The Yoga Club Read online

  “Wow, that’s really wonderful. How exciting! You’ll have to tell me all about it,” he said, sounding oddly giddy.

  “Ooookay,” she said mockingly.

  She hadn’t known him to be this effusive but thought that it might have been because it had been an especially long day. Usually, he was pretty low-key and businesslike. She started to hope he really, really liked her and this was how he was showing interest.

  “I’m also working on a blog,” she said proudly. “It’s kind of a mommy blog, but it’s more about criticizing other mommy blogs that give terrible advice, coupled with observations of all of the bad parenting I see in the playgrounds.”

  “Interesting. What’s it called?” he asked

  “Colicky in Connecticut. Clever, right?” She smiled.

  “Very.” He smiled back, and their eyes locked for so long it became uncomfortable, even awkward. Someone had to break the tension, so of course it was Olivia.

  “You want to see the house?” she asked, semiseductively.

  He was giving off an unusually potent sex vibe. She couldn’t help but pick up on it.

  “Sure. Where’s the little one? Sleeping?”

  “He’s at the babysitter’s tonight. I needed to concentrate on my work, so she has him for the night.” Oh, lord. She hoped he’d buy the fib. Was it obvious that she was hoping he’d spend the night?

  “Great,” he said, grinning with all the subtext of a pouncing lion. Olivia didn’t realize how much trouble she was in, but Bailey had unleashed the animal, and Olivia would never know enough about it to thank her.

  Olivia started in the safe zones: the kitchen, the living room, the family room, and then she led him upstairs. She deadpanned her way through the house history as she climbed the most elaborate freestanding, curved staircase Rob had ever seen. She was giving an Oscar-winning performance as the girl who plays hard to get, channeling her best austere Greenwich lady of society. She didn’t want to give him the idea that she was easy or that she would do anything untoward, or that she herself was nearly ready to attack him. They stopped at the top of the stairs, at the threshold of her father’s study. She opened the door to show him the room and began laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he said, leaning against the wall, looking her over from head to toe.

  “Look at the color of the room.”

  “It’s…. well, it’s certainly regal.”

  It was. The room was a shockingly bright shade of purple.

  “Oddly enough, this is the most important room in the house to me.”

  “Why is it so vivid? I’m no interior decorator, but isn’t it a rather odd color for a study?” Rob asked.

  “Oh yeah, but there’s a great story behind it. My brother, Finn, came to stay with us a few years back after his wife kicked him out. He was so grateful to my dad for letting him stay here rent-free while they reconciled that he thought he would surprise him by giving the room a much-needed paint job. So Finn goes to the paint store, grabs a bunch of cans of paint, then spends an entire day painting. He’s so excited when my dad gets home that he can’t wait to rush him upstairs to show him. He has my dad close his eyes, has music playing—the great unveiling, you know. My dad opens the door and bursts out laughing. ‘Finn,’ he says, ‘what color do you think this room is?’ ‘Light blue,’ my brother replies. By now my father is laughing so hard there are tears rolling down his face. He says, ‘No, Finn, it’s bright purple. But I love you so much for doing it, I’m keeping it like this,’ and he hugged him and thanked him. That’s the kind of guy my dad was. So in that spirit, I keep the room as is.”

  “Why didn’t Finn realize what color he’d chosen?” Rob asked.

  “Oh, did I leave that part out? He’s color-blind,” she said, laughing.

  “And your dad left the study this color for all these years?”

  “Yep, hideous, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  Rob was so moved by the story and her sweetness that he leaned in and gave Olivia a gentle kiss. She let him for a second, then stopped him, took half a step back, and smiled. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

  “I’m hungry. You hungry?” she asked before he could say anything.

  “Actually, I’m very hungry,” he replied.

  “Great, let’s go out and have dinner. You can tell me what you’ve learned about those documents, okay?” she said.

  All of Rob’s interactions with Olivia up until this point had been sweet and tender. He listened to her, was interested in everything she had to say, laughed at her stories, and seemed to care about her opinion. When she stopped his kiss and suggested dinner and he didn’t show any frustration or anger, she surrendered to him completely. It was at that moment she decided that over dinner she would tell him all about what she and the Scooby-Doo team were up to. She knew she needed a competent, trustworthy ally who had some juice, and she realized Rob was all that and more. Plus, she hadn’t been given any assignments by the group; this was her chance to show that a thirty-six-year-old mom had some value.

  “Incidentally,” he said, “there are fingerprints on your envelope that belong to a government employee named Malcolm Marconi. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Thirteen

  When Bailey Met Gertie

  Olivia wasn’t accustomed to going out on dates, most certainly not on Tuesday nights. Who ate dinner this late on a Tuesday, anyway? But there she was, out with Rob. Despite the kiss, the purpose of their night was still undefined. Was it some muddled-up version of a date, or was this part of the investigation? She wasn’t sure. Either way, she vowed to channel her inner Joan. The hostess sat them next to two men who were heavily engaged in a heated conversation about work. Something unjust had happened to one of them at the office that day. She could tell because after every statement he whined, “Man, that is just messed up!” in incongruous “street” lingo, and the other man’s agreement fed his anxiety. Olivia wasn’t sure if the man had actually been wronged or if he was just a crybaby who’d had one too many scotch and sodas.

  Across from them in an intimate corner sat a pretty young thing in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties, looking too sexy for this early in the week. She was leaning forward in her seat, smiling at her companion, a handsome, well-dressed man in his fifties with perfect teeth who laughed at everything she said. They both wore wedding bands, but they didn’t match. Olivia noticed stuff like that.

  The only other people in the restaurant were several barflies who didn’t know each other but would comment to the air about the game on the bar TV, which, from what Olivia could tell, was professional soccer but may very well have been rugby.

  And then, of course, there were she and Rob, who were…. well, they were the only people in the bar she didn’t know how to categorize, but it didn’t matter. Olivia was excited. She felt like they were bonding—something she didn’t know she’d be able to do with another man after the twenty-car pileup that had been her last relationship.

  After they ordered their food, Olivia told Rob the entire story, starting with when Chief Bruno tried to convince them that what they had seen was an aberration, and how she had been satisfied with that explanation at the time. But her innate paranoia had kicked in the next morning, giving her pause, and a few days later, when CJ summoned the troops, she was relieved that he too had been suspicious. Collectively, they could not doubt what they’d seen. She told Rob what their plan was, explained CJ’s relationship with Malcolm, how Bailey had enlisted her TV friend Saul King, and that they were now thoroughly convinced they had witnessed a murder, and they were going to do something about it.

  She waited for a reaction. Rob was quiet. Was he shocked or angry? She couldn’t tell. God, what a cool customer, she thought. A great trait for a detective, but a shitty one for a boyfriend.

  “Thoughts?” she said uncomfortably.

  “So the four of you are trying to solve this on your own with no help from law enforc
ement? Is that what you are telling me?” He seemed insulted.

  “Well, yeah. It didn’t seem like anyone there believed us, present company included. What else were we supposed to do?”

  “So, what was the plan?” he asked sarcastically. “To enlist the help of all of these outside people and then do what with your information?”

  Rob stopped, folded his arms across his chest, then propped one arm up and began rubbing his hand across his lips, practically squeezing them. “Okay, so say you and your team of sleuths get to the bottom of this. What then? If the man is a murderer, as it appears he is, and he has the power to blackmail you less than twenty-four hours after the fact, what else do you suppose he’s capable of?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess….” Olivia was crestfallen because Rob seemed so angry.

  “Look, I get it, I get it. I’m not angry with you. I’m upset because if something had happened to you guys—and you, especially—it would have been my fault, since it seemed like I caved so easily to my boss. But, look, I had to act that way so he wouldn’t suspect anything. It just never occurred to me that you guys would go after him on your own. My god. I’m so sorry.”

  Olivia felt a pang in her chest when Rob said he worried for her. But she also felt stupid. “You’re right,” she said. “We didn’t think this through. I guess we were going to go back to the police once we had hard evidence that couldn’t be ignored?”

  “You guess? And what if the police were corrupt? Then what? I’ll tell you what! Never mind the extortion, your lives would have been in jeopardy.” He paused. Olivia was just about to burst into tears; her heart was ripping open because Rob thought she was foolish.

  “But no, you didn’t. So that’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong—you spoke with me before anything bad happened to any of you. I don’t know what I would have done if someone had hurt you.” Rob reached across the table and caressed her hand, bringing a slight smile back to her face.

  “So you’re on our side? You believe we saw a murder?”

  “Yes, I think you did. I always have.”

  “You have?” Olivia had been sure he would need more convincing.

  “Yes. I knew that Chief Bruno was lying, but I couldn’t prove it. So I called a friend in the Justice Department, who found this,” Rob said as he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a document.

  “Before I show you this, I want you to understand that I never closed the case. At all.”

  “But isn’t that why you called Bailey? To close the case?” Olivia was confused.

  “Well, that’s what I told her, but I was hoping to get her fingerprints and DNA so I could eliminate them from those already on the envelope. I was looking for DNA on the envelope seal or on the stamps. I sent them to the lab at the Justice Department, and I’m still waiting for results.”

  “What are you looking for?” Olivia asked.

  “Well, the test results should be very revealing. The DNA will be matched with a massive criminal database, but guess who else’s DNA is on file. Every city, state, and government employee nationwide,” Rob said, with a sly grin.

  “Ohhh, I see where you’re going with this.”

  “Well, maybe. That’s why I asked about this Malcolm Marconi character. I think there could be something more to this, and if city employees are involved, it’s not them I’m concerned about so much as their associates.”

  “I’m not sure I understand after all.”

  “See, that was my point, Olivia. You guys could get yourselves into some serious trouble. Please let me handle things from here on in, okay? If there is any connection to organized crime here, you really are at great risk.”

  “Oh, my god. The mafia?” Olivia suddenly felt ill.

  “I don’t know, but I’m looking at it from every possible angle. I’m trying to protect you, Olivia,” he assured her. “That’s what’s most important to me.”

  “Okay, I know. I know,” she demurred. “So what was it you were going to show me?” She was still amped with the thrill of the chase, in spite of his attempt to discourage her.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing a folder over to her. “I think you should know about this now, though it may not mean anything yet.”

  The folder contained page after page of information on Chief Bruno, from when he was the police chief of the wealthy community of Kennebunkport, Maine. According to what Olivia was reading, Bruno had been brought up on drug-related corruption and bribery charges, but in exchange for selling out the local mayor and two judges, his charges were dismissed. Now relocated to Greenwich, he remained under investigation by the Justice Department for a heck of a lot more ongoing crime.

  Olivia flipped to the last page of the report.

  Suspect regularly accepted bribes from citizens who habitually violated noncriminal statutes or ordinances (i.e., traffic laws); accepted bribes by those who violate the law in order to make money (i.e., prostitution); accepted money in exchange for police services or protection. Other charges of his alleged corruption in both Greenwich and Kennebunkport included fraud, nepotism, extortion, and the actual commission of felony crimes.

  Her face was frozen. Not only was she surprised that their chief of police was so dirty but she now realized that they weren’t dealing with some garden-variety bureaucrat. This guy was a dangerous thug.

  “I-I didn’t realize,” she said, almost shaking.

  “Mm-hmm. Now you understand why I believe you and your friends really did see a crime that night?”

  “Undoubtedly. But how is Bruno involved with the mayor?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to make the connection now. But I’m pretty sure the chief helped the mayor cover up the murder. I just don’t know why he would put himself in that position if he’s trying to stay out of trouble.”

  “Wait, that’s it! That’s what the mayor has on him. He must know about Kennebunkport,” Olivia said proudly.

  “You don’t think he’s known about that all along?” Casey asked.

  “I’m guessing not, because Greenwich politicians don’t generally like to get involved with lower-class criminals. The people here would immediately disown a politician associated with any sort of riffraff. Greenwich is a lot of things, but organized crime kinds of violence, well, that’s beneath us. They go Enron when they go bad,” she said.

  Olivia suddenly realized Rob could have construed that as a dig at him, which it wasn’t. It was just one of those things that happened pretty regularly in Greenwich. The distinction between the haves and the have-nots was so substantial that even if the haves were benevolent, generous, and down-to-earth, their vast fortunes and excessive lifestyles made the most secure blue-collar men feel inadequate. It was one of the reasons folks in Greenwich kept to their own. It wasn’t snobbery so much as adaptive, learned behavior. Many Greenwichites had had friendships ruined when their hometown, and therefore wealth and status, were discovered. Unfortunately, Olivia knew it all too well. Even when she was at her Ivy League college, she tried to keep her origins a secret because she’d learned early of the social disadvantage. People simply couldn’t relate, and no one was about to pity or sympathize with her.

  It had started when Olivia was twelve. She spent a summer at a camp in Massachusetts. Her best friend at the camp was a girl named Allison, whom she had invited to visit her in Connecticut over the winter, since she’d been invited to visit Allison’s family in Silver Spring, Maryland, a few months before. Olivia hadn’t realized that during the course of their friendship she’d never said she was from Greenwich, only Connecticut. When Allison finally came to visit, her mother couldn’t stop talking about it.

  “Allison never told me you were from Greenwich. I had no idea you lived in Greenwich, oh my!” She was pathologically, and annoyingly, impressed.

  From then on, Allison and her mother began to treat Olivia differently. Allison’s visits became miserable for Olivia, because it felt like Allison was trying to get things from her. For example, Allis
on would ask if Olivia’s dad could take them shopping—expecting him to pay. Olivia suspected Allison’s mother had encouraged her. When they got back to camp the following summer, it was widespread knowledge that Olivia was wealthy beyond belief. The magic of the summer camp was gone forever. Campers and even some counselors were hostile, while others were overly friendly, appearing almost out of nowhere. Olivia had the worst summer of her life. For her, the Greenwich curse started that summer, and now she worried it would haunt her relationship with Rob.

  “I see you feel like we may have jeopardized your case by playing amateur detective, but we really need you. I really need you. Will you help us?” Olivia asked in her most seductive Joan Harris voice.

  “Of course.” Rob would have said yes to anything Olivia asked in that voice.

  “Great. Can I make a phone call?” she asked.

  “You should, yes.”

  Olivia called Coco but got her voice mail. She left a long message.

  “Who is that?” Coco yelled to CJ from the other room when she heard him speaking to whoever had knocked on the door.

  Coco’s hotel suite was exactly that, sweet. It was her one indulgence in life. She wasn’t one to spend money in general, and she was not excessive by any means. So she afforded herself one luxury—tax-deductible—when she traveled for work: she stayed in the best rooms of the finest hotel of whatever city she traveled to. Once, in Santa Monica, her favorite hotel, Shutters, was booked every night she would be there except one. So she booked a suite for that one night even though her meeting ran until 11:00 P.M. and her flight left at 8:00 the next morning. Those few hours, even asleep, were luxurious and so worth it.

  When Coco walked to the door, her stomach dropped. Jordan was standing there talking to CJ, holding the champagne that she and CJ had ordered. Jordan was certainly not invited, and after his little performance earlier that day, he was also unwelcome.