Down Dog Diary

by Sherry Roberts

  “He seems to like it well enough,” I said.

  “He’s bored. Peter Jorn seeks the truth in bandits’ caves and politicians’ offices, not zoning commission meetings and hotdish recipes.”

  I opened my mouth to tell Sebastian he was wrong when my phone chimed. I glanced at the screen. It was a text message from my father: Matilda sends her love.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “So soon? I feel like we were just getting to know each other.” He threw a five-dollar bill on top of the rest of the change on the table and escorted me out of Northern Lights. I glanced at my phone. I had just enough time to get to Larry’s and then back to the studio for the Monday five o’clock class.

  Sebastian walked me to the passenger side of the BMW. Just as he opened the door for me, Jorn pulled up and got out of his Jeep. He looked from me to Sebastian and back again. “Peter,” Sebastian said with a big smile.

  Jorn ignored Sebastian. He turned to me. “You need a ride?”

  Sebastian said, “She has one.”

  The air between the two men bristled. We didn’t have time for this. “Actually,” I said, “I have something to discuss with Jorn before class. See you later at yoga, Sebastian?”

  Sebastian’s smile stayed on his face as he reluctantly stepped back. “Of course.”

  I climbed into Jorn’s Jeep. Jorn stared at Sebastian a moment longer then joined me. I directed Jorn to drive to Larry’s.

  After three blocks of silence, Jorn asked, “Did you enjoy your tea?”

  “Sebastian was pleasant company,” I said.

  “Sebastian is never pleasant.”

  “He’s thinking about starting a newspaper here.”

  Jorn let out a bark. “He can try.”

  “You’re not worried about the competition?”

  “He’s not interested in this little burg.”

  As we arrived at my parents’ house, I said, “He keeps tabs on you. He knows about Afghanistan.”

  “He knows nothing,” Jorn said, shutting off the motor.

  JORN TOOK ONE LOOK at my father’s office, and his eyes widened. Seeing Jorn’s interest, a delighted Larry rolled around amid his computers, explaining what he was doing with this one and that one. Quickly, Jorn was on information overload, his eyes glazed, his mouth open. Finally, I interrupted my father, “Matilda, Larry, Matilda.”

  “Right, right.” Larry scratched his head, then swung over to a monitor on his left. He tapped furiously and ended with a flourish. “So, Matilda has been digging her little heart out.”

  “Matilda?” Jorn whispered to me.

  “The computer,” I mumbled. He nodded. We stepped closer and peered at the numbers on the screen, columns of numbers, large amounts. It looked like a bank account.

  “The medical examiner’s?” I asked.

  Larry nodded. “Accounts in the Caymans and Switzerland.”

  “I found out that much,” Jorn said. “I just couldn’t get into them.”

  “Matilda has her ways,” Larry said with a gentle pat to Matilda’s monitor. “Unusually large deposits made at the time of Tum’s demise can be tracked to a London company. That company is buried in tunnels of other companies. But, Matilda found a holding company. Tiger Corp.”

  Jorn straightened. “Are you sure?”

  Larry had no doubt in Matilda’s abilities. “Positive.”

  “Why?” I turned to Jorn. “Do you know this company?”

  “I know it.”

  Jorn refused to elaborate, so I thanked my father, gave him a hug, and left with Jorn.

  Jorn dropped me off at my car, which was one of three still left in the school parking lot.

  “Are you coming to class?” I asked, getting out of the Jeep.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

  Chapter 17

  Shopping List: More Sage

  THE MONDAY YOGA CLASS started as all others, with Jorn on one side of the room and Sebastian on the other. Jorn was sweating in minutes, his shoulder and hip taking their sweet time loosening up. Sebastian, on the other hand, flowed through the practice like a prized student of Guru Bob. His breathing was even, deep, and calm. In a silk tank, his muscles gleamed. He wore loose-fitting pants and tied his hair back in a short ponytail. Instead of a rubber mat, he used an indigo handwoven Ashtanga yoga rug. It looked well used, an old friend, and it surprised me that Sebastian would be so sentimental as to drag his yoga rug around with him. I once commented on how lovely it was. Sebastian told me it was a gift from an Indian prince.

  Merlin was back in class, his broken arm healed. I watched him carefully, suggesting the occasional alternative pose when he seemed to be having trouble. Sasha, with a bright pink yoga mat, was set up behind Jorn, as usual.

  Jorn didn’t own his own mat. He maintained he wouldn’t need yoga long enough to make the investment so he just grabbed any mat from the pile when he came in, as did Julia, who often forgot to bring one of the three yoga mats in her hall closet. Alice always brought her own, a double-thick purple mat. The first time Alice came to class she asked if I sanitized the mats between classes. Apparently, Alice doesn’t trust me.

  I looked at the empty spot in front, to my right, the place where Olivia always practiced. It had been more than a week since the attack. When I called her, she said she couldn’t come back to class yet.

  “Maybe next Monday, Maya,” Olivia said.

  I knew she was embarrassed.

  “Sure,” I said. “When you’re ready. But Olivia . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I miss seeing that crazy mat of yours.”

  I think I heard her laugh. Olivia’s mat was orange and red and covered in tropical flowers and vines. In one corner, she’d taken a black magic marker and drawn a tiny skull. It was so Olivia, a sweet kid trying hard to be tough.

  As the final om dissolved into silence and students began rolling up their mats, I saw Jorn get up and walk across the room toward Sebastian. I immediately jumped to my feet and followed. Just as I reached the two men, I heard Jorn say, “You paid off the M.E.”

  My head whipped around to Sebastian. What had Sebastian to do with events in New Mexico?

  Locked in a stare with Jorn, Sebastian said in a low voice. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Tiger Corp.,” Jorn said. “It’s your company.”

  Arrogance flowed off Sebastian and iced the room. “I don’t discuss my business with you, Peter.”

  I stepped up. “Is there a problem here?”

  Jorn spared me a glance. “He’s Tiger Corp. His company paid the New Mexico medical examiner to falsify the report on Tum’s death.”

  My mind spun. “Sebastian?” I asked. “Is this true?”

  “No.”

  “Liar,” Jorn spat.

  Sebastian stood remarkably still, composed, while Jorn was vibrating with anger. I glanced around the room. The other class members had paused in their preparations to leave and edged closer to us. Julia and Alice looked puzzled. Sasha had a grin on her face, the kind you see ringside.

  Jorn said, “James Tumblethorne was an old man. A friend of Maya’s. He was murdered.”

  Sebastian said, “My condolences.”

  “Nice act. You’re never sorry, Sebastian.”

  “You, on the other hand,” Sebastian said, with a smirk, “are smothering in regrets. Poor Gasquet, to hook up with a partner like you.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  Jorn launched himself at Sebastian. I shouted for Jorn to stop, but it was too late. The men were on the floor rolling around on Sebastian’s yoga rug. Jorn landed a punch to Sebastian’s right cheek. Sebastian only grunted, lifted both hands, and clapped Jorn’s ears. Jorn fell off him, shaking his head, and, in an instant, Sebastian was on his feet. I recognized the stan
ce immediately. Sebastian was a trained fighter. Jorn winced as he rolled to standing. He moved his shoulder, testing it, then put fists up to his face.

  Jorn was a pugilist, while Sebastian was a mamba, fast-moving and deadly. He was playing with Jorn, striking a rib here, a thigh there. But Jorn was tenacious; he kept swinging, connecting more than I thought he would. Sebastian’s opening came, and with a single blow, he opened up a cut in the corner of Jorn’s eye. Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. A drop of blood fell to the studio floor. Jorn’s weary hand swept across his face, his guard down. I saw the kick coming. Sebastian wouldn’t pass up this opportunity. He slammed into Jorn’s injured hip, and Jorn’s leg buckled under him.

  Jorn went down. I heard someone gasp.

  I stepped between the two, just as Sebastian was going in for the finishing strike. I automatically blocked the punch that was headed for Jorn’s swollen eye. Sebastian turned on me, fury mixed with shock.

  “Enough!” I shouted. “Where do you think you are?”

  Sebastian lifted a brow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to push me aside. Then he stepped back.

  Jorn started to get up. “Maya, get out of the way.”

  I jabbed a finger at him. “You. Stay down.”

  I was disgusted with both of them. “This is a yoga studio. My studio. People come here for peace not brawling.”

  Turning back to Sebastian, I said, “You. Get out. This was your last class.”

  I imagine not many people threw Sebastian Winter out. His look turned glacial. He lowered his fists. “As you wish.” Sebastian bent and grabbed his yoga rug. Slowly and carefully, he rolled it, never taking his eyes from mine. When he was finished, he gave me a salute and a cocky smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

  After Sebastian departed, the other students gathered around Jorn.

  “Are you all right, Peter?” asked Alice with a frown. Any minute now she was going to ask for my first-aid kit.

  “It was a lucky punch,” Merlin said.

  “What were you two fighting about?” Julia asked. She’d grabbed a towel and was dabbing at the cut near Jorn’s eye.

  “That probably needs stitches,” Alice said.

  Sasha leaned against the wall, watching the others’ ministrations. “My, my, your yoga classes are exciting, Maya.”

  “Glad we could entertain you, Sasha,” Julia said.

  “Oh, Julia, it was just a little altercation. Boys will be boys,” Sasha said.

  “Not in my studio,” I glared at her.

  I knelt next to Jorn and took the towel from Julia. After a rough swipe at his cheek, which made Jorn wince, I said, “I am so mad at you right now I can’t think straight. Sebastian’s not rehabbing, and he’s trained in martial arts. Not to mention all the negative energy you’ve just smeared all over the place!”

  Jorn grabbed the towel from me. “Excuse me, I had more on my mind than your precious energies. Like getting my ass kicked!” He groaned to his feet, and everyone faded back, leaving just Jorn and me in a silent face-off. From the corner of my eye, I saw Merlin and Alice turn to leave. Julia walked over and picked up her borrowed yoga mat; she grabbed Sasha’s pink one and pushed it into her sister’s arms. “But I want to watch,” Sasha whined, as Julia shoved her toward the door.

  Finally, we were alone.

  “Sebastian’s in this,” Jorn said. “You know it, and I know it.”

  “Well, since you didn’t beat a confession out of him, we’ll have to find another way to get some answers.”

  “Is that a crack about my fighting skills?”

  “You have skills?”

  “He cheats. He always does.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Get out.”

  “You’re throwing me out, too?” Jorn couldn’t believe it. He stomped toward the door, holding the towel to his head. “You know, you could use some lessons in teamwork. A partner has your back. A partner takes your side. A partner offers you a lousy Band-Aid.”

  I STOOD IN THE center of the yoga studio, alone. I had never been a team player. Unlike Heart, I enjoyed being different. Evie and Larry raised us to think for ourselves and follow our hearts. My sister has always been cautious—she never leaps without looking. I, on the other hand, react and don’t even slow down at the edge of the cliff.

  I had not handled this well. I had driven away Sebastian Winter when I needed to keep him close to discover his connection to Tiger Corp. And I’d pushed Jorn away with my New Age excuses because I didn’t want to face how much it hurt to see him bloody and beaten.

  I sighed and walked to the closet. I needed to purify the studio before going to bed. I lit the bundle of sage. Praying, I walked to all four corners of the studio, pausing at each and pushing the smoke with my hand toward the corner. Once, I met an old Indian woman who said she could see the “dark spots” on a spirit-body, areas that needed healing or cleansing. Although I don’t see such spots, I feel them. I feel the leftovers of violence, the taints of bad energy. Sage drives out the bad spirits, feelings, and influences. It also drives out Bella. As soon as I started the ceremony, the kitten scooted from the room. She stopped just outside the door, sank to the floor, dropped her muzzle between her paws, and watched me.

  After sage comes cedar, same process, moving to all four corners. Prayers rise on the cedar smoke and are carried to the Creator. Cedar not only shows bad energies the road, but also invites good energies in. To bring in more good spirits and influences, I next burned the powerful sweetgrass, which I bought in a Native American store. Finally, I lit a candle and paced the perimeter of the studio, pushing its light into every corner. The native people of the Pacific Northwest Coast call this “lighting-up,” and it never fails to “clear the air.”

  When I was satisfied the studio had been cleansed, Bella and I slowly climbed the stairs to my apartment. It was long past dinner. Dragging with exhaustion, I sliced an apple and thought, Tiger Corp. I should Google it, but not tonight. I pushed away from the kitchen counter, walked into my bedroom, and dropped my clothes. As I slid in between the sheets, I yawned. If I’m going to keep hanging out with Jorn, I’ll need more sage.

  Chapter 18

  It’s a Jungle Out There— and in Here

  WHEN OUTNUMBERED, ALWAYS GO for the leader. This is the cut-off-the-head-of-the-snake strategy. When followers have no one to follow, they melt away. Besides, I wasn’t interested in Pierced Boy or the boy band lover. I was going for Snowboard Boy, the one who wore knitted hats like an emblem and could afford expensive ski jackets.

  I hadn’t seen Jorn or Sebastian for a week. Neither came to Monday yoga class. I was back on the trail of the diary, alone, missing Jorn but not ready to admit it. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and I was following Snowboard Boy home from school. I fell back about a block; it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on that swagger. I imagined this punk smacking Olivia. She was tiny, of delicate bone, defenseless. He was short but sturdy and oozed attitude with every step. I was going to enjoy this.

  I stepped behind a tree as Snowboard Boy stopped in front of a large brick house. It had a white picket fence, I kid you not. I had expected the boy came from affluence but not this tidiness. The front yard was filled with gardens, all neatly prepared, orderly, weeded until they were bald. Tulips were painting the spring air with color. I bet his father was an executive in The Cities and his mother, from the looks of the flower beds, was a neat freak.

  The boy opened the white gate and swaggered up the cobblestone walk. I was about to step out from behind my tree when the front door flew open and a small girl launched herself from the top porch step. She threw herself into the air, right into the boy’s arms. He automatically caught her and drew her close.

  “Mikey!” she giggled. “It’s park time. You promised.”

  “No way. I can’t be seen with a runt like you.”

  Obvi
ously this was a running gag because the girl, who appeared to be about four and had long yellow curls just like her brother, pinched his ear. He pretended that it hurt. Still clutching his earlobe, she pulled his head closer and in a loud whisper said, “I got a new superpower today.”

  Mikey leaned back and stared her in the eye. “Yeah? What?”

  “I can walk on the moon.”

  He set her down. “Show me.”

  She began sliding backwards down the cobblestone walk, lifting her heels, swinging her arms. Mikey started laughing. “You’re a kick, kid.”

  She grinned and threw herself at his legs. He looked down at her, smoothed her hair, and said, “Okay. The park. Only a half hour. Let me go tell Mom we’re going.”

  The girl stopped him. “She’s taking a nap.”

  Mikey crouched down to her level. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I did just what you said. I stayed in the house and made sure she ate lunch. And I hid the bottle so Daddy wouldn’t see it. I covered her up and tucked Sparky in with her so she won’t be by herself when she wakes up. I did good, right?”

  Mikey rose and took her hand. “Yeah, you did good.”

  Then he led her to the park.

  I followed them.

  It was one of Gabriel’s Garden’s many little neighborhood green spaces with a playground and one tennis court. It was empty, and from the cover of a huge blue spruce, I watched him warn the girl to be careful on the slide and pretend to scare her as she came through the tube in the middle. He called her Lissa.

  After several turns down the slide, Lissa decided she was thirsty and ran to the water fountain, which was too tall for her to reach. Mikey began to lift her, but she said, no, she wanted to do it herself. Mumbling something about her being “a pain,” Mikey dropped down to his hands and knees so she could step on his back and use him as a footstool.

  I waited until Lissa had jumped down and Mikey was pushing her on the swing before I strolled up.

  “Hi, Mikey,” I said.

  The boy jumped. He glanced in my direction and tensed. He quickly shot a look toward his sister.