Gossip Can Be Murder

by Connie Shelton

  Cushy leather chairs had been pushed to the corners of the room to accommodate the dozen or so people who had already arrived. I noticed that the reception desk had been converted to a bar, serving something that looked fruity and slushy. A dark-haired girl poured the mixture from a blender jar into small crystal goblets. I supposed that booze was out on this healthy regime.

  A quick glance around the room told me that no one seemed to know anyone else yet. They stood around awkwardly with their glasses of whatever-flavor smoothie, openly ogling the surroundings but not making eye contact. Linda seemed more at ease than most of them. She’d snagged drinks from the bar for both of us and quickly made her way to Shirley Broussand. I had to admire my friend for her easy ability to fit in nearly anywhere. It’s a characteristic that I’ve not seen in many doctors, that quick rapport with all types of people.

  I left Linda and Shirley to their conversation and began to snoop. If Linda’s innate ability is rapport, mine is observation. I admit it, I’m nosy.

  I slipped past a couple of women who appeared to have just met each other and slid through the archway leading to a series of treatment rooms. Doors stood half open and tiny lamps illuminated each room with cozy warmth. I ascertained that there were three treatment rooms with massage tables, followed by locker rooms for men and women. A locked door—I checked—stood at the end of the hall. Across the hall from the locker rooms a door led to a bubbling circular spa at least fifteen feet in diameter. A door beyond that sported a small sign saying “Mud Baths.”

  The voices from the lobby had dropped to a hush. Something was happening. I made my way back and cozied up to one of the pillars, as if I’d been there all along. All faces turned toward Shirley as she took a position near the entrance.

  “First, I’d like to thank you all for coming to our little gathering tonight. You’ll be getting to know each other much better in the coming days, but this gives you the chance to begin to put names and faces together. Doctor Light will be here in a minute to share a few words with you.” A murmur of approval went through the room. “But first, I’d like to quickly go around and have each of you introduce yourself and let us know where you’re from.”

  I hate this kind of thing. I shrank beside the pillar and let a few others close in front of me. However, my own reticence didn’t mean I wasn’t curious about the others. Mouth shut, ears open, my mother used to say. I find I learn a lot this way.

  After Shirley introduced herself, she gestured to the woman on her left.

  “I’m Nicole Mayhew, from New York. My husband Gerald is here, too, but he didn’t make tonight’s party.” Sleek aqua suit—probably Versace—gold Rolex, huge diamond on the left hand. Long hair, light brown with golden highlights, perfect teeth. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

  “Dina Carlotti.” An accent that made the name roll off her tongue. “I am from Venice, Italy.” Slender, pretty, dark hair down to her waist, casually dressed in black slacks and sweater.

  Linda introduced herself next, mentioning only that she was a physician from Albuquerque.

  “I’m Tahlene Wexton-Smith, from Sidney.” She didn’t offer more. The Aussie accent piqued everyone’s interest—we Americans are suckers for that. College-aged, wearing harem pants, a tight fitting wool jacket and two knitted scarves—one blue and one green—wrapped around her slender neck. A half-inch of tanned skin showed between the edges of the pants and the jacket. A froth of untamed blond hair bushed out from some sort of cloth band around her head.

  The woman next to me spoke next. I noted graying shoulder-length hair with a bad case of static electricity to it. “Uh, I’m Trudie Blanchard. I live in California and I’m a nurse, uh, I used to be a nurse. I’ve had some health problems recently and lost my job. I want to learn more healthy ways to take care of myself because I’ve been depressed a lot lately and—”

  “Thanks, Trudie, good to meet you,” Shirley interrupted. I admired her ability to take control. “Let’s go on to Charlie, over there by the pillar. Now don’t be shy.”

  Ugh. I pasted on a smile and gave my name.

  Luckily, the next woman took over quickly. “Dr. Patricia Girard, Harvard, Oxford. I live here in Santa Fe now and come to Dr. Light’s seminars every couple of years just for a break. With my incredibly huge practice, I simply have to get away now and then.”

  “Um, yes, Pat. It’s great to see you again,” Shirley said.

  I registered a fifty-something woman who’d probably already had a couple of face lifts. She wore skin-tight white jeans with a black T-top and short, fitted Indian blanket jacket. Strands of turquoise nuggets hung around her neck and a wide silver bracelet clamped her right wrist. East Coast background latching onto Southwest chic, unfortunately, without the fashion model body to quite pull off the outfit.

  “We’ll have a few others joining us tomorrow and, as I mentioned, you’ll be getting to know each other much better over the coming days,” Shirley said. “Now I know you are all impatient to meet the spiritual leader of our conference so it’s my great pleasure to present Dr. Celeus Light.” She turned toward the door behind her. Precisely on cue, the tall carved doors swung open. Celeus Light, dressed in white baggy trousers and a white peasant shirt, pressed his palms together in a prayer posture, bowed slightly to the group, and bestowed us with a benevolent gaze. Was that actually harp music coming from behind him? I felt my bullshit sensors go up a couple of points.

  “Welcome, and peace to everyone,” he began. “You are about to experience one of the most enlightening weeks of your life. You’ll find new methods of health care, new ways of preparing and eating the nutritious food that fuels your body, and a whole new attitude toward the stresses that everyday life sends your way.” He relaxed his pose and shook his dark head. “Seriously, folks, I think you’re going to have a great time here. Please, feel free to come to me with your concerns and share your experiences. I’m here for you, truly.”

  Around the room, shoulders relaxed and breaths were expelled. I noticed for the first time that aside from Dr. Light the group were all women. The magnetic charisma worked, and they gravitated to him like metal shavings.

  I settled back into my pillar and finally took a sip of the drink Linda had handed me. It was a curious combination of fruit and vegetable, with an undertaste of something else, vitamins probably. I rolled it around in my mouth and decided to go look for water. I’d seen a drinking fountain near the locker rooms and headed that way. The remainder of the drink went down the drain as I swished the glass with water. A good long sip took the rest of the taste out of my mouth.

  “Not quite to your liking?”

  I flinched.

  Chapter 4

  Drake brought the JetRanger in and worked to avoid the young guy who was attempting to guide him as he set his ship down in the landing zone set up by the job’s helicopter manager. They’d put in a long day and now the sun was nearly behind the mountain, casting an orange-gold glow over the forestry compound, making the Ponderosa pines appear nearly black in contrast.

  Ridiculous, he thought, making eye contact with the guy holding the two useless batons. Government jobs. They always found someone who’d had a couple weeks training and assigned him to direct a pilot with twenty years experience. Charlie always teased him about his frustration. What was the point, she said, of getting angry at a bureaucracy. Just do the work and collect the money. She was right, of course.

  He pulled the rotor brake and brought the slowly turning blades to a full stop, letting out a contented sigh as the engine noise subsided. No matter what a pain the government jerks could be, this was what it was truly all about. That feeling of control over the aircraft, that adrenalin buzz as you soared through the air. And not all the government guys were jerks. Three of the men in the local Pecos office were great guys, including the two who’d spent the day airborne with him counting elk in the high meadows. He felt sorry for Milo, who always got queasy after a few minutes of staring down through the
trees from the circling helicopter. He would be better once his feet hit the ground. Drake would suggest they all go out for a beer after he finished shutting down and securing the aircraft.

  A sharp tap on his side window grabbed his attention.

  “Drake!” Ernie Pacheco called his name through the Plexiglas. “Call for you.” Ernie held up a pink message slip.

  Drake felt his eyebrows pull together. It was unusual to get a call out in the field. Anyone wanting to schedule a new job would leave a message on his office machine, knowing that he would get back to them at night. Family would call his cell. He opened the door and took the note from Ernie. “Thanks.”

  “Beer later?” Ernie asked.

  Drake looked up from the note. “Huh? Sure. I was going to suggest that. Wait a sec.” He knew the number on the note. Charlie’s office in Albuquerque. Since she wasn’t there, it had to be Ron calling about that damn court case. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open and noted that there were two voice mails but no signal. “Ernie? Let’s plan on the Doble Seis for that beer. I’m buying.”

  “Johnny has a cooler,” Ernie began, “but I guess it has to do with the message?”

  “Yeah, I really ought to return this call.” Drake unfastened his harness and climbed out of the aircraft. Pulling the tie-down gear from the cargo hatch he looped the strap over the rotor and pulled it taut.

  “I’ll see who wants to go,” Ernie said.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate the ride.” It was always a hassle, being out of town without a vehicle, but that was the nature of the work. On longer jobs he had a buddy who drove along, bringing fuel and extra parts. But this one wasn’t supposed to take more than a couple of days, and the Santa Fe airport was near enough for refueling. He ducked into the men’s room at the forestry office—a relief after a full day at the stick, with only one quick break while he scarfed a sandwich at noon. Everyone else took an actual lunch hour, but for some reason they didn’t seem to think pilots needed to eat or pee. His breaks usually only came while the aircraft was being fueled.

  Ernie’s pickup truck was parked beside the forestry building. Looked like Johnny and Milo had decided to come along. They were already sitting in the back seat.

  They drove north on I-25 for about five miles to the nearest exit, easily spotted by the lighted sign depicting a pair of red dice showing sixes. The Doble Seis was the local bar, a tiny adobe building at a crossroads, run by a crusty old Spanish guy who’d probably been there since he was a kid and his father was the old guy serving up the beers. Drake opened his phone again, while the others headed inside. He had a good signal here—just that little difference between being along the Interstate or tucked back behind a ridge in the Sangre de Cristos. Both voice mails were from Ron.

  “Order me a Tecate,” he told Ernie. “I’ll be right in.” He dialed, wondering whether Ron would still be at the office or if he’d already gone home for the day. He stared out to the west, where the sun sat on the horizon like a fat orange ball, the bottom edge of it going flat. Two rings and he heard Ron’s standard “Y’ello.”

  “Hey, what’s up?” Drake asked his brother-in-law.

  “Got a call from Rick Valdez,” Ron said without preamble.

  “And?”

  “They’re moving the date of your deposition up.”

  “Crap.” It slipped out. “Sorry. I know I agreed to this.” Before I knew that the pilot in the crash was a friend.

  “Yeah, you did.” Ron blew out a breath. “I mean, we all did. We took the case and managed to commit ourselves. None of us knew how long it would drag on.”

  Drake forced himself to relax and tried to keep the tension out of his voice. It wouldn’t be a good idea to fracture family relationships. The current case had caused them all a lot of stress but he’d get through it.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “Not your fault. Maybe moving things forward will get it all over with that much sooner.”

  “Exactly.” Papers rustled as Ron undoubtedly searched through the usual mess on his desk. “I told Valdez that you were out on a job and they’d have to work around it.”

  “Good. I’m not messing up my contract with Fish and Game, even though I’m getting decent money for this other thing.”

  “They don’t expect you to. I’m supposed to call them back and let them know your schedule.”

  “Two, maybe three more days here,” Drake told him. “Should be done by Wednesday, but maybe we better plan on Thursday.”

  Ron made a sucking sound, like he was pulling air in through clenched teeth.

  “Problem?”

  “Well, I kinda let them believe that Wednesday would work out.”

  Drake forced himself to count to three. “Okay. I’ll do my best. No promises, though. Can’t rush the government, you know. When all these elk are counted, they’re counted. The cheesy lawyers can hold on.” He wanted to make the point stronger than that, but held back.

  “You want to tell Valdez, or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it. Give me the number.”

  “Thanks.” They ended the call before Ron could say anything about catering to the customer, keeping the lawyers pleased to earn their future business. Drake, frankly, didn’t give a damn. He’d quickly discovered that legal work was not his forte.

  He dialed the number Ron gave him and got a voice mail system. After punching a few more numbers to get to Valdez’s personal mailbox, he left a message telling the man, truthfully, that he’d be subject to financial penalties if he left the forestry job early. Wednesday was a possibility but Thursday was the earliest he could promise. Sorry to be so vague, but after all they were the ones who’d moved the date forward. He kept the message polite and as positive as he could manage, then clicked off. He blew a sharp breath out and walked into the dimly lit bar.

  He wanted one beer, just a relaxer, then he was eager to get back to his bunk for the night. He ought to call Charlie before he got back to the cell phone dead zone, but wasn’t sure whether he’d catch her. No doubt she and Linda were having a great time getting the spa treatment.

  Chapter 5

  I nearly dropped the glass into the drinking fountain. “Oh, Shirley. I . . .” I ran out of words.

  “It’s okay. I can have Danielle pour the other flavor for you. That one’s pretty sweet.”

  “No, really, it’s okay. I just haven’t had enough water today. You know how important that is.” I smiled stupidly.

  “Oh, absolutely. And you’ll be happy to know that our water throughout the building is filtered for purity.”

  I took another sip from the fountain. “Very good.” A thought flashed through my mind, back to this morning’s hastily chugged bowl of Coco Puffs and the fact that I had skipped lunch altogether. Maybe Linda had another motive in bringing me here, to convert me to a healthier lifestyle. I probably should take the program more seriously.

  “Nice facilities,” I commented, putting my nice-face back on. “I peeked into a couple of the treatment rooms.”

  Shirley flashed me a warm smile. “Linda told me you were a private investigator. It makes perfect sense that you would check out your surroundings.”

  “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. While you’re here, our home is your home. Do look around.”

  “And that part about being a private investigator. That’s not exactly true.”

  She tilted her head to one side.

  “I’m a partner in an investigation agency. But I just handle the financial end of it.” Except that I often find myself going further than that, as evidenced by several close calls in recent years. “It’s become more of a sideline anyway. My husband owns a helicopter service and I help out there pretty often.”

  A flash of interest. “You have quite an amazing life, don’t you?” she said.

  “Well, it’s been fun, I have to admit.” I found myself sharing the details of how Drake and I met in Hawaii. She listened with interest and
I felt a rapport building.

  The tone of the voices in the front room changed in intensity and she pulled herself back to the present moment. “Guess I better get back to the group. Nice to chat with you,” she said. I followed her back to the spa lobby to find that Dr. Light had left and the crowd was dispersing. Linda stood near a big potted plant, looking around for me.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were still here,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah, just checking things out.” I briefly described the rest of the facility. “Take a peek, if you want. I’m sure Shirley won’t mind. I think I’ll head back to the room.”

  She said she’d do the same. Once settled, I decided to give Ron a quick call since we hadn’t ended our last conversation on the best of terms. The phone rang four times and I glanced at my watch. After nine.

  “Y’ello,” his voice finally said.

  “Hey—just checking in. How’d the weekend go?” Keep it light, Charlie.

  “Huh. Jason was feeling better by the time we met up with Bernadette, but of course all three boys blabbed about how much junk they ate at the fair and how sick he’d been. I got the usual devil-glare from her.”

  I made sympathetic noises—I’ve seen Bernadette’s devil-glare—then filled him in on everything I’d done at the office this morning, letting him know that I wasn’t shirking my duties.

  “I talked to Drake awhile ago. His deposition is set for this week. He didn’t sound happy about it.”

  “He’s not looking forward to being grilled. Nobody would.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “When he started the investigation he didn’t know Mike Walters was the pilot. And he’s putting together some new evidence. Take a look at the notes in the folder.”