Not far from the center of town with its picturesque village green was the brick courthouse and police station.
A.J. had been dating Jake long enough to be greeted by name at the front desk, though the cordiality cooled a little when she explained why she was there. There was a brief delay, and then she was informed that Lily had been released on bail.
A.J. knew where Lily lived, having mailed enough paychecks to her. She drove to Lily’s house, a beige and white ranch style with an attached garage and a generic front yard. Two news vans—one a national affiliate—were parked at the curb.
A.J. ignored the reporters and camera men who jumped out of their vehicles, calling questions and snapping pictures, as she walked up the driveway.
The screen door was locked. A.J. rang the doorbell.
After a few seconds there was the sound of a sliding bolt and then the front door opened. Lily peered warily out.
“I heard you wanted to talk to me,” A.J. said.
Without answering, Lily unlatched the screen and stepped back so that A.J. could enter.
A.J. stepped inside, looking around curiously. She had never been in Lily’s home before. They weren’t on close enough terms to have ever paid each other visits. Family pictures lined the hall Lily led A.J. down. The carpet was white shag. The walls were a restful earth tone. Music—Kitaro—was playing softly from another room.
Lily led the way to a family room with large comfortable chairs and an assortment of colorful throws and pillows. Two Bella Dos Santos prints decorated the wall.
There was a cup of tea and a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table.
“I went to the court complex first. I didn’t realize you’d been released.” A.J. wasn’t accusing, she was simply searching for something to say.
Lily hugged her arms across her chest. Her face looked drawn and tired. “You probably don’t think I should be.”
“Lily, if I thought you were a murderess, I wouldn’t have driven over here.” A.J. sat down on the sofa.
Lily moved restlessly around the room. “Tussle and Rossiter paid my bail—right before they suspended me. Indefinitely.”
“Oh. I’m sorry they suspended you, but once you’re cleared that will be resolved.”
Lily laughed bitterly. “You think so?”
“Yes. I mean, you have to admit it’s a weird situation for them, too.”
Lily’s black eyes met A.J.’s. She said dryly, “You have no idea.”
Having once been suspected of murder, A.J. actually did. “What is it you, er, wanted to talk about?”
Lily drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You’re supposed to be some kind of an amateur sleuth. I want you to help prove my innocence.”
“Me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’ve done it for other people. People you didn’t know nearly as well as you know me.”
“I know, but it’s not like I—” Like you? Care about you? A.J. stopped cold. That wasn’t even true. Well, it was true that she didn’t like Lily, but she wouldn’t want anyone to go through the pain of a police investigation. No, what she really meant was that in those other cases she hadn’t had a clue what she was doing. That she had managed to work some good was surely due more to luck and providence than her own abilities.
Watching her, Lily said, “Di would expect you to help me.”
There was no denying the truth of that, and A.J. knew Lily could see her words had hit home. “There are different ways of helping, Lily. You’re not exactly asking for the usual fund-raiser potluck.”
“I’m not expecting you to put your life in danger, A.J. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone. You don’t need to do anything but poke around enough to raise reasonable doubt in the mind of that pigheaded cop you’re dating.”
A.J. let the insult go. “It’s not up to Jake. He’s just one of a number of people involved in any given investigation. The DA makes the final determination as to whether they proceed with the case or not.”
“I know all that. I also know that if you can uncover something—anything—that throws sufficient suspicion on someone besides me, the DA is going to think twice about prosecuting this case. The police will conduct a real investigation instead of the half-assed excuse for police work that got me thrown in jail to start with.”
“What happened to this PI you were going to hire? He’s got to be a lot more qualified at this kind of thing than me.”
Lily sat down in the chair across from A.J. She pulled an afghan around her shoulders and huddled into it. “My lawyer is already using some kind of a professional investigator. I want someone that people won’t be afraid to open up to.” She gave a derisive sniff. “That’s you. People talk to you. I’ve seen it happen often enough. People like you and they spill their guts to you.”
Apparently that was a good thing, although one would never guess from Lily’s expression and tone.
A.J. thought it over. “Obviously I want to help you, Lily, but I don’t have any idea where to start.”
“I know exactly where you need to start. Start with Mrs. Goode.”
A.J. shook her head. “Mrs. Goode is the first person the police thought of. Their suspicions turned out to be a dead end.” There was an unfortunate turn of phrase. “She’s got an alibi for the time of her husband’s murder.”
“I don’t care what she has. She’s involved.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The day we went to lunch and ran into Goode? I thought the woman with him looked familiar. Later I remembered where I’d seen her. At the studio. At Yoga Meridian. She comes in every few days on a guest pass. That’s where she got hold of the pen she used to kill her husband.”
“I’m not saying it’s not interesting, I’m saying it’s not conclusive.”
A.J. was on her cell phone talking to Jake as she walked from the parking lot to Sacred Balance’s entrance following her meeting with Lily. “But it’s definitely worth checking up on, right?”
Yellow and russet leaves skittered across her path. Most of the trees were bare now. The evergreens stood like black feathers against the slate blue sky.
“Of course. Just don’t pin your hopes on it.”
“No, I know. Lily’s another matter. She’s grasping at straws. I really believe she’s innocent, Jake.”
“I appreciate that, but—” The rest of his words were lost as A.J. pushed through the glass doors in time to hear hysterical screams floating down the staircase.
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to! You can’t make me!”
There was no one in the front lobby. The entire ground floor seemed deserted. The screams overhead were getting louder. “Leave me alone! Take your hands off me!”
“Jake, I have to go.” A.J. clicked off without waiting for an answer and sprinted up the wide staircase.
As she reached the top of the stairs she narrowly missed colliding with a large, gray mass hurtling in her direction. The mass resolved itself into a furious girl in a sweatstreaked sweat suit. Runny mascara and bared teeth made Mocha Ritchie look a little like a distraught badger.
“Mocha, was that you screaming like that? What in the world is the matter?” A.J. looked past Mocha to Jaci, who was in hot pursuit of her runaway student. Jaci looked nearly as distraught as Mocha. “What’s going on here?”
Jaci shook her head.
“I don’t have to stay here,” Mocha cried. “You can’t make me stay here.”
Other students and instructors had gathered in the hallway to watch. Emma was right behind Jaci, looking about as grim as A.J. had ever seen her look. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, young lady. It’s miles back to town and you’re not much of one for walking.”
“I hate you all!” Mocha shrieked.
“Okay, enough.” A.J. held up a hand. “You.” She nodded to Mocha. “Go downstairs and wait for me in my office.”
“The hell I will!”
There were shocked gasps—and a few snickers—fro
m the other teens crowding the hall. Even some of the adult students looked taken aback. A.J. said, “Kid, get your butt down to my office or you will be walking back to town.”
Mocha glared at her for a long, trembling instant and then lumbered past A.J. down the staircase.
“Could everyone please go back to class?” A.J. called to the other students. “Everything’s under control.” To the teens and young adults she said, “Jaci will be right with you guys.”
Simon and Denise shepherded everyone back to their respective rooms.
“Before you say anything,” Jaci burst out as A.J. turned back to her, “I have no idea what set her off. I honestly thought we were building some kind of rapport but she’s been a pill since she walked in today.”
“Who dropped her off?” A.J. asked Emma.
“Mrs. Ritchie, same as always. That girl stomped in here today looking for trouble, if you ask me.”
“Great.” Jaci was still flushed and angry. A.J. asked, “Are you okay to go back to your class?”
Jaci nodded. “I’m fine. She kind of took me by surprise. She seemed fine and then . . . BOOM. I mean, the poses are difficult for her, but she’s already shown progress.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her. Would you be willing to have her back in class—assuming she’s agreeable to that?”
“Yes. Of course. She owes Emma an apology, though.”
Emma said, “She does, but let’s not make it into too big a deal. I taught school for a lot of years.”
“What did Mocha do?” A.J. asked with a sinking feeling.
“She used the N-word,” Jaci replied.
“No,” A.J. said. “No way is she going to use that language and stay enrolled at Sacred Balance. That’s unacceptable.”
“She knows that. That’s why she used it.” Emma seemed remarkably sangfroid about the whole incident. “You go downstairs and talk to her, honey. She’s not a bad kid. I’ve known bad kids. Mocha is just about as unhappy as a little girl can be. It’ll do her good to talk.”
“What’ll it do to the rest of us?” A.J. inquired, but she let herself be swept downstairs ahead of Emma.
There was no sign of Mocha on the ground floor so she had either gone to A.J.’s office or she’d left the building. “You know, my background is in marketing,” A.J. muttered to Emma. “Any tips?”
Emma said quite seriously, “Listen to her.”
“I’ll try.” A.J. waved to Suze, who was returning from lunch, and went down the hall to her office.
Mocha was standing at the windows looking out at the windblown meadow behind the studio. She didn’t turn when A.J. entered, and A.J. guessed from the defensively hunched shoulders that she had been crying.
A.J. closed the door. “Would you like some tea?”
That seemed to surprise Mocha into facing her. She had indeed been crying. “No,” she said thickly.
“Well, I’m having a cup. Let me know if you change your mind.” A.J. switched on the hot plate and sat down at her desk, swiveling her chair to face the girl. “Why don’t you sit down.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself. So tell me what that was all about.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Actually, everything that happens here is my business.” A.J. studied the stubborn set of Mocha’s plump shoulders. Her gaze moved to the photo of Aunt Di. According to just about everyone, Aunt Di had been wonderful with kids, though she’d never had any of her own. She’d been a wonderful aunt to A.J. So what was the trick to dealing with teens? Could it be something as simple as Emma’s suggestion that she listen?
She waited, hoping that Mocha might volunteer something.
Nothing. Mocha sniffed and rubbed at her nose.
“According to Jaci you’ve made excellent progress since you started. How do you feel you’re doing?”
Mocha shrugged.
“Are you enjoying your classes?’
“No.” It was said sullenly, without any real heat.
A.J. tried waiting again, but once again she met with no success.
“Why? Is there something that would make the classes more enjoyable?” The teakettle began to hiss. A.J. rose and poured tea into her mug. “My aunt is the one who founded Sacred Balance. She was English, and she used to always say there was nothing like a nice hot cuppa when you were upset. Except she always drank green tea and I prefer Earl Grey. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup?”
Another one of those shrugs.
“Would you like a little honey or a little milk in your tea?”
“It’s too fattening.”
A.J. restrained her immediate exasperation. She had seen the girl drinking thousands of calories’ worth of fruit juice, but someone had convinced her that a teaspoon of honey would make her fat. She made a mental note to make sure Mocha received nutritional counseling.
“Okay. Come sit down and drink your tea.”
Mocha reluctantly left the window and took the chair near the fountain. She accepted the cup A.J. handed her, wrapping both hands around it. A.J. noted the black fingernail polish that couldn’t disguise how badly bitten Mocha’s fingernails were. A.J. had also bitten her nails when she had been a nerve-racked adolescent.
For a few minutes they sipped their tea in silence.
“Are you going on the camping trip this weekend?”
Mocha looked up in surprise. “It’s adults only.”
“We make exceptions sometimes. Did you want to come?”
Mocha’s expression grew suspicious. “Why?”
“I thought you might enjoy it.”
Mocha went back to sipping her tea.
“Did you want to tell me what happened in class?”
Mocha shook her head.
“You don’t like Jaci’s style of teaching?”
“I like Jaci,” she said quickly before hurriedly resuming her sulky expression.
“What do you think of the other kids in the class?”
Mocha’s tea sloshed. “I hate them.”
Funny though it might seem, they were finally making progress. “Why?”
“They make fun of me. They say things to me when Jaci’s back is turned.”
“Like what?”
Mocha’s face quivered. “Hippobuttamus. Elephat. When I bend over they make noises like my clothes are ripping or like I’m farting.”
So much for the spirit of yoga. A.J. was mildly startled at her near visceral reaction to the news of Mocha’s harassment. During the short time that A.J. had attended school in Stillbrook, she, too, had been unpopular, an outsider. The fact that she had grown into her looks and become a successful businesswoman even before inheriting her aunt’s empire couldn’t entirely erase those hurtful memories.
She kept her face and voice neutral. “Go on.”
And go on, Mocha did. Near the end of her recital, A.J. saw the truth of what Emma had said earlier. Here was a young girl about as unhappy as a teenager could be—which was saying something.
By that point, Mocha had branched out to her anger and resentment over what she saw as her father’s neglect since his remarriage. “And she doesn’t even love him!”
A.J. tuned back in. “Not everyone shows their feelings the same way. Your st—”
“She’s cheating on him.”
“How do you know that?” The words were out before A.J. recollected that it was not only not her business, it was probably not appropriate to ask a kid about such things.
“I know. She lies about where she’s been. She lies about his phone calls. I saw a text message from him once. She caught me looking and deleted it, but I saw enough.”
“You might have misunderstood what you saw.”
Mocha shook her head stubbornly. “He called her ‘darling’ and he was talking about having to sneak around because people were watching him.”
A.J. absorbed this. Conscience warred with suspicion. “Do you have any idea who ‘he’ was?”
Mocha shook her head. “
He didn’t use a name or even an initial. But I know it’s the same one she meets when she pretends she’s going to her book club.”
“Will you take some advice from someone who’s been in a sort of similar position?”
Mocha stared unblinking, her expression mutinous.
“You have to let your mom and dad work this out on their own.”
“She’s not my mom!”
A.J. knew from Mocha’s file that her birth mother had moved out of state. There was a story there, no doubt, and probably a painful one. “You know what I mean. Even if what you believe is true, that’s between your father and his wife. If you get involved, it’ll just make your own relationship with both of them harder—and it’s probably not going to turn out the way you hope.”
Mocha’s mouth trembled.
“I’m sorry. I really am, but life isn’t a Disney movie and you can’t hurt and embarrass the grown-ups in your life and expect everything to bounce back to normal. You have to respect their privacy the same way you expect them to respect yours.”
Mocha blinked.
A.J. glanced at the clock on her desk. “Jaci should be coming downstairs any minute. Did you want to wait for her in her office?”
“Wait . . . for what?”
“Well, among other things, I thought you might want to tell her you planned on signing up for this weekend’s retreat.” Mocha sat up abruptly. A.J. added gently, “And then I think you probably have something you want to say to Emma.”
Mocha’s face washed a painful red. She didn’t argue, though. She rose and went out. A.J. heard the office door next to hers open and close.
She jumped as the phone on her desk rang suddenly.
The only calls that Emma put through without screening were from Jake or her mother. Remembering that she had essentially hung up on Jake, A.J. picked up even as she acknowledged that he was more likely to call her cell phone.
“There you are, pumpkin.” Elysia sounded like she’d been searching through a pile of boots in her mud porch. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“I do. I’m looking forward to a nice quiet evening spending quality time with my dog and watching Eat Pray Love.”
Death in a Difficult Position Page 8
