Bad Karma (24 page)

Shannon nodded towards the pictures he had given Daniels. “You need those?”

“Nah, why don’t you take them with you on your way out.”

Shannon did what the lieutenant suggested and took several steps towards the door when Daniels begrudgingly asked him what his theory was. “How were Carver and Gibson connected to that cult?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they did some early recruiting for Paveeth before he opened his yoga studio.”

“Or maybe there’s no connection. Maybe those girls became so distraught over their friends’ deaths that they ended up getting sucked into the same cult together.” Daniels shook his head, his chest deflating as he sighed. “You find a real connection between Paveeth and those dead students and I’ll look into it. But not until then. I already had a new asshole chewed out for me yesterday for not showing enough sensitivity to ‘our minority’ faiths here in Boulder.”

Shannon left. It was already past five. He thought about heading back to the Boulderado to see Susan, but instead made a detour to the university. He found Eddie at the fountain area outside the student center playing a kid in speed chess. Eddie had a rook and three pawn advantage but never had a chance to use it because the kid’s flag fell while he pondered his position. The kid got up and let Shannon take his place.

Eddie opened his eyes wide as he considered Shannon. “An unexpected surprise. I thought our match was tomorrow?”

“It is. I wanted to ask if this is the girl you had talked to before.”

Shannon handed him the picture of the girl with straight red hair, one of the three to have been let out of the van. Eddie studied it intently, pushing his upper plate out as he did.

“Nope,” he said, “that’s not her. The one I talked to looked like a young redheaded version of Meg Ryan with freckles, at least when her eyes weren’t jumping around on me. How about it? You up to a game of speed chess?”

“Sure, I’ve got five minutes to spare.”

“You any good at it?”

“We’ll find out.”

They set up the board with Shannon taking white and each side putting five minutes on their side of the chess clock. Twelve moves into the game Eddie muttered “fish” under his breath. Twenty moves later Eddie had his head in his hands as he stared hopelessly at the board. He stayed in that position until his flag fell.

“Why me, lord, why me?” he beseeched the sky, then turned livid as he faced Shannon. “I played the Steinitz variation of the Caro-Kann perfectly. I spent three day studying all its variations. You screwed up on your twelfth move. It should’ve been a won game for me.”

“I kind of liked my twelfth move,” Shannon said.

“That move should’ve opened you up to a queenside attack...” Eddie cut himself off. “Another game?”

Shannon looked at the kid who’d been observing their game and waiting his turn. “Okay with you?” The kid shrugged, said it was more than cool with him. That he enjoyed watching someone humble Eddie for a change.

Eddie, setting up the board, asked, “You making any headway with your investigation?”

“If you call wandering aimlessly without a clue headway, then yeah.” Shannon took his pack of Camels out, opened it, and tapped lose a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Alright with me. Rest of Boulder might form a lynching party, but don’t hold back on my account.”

Shannon’s hands shook as he struck a match and held it to the cigarette. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the smoke and tasting the sweetness of it. He felt lightheaded and disgusted with himself, but also immediately calmer, less jittery—as if a valve had been opened and the pressure inside released.

“I quit five years ago,” he explained. “The last couple of days the thought of lighting up has been bugging me.”

“Falling back into your old ways.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you were a cop you probably smoked. Now that you’re doing cops’ work again, you’re falling back into your old ways.”

Shannon didn’t believe that was the reason for it, but he shrugged and acknowledged that it was possible. Eddie had taken white for the next game. He made his move and hit the clock. Shannon followed suit, letting no more than a tick run off his clock. Most of the game was played evenly with neither side obtaining a clear advantage. With a minute left on both clocks, both players made their moves fast and furiously. By the end Eddie had a slight advantage, but his flag fell. Only a few ticks showed on Shannon’s clock.

Eddie stared incredulously at his fallen flag, then at the board. “I had you,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

“No question about it. I had you.” He rolled his eyes upward before facing Shannon. “At least this gives me hope for tomorrow. One more?”

Shannon checked his watch, saw it was a quarter to six. “Sorry, I need to get going.”

“I hope these games helped you.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “If I had to guess, you came here more to clear your head than to ask me about that picture or to play chess. Any ideas come to you?”

“Still hopelessly in the dark.”

Shannon nodded to Eddie, stubbed out his cigarette and walked off. A thought buried in his subconscious had been nagging at him, and while he played the second game he realized what it was: why the hell were those Russians acting as a taxi service and picking up those girls at the yoga studio? His gut told him the Russians were from Denver. If they lived in Boulder they’d stick out like sore thumbs. So why’d they drive all the way out here just to pick up those girls? The answer hit him about the time he was finishing the last game. They were already in Boulder for another reason so it was no big deal for them, and he had an idea what that other reason might be.

He called Susan on her cell phone.

“Hi hon,” she said, “I’ve been missing you. I’m back at the hotel room now practicing with a couple of pom-poms and getting ready for later. Think you’ll be back soon?”

“Hey, babe, I’ve been missing you too. I’m going to stop by the apartment to check email and I’ll head over to the hotel after that. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, why do you ask?”

“You sound like something’s wrong. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“It’s just been a long day and my throat’s a little dry, that’s all. Keep practicing with those pom-poms, okay?”

Susan told him she’d use the extra time to work on some advanced moves, and that she was looking forward to seeing him. There was a hesitancy in her voice. Before hanging up she asked him not to be too long. Shannon knew she could sense something was wrong, but she didn’t push it. He drove to his apartment building. It seemed quiet from the outside, nothing appearing out of place. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw that his front door was in one piece. He had convinced himself that Paveeth had used the opportunity of his visiting True Light to send the Russians to his apartment, and had an image stuck in his mind of them busting their way in. He checked the locks and saw that they hadn’t been tampered with. When he opened the door, his eyes went directly to a gaping hole in the wall that had been carved out next to the hallway closet. The hole revealed two video recorders his spy cameras were connected to. When he checked them he saw that the tapes had been removed. He looked around the living room. Books had been thrown onto the floor, but nothing else looked out of place.

He moved next to the kitchen. All of the drawers had been thrown open and papers tossed to the floor. Shannon felt a coolness driving into his skull as he walked to the bedroom. As he expected, his computer was gone. Then he saw Emily. She was lying on her side next to the bed, her frying pan laying a few feet away from her. The coolness was now more like ice cubes being pushed into his eye sockets. He got on one knee and felt her pulse. She was still alive. Blood had congealed on the back of her skull above her ear. A stain the shape of a large melon had leaked out onto the carpet from her wound. Shannon’s vision blurred as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. He told them to send an ambulance, that he had a head trauma victim needing emergency care. He then called Daniels, gave him a quick rundown of what happened, and asked if he could meet him at his apartment. He struggled over whether to call Susan. He didn’t want her hearing about Emily over the phone, but he remembered her talking about homeopathy being used to help accident victims. He called her, his voice sounding distant and tinny to himself as he told her about Emily.

She asked whether Emily was making any noises.

“No, nothing.”

“How is she breathing?”

“Very shallow. Barely at all.”

“Any movement?”

“None.”

“Bill, this is very important. Go to the cabinet in the kitchen where I keep my remedies. Find one labeled ‘1M Opium’. Shake out six pellets and place them in her mouth.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Try and do it as quickly as you can. Call me back when you know what hospital they’re taking her to.”

“When I find out, I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive over together. I’m so sorry about this, Susie.”

“It’s not your fault, love, but please, get her the remedy now.”

Susan hung up at her end. Shannon went to the kitchen. Her remedies had been tossed onto the floor with the papers. He searched through them until he found a package labeled ‘1M Opium’, then went back to Emily. He stood frozen as he looked at her. This went against all his years of training as a police officer. Over and over it’s drummed into you not to touch an unconscious body unless CPR is needed. As a cop you’re supposed to wait for the EMT workers. The last thing you’re supposed to do is put what amounts to snake oil into someone’s mouth.

The sound of a distant ambulance knocked him out of his trance. Although what Susan did remained as much a mystery to him as voodoo, he had seen small miracles come out of her work. Les Hasherford was just one example. He tapped six pellets into his palm, each one the size of a pinhead. Kneeling by Emily, he gently opened her mouth and placed the pellets in it. He said a silent prayer over her body, then got to his feet.

He walked outside to wait for the ambulance. The noise of a siren was getting louder. He lit a cigarette and tried to pull some comfort from it.

Chapter 14

When the ambulance arrived, the EMT workers moved swiftly and within minutes had Emily on an IV and were monitoring her vital signs.

“How’s she looking?” Shannon asked one of them.

The EMT worker didn’t bother to look up. “Blood pressure’s low. She has a fractured skull and probably swelling around the brain. We’ve got to get her to the ICU right away.”

They stabilized her head, then one of the EMT workers lifted her up enough so the other could slide a stretcher under her. Shannon asked which hospital they were taking her to and he was told Memorial.

They were loading Emily into the back of the ambulance when a police cruiser arrived. Two uniformed patrolmen got out, talked briefly with the EMTs, then approached Shannon with their poker faces firmly intact. One of them introduced himself as Officer Robideau, the other—the larger of the two—didn’t bother giving his name, but Robideau referred to him as Jenks. Shannon explained what happened and his relationship with the victim. Both officers were young, maybe late twenties. Both had short buzz cuts and sunburned faces. Neither of them looked like they believed him. Jenks peered at Shannon with a distant look in his eyes, almost as if he were waiting for an excuse to be able to unload on him with his nightstick. He asked Shannon to show them where the attack happened.

Shannon led the way to his apartment. When the officers saw that his front door was unmarked, Robideau asked whether the attackers had a key to the apartment.

“I hope not,” Shannon said. “My guess is they’re good with locks. These were pros.”

When he opened the door and the two officers saw the gaping hole in the wall, their skepticism faded. Robideau let out a low whistle. “It looks like they had a crowbar with them.”

“What are those recorders hooked up to?” Jenks asked.

“Surveillance cameras.”

“Tapes missing?”

“Yep.”

He gave Shannon a look indicating that he was just itching to smack him with his nightstick. “How do you suppose they knew you had video surveillance?”

“Don’t know. They probably found one of the cameras, then looked for the recorders. As I said before, these guys are probably pros.”

Jenks had small, almost baby-like ears, and as he stared at Shannon the tips of them turned a bright fire-engine red. “Do you mind telling me why you have this system?” he asked.

“I was on the job for ten years.” Shannon held up his right hand showing his missing two fingers. “I was a Detective First Grade when I lost these and had to go on disability. Now I’m a licensed private investigator, and have a surveillance system for my safety, okay?”

“There’s no need to take that tone,” Jenks said, his manner more subdued. “Under the circumstances that was a more than reasonable question.”

“Agreed. Let me show you where I found Emily.”

Shannon led the two cops to his bedroom. While they were staring at the blood stain on the carpet, a hard knock came from the front door followed by Daniels yelling through it to announce himself. Robideau joined Shannon, and when Daniels was let in and he saw the patrolman, he nodded brusquely to him and asked who he was partnering with. Robideau told him Chris Jenks.

“What hospital they take the victim to?”

“Memorial.”

“Why don’t you head over there and take a statement in case the victim regains consciousness. Jenks can stick with me for the time being.”

Robideau nodded and was out the door when Daniels asked him how the victim was doing. “EMTs didn’t think it looked good,” Robideau said.

Daniels stepped into the apartment, nodded at Shannon, then sniffed a couple of times. He made a face. “You been smoking?”

“A couple of cigarettes. Filthy habit,” Shannon said.

“Yeah it is. I didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“Up until today I haven’t been. At least not during the last five years.”

“I sympathize,” Daniels said. “This Carver-Gibson business can take its toll. These last few months I’ve been pouring an extra couple of shots of Maker’s Mark each night. And now just what we need. Another homicide.”

“It’s not a homicide yet,” Shannon said.

“No, not yet. I guess we can hope for the best. How well did you know the victim?”

“Pretty well. Emily lives two doors down. She’s probably Susan’s best friend here in Boulder.”

“Susan…?”

“My ex-wife, well sort of my ex-wife. We got back together four years ago, just never bothered remarrying.”

“How well did you get along with this Emily…?”

“Emily Janney. I like her. She’s a good kid.”

“You two ever involved?”

“No.”

Daniels took several steps into the room and looked around. “I had to pull in a few favors to get this case assigned to me,” he said. “My boss didn’t want me touching anything else until the Carver-Gibson murders are closed. My own personal circle in hell: to work that case for all eternity.” His eyes settled on the hole in the wall. “You had access to the equipment from the closet?”

“Yeah. I had built in a side panel that could be slid out. Too bad they didn’t use it instead of carving up the wall.”

“They probably found the video recorders with a stud detector-type device for electronics.” Daniels’ barrel chest expanded as he took a long deep breath. He let it out slowly through his nose. “This is going to be another fucking long day. Just what I was hoping for on a Friday night. What was your neighbor doing here?”

“She was keeping an eye on the place. She was supposed to call the police if she saw or heard anything.”

“You were expecting someone to break in?”

“I thought there was a chance the muscle I ran into at True Light would try it. A couple of Russian thugs.”

“Yeah? What made you think so?”

Shannon scratched his neck, looked away. “They threatened to come here if I kept bothering the True Light. It was an indirect threat. Nothing I could sign out a complaint on.”

“Ah fuck, this is just what I need. Now I’ve got to chase after a couple of phantom Russian thugs.” He lowered his head into his right hand and squeezed his eyes. When he looked back at Shannon they were as bloodshot as any bassett hounds’. “I’m going to need you to go to the precinct and look through mug shots. I’ll give our sketch artist a call and see if I can get him down there tonight.”

“Maybe I can do better than that.” Shannon took out his wallet, found the Russian’s driver’s license and handed it to Daniels.

“How’d you get this?”

“During our scuffle the other day. I doubt you’re going to find much on him. I’d already faxed his picture to my friend at the FBI and so far she’s found nothing.”

“What about fingerprints?”

“Already checked. License had been wiped clean.”

Daniels held the license closer and squinted as he read the name and address. “Dan Smith from Los Angeles. What do you suppose the chances are that that name and address are genuine?”

“Unless he legally changed his name, zero. Both of these guys had thick Russian accents. If I had to bet money on it, I’d say this one was ex-KGB. Also, at one point he boxed professionally—at least in Russia.”

“Give me a timeline.”

“I stopped off here at ten to two to check emails, stayed no more than fifteen minutes. I came back around six and found Emily. I think the window’s smaller. One of the Russians picked up a few of True Light’s members at Vishna Yoga around three-thirty. He was driving a black Mercedes 500 SEL. I didn’t get a license plate. They were probably here somewhere between two thirty and a quarter past three.”

Daniels nodded slowly as he considered that, then yelled out for Jenks. The patrolman came out of the bedroom and told Daniels he was maintaining the crime scene. Daniels waved him over. “Show this license to every tenant in this building and find out if anyone saw him here this afternoon. Also whether anyone saw a black Mercedes sedan. I want every tenant asked. I also want the neighborhood canvassed.”

“His nose is probably bandaged up,” Shannon offered. Daniels eyes narrowed as he gave him a sideways glance. “I broke it pretty good the other day,” Shannon explained.

“You heard what he said,” Daniels said to Jenks. “Mention the bandages.” Jenks acknowledged Daniels with a curt “yes sir”, then left the apartment.

Daniels asked Shannon, “Outside the videotapes, anything taken?”

“My computer. Nothing else that’s obvious. I’ll go through the apartment more thoroughly later. Are you going to talk to True Light?”

“Yeah, I’ll get their side of it. I want you heading over to the precinct and looking at mug shots for that other Russian.”

“Later. Mug shots are a long shot at best. Right now I’m going to pick up Susan and take her to Boulder Memorial. When the sketch artist is available give me a call on my cell phone and I’ll take care of that and the mug shots at the same time.”

Daniels made a face but didn’t argue. Instead, he mentioned in an offhand manner that maybe they’d get lucky. That Emily would regain consciousness and be able to tell them what happened.

“If she does recover she’s not going to be able to tell us anything. If she could, those Russians wouldn’t have left her alive.”

Daniels shrugged weakly, indicating he pretty much agreed with that. “I’ll get forensics here, see if we can lift any prints or fibers,” he said without any enthusiasm. Shannon left without bothering to mention how useless that activity would be.

The Boulderado Hotel was less than a five-minute drive from his apartment. On his way to pick up Susan, he found that he had shaken loose a cigarette and was lighting it before he realized what he was doing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror—the cigarette dangling from his lips, the hardness about his face, an emptiness in his eyes. He took the cigarette out and crumpled it. After parking at the hotel, he tossed the cigarette and the rest of the pack in the trash, then found Susan waiting for him in the hotel lobby.

She walked to him quickly and took hold of his hand, then asked whether there was any news on Emily. He told her that he didn’t know of any yet. “But you gave her the Opium 1M?” He nodded and told her he did.

As they walked to their car, Shannon saw that dark clouds had rolled over the Flatirons. With the approaching storm the temperature had dropped almost twenty degrees in the last hour. He felt Susan shiver next to him. She squeezed his hand harder, but didn’t say a word.

While they drove to Boulder Memorial, he told her his theory about Paveeth sending the Russians to their apartment while he was busy at True Light. She sat quietly, listening, her face tense and pale in the evening dusk.

“I am so angry about this,” she said at last.

“Susie, I am so sorry about what happened.”

“There is nothing for you to feel sorry about, hon. You did nothing wrong. The person I am furious with is this Anil Paveeth. For him to think he can victimize people the way he does.”

Shannon hesitated, said, “Susie, I really don’t want you going back to that yoga studio. I don’t think it’s safe. I also think the incense they use has been doctored. Maybe Paveeth’s added THC to it, maybe other ingredients. Anyway I think he’s using it to weaken people’s resolve, along with the other standard brainwashing techniques they’re employing. This guy’s a chemical engineer. He’d know how to do something like that.”

She didn’t respond. Shannon glanced over and saw her brow furrowed as she sat lost in her own thoughts.

When they arrived at the hospital, they went to the ICU waiting area and checked in at the desk. The nurse brought up Emily’s record on her computer and told them that she was in surgery now but her doctor would come out later and talk to them.

They took seats and waited. Shannon could see the worry tugging at Susan’s features and spoiling her mouth. Under the fluorescent light of the waiting room, her skin looked almost paper-thin. More to get her mind onto something else, Shannon asked her what the characteristics were of a Medhorrinum remedy-type.

Numbly, she rattled off, “Intense energy, passion, outgoing, zest for life, all of which leads to them burning themselves out. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious since I’ve been hanging out with one of your Medhorrinum patients. Hell, we might even go into business together.”

That knocked her out of her brooding and brought a bare trace of a smile to her lips. “Hon, fifty bucks you’re bluffing.”

“Mike Maguire. He’s the Boston guy I went to the ballgame with the other night. You can pay me later in services. We’ll work out an arrangement.”

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not leaving it like that. How’d you find out he’s my patient?”

Shannon couldn’t keep from smiling. “Mike’s doing a few odd jobs for me. I had him outside Vishna Yoga today taking pictures of everyone going in and out of the place. He was a bit shocked to see his trusted homeopath consorting with a known cult.”

“I bet he was!” Her bare trace of a smile stretched a fraction of an inch. “He’s a nice man. I like him.”

“Yeah, he kind of grows on you.”

Susan laughed at that. It was a sad laugh, but at least it was a laugh. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

“For trying to get my mind off Emily.”

“She’s going to be okay,” Shannon said. “I have a gut feeling that she’ll be okay.”

She nodded but didn’t seem too confident about Shannon’s gut. He looked helplessly at her, wishing there was something he could do. He knew this was hard for her. It was hard for him. After Charlie Winters, they’d both reached their thresholds as far as being able to lose people close to them because of violence. He started wondering how Emily had gotten into their apartment. If those two Russian thugs had broken in as he’d guessed, they would’ve locked the door after them. So how did she get into their bedroom?

He remembered then that he still had to call Maguire’s wife in Massachusetts. It was already seven-thirty. With the two hour time difference he had to call her soon if he was going to do it that night. He told Susan he’d be back in a few minutes, then walked out into the hallway and found a quiet spot near one of the emergency exit doors with better cell phone reception.

A woman answered on the other end with a flat “yeah?”