Birds, Puppies, and Murder

Nicole

“Yikes! Where in the universe did the time go?” Springing from her desk chair, Nic Earp hit send on the travel article she’d written. Then froze. Should she have proofed it one more time? “Gah, don’t be neurotic.”

In her bedroom, she scooped a jean jacket from the unmade bed, slipped into leather flip-flops, and shrugged into the coat. Her feet barely touched the floor as she swept through the great room to the French doors, her heart pumping “hurry-hurry-hurry.” She couldn’t miss thanking the students as they exited heryoga studio from the last session of this Tuesday evening. With her business only three weeks old, she thought it important to show her gratitude to everyone who crossed the studio’s threshold.

Hopping down the stairs from her second-story apartment, she clasped the jacket closer against the cool autumn breeze and scurried along the side of the house. My house. My business. My building. Yep! With the help of her good-hearted sister, Emma Banefield, she’d bought the property and converted the first floor into Namaste, her yoga studio. Well, their yoga studio. Hers and Em’s. Feeling fortunate and lucky, she scampered up the steps of the building, burst through the front door, and streaked across the open, airy reception area. 

At the glass door of the studio, she stopped. Whew! The class was just ending. Seven students sat cross-legged, facing their instructor, Wendy Silverman. Word is spreading. She recognized some staff from the Dulce Inn and the Azul Restaurant, but others were strangers. Could word of mouth be bringing in new students? Or the webpage her daughter Chloe helped her build? She wiggled her toes on her flip-flops, excitement hardly contained. 

Wendy, with hands in prayer position, dipped her head. Nic read her lips. “Namaste.” Nic had named her studio after the greeting which was a show of respect, literally meaning I bow to you. Showing reverence for the students added a touch of caring and love into the world. The students answered in kind and rose.

She opened the door, excited to greet them as they rolled mats. The smiles and upbeat tones of their conversations made her heart swell with gratification. “Thank you so much for practicing with us. I hope you enjoyed yourselves.”

“Oh, we did.” The shortest of two women in their twenties flashed her a toothy smile. “We’ll see you next week.”

She threw back her shoulders, proud to note they left carrying purple signature yoga mats purchased from her retail offerings.

Cha-ching.

This new business needed to make money, and every little bit helped. With Em as her banker and backer, they’d worked out a sweet deal. When the studio and retail sales grew to a thriving business—realistically within three years—Em could recoup her investment. At least, if all went according to plan.

“Nic, you should’ve joined us this evening.” Karen Gonzalez, a waitress at the Azul Restaurant, paused on her way to the cubby area. The young woman tugged the ponytail band from her hair, spilling lustrous dark tresses across her shoulders.

“I had too much work with my upstairs job.” She hiked a thumb toward the ceiling. She needed her travel writing gigs to pay everyday bills. Besides, as much as she loved being the owner of a yoga studio, she loved traveling and writing just as much.

Dan Lee, a former student from her teaching days years ago and now Events and Marketing Manager at the Dulce followed Karen. Seeing them in the same session gave Nic an extra kick. They’d made a cute couple once upon a time. The romantic in her hoped Namaste would bring them back together.

She strolled deeper into the studio, taking pride in the soothing, blushing pink walls and pale blue ceiling. From the windows, the waning sunlight threw a warm glow over the room. So peaceful. Detective Ken Hakata broke away from conversation with Wendy and approached in shorts and a navy, Wyatt PD T-shirt. The word hot came to mind, then she mentally slapped herself. They’d been friends for years, ever since they’d met in an evening clay class at the community college. He was a widower. She’d toyed with the idea their friendship could go beyond coffee dates, but their platonic relationship meant so much to her, she didn’t want to spoil it.

“Hi, Ken. Trying out another class?”

“I’m attempting to see what best suits my schedule, morning or evening. I really enjoyed the addition of music Wendy used in this evening class, unlike the morning class a few days ago. Movements were somewhat different too.” 

“The morning class was Hatha yoga. This one is Vinyasa yoga. Livelier and fluid.” 

“It’s all good.” He tucked his mat under his arm. “You have a birthday coming up. Dare I ask if you and Em are doing a weekend at the Dulce for chocolate martinis and murder?”

“Ken!”

He laughed.

“I’m so busy with the studio, we’ll have to skip a stay at the inn this time, which should make Jillian Jackson happy.” The owner of the inn shivered with loathing when they booked a room, but they could hardly be blamed for the past murders.

“From what I’ve heard, the inn is now notorious for crime and mystery. I wouldn’t put it past her to erect plaques in the rooms you two have stayed in.”

“Ew! Crazy.”

Laughing, he agreed.

She sauntered with him to the cubbies where he’d stored shoes and wallet. “See you next time, Ken. Take care.”

She spotted Wendy and Maggie, a yoga devotee, by the essential oil shelves and joined them.

“Lavender oil is great for helping with sleep.” Her lead instructor nodded at Nic for approval, inviting her for a second opinion.

“That’s right.” Nic glanced between them. Apparently, the sweet-natured student, a tiny woman barely five feet tall, needed help relaxing. “And it smells divine too.”

“I guess I should try it.” Maggie stuffed her feet into no-tie sneakers, her baggy shirt falling below her bottom. “Yoga nights are the best.” She tucked a strand of ash brown hair behind an ear and smiled. “I’m so relaxed when I get home…unless I have homework or a shift at the café…” She shrugged as if there were concerns beyond explanation.

“You sound like you have a full schedule.” Nic understood how yoga could calm the spirit in a busy life.

“She goes non-stop.” Wendy gave her friend a one-armed hug. “Not only is she the assistant manager at Jen’s Java Café and volunteers at Blossom Park Bird Sanctuary, she also takes college courses in environmental science.” Wendy beamed as if bragging about a little sister.

Maggie’s neck pinked at the praise. “But only one more week at Jen’s. I want to focus on school and volunteering…important work.”

“I’m impressed. I bet those classes tie in with the sanctuary.” Nic remembered a desire she’d had on the back burner for too long. “Which reminds me, I want to get back on the volunteer schedule. I’ve missed it.”

“We’d love to get you back in the loop.” At the mention of the sanctuary, her kind, brown-flecked eyes sparkled. “I was afraid you’d had enough of Mother Nature.”

“Never.” Nic had enjoyed working with Maggie, and her dedication to the sanctuary impressed her. “I’ve been so busy between traveling for work and getting this studio up and running. Thank goodness I was able to steal Wendy away from the Y. I got a great instructor who doesn’t mind opening or closing the studio. And doing whatever needs to be done.”

“No need to thank me for doing my job.” Touchy-feelie Wendy wrapped her in a hug. “It’s a dream leading yoga here.” She waved a hand overhead, then at the shelves of essential oils and candles. “It’s beautiful and smells good too.”

Nic followed her instructor’s sweeping gesture—reception, retail space for the oils, mats, candles, plus a lounge area. The flaxen glow of natural lighting and hanging green foliage offered a garden-feel. “I have your husband Daryl and his brother Manny to thank for how well it turned out.” Em’s bathroom remodelers from a few months back, the Smart Bros., had done a marvelous job creating the space needed by knocking out walls between the living, dining, and sitting rooms in the downstairs of this 1920s converted home.

“Yeah, I’ll agree they’re a talented team, but I might be partial.” Wendy snickered.

“I should get going.” Maggie hitched a cloth tote higher on her shoulder. Her mat stuck out from the top, and Nic assumed water and other items resided inside.

“We need to have a gabfest soon, Mags.” Wendy patted her friend’s shoulder. “How about coffee after my morning session tomorrow?”

“Perfect. We could go to Jen’s, if you don’t mind. I have a shift starting at ten. I’ll go in early to meet you.”

“Great. Hey, Nic, why don’t you join us? We’ll have an espresso kickstart to our day.”

“Sure, sounds—”

“There you are.” A male voice spoke from the doorway.

A man had entered the reception area. Tall, probably six feet, his focus zeroed in on Maggie. With a cocky demeanor, he strode forward, his athletic legs clothed in ragged, black jeans. Nic didn’t get the attraction of the holey jeans people paid big bucks to wear.

“Deet! What are you doing here?”

Deet?

Nic glanced at Wendy, whose lips had tightened at the sight of the man.

“I came to take you to an early dinner, babes.” He slipped an arm around her slender waist. “I have band practice tonight.” Although the sides of his blond hair were cropped close, long slices of moused hair stood at attention on top.

He was good-looking in a boy-man sort of way.

“Oh.” Maggie’s flat response lacked joy. “How did you know I was here?”

He tugged her closer. “Hey, babes, I pay attention. You’ve told me about yoga.”

Nic suppressed a gagging reaction. If he called her babes one more time, she’d be hard pressed to not lob some snark in his direction.

His glance roamed over the women with seeming disinterest. With an arm around Maggie, he appeared to be gloating about his importance over them. “Hey, Wendy.”

“Hi Deet. Nic, this is Dieter Hoffman. Better known as Deet.”

Maggie’s eyes widened as if embarrassed she hadn’t made the boyfriend introductions.

“Nice to meet you, Deet.” As in insect repellent? She stifled a laugh at her wicked thought. But truthfully, his girlfriend acted more repelled than attracted.

“Same here.” He glanced around the room, a slight curl to his lip as if he found his surroundings distasteful. “So, you’re the owner of Maggie’s latest, favorite hangout, huh?”

“Yes, this is my studio. I’m so glad Maggie enjoys it.”

“What’s Namaste mean, anyway?” His irritating pronunciation came out nasally and flat.

She had the urge to pluck the earbuds hanging around his neck and poke them into his eyes. You really don’t think much of this guy, do you, Nic? “It’s Hindu…a respectful greeting and pronounced NAH-muh-stay.”

“Ah.” He bobbed his head, a blank expression on his face. “Okay, then. Let’s go, Maggie-waggy. I’m hungry.”

The slight woman offered a weak smile. “See you two tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Nic snagged a vial of lavender oil from the top shelf. “I want you to have this. Try it tonight. It’s wonderful.”

“Aw, thanks.” Her face brightened.

The musician boyfriend with the personality of a bug spray ushered her out the door, kissing the top of her head as they exited.

Wendy had wandered back into the studio, plucking her things from a cubby and shoving yoga gloves and socks into a lightweight royal blue tote bag with unnecessary force. Her mouth pinched in a tight line.

“Are you okay?” She strolled closer to her instructor.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay, but…” She gestured toward the exit and dropped her bag at her feet.

“Maggie, huh?”

Wendy sighed, then wrinkled her nose as if Deet left behind a foul odor.

“She seemed less than enthusiastic to be going to dinner with him.”

“Maggie’s had a lot on her mind lately.” Her brow wrinkled. “I’m not so sure the live-in, wannabe rock star is the best for her.”

“He certainly didn’t impress me. I want to say yuck, but not knowing him, I suppose I’m being unkind.”

“First impressions are not always off.” She fingered the gold hoop in her left earlobe. “In the beginning, she gushed over him. Maybe the bad-boy kind of cute attracted her. I’m afraid she’s sweet to the point of being a pushover. For a while, he had one of his useless friends living with them. Didn’t go well. I suppose Deet offers her some support even if he’s a manipulative creep.” She huffed. “I feel like the protective big sister. Maybe I’m overreacting.”

“I think Maggie is lucky to have you, someone who cares about her well-being.”

“I wish there was more I could do…” Wendy bent at the waist to retrieve her bag, and her short, loose top rode up exposing skin above her yoga pants. A partially visible tattoo of a bird, yellow beak and blue head, peeked above her waistband.

Everyone seemed to have tattoos nowadays. “You have a tattoo.”

Her friend straightened. “A couple actually.” She dragged the fabric of her waistband aside to show off the rest of the artwork. “Isn’t my bluebird pretty?”

Nic nodded, fascinated with the detail and wondered what her design would be if she got one.

“But this guy is even prettier.” Wendy tugged the neckline of her top off her shoulder.

“Wow! A red cardinal.”

“Very artsy, you know.” Wendy touched the bird. “You should get one.”

“No time soon.” The pain wouldn’t be worth it. She slipped Wendy’s lightweight serape from the coatrack and handed it to her.

“Oh, my gosh. I forgot I’m supposed to meet Mom for dinner.” Wendy flung the wrap over her head and dashed toward the door. “Sorry, Nic. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Super. Run, like the wind!”

Nic closed the door to the studio and paused next to the reception desk. In the quiet, she listened to birds chirping from the branches of the pinyon pine. She thought of Wendy’s bird tattoos and shivered at the thought of needles scratching and pricking to draw such lovely art into skin. She glanced at the shelves of oils and candles and hoped Maggie benefitted from the lavender scent. Poor woman sounded like she had her hands full. Her thoughts segued into the need to move forward to make a line of essential oils for dogs. Tomorrow, she had an appointment to get legal advice about her retail sales like Em had been urging her to do.

Speaking of Em… She brought her cell from her back pocket and punched Em’s number.

Her sister answered on the second ring. “Hi, Nic.”

“Hi to you. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Some partner you are. I could run us into bankruptcy, and you’d never know it.”

“Haven’t you heard? Silent partners are the best kind.” Em laughed. “Have you needed help? All you have to do is ask.”

“I’m kidding you. I know Aunt Lydia arrived today. You’ve been crazy cleaning and fussing for her stay.”

“Me?”

Nic chuckled. “How is our aunt?”

“She’s taking a short rest before dinner. Still as vibrant as ever. She’s anxious to see you tomorrow.”

“And me her. I’ll have plenty of time tomorrow since I got the piece done for Arizona Culture, the ezine out of Flagstaff. I think I told you about it—a plum assignment since I didn’t have to travel for an article about Arizona Indian ruins.” She stepped onto the porch and locked the authentic 1922 door, now white and with the original three panes of glass overhead. “Our state is dotted with ruins from Flagstaff to Tucson. I’ve seen them all over the last ten years.” She brushed dust from the brass plate below the glass panes announcing Namaste.

“Good for you. I did a little writing on my next book in addition to all of the cleaning you think I’m doing. Talked to my editor on the release date of book number one.” The clang of pans sounded in the background. “Did you hire the woman who applied for the Saturday morning class?”

She descended the two porch steps and followed the walkway. “I did. She starts next Saturday. Wendy will be glad to skip working weekends.” Wow! With three instructors including Chris, the masseuse from the Dulce Inn, she was on her way to a yoga empire. “Serena Hadley is as tall as Wendy is short.”

Em laughed.

“She’s a nice lady. More senior like you.”

“Excuse me?”

Nic chuckled. Her sister was all of a year and a half older, but she loved to rib her.

“Keep yammering and I’ll uninvite you to dinner tomorrow night. Aunt Lydia is so excited for the three of us to get together. She lives a full life, Nic, but I sense loneliness.”

“We’ll take care of that. Speaking of dinner, I have chicken thawed and waiting for the pressure cooker. See you tomorrow. Give Aunt Lydia a hug.”

At the top of the stairs to her apartment, she paused on the deck overlooking the backyard. The diminishing emerald intensity of the quaking aspen leaves hinted at the golden glow to come over the next month. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sighed. Owning a yoga studio presented a more peaceful business than the sleuth-for-hire gig she’d jokingly considered a few months back. Chief Homicide Detective Ben Guthrie had suggested she and Em get private investigator licenses and hang up their shingle—since they got in his way so often investigating local murders. Silly man. It’s not like they’d be solving another crime anytime soon.