hills of grapevines on the other. The sky was brilliant blue and the air was so crisp and clear, it almost hurt to breathe. It was turning out to be a warm day but I still felt a touch of the morning chill. Or maybe it was just my state of mind.
Guru Bob sipped the tea my mother had brought him and assured me he was in no hurry, so I took a few moments to gather my thoughts. It was good to know that no matter what I told him, he would be kind. I trusted him and loved him as I would a cherished uncle.
It was hard to explain Guru Bob to outsiders. On paper, he probably came across as a charlatan, a deceitful crackpot whose charm and clever wiles were responsiblefor brainwashing several hundred followers twenty-five years ago. Why else would all those intelligent people sell everything and move from the city out to the Sonoma boondocks to establish the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness?
That picture couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I guessed he was in his mid-fifties, but he seemed younger. He was tall and lanky, a gentle, spiritual man, although I wouldn’t call him religious. My parents believed him to be a highly evolved conscious being. All I knew was that Guru Bob was smarter and kinder and more aware of…well, everything than anyone I knew.
I’d also seen him coldly draw a line in the sand when he was betrayed by someone he’d considered a friend. I never wanted to see that look on his face again.
Sitting here in the sun, I suddenly remembered that a few months back, during Abraham’s murder investigation, Derek had followed me to Dharma and heard Guru Bob speak at Abraham’s memorial service. I was still regarding Derek as an adversary then, but, nevertheless, I was nervous about his reaction to Guru Bob. When Derek called him powerful, in a most respectful tone, I was delighted. Thinking back on it now, I realized that that might’ve been the moment my attitude warmed toward Derek.
“Gracious, what is upsetting you?”
I cleared my throat and made eye contact with him. “I found another dead body yesterday. I’m afraid there’s something negative growing inside me that’s causing me to attract death. Murder, I mean. And murderers. I keep finding these victims of murder, and I’m afraid I am going to scare off my friends. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s getting bad and I’m getting paranoid. What if people think they might get killed if they stay friends with me?”
He smiled. “My dear, have you not considered the possibility that the dead seek you out? In each of the instances of which you speak, even when the victim was not your friend, you have been compassionate, as well aspassionate, in leading the charge for justice. Do you not think the universe recognizes this?”
“Wait a sec,” I protested, then winced for being less than polite with him. “Sorry, Robson. But I mean, seriously, you think the universe is putting these bodies in my path so that I’ll bring them justice?”
“I do.”
“That’s just bizarre. Sorry.” Oops, there I was, being rude again. “The police are pretty good at this, you know.”
“Ah, but in many of these situations, it is my understanding that you have led them to several clues they might not have otherwise uncovered.” He took a sip of his tea and gave me one of his genial smiles.
Another quirk of Guru Bob’s was that he never used contractions. Sometimes I couldn’t help but imitate him, but I tried to avoid it. Guru Bob sounded fine talking that way, but I sounded deranged.
I pursed my lips in frustration as I tried to make sense of his words. In a flash, I remembered an old Agatha Christie story in which Miss Marple received a request that came from beyond the grave. A man she’d known who had recently died had sent her a card asking her to investigate the suspicious death of his son’s fiancée, for which his son had been imprisoned.
“
Nemesis
,” Guru Bob murmured.
I blinked.
Guru Bob sipped the tea my mother had brought him and assured me he was in no hurry, so I took a few moments to gather my thoughts. It was good to know that no matter what I told him, he would be kind. I trusted him and loved him as I would a cherished uncle.
It was hard to explain Guru Bob to outsiders. On paper, he probably came across as a charlatan, a deceitful crackpot whose charm and clever wiles were responsiblefor brainwashing several hundred followers twenty-five years ago. Why else would all those intelligent people sell everything and move from the city out to the Sonoma boondocks to establish the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness?
That picture couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I guessed he was in his mid-fifties, but he seemed younger. He was tall and lanky, a gentle, spiritual man, although I wouldn’t call him religious. My parents believed him to be a highly evolved conscious being. All I knew was that Guru Bob was smarter and kinder and more aware of…well, everything than anyone I knew.
I’d also seen him coldly draw a line in the sand when he was betrayed by someone he’d considered a friend. I never wanted to see that look on his face again.
Sitting here in the sun, I suddenly remembered that a few months back, during Abraham’s murder investigation, Derek had followed me to Dharma and heard Guru Bob speak at Abraham’s memorial service. I was still regarding Derek as an adversary then, but, nevertheless, I was nervous about his reaction to Guru Bob. When Derek called him powerful, in a most respectful tone, I was delighted. Thinking back on it now, I realized that that might’ve been the moment my attitude warmed toward Derek.
“Gracious, what is upsetting you?”
I cleared my throat and made eye contact with him. “I found another dead body yesterday. I’m afraid there’s something negative growing inside me that’s causing me to attract death. Murder, I mean. And murderers. I keep finding these victims of murder, and I’m afraid I am going to scare off my friends. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s getting bad and I’m getting paranoid. What if people think they might get killed if they stay friends with me?”
He smiled. “My dear, have you not considered the possibility that the dead seek you out? In each of the instances of which you speak, even when the victim was not your friend, you have been compassionate, as well aspassionate, in leading the charge for justice. Do you not think the universe recognizes this?”
“Wait a sec,” I protested, then winced for being less than polite with him. “Sorry, Robson. But I mean, seriously, you think the universe is putting these bodies in my path so that I’ll bring them justice?”
“I do.”
“That’s just bizarre. Sorry.” Oops, there I was, being rude again. “The police are pretty good at this, you know.”
“Ah, but in many of these situations, it is my understanding that you have led them to several clues they might not have otherwise uncovered.” He took a sip of his tea and gave me one of his genial smiles.
Another quirk of Guru Bob’s was that he never used contractions. Sometimes I couldn’t help but imitate him, but I tried to avoid it. Guru Bob sounded fine talking that way, but I sounded deranged.
I pursed my lips in frustration as I tried to make sense of his words. In a flash, I remembered an old Agatha Christie story in which Miss Marple received a request that came from beyond the grave. A man she’d known who had recently died had sent her a card asking her to investigate the suspicious death of his son’s fiancée, for which his son had been imprisoned.
“
Nemesis
,” Guru Bob murmured.
I blinked.
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