Bad Karma (23 page)

“At least we know Melissa is alive and healthy,” Pauline conceded when she could, still sniffling heavily, her breathing ragged as she tried to hold back more tears. “At least that’s something.”

“It is,” Shannon said. “It’s more than we knew yesterday. And keep the faith. I’m not abandoning her. I’m not abandoning you.”

She told him she would try to, and thanked him for everything he was doing for her and Melissa. “We still haven’t talked about your fee. I’d like to pay you for what you’ve already done.”

“We can talk about all that later,” Shannon said. “After Melissa is out of there and safe with you.”

***

Maguire was grinning from ear to ear when he greeted Shannon at his door. Perspiration showed on his forehead and neck, his shirt looking soaked around the collar and underarms. “I’ve got some pictures for you,” he said with a wink.

Bob Segar’s ‘Her Strut’ played in the background. When they got to the living room, Shannon saw that the room had been cleaned up. It still needed work, but the litter had been picked off the floor and trash bags were stacked in a corner. Windows had also been opened to air the place out.

“You’ve been busy,” Shannon said.

Maguire’s grin turned self-conscious. “Yeah, well, I decided to turn over a new leaf. And you were right. When I was cleaning up in the kitchen I saw some mouse droppings. I’ll buy traps later.”

He stopped suddenly, his head cocked to one side as he listened to Segar belt out
how they love to watch her strut
. Then at once he started playing air guitar, his face straining and contorting with the music. He finished his rift with several exaggerated strumming motions and pumped his fist in the air.

“I love that song,” he said. “
Against the Wind
might just be the best album of the last twenty-five years.”

“You’re one of those guys, huh?”

Maguire gave Shannon a questioning look.

“Air guitar player,” Shannon explained.

Maguire laughed at that. “Yep, I’m one of them. Ultimate Frisbee, hackey sack, air guitar, all that stuff. At least I used to be before I started having my life sucked out of me writing code fourteen plus hours a day. But that assignment you gave me today jazzed me right up. To quote a former Patriots head coach, it left me ‘pumped and jacked’.”

He moved into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator, took out a beer and held it against his neck to cool himself off. He looked over at Shannon, started to ask if he wanted one, then slapped his forehead. “Doh! Sorry man, forgot. You don’t drink.”

“Not usually, but I’ll take one.”

“You sure? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not an alcoholic. I can handle a beer. Just not the one you’re sweating over.”

Maguire eyed him suspiciously, but tossed him a can of Guinness. Shannon’s hands shook slightly as he opened it. It had been five years since he’d had a beer, and he found himself wanting it now more than he would’ve guessed. He took several gulps of it, then wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. He craved a cigarette badly. For several seconds he stood paralyzed by the thought of it. He fought back the urge to ask Maguire if he had any, and instead joined him at the kitchen table, leaning to look over the photos.

“You still haven’t told me what’s so important about a yoga studio,” Maguire said.

“This one’s run by a cult,” Shannon said. His voice cracked. His mouth had gotten so damn dry. He took a long drink of beer, then pushed the empty can away from him. “They use it to recruit new members.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I were.”

“Shit. You’re serious?”

“Yep.”

Maguire’s cheeks flushed red with excitement. “Holy fucking shit,” he muttered as he searched through the stack of photos in front of him. He found the one he was looking for and handed it to Shannon. “I know her. Damn, I can’t believe she’s into a cult. She seems so normal, so together.”

The photo Maguire had handed him was of Susan. “You know this woman?” Shannon asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her for this sinus infection and nasal drip I’ve been having. She does something called homeopathy. It’s kind of an alternative approach to medicine. A little out there if you ask me, but the damn thing seems to work. At least I think it cured me.”

Shannon laughed. “Let me guess. Your remedy type is Medhorrinum.”

Maguire reacted as if he’d been sucker punched. He stared blinking at Shannon. “Goddamn, you’re good,” he said. “How’d you know that?”

“Susan’s my ex-wife. Well, more than that, we’ve been reconciling for a while now. She’s going to that yoga studio undercover. Her idea, not mine.”

“You and Susan live together?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve been to your apartment, man. Just this past Tuesday, in fact. Same day we went to the Sox game. Damn. Talk about your coincidences.”

“No such thing as a coincidence. At least according to a friend of mine.”

“Bullshit. This is a fucking huge one. Unless the stars aligned so we’d meet and become partners in a new thriving detective agency. Shannon and Maguire Investigations. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yeah, I know. One step at a time. And I know, you might be retiring from this business.” He paused for a moment to rub his hand across his cheek and jaw, leaving a reddish mark behind. “You seemed pretty down before about those two students next door who were murdered.”

“A moment of self doubt. It’s already passed.”

“So you think you’re going to solve it?”

“Yeah, if I keep tracking down leads I’ll solve it. Only a matter of time.”

“That’s the spirit.” Maguire nodded solemnly. “I hope you give me a chance to help you with it. Anyway, let me show you the photos. These are the ones of them entering.”

The first photo showed a van driving off. “It let the same three women off that the Mercedes picked up later. I didn’t realize what was going on until the van drove away, otherwise I would’ve taken a picture of the driver. He was young, though, maybe early twenties, bald, with a bandage wrapped around his skull.”

“I know who the guy is.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Anyway, these are the three women he let out.” He pointed out the next three photos in the pile. Each photo showed a woman heading down the steps to the yoga studio. Two of these women were the ones who had confronted him at the studio, the third woman was young and petite with straight red hair.

Shannon flipped through the rest of the photos. With the exception of Susan, all the women were in their late teens or early twenties, and they were all very attractive. Maguire pointed a finger at the picture Shannon was looking at. “This has been bugging the hell out of me. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen her before and it just hit me where. She used to hang out at my neighbors’ condo.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Pretty sure. Yeah.” Maguire nodded, a sheen of excitement in his eyes. “And not just her. A couple of the others too.”

He took the photos from Shannon and studied them, taking out two of the photos. One was the dark-haired girl who had first confronted Shannon at the yoga studio, the other was a blond girl who looked enough like Melissa to be her sister.

“I’m pretty sure I saw those two also,” Maguire said. He absentmindedly rubbed his cheek harder than before, almost as if he had a toothache and was trying to massage the pain away. When he took his hand from his face his skin was mottled a reddish-white. “Shit, I knew they looked familiar.”

“You remember when you saw them?”

Maguire thought about it, shook his head. “No, after a while everything becomes kind of a blur. These days it’s hard to remember whether something happened six months ago or six years ago, you know what I mean? I just have this impression of coming home late from work a few times and seeing them talking outside the building with my neighbors.”

“All three of them talking with Carver and Gibson at the same time?”

“I don’t think so. Different ones at different times. But again, this is just an impression. I couldn’t swear to any of this on a Bible.”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Shannon’s heart beat a mile a minute as he jogged to his car, got the Vishna Yoga brochure and brought it back to Maguire. Trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, he asked whether Maguire ever saw Vishna hanging around with Carver and Gibson. Maguire studied the picture and shook his head. “I never saw this guy before.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. If I saw this dude, I’d remember.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it would’ve made things too easy if you did.” Shannon took back the brochure and asked Maguire whether he could make copies of the photos of the women he had seen with his neighbors.

“Absolutely. Computer’s in the second bedroom.”

Shannon followed him to a small room that had been set up as an office. Several bookcases were stuffed with a mix of technical books and hardboiled PI novels. While Maguire made the copies, Shannon picked up a dog-eared copy of
Red Harvest
by Dashiell Hammett and flipped through it.

“One of the best,” Maguire told him. “If you want to borrow it feel free.”

“Maybe another time. Right now I’ve got a collection of Zane Grey’s waiting for me.”

“Those are westerns, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve read a few recently by Cormac McCarthy. Terrific stuff. Has the same cynicism and bleak landscapes that you get in the best hardboiled books. By the way, all those computer books are getting tossed. In the next few weeks they’ll be replaced with investigation manuals.”

Maguire snapped his fingers suddenly and turned back to the computer. “A moment of inspiration hit me,” he explained to Shannon. “I wonder what would happen if I did an Internet search for Vishna Yoga?”

He brought up a search engine and tried it. “They’re opening up more studios,” he muttered softly as he looked over the results.

Shannon’s heart dropped as he looked at the list of upcoming locations. Fort Collins. Colorado Springs. Austin, Texas. Norman, Oklahoma. Boise, Idaho. Paveeth had far more ambitious plans than Shannon had given him credit for. He was going to mine those college towns for more women who fit his emotional and physical criteria. Shannon knew more expansions would come in the future. That this was just the beginning.

“What do you think?” Maguire asked, a twinkle showing in his eyes. “Should I buy some stock in his operations? Looks like a potential boom.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Shannon said. “Look, I’ve got to head out. I’ll give you a call soon.”

“Sure. Let me walk you to your car.”

“There’s no need. I’ll find my way out.”

“Yeah, okay, um, you are going to give me another assignment, right?”

Shannon nodded, grabbed the photos. “Yeah, I will. You did a good job today.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, and say hi to Susan for me.”

Shannon told him he would. Maguire walked with him out of the second bedroom and through the living room. Shannon was halfway down the steps when Maguire asked him if he had called Nancy yet. Shannon turned and gave him a puzzled look.

“My wife,” Maguire explained. “I was just wondering if you’ve talked to her.”

“No, not yet. I’ll give her a call tonight.”

“Let me know how things go.” He paused, showing a halfhearted smile. “Tell her I miss her, okay?”

Shannon told him he would. He felt lightheaded walking down the steps, realizing what he had stumbled into. True Light wasn’t just a local Boulder concern. Anil Paveeth had ambitions to go national. Maybe he had misread Paveeth’s purpose for these young women. Maybe what he was using them for was to train an army of ‘Vishna’ yoga instructors. And maybe the Russians’ role was to bankroll the expansion, and they leaned on him the other day to protect their investment. An image of Vishna Yoga studios in malls and shopping centers across the country struck him. If the sonofabitch was successful he’d be able to buy himself a boatful of parrots.

When he stepped outside he called Daniels and told him he’d stop by the station, that he had something for him. On the way over, he stopped at a convenience store and bought a large black coffee and a pack of Camel Filter Hardpacks.

***

Daniels looked bored as he glanced at the photos Shannon had handed him. He put them down and shrugged. “So?”

“I thought you’d be interested,” Shannon said. “Three members of True Light’s cult spending time at Carver and Gibson’s apartment.”

“First off, you don’t know that they’re members of that cult. All you know is they take yoga classes. Second, you don’t even know for a fact they ever spent time with Carver and Gibson, all you have is an impression from a neighbor that they did. And your buddy, Maguire, he doesn’t know when that was. Third, let’s say Carver and Gibson knew these girls, how the fuck does that tie that cult to their murders? You were a cop once. If someone came to you with this, what would you do?”

“I’d find these three girls and talk to them. Anil Paveeth also.”

“Who?”

“The great almighty Vishna. His real name is Anil Paveeth. This joker used to be a chemical engineer before becoming a god and starting True Light.”

“How’d you find this out?”

“A friend at the FBI.”

“So he used to be a chemical engineer. Big deal. I went to college for journalism and look at me now.”

“I still think it’s worth talking to them.”

“Let’s say I track down these girls. You know what I’ll get from them? Nothing. And I’ll get less from your pal, Paveeth. What you’re asking me to do is waste hours of my time, especially since there’s nothing connecting them to the murders. Now if you told me they were there the night Carver and Gibson were killed, or they had some altercation with them, then that would be different. Or if you told me your FBI friend has something concrete connecting that cult to those dead students. Are you able to tell me something like that?”

Shannon didn’t bother answering him.

“What I’m beginning to think is you’ve got a vendetta against that cult, that you didn’t like that a couple of their boys bruised you up the other day, and you’re looking for an excuse to send me down there to harass them.”