by Gemma Bruce
They all nodded.
Rusty gave Loubelle a friendly smile. “See you tonight, unless you need anything?”
“No, no, I’ll see you this evening,” said Loubelle, beaming.
Andy began to feel a little sick. Were these women, whom she was beginning to really like, all being gouged by their appointed slaves? Would Dillon soon start hitting her up for presents? And what about sex? Better not to even imagine that.
“Were those your attendants?” asked Andy.
Evelyn and Loubelle nodded.
“Rusty’s a sweet boy,” said Loubelle. “And much nicer than the one I had last time. He was a bit of a pill. I suppose I should be glad that Miranda didn’t come back for the second session. She might have wanted him back.”
Andy swallowed the wrong way and burst out coughing.
“Jeannie, do something, she’s choking.”
Andy shook her head.
“She just swallowed the wrong way. Are you all right, sugah?”
Andy nodded and kept spluttering.
“Well, look who’s here,” Jeannie said and smacked her on the back.
Andy pitched forward, and when she sat up again, Dillon was standing beside her, a salad plate in each hand.
Hmmm. Both hands occupied. It was tempting. Of course, if last night was any indication, she’d be wearing two crab salads before she was finished copping a feel.
He set one plate down in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said stiffly.
“My pleasure,” he said and placed the other plate in front of Jeannie.
“Why didn’t she come back?” asked Andy.
“Who?” Jeannie asked around a bite of crab.
“Mi—the woman who had Rusty last session.” God, this was too easy. She didn’t even have to make up a story to get them to talk.
“Oh . . . Miranda . . . Nobody knows. Evelyn, you’re hogging the bread basket.”
Evelyn handed Jeannie the basket.
Jeannie selected a roll and began slathering it with butter. “It was the strangest thing. One night we were having drinks, and she says she’s tired and going to bed. Next day, she was gone. Just like that, in the middle of the night. Didn’t even leave us a note.”
Andy’s fingers gripped her fork. Good God. It was true. Mac had really disappeared.
“We thought she must have gotten bad news from home,” said Loubelle, frowning. “She seemed preoccupied the last day she was here.”
“Preoccupied?” said Andy, her pulse starting to race. “About what?”
“She didn’t say.”
“No one saw her leave?” Dread made it hard for Andy to even form the words. She had scoffed at the idea that the goddess doctor was offing her clients to get at their money. Maybe her family wasn’t as hysterical as she thought.
Mac had a substantial portfolio. Years in the business as a stuntwoman and then as a stunt agent had left her comfortably well off. But not in the millions or billions like Imogene Southwaite. Not enough to kill for.
It was too absurd. Besides, Mac could take care of herself.
“We stopped by her cabin to get her for breakfast the next morning, but she was gone. The place was cleaned out. Lock, stock, and barrel.” Jeannie chuckled. “Even took the toilet paper. I mean, the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner are one thing, but toilet paper?”
Andy felt a ray of hope. If Mac had taken all that stuff, surely she’d left under her own steam, But why? Where was she? Why hadn’t she come home?
“Hmm,” said Andy. “You’d think she’d call to let you know she was okay. I mean, it’s been several weeks, right?”
“Three,” said Loubelle. “But we hadn’t gotten around to exchanging phone numbers, and our cells are useless here.”
“But there are land lines.”
“Oh, sure. But only for emergencies.”
“What constitutes an emergency?” Maybe Mac had gotten home by now. Andy had to find out.
“Death in the family. Illness.” Evelyn pointed past the amphitheater to a sloping hill of perfectly manicured grass. “Behind that rise is a helipad. They keep two helicopters there, but we didn’t hear one take off in the night, did we, girls?”
Jeannie and Loubelle shook their heads.
“And I would have heard,” said Loubelle. “Those darn diuretics keep me up all night.”
“Well, I hope she’s okay,” said Jeannie. “I thought sure she’d come back for the second session. We were on the waiting list for the Eternal Orgasm class.”
Andy heard the rattle of china and looked up to see Dillon juggling a tray of coffee cups.
Jeannie sputtered and said under her breath, “He’s getting an earful today.”
He set the tray down.
“You know,” said Andy, reaching up to take a cup from him. “I read in the newspaper about a woman who died recently. A Ms. Southwaite.” She took the cup and waited for Dillon to let go, which he did, but reluctantly.
And Andy realized that she probably shouldn’t be talking in front of the staff. If there was something sinister going on at the retreat, any of them could be part of it. She glanced over at Dillon. His expression was so bland that she knew he had been listening.
She waited until he’d passed around the other cups, dawdled over the tray, and finally moved away.
“Sugah, if you don’t do something about that man . . . Ooheee. Drop the poor soul a morsel, how ’bout it?” Jeannie raised her thinly tweezed eyebrows and nodded sagely. “Or I promise you, someone else will.”
———
Dillon walked slowly away from the group, his ears tuned to catch whatever snatches of the conversation he could. First Imogene Southwaite and now this Miranda person, who disappeared during the last session. Why hadn’t he been briefed about her?
It could be coincidental, but Dillon didn’t believe in coincidence. Not anymore. Even his goddess had been pretty quick to make the connection to Imogene Southwaite. Not bad for an amateur.
The thought stopped him midstep.
Why would a shy, retiring spinster come here if she knew about Imogene Southwaite. Even if her death was an accident, wouldn’t she be afraid to come? And it was becoming increasingly clear to Dillon that it had been no accident.
And to think, the agency hadn’t even wanted to put anyone on the investigation. The authorities had dismissed it as a tragic accident.
The Southwaite family had pulled some upper echelon strings. And since Dillon had just come off sick leave, his superiors gave the assignment to him. It was about all he was good for.
So far, he hadn’t discovered much. He planned to break into the business office and take some digital pictures of their files. But he hadn’t had a spare minute since the goddess bus had arrived. Between wait duties and debriefing meetings, and trying to keep his goddess from falling down and knocking herself out, he hadn’t had time to get inside.
He looked across the pool. The four women were getting up. The afternoon session would be starting in a few minutes, and there was a general migration toward the main building. Ariadne had kept the sunglasses on. They were expensive and must be the correct prescription, because for the first time since arriving she wasn’t walking into the furniture.
The back of his neck prickled as his intuition overrode his logic. Something about his mousy goddess was not adding up. Was she actually what she appeared to be? Or something else entirely. And if something else . . . What? Why the makeup, the glasses, the baggy clothes? What was she hiding? And why?
Chapter 5
Andy stood in the hallway, her course booklet open, as women scurried past her into classrooms. It seemed as though she was the only one who didn’t have a plan. Not one that included learning to be a goddess. Though with everyone in class, it wasn’t likely that she’d glean any more information about Mac’s sudden departure. And she’d learned all she could from the girls at the pool.
She walked past the auditorium and dining room and paused at the
next door, where the second session of Knowing What You Want was being held. She had no desire to deal with Carmen and her pointed questions this afternoon.
She stopped outside the next door to read the scrolled sign there: Getting Rid Of Your Inhibitions. Not exactly her problem. The next was Training Your Man.
Andy grimaced. She didn’t have one, and she certainly wouldn’t want to train him if she did. What if she trained him wrong and was stuck with the results, ’til death did them part? She’d just keep to the Hollywood shuffle. Less work, more fun—no messy endings, just a “it’s been swell.”
Who was she kidding? Most of the time, it was just empty lust gratification. And it was the only fulfillment that she and half the women in HW were getting. She wanted more.
She stomped down on the thought. She didn’t have time for more. She was too busy to put someone else first, didn’t have the attention span to develop a relationship. Nor the allure to keep a man once he was in her bed. Stuntwomen were in demand, but they were nameless, faceless stand-ins. How many times did someone leave a theater saying, “Andy McAllister was great, wasn’t she? I’ve seen all her movies.”
Never.
No, better she should find Mac and leave goddess-ness to the others. Though she wouldn’t mind getting to know Dillon better, a lot better.
If she just knew that Mac was okay, she might stay. Let Jeannie fix her hair and slowly transform back to herself. At least then, the money her family had forked out for her tuition wouldn’t be totally wasted.
She turned away from the sign. First things first. She needed to call home—now. There must be a phone in the business office. Even with the retreat’s philosophy of no distractions, they must make allowances for the real world. There were food orders and advertising to coordinate. And the attendees were businesswomen, mothers, movers and shakers. Nobody could go three weeks without contact with the outside world. She’d just walk in and ask.
She took the stairs to the second floor. She passed several classrooms reserved for advanced training and came to another hallway. An AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign was posted on the wall. She peered around the corner. Heard the whir of fax machines and printers.
She’d reached Goddess Central.
She started down the hallway, but had gone only a few feet, when a door opened and Dr. Bliss stepped out. She saw Andy and smiled.
It was Andy’s first close-up of the sex guru, and she was pleasantly surprised. She was dressed in an off-white pantsuit of soft satiny material. Her hair was caught up into a soft topknot of silver curls.
Her tall, willowy body seemed to glide effortlessly down the hall as she came forward, smiling, her hands held out, palms up as if half in question and half in an offering of help. The doctor’s penetrating gaze locked on Andy’s, seeming to look into her soul. Andy shoved her glasses up her nose. The doctor became a blur.
Even so, Andy felt the power of the sex guru’s charisma. She didn’t strike Andy as someone who would commit murder. Even for billions of dollars. And certainly not for whatever Aunt Mac had.
But Andy hadn’t grown up with actors, those perfected liars-for-hire, without learning that a good actor could tap into any emotion, any persona, and make his audience believe it.
Dr. Bliss stopped in front of her. “Are you lost?”
“I was . . .”
But before she could say “looking for a phone,” the doctor said, “You’ve wandered into the business section. There are a few classrooms on this floor, but they are the advanced workshops for Initiates, Handmaidens, and Priestesses.”
Andy wondered how she could spout those ridiculous titles with a straight face. But the doctor was serious about her goddess training.
“Let’s see. You’re Ariadne McAllister, correct?”
“Uh, yes.”
“We had another McAllister at the last session. Miranda, I believe her name was, yes, Miranda McAllister Houston. A relation of yours, perhaps?”
Damn. Of course, the application had a blank for middle names. She should have used an alias. Did they know why she was here? She swallowed. “I don’t believe so.”
“And how are you enjoying your participation so far?”
“It’s interesting.”
“Good. Carmen was telling us at our lunchtime staff meeting that you attended her Knowing What You Want workshop.” She tilted her head and looked into the Coke-bottle lenses as if she could read Andy’s thoughts.
Andy had to fight the urge to apologize for being such a recalcitrant Novice. She knew she was falling under the doctor’s spell, just like everyone else did. And she knew the doctor expected her to tell all. It was part of the program.
After several uncomfortable seconds, the doctor’s eyes released Andy’s. She took Andy’s elbow and gently, but firmly, began steering her back toward the stairs.
“It’s sometimes a little overwhelming at first,” said Dr. Bliss, sympathetically. “But we all have each other’s success at heart. I know Carmen’s enthusiasm can sometimes be a little intimidating. It’s just that she wants everyone to find the joy she has found.”
Andy forced herself to smile. If Carmen was an example of the joy ozone found at Terra Bliss, she was welcome to it. As far as Andy could tell, Carmen and Jane were locked in one of those Olympian catfights that the Greeks were so well known for.
Somehow, they had reached the stairs.
“I need to call my mother,” Andy blurted out.
Dr. Bliss looked surprised.
No wonder. Andy sounded like a querulous child. And she felt querulous, not to mention just damned pissed off. She’d like to wring Galena’s neck for getting her into this.
“She’s not well.” Sorry, Galena, but you are just a tad on the sicko side. “I want to make sure she’s okay, uh, so I can really concentrate on my goddess training.” Not bad. She saw the flicker of interest in the doctor’s eyes before it faded and the knowing smile returned.
She started them down the stairs. “It’s wonderful that you care for your mother. But you do understand that we have a reason for our no-calls policy.
“Terra Bliss is a haven for us to discover our true natures. To turn our lives around and seek what we really want. It’s difficult to do if we let the ties that bind us to the outside world pull us from our purpose. Here we want to stay totally concentrated on uncovering the goddess within us. To retrain ourselves to listen to our inner eternal feminine, to do what’s good for us. Without pressure from our everyday responsibilities. To learn to demand pleasure from those with whom we have intercourse.” She smiled. “All kinds of intercourse. Isn’t that why you’re here, Ariadne?”
Wariness skittered up Andy’s spine. Had she imagined that sinister undertone? She looked hard at the doctor. The woman appeared completely peaceful, seemingly at one with her goddess love, almost otherworldly—a little too perfect to be real.
Andy had to stifle a shudder. If that’s what eternal orgasms did to you, she’d take the thirty-second kind and be happy to get them. This whole setup was beginning to give her the willies.
“Now, let’s see if . . . Ah, I have just the workshop for you.” Dr. Bliss steered Andy down the hall and stopped outside a door. “Achieving the Specs That Make You Special. It’s led by Jane Parsons.”
Great, thought Andy. Carmen’s evil twin. She didn’t think she was up for both of the acid acolytes on her first day. But before she could say she’d rather pass, Dr. Bliss opened the door.
A dozen women, sitting on the standard couches and armchairs, turned to stare at them.
Jane’s face lit up.
“Ah, Jane,” said Dr. Bliss. “Sorry to interrupt, but Ariadne would like to join your discussion.” She turned to the rest of the women. “Please, welcome Ariadne.” There were smiles and murmurs around the room.
Jane was so happy, Andy was afraid she might fall to her knees and start kowtowing. “Of course, Dr. Bliss. Won’t you come in?” She motioned to Andy, but her eyes were fixed on the doctor, who w
as obviously the sun of her existence.
Dr. Bliss beamed around at everyone and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Andy found herself standing alone in the middle of the floor. A young woman about Andy’s age motioned her over to the free place on the couch next to her.
“Well,” said Jane, as soon as Andy sat down. “We’ve heard from Carol. So-o-o. Tell us, Ariadne. What makes you special?”
———
When lunch was over, Dillon went to look for Rusty. He wanted to find out more about this Miranda who’d left in the middle of the last session. And who would know better than the woman’s attendant?
They’d already investigated the whereabouts of each of the Goddess International executives on the night of Imogene Southwaite’s fall to her death. Each had a solid alibi.
Which meant if they were involved, they had hired someone to do their dirty work. Possibly someone working at Terra Bliss. Which made everybody suspect, so he would have to be careful with his questioning. With the disappearance of Miranda Houston, Dillon might have more than one possible murder on his hands. And if there were two, they might be planning more.
But Rusty was nowhere to be found. Dillon went back to the dorms to wait. He was still waiting when it was time to dress for dinner.
He splashed aftershave on his face and opened his closet. There was a clean kilt inside. He kept his room locked, which meant the laundry staff, and probably others, had a master key.
Fortunately, he had nothing for them to discover. He was working solo with nothing but a cell phone that didn’t work. He knew that his superiors were only marginally interested in this case, and they had assigned it to Dillon so that he could prove himself once again. The outcome would determine his future.
If he blew it, his life as an agent would be over. He wouldn’t even get a purple heart for getting mangled in the line of duty. Because units that didn’t exist didn’t get medals. Well, he’d think of something. Become a private investigator or go into his brother’s sporting goods business.
He pulled the towel from his waist and flung it across the room. No, damn it, they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming out of the department. He stopped, the kilt held up to his waist but not buttoned. Did he really want to keep working for them? Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the thought of being drummed out because he wasn’t up to standard anymore.
