve got the movie,” Sam said.
“Oh, Patrick,” Claire said. “Not porn.”
“You think so little of me,” Patrick said, “when I am but as innocent as a child.”
Claire took the DVD case from Sam.
“Really?” she said. “This is what you all think of as a good time at a bachelor party?”
“The Dude abides,” Patrick said.
“Smoky, this is not ‘Nam,” Sam said. “This is bowling. There are rules.”
“Careful, man,” Scott said. “There’s a beverage here.”
“That rug really tied the room together,” Ed said.
“Not you, too,” Claire said to Ed.
“Times like these call for a Big Lebowski,” he responded.
Claire took the DVD out and loaded it into the player, which was kept behind the counter.
“No girls allowed,” Patrick said. “That means you, Bear.”
“C’mon, let me stay,” Claire sai
d. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Patrick said. “If you can come up with one quote from the movie that you didn’t just hear from us, I’ll let you stay.”
“She’s out,” Scott said. “The Big Lebowski is not a chick flick. Claire is no Dudeist.”
“Wait,” Ed said. “At least let her try.”
Sam just smirked.
“You all think you’re so smart,” Claire said. “Well, listen to this: her life was in their hands. Now her toe is in the mail.”
“She did it,” Ed said, as he hugged Claire. “You can stay.”
“But do I really want to?” Claire asked him. “I have a feeling I may regret this.”
By the time Ed walked Claire home it was two in the morning and they were both a little drunk. Claire tried to be quiet as she opened the door to her parents’ house, but she stumbled in and almost knocked over a lamp. Her mother had once slept through a tornado, but Claire was afraid to wake her father, who was now sleeping in the guest bedroom.
“Shhhh,” Ed told her, as he righted the lamp he had caught, and then closed the front door behind him and locked it.
He followed Claire into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“I’ll make us some coffee,” she said.
She meant to drop her handbag on the table but she missed, and it tumbled to the floor, spilling the contents.
“I’ll get it,” Ed said.
He began picking up the various items and putting them back in the handbag.
“What’s this?” he said, pointing to her notebook, which he lay open on the kitchen table.
“My lists,” she said. “I can’t get anything done without my lists.”
“Why is my name on here under things to figure out?” he asked.
Claire felt her face grow hot.
“What is it you need to figure out about me, Claire?”
His voice was soft and Claire was tongue-tied.
“Um, uh,” she said. “Hmmm. Well?”
He looked over the list again, a smile playing about his lips.
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