Gossip Can Be Murder (3 page)

“I don’t seem to have your reservation, Ms. Parker,” she said.

“Sorry. I’m rooming with Linda Casper.”

“Ah, yes. Dr. Casper arrived earlier. I have you in Room 12, a very nice double just beyond the garden.” She finished clicking the computer keys and shuffling papers then handed me a tiny folder with a plastic key card in it. “Just out this way, take a right through those double doors.”

By the time I’d made my way through shady cloisters beside lush gardens of autumn flowers to Room 12, I was suitably impressed.

“Hey, you came this afternoon after all!” Linda greeted me with her usual dimples and a hug.

“Afraid I might not be great company for the evening,” I said. “It was a very early morning and the traffic up here was a mess.” I eyed the undisturbed bed on the far side of the room as I set my bag on the floor beside a desk carved with Mexican designs. “A quick little nap would feel so good.”

She didn’t pick up on my hint. Just bustled over to the desk and handed me a folder with an Eastern-looking emblem on it and the words “Lightness in Living.”

The daylight through our gauzy drapes had faded to deep lavender and I guessed it must be around six o’clock. I sat down on the polished cotton spread on my bed and flipped open the folder. 

“Save that,” she said. “Let’s freshen up and check out the dining room. Bring your folder with you, and later I can show you around.”

I quickly unpacked my meager wardrobe of jeans, sweaters, and five sets of clean undies. Linda had told me to expect casual-comfortable wear, and I’d brought one broomstick skirt and tunic, in case there was a dress-up dinner at some point. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those women who’s ready with a chic outfit for every occasion. If I couldn’t attend a nutrition class in jeans, well, too bad.

I almost regretted that stance when I saw the dining room. It was one of those with a black-tie maitre d’, real linen, and three goblets at each place setting. After I noticed that most of the other patrons were also dressed very casually I relaxed a little. The menu was about ninety-percent vegetarian, with a couple of fish dishes thrown in to pacify us rabid carnivores. Luckily, I love veggies too and we were both able to quickly choose dishes that sounded wonderful.

“So, here’s the program schedule,” Linda said, flipping to a page in the folder. The name badge in mine said that I was Alex Hudson but Linda told me that would be fixed by morning. “The inspiration behind the program is Dr. Celeus Light.”

“Ah—‘Lightness in Living’—catchy.”

She pressed on. “He studied in India under some of the great maharishis. Apparently, some of his healing techniques have worked miracles, although he’s been poo-poo’d by the medical establishment.” She glanced up at me. “That’s one of the reasons I’m interested in finding out what he has to say. I’d never admit this to another of my patients but there’s so much in Western medicine we don’t know. And there are so many procedures we could be doing but are afraid to because we’re crippled by the insurance companies. But that’s a major rant that I won’t get into.” She took a deep drink from her water glass.

The brochure pictured a tall, slender man in his forties, with dark hair and bronzed skin. He wore some kind of modified sari with purple and gold trim, making him look like a cross between Gandhi and Caesar. In the photo he was shown in a Jesus-like pose with his hand stretched out to a small child. A real man for all cultures. Despite all the obvious image management his credentials looked impressive, including degrees from major universities in both America and England. The testimonials from doctors and patients alike were glowing.

“Tomorrow starts with an orientation class,” Linda said. “I think there are only a few doctors attending the special sessions with Dr. Light. I’m hoping to get some individual attention and lots of information. At least half the attendees are people who are here to experience the treatments and work on their own problems, or so I’m told.” Linda turned to the program schedule. “Each day starts with a yoga class, then meditation, then nutrition classes, followed by lunch. In the afternoon you get a massage or some other spa treatment, philosophy lectures, and group discussion.”

I sent her the perkiest smile I could manage. My early awakening, sketchy meals, and the hour-long drive were taking their toll and for a couple of seconds I wondered what I was doing here.

Our meals arrived, an artistically arranged pile of julienne vegetable strips in yellow, green, orange and red for me. Rice with black beans and glazed carrots for Linda. Pungent spices wafted upward from the plates and we picked up our forks without another word. Finishing the meal with ginger tea and an almond cookie, my energy rebounded. I suggested we check out the rest of the facility and learn our way around.

Linda glanced at her watch. “Good idea. There’s a get-acquainted gathering at eight tonight, too.”

She signed the dinner check, waving away my offer to split it. I glanced at the other diners as we left, curious as to which might be in our group for the coming week. Out in the lobby, Linda steered me toward a hallway to our left.

“According to my little map,” she said, “the classrooms and a library are this way.”

Through a short corridor, a doorway led to a good-sized vestibule where a reception desk sat with a lamp set to a dim night-light mode. Across the room, shelves held candles, incense and decorative bottles of various oils and potions. A display table contained an impressive array of Dr. Light’s books. I’d just picked up one entitled
Shedding Stress From Your Life
when a voice startled me.

“Are you ladies here for our program?”

I jumped and quickly set the book back in place.

“Yes, we are,” Linda quickly chimed in. “I’m Dr. Linda Casper.” She extended her hand. “And this is my associate, Charlie Parker.”

The woman greeted each of us with a smile and warm handshake. “I’m Shirley Broussand.” Cinnamon brown hair framed her face in soft chin-length waves and was scattered with gray strands. Tiny creases radiated from the corners of her vivid green eyes. Her skin had that particular gray-tan hue of a long-term vegetarian and her long, thin face reinforced the fact. She wore a gauzy skirt and top in a shade of sage that accented her eyes and brought out the luster in her hair.

“I’m afraid the offices are closed right now,” she said. “I was just locking up.”

“Oh.” Linda sounded disappointed. “We thought we’d get a look at the place, so we’d know where we’re going tomorrow.”

“This is it,” Shirley said. She gestured to indicate the vestibule. “Nicki will be here in the morning and she’ll give a quick tour of the facilities. I’d offer now, but I’m off to get things ready. Are you coming to the gathering tonight?” When we nodded she smiled. “That’s great—I’ll see you there.”

Subtly, we’d been ushered to an outer door and found ourselves standing in a beautifully landscaped courtyard. The evening temperature had dropped about twenty degrees already and I buttoned my denim jacket.

“So that was Shirley,” Linda mused. “She’s the one I corresponded with in getting this set up. Funny how phone impressions never come out right. I’d pictured her as a heels and business suit type with hair in a French roll.”

We chuckled over that and strolled the courtyard, discovering that it was flanked by a number of offices on one side and a low adobe wall on the other. Beyond the adobe wall the night was pitch black. Knowing that the resort sat at the top of a hill, I assumed the terrain dropped off and there were probably fabulous views by daylight. Openings in the courtyard led back to the dining room and, eventually via a softly lit winding path, to the parking lot where I’d left my Jeep. We strolled as far as the parking lot then turned back toward the lobby.

Near the front desk a discreet sign pointed the way to the Lightness in Living group.

All this vegetarian, spiritual, lightness of the soul stuff was completely foreign to me but I’m game for new experiences. Signs directed us through another exit to a secondary building where the spa and massage rooms were located. The reception was to be held in the lobby of the spa building. We entered a world of luxury and quiet good taste. The walls were faux-finished in shades of umber and gold. Massive wooden columns framed the doorway, with smaller versions of them leading to other corridors and the hidden wonders beyond.

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.”