Bad Karma

Chapter 11

Shannon was up before the alarm clock rang the next morning. While he’d slept restlessly most of the night, he felt physically better than he had the last couple of days-less stiff and almost no pain cutting through his ribs when he sucked in air. Still, he couldn’t shake an overall feeling of uneasiness. Before leaving, he kissed Susan on the cheek and whispered to her that he was meeting Eli. She stirred, half awake, moving so she could brush her lips against his.

“Busy day?” she said softly, her eyes barely open as she looked at him.

“I think so. How about you?”

“Mostly free. One appointment this afternoon.” She stretched her slender body in a way that reminded him of a cat. “It will give me time to shop for a pair of pom-poms. We’ll meet back here for dinner?”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” she said, her voice drowsy and tailing off into a low murmur. She rolled onto her side, her eyes closed as she seemed to drift back to sleep. Shannon reached over and kissed her forehead, then left the room.

When he got to Juiced Up, he found Eli standing in front of their usual morning haunt, his arms crossed and his eyes drooping half-closed as if he were falling asleep. He gave Shannon his typical deadpan stare and told him that the store was late opening up, then rapped a heavy set of knuckles against the glass door. A college-aged girl inside with red frizzy hair held up a finger to indicate one more minute.

“Intolerable,” Eli muttered, grimacing to show his perceived injury. “They’re supposed to open at six thirty. It’s almost seven.”

Shannon laughed. “Maybe if you weren’t decked out like a gang member she would’ve opened up already.”

He gave Shannon a quick sideways glance and flared a nostril to show that a response would be beneath him. He then asked brusquely how Wichita was.

“Flat.”

“I would expect so,” Eli said, a bare trace of a smile ruining his deadpan expression. “You know full well I was asking whether it was eventful.”

“In that case, I’d say so. Best apple pie I’ve had in years.”

Eli turned and stared at him as if he were an idiot-or worse, that Shannon was once again trying to argue that the ’04 Red Sox were a better baseball team than the ’98 Yankees. The redhead working in the store interrupted them by unlocking the door and letting them in. Shannon stopped to tell her his theory on why she left Eli standing out on the doorstep. “But once I came along, one look at my mug and you knew it was safe,” he added. She laughed at that. “That’s right. His NY Yankees jersey and baseball cap screamed gangbanger-even though I’ve been seeing the two of you here almost everyday since I took the job.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I didn’t see you around yesterday.”

“I was out of town. Spent the day in Wichita.”

“How was it?”

“Flat.”

That caused her to both smile and roll her eyes. “What can I get you two?” she asked. Shannon pointed a thumb at Eli who had taken a table by the window and was sitting with his arms crossed while he sulked. “Bucky Dent over there would like a large chai -”

“And a chocolate chip scone,” Eli interjected, his voice dripping with petulance.

“- and a chocolate chip scone,” Shannon repeated. “I’ll take a black coffee as high octane as you can make it.”

Shannon waited at the counter while she got the order together, then paid for it and brought it back to their table. Eli raised an eyebrow when he saw the coffee. “We’ve been meeting here almost three years,” he said. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you with a cup of joe.”

“Could be,” Shannon said. “I’ve been avoiding it. Supposedly it antidotes homeopathic remedies, and I’ve been letting Susan use me as a guinea pig.”

“What for?”

Shannon made a face. “Rage issues I had dealing with Winters. I think it helped, the meditation maybe more. But this morning I need a cup. Badly. And if there were a pack of cigarettes on the table, I’d be smoking them also now.” He lowered his eyes to his coffee. “I used to be a two pack-a-day man. Quit cold turkey five years ago when I was in the hospital.”

“Bill, I’ve got to tell you, you were in rare form this morning. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling a little antsy.” Shannon raised his stare and met Eli’s eyes. He was smiling, but it was a hard smile. “This whole cult business is bugging the hell out of me.”

“You could drop the case.”

“Not really, at least not if I ever want to look at myself in the mirror again. If I don’t help my client, nobody’s going to. Which would mean her daughter’s as good as lost.” Shannon stared out the window and watched as two squirrels darted across the cobblestone street and chased each other up a maple tree. When they were out of sight, he looked back at his friend. “Even without all that I couldn’t drop this-not without having to worry about those two Russians showing up at my apartment. One way or another I have to see this through,” he said.

“Any idea how?”

“A few, and they all center around finding out why a couple of Russian gangsters are acting as muscle for a cult.” He had other thoughts on the matter that he didn’t bother sharing with Eli. Once those Russians crossed the line and made it clear they’d come after him at his home, as far as he was concerned all bets were off. If he ended up having to flush them out and set them up for a long prison sentence, he’d do that. If he had to do worse, he’d do that also. He looked away and took a long drink of his coffee.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“I know.”

“So are you going to tell me about Wichita?”

Shannon rubbed his jaw and could feel that the swelling was mostly gone from where he’d been hit. “I found circumstantial evidence that Linda Gibson had been sexually abused by her father. The Wichita police are looking into it now.”

“You’re kidding? Jesus, Bill, you were there only one day!”

“That’s all it takes sometimes when you’re good,” Shannon said with a tight grin.

“And of course, modest.”

“Of course.” Shannon’s grin turned into something more weary. “I picked up enough signals talking to Linda’s parents to make me suspicious about the abuse, but I also got lucky. Or as you like to say, maybe I created my own luck.”

“And how did you accomplish that?”

“When I arrived in Wichita I stopped off at their main police station to let them know why I was in town, and a local cop searched me out. He dated Linda back in high school and wanted to make sure I wasn’t there to dig up dirt on her. As it turned out, he also had his own suspicions. We were able to convince his captain to investigate the sexual abuse. It wasn’t easy. The guy looked absolutely crestfallen when he realized he had no choice but to take it on or risk the political fallout if it came out in the press. And I made sure that he knew it would come out in the press.”

“How in the world can the police investigate the abuse now with the girl dead?”

“They probably won’t be able to with Linda. But there’s another daughter who was shipped off to a boarding school in France.”

“And you think he abused her too?”

“It’s a good bet. If he did, he’s going to prison.” Shannon looked out the window, watching as a couple of kids in long baggy jeans walked by, one wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt, the other a Def Leopard one. He turned back to Eli. “Want to hear a coincidence? The cop who dated Linda also had an aunt murdered by Winters and his cousin.”

“There are no coincidences.”

“You’re going to try to tell me there’s a divine plan that had me meeting that cop?”

“No.” Eli took a bite of his scone and chewed it slowly. After brushing some crumbs from his chin he continued. “Nothing like that. But picture an energy current that swirls about and picks you and other people up with it. That’s why sometimes we keep running into the same people throughout our lifetimes-we’re riding the same energy jet stream. So whatever energy wrought Winters and all of his destruction, also caught the two of you up in its wake. There is no doubt a connection between you and that officer. And whatever it is, it brought the two of you to the same point in Wichita yesterday.”

“All too metaphysical for me.” Shannon started to rub the joints above his two missing fingers, caught himself. “He seemed like a good kid, though, and I guess we are connected in a way. Because of Winters and his cousin we both became cops. And there are the more obvious ways too.”

The two men grew silent then. Shannon’s face darkened as he sunk deep into his own thoughts. Eli had a similarly distant look as he ate his scone and drank his chai. A glimmer showed in his eyes. He brushed more crumbs from his chin, then asked “You don’t think Gibson could be responsible for his daughter’s death? That maybe she threatened to expose him?”

Shannon looked up at him as if he were coming out of a trance. A few seconds passed before the question registered, then he shook his head. “The Wichita police are looking into it. It’s a possibility, but I don’t think that’s what happened.” He caught himself again as he started to massage the area around his missing fingers. “I had a lucid dream last night.” He lowered his voice and edged his chair closer to the table. “It was all very vivid. In the dream I found Linda Gibson sitting by her grave wearing what looked like a burial shawl. I asked her about the abuse; also whether her father was involved with her death. She confirmed the abuse, but denied that he had anything to do with her murder. When I asked who killed her all she did was mutter some gibberish.”

“How do you interpret this?”

Shannon shrugged. “Her muttering gibberish? No idea. The rest of it was probably my subconscious clarifying my thoughts.”

“Or maybe pointing out your gut instincts.”

“Maybe.” He took another long drink of his coffee, finishing it. “There was something very odd about that dream. Before I found Linda, I was floating as if my body were weightless. I felt so light, so much at peace, and all I wanted to do was hold onto that feeling. When I saw Linda by her grave, I knew I’d lose that sense of peace if I went over and talked to her. It was the last thing I wanted to do, and it took every ounce of strength I had to make myself go over to her.”

“Why did you?”

“I knew I was supposed to.”

Eli tapped his forefinger slowly against his upper lip. “I’m wondering,” he muttered.

Shannon waited while he watched Eli methodically tap his lip. Then somewhat impatiently he asked him what he was wondering.

“How vivid was this dream when you woke up?”

“Very.”

“How about now?”

“Still very vivid.”

“Then what I’m wondering is whether you had a lucid dream or instead had left your body.”

“I didn’t leave my body,” Shannon said. “I didn’t feel any of the twisting and ripping sensation that I felt that time with Winters.”

“It’s not always like that. You could’ve transitioned gently from the dream plane to another plane of existence.”

“That’s not the case. Linda didn’t seem real to me. Her skin had this unnatural sheen to it. Almost like she were a ceramic doll.”

“Like she was something very fragile?”

“Yeah.”

“That fits. She was projected as the image you needed to see her as. I’m telling you, Bill, I think you had an out-of-body experience.”

“What I’m thinking is something got slipped into your chai,” Shannon said. He found himself drumming his fingers hard along the table surface. The same antsy feeling he had earlier was back again worming its way into his gut.

“Jesus, Bill, why are you so upset about this? This is what you’ve been working towards.”

“I’m not upset, it wasn’t an out-of-body experience, okay?” Shannon checked his watch and pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting someone at eight. Usual time tomorrow morning?”

Eli nodded slowly, his lips pursed as he studied Shannon. “Normal time tomorrow’s fine.” Then showing a thin smile, added, “I still don’t understand this reaction from you. It’s not as if I rubbed your nose in the fact that your beloved Red Sox lost to the lowly Colorado Rockies two nights ago.”

“They took two out of three, which is better than your Yankees have been doing with Tampa Bay.”

Eli crossed his thick arms, his deadpan expression back in place. “A low blow,” he said. “Try to tell me tomorrow why the idea of that being an out-of-body experience upset you as much as it did.”

“Christ, Eli, I’m telling you I’m not upset. Besides, that’s not what it was. See you tomorrow, okay?”

Shannon nodded to his friend as he moved quickly out of the shop. He had a half hour before he was going to stop by Devens office, but the uneasiness that had worked its way into his gut made it hard for him to sit still. He walked fast down Pearl Street, taking deep breaths as he moved. Two blocks from Juiced Up he spotted the girl from the other day-the one in the flowered vest and long “hippie” skirt who had hit him up for breakfast. She noticed him too and showed a smirk as she made a beeline towards him. When she got within twenty feet, her smirk disappeared and she looked away from him, the color of her face blanching a pale white. Shannon walked past her. He was a block away when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a storefront window. The look on his face stopped him.

He took several deep breaths and tried to empty his mind as he stared at the Flatirons off in the horizon. He knew part of the reason for his uneasiness was worrying about those Russians, knowing that he and Susan couldn’t move back to their apartment until they were taken care of. And while he knew Susan could more than adequately take care of herself, he still couldn’t help worrying about her going back to that yoga studio. The thought of his dream being an out-of-body experience bothered him too, maybe more than the rest of it.

He had the thought about that dream being something more real when he first woke up from it. The idea of it had nagged at him all morning. Before meeting with Eli, he tried convincing himself it was only a lucid dream, maybe an extraordinarily vivid one, but still just a dream. He knew why the idea of it being more than that bothered him so much. For five years he’d been trying to learn how to leave his body so he could find his mom and his old partner, Joe DiGrazia. More than anything he wanted to tell them both how sorry he was about what Charlie Winters had done to them. And now that he finally had a chance to do that, he was so wrapped up in a case that he blew it. The opportunity he’d been wanting for so long was gone.

He started laughing as he thought about how much this bothered him. Goddamit, he told himself, you used to be a cop. What the hell’s happened to you? Believing in this bullshit?

The thing was he knew it wasn’t bullshit. How could it be with all those years Charlie Winters had invaded his dreams? Even if he could come up with an explanation for that, how could he ignore the time he shot out of his body and floated above it, watching as Winters tortured him by his broken fingers, twisting harder with that nutcracker until those fingers ripped off, then his body, now free, turning on Winters with that knife…

Shannon stood silently for several minutes. Slowly the muscles along his jaw relaxed. He closed his eyes and repeated silently to himself for several minutes that if he could leave his body once he’d be able to leave it again, and that he wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Susan or himself.

His cell phone rang, interrupting him. He felt calmer though, his affirmations working better than cigarettes or shots of Black Bush ever did. He answered the phone and it was Mark Daniels letting him know he had gotten his message the other night. “I owe you one for letting me be there when you go through that condo,” Daniels said, his voice cheery. “What time do you want to do it?”

“How’s nine this morning?”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll pick you up at the station at eight-thirty, we’ll go over the crime scene photos, then -”

“Wait a minute! What’s this shit about crime scene photos?”

“You were going to check that for me, right?”

“Yeah, well, I’m still waiting on word from my captain.”

“You should probably get his word soon,” Shannon said. “At least if you want to be there when I go through that condo.”

“What the fuck you pulling on me?”

“Nothing, except I expect this to be more of a two-way street with us. It’s not going to be just me doing you favors.”

“You just doing me favors?” Daniels sputtered out, nearly choking on his words. “How about me checking on that girl at the True Light cult for you?”

“You did talk to a girl there,” Shannon said. “If you’d actually seen her instead of only talking over an intercom we’d know whether that girl was Melissa Cousins. As it is, neither of us has a clue who you talked to.” There was dead silence on the other end, then Shannon heard some ragged breathing as if Daniels were trying hard to compose himself. Shannon asked, “Do you want me to stop by at eight-thirty or not?”

“Yes, stop by,” Daniels said before hanging up.

Shannon checked his watch. He still had fifteen minutes before he needed to stop by Devens’ office. He found a bench facing the Flatirons, sat down and tried to sort out his thoughts. The downtown mall was beginning to show more life as tourists and locals geared up for the weekend. More rollerbladers decked out in spandex skated by, as did more bicyclists, and more couples whose rubbernecking clearly marked them as being from out of town. A guy wearing a suit and tie and a rubber Dick Cheney mask strolled by with a Capuchin monkey on his shoulder. The monkey was also dressed up in a little suit and tie. Shannon guessed that the monkey was supposed to be George W. Bush. He had to admit it was clever, but not too smart. Even at that hour he could tell it was going to be another hot day. It wasn’t going to be too comfortable for either of them dressed up like that. He felt sorry for the monkey.

Devens peered curiously at Shannon. “What happened to you?” he asked.

“An accident.”

“An accident? Not due to our investigation?”

“No, a different matter.” Shannon paused while he rubbed his jaw and looked over at one of the Navajo storytellers in Devens’ collection. He had a weird impression that the mother and three children in the clay piece of pottery were also giving him their rapt attention. “Maybe you can help me out with something? I’d like to find whatever I can about a property here in Boulder. I’m pretty sure it was purchased within the last two years.”

“I think I can do that for you.”

Shannon gave him True Light’s address, and Devens screwed up his face as if he were trying to remember something about it. “That’s by Baseline Reservoir, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Devens nodded. “I remember it. Some religious group built a kind of fortress out there, right? I’ll check the records and let you know what I find.” He went back to his desk, got out a set of keys and tossed them to Shannon. “I danced my ass off in court to get you access to that condo,” Devens said. “Did a few Gene Kelly moves, absolutely dazzled them with my soft shoe. My basic argument being that my client-through you as a proxy-has the basic right to access his property in order to defend it. The DA tried to argue that his rights were superseded by the police’s need to be able to conduct a thorough investigation. Fortunately I had found an appellate court decision from 1986 which supported my argument. You should’ve seen the look on the DA and the police representative’s face when the judge announced his decision.” He leaned against his desk and cracked his neck using both hands in a chiropractic-type adjustment. “You were going to tell me about Wichita,” he said.

“There’s a remote chance that Linda Gibson’s parents are involved with the murders,” Shannon said. “The Wichita police are investigating it.”

Devens raised his brows at Shannon. “No way you leave it at that. I want details, my friend.”

“Sorry,” Shannon said. “This falls under what we talked about before about me not providing any dirt on the two victims. If the Gibsons were involved, we’ll know soon.”

Devens looked like he wanted to argue, but he resisted and instead told Shannon that he could respect that. He offered his hand, met the firmness of Shannon’s own grip. “Keep me informed,” Devens said somewhat curtly. “If you hit any more roadblocks that I can help with, let me know.”

Shannon nodded and told him he would. When he got back onto Pearl Street, he took out Les Hasherford’s phone number and tried to decide whether it was too early to call him. Finally, he decided somewhat glibly that if Hasherford were truly a psychic then he’d be expecting the call. He dialed the number. After eight rings Hasherford picked up. The psychic’s breathing was labored and he spoke in a soft, almost melodic voice that at times sounded more like he was humming than talking. He agreed to meet at one and gave Shannon his address in Nederland, a small mountain town about fifteen miles west of Boulder. Before hanging up, Hasherford warned Shannon that he had never tried anything like this before, but that Shannon should bring articles of clothing from both of the deceased and he would see what he could do.

Shannon checked the time, saw he was going to be late meeting Daniels, and headed back to the Boulderado Hotel to pick up his car.