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Authors: Mary Kennedy
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her closely. “I know that he usually speaks to thousands of people at a time in big venues.”
“I’d heard he had a connection to Cypress Grove,” she said hesitantly. “The story was someone from here helped him in the past, and he felt obliged to return the favor.” She stood up and gave me a little smile. “I better get back to the seminar now. Can I have your card?” Her tone was definitely warmer than it had been in the beginning. I fumbled in my bag and handed her my card. “We’ll be here till tomorrow morning,” she said as she turned and left.
I thanked her and sat there for a few minutes, going over my notes. So Guru Sanjay was here in Cypress Grove once before? And Miriam might feel unappreciated by him? Maybe she had put in years of hard work for nothing? Who bene fitted from his death? Had he left his fortune to Miriam? Would she be running his empire now that he was in a galaxy far, far away?
These were all issues worth investigating, the “story behind the story,” as Cyrus is fond of saying. But at the moment, I had a more urgent matter on my mind. I needed to make a pit stop at the Seabreeze ladies’ room before heading back to the station.
I was surprised to find a weeping Sanjay-ite huddled in a love seat in the cozy anteroom that led to the actual rest-room. She was young and blond, probably in her early twenties. It looked as if she’d been crying for quite a while, because her face was blotchy and her eyelids puffy. She was clutching a tear-stained copy of Heal the Cosmos and swiping her nose ineffectively with a paper towel.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, obviously intruding on a private moment. “I’m just going to use the . . . uh . . . facilities,” I said, heading for the tile-walled room with the sinks and toilets. She nodded, sniffling, and then my psychology training kicked in—how could I leave her there in distress?
I heard myself saying, “Is there anything I can do to help you? A drink of water?”
She shook her head, drew her knees up on the couch, and gave full vent to her grief. “I can’t—I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said between sobs. She obviously hadn’t finished reading Heal the Cosmos or she’d know he wasn’t really “gone,” just transitioned, but I decided not to point this out to her.
“Did you know the guru very well?” I said softly, slipping into an armchair next to her.
She nodded. “For over five years. I’ve read all his books and I’ve gone to all his seminars.”
Wow, quite the devoted little acolyte , I thought.
“So you’re a follower . . .”
“Oh, I meant more to him than that,” she said miserably. “He has millions of followers, you know.”
I nodded sagely. She meant more to him? What was she talking about? Had I struck pay dirt again?
She leaned forward, her eyes locking on mine, her voice soft and full of tears. “I was going to take over the number-one spot in his organization.” She dabbed her eyes. “He was going to announce it this weekend, and now it’s all gone.” She threw one arm out in a hopeless gesture, railing against fate. “It’s over!” she said, jumping to her feet. “Now that dreadful woman will run his empire right into the ground, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” She turned and stormed out into the hallway.
I sat back, stunned. This was more than I’d bargained for. The dreadful woman had to be Miriam Dobosh. Was there really going to be a change in command? Or had Guru Sanjay been toying with this sweet (and pretty) young girl? And did Miriam Dobosh have an inkling about what was going on?
I stood up shakily, pondering my next move. First a pit stop and then—I jumped back in surprise when a tall, stocky figure came barreling out of one of the stalls.
Miriam Dobosh. It was like the scene in Fatal Attraction when Glenn Close suddenly pops up in Anne Archer’s bathroom, and I staggered backward in shock.
“She’s insane,” she hissed, her face close
“I’d heard he had a connection to Cypress Grove,” she said hesitantly. “The story was someone from here helped him in the past, and he felt obliged to return the favor.” She stood up and gave me a little smile. “I better get back to the seminar now. Can I have your card?” Her tone was definitely warmer than it had been in the beginning. I fumbled in my bag and handed her my card. “We’ll be here till tomorrow morning,” she said as she turned and left.
I thanked her and sat there for a few minutes, going over my notes. So Guru Sanjay was here in Cypress Grove once before? And Miriam might feel unappreciated by him? Maybe she had put in years of hard work for nothing? Who bene fitted from his death? Had he left his fortune to Miriam? Would she be running his empire now that he was in a galaxy far, far away?
These were all issues worth investigating, the “story behind the story,” as Cyrus is fond of saying. But at the moment, I had a more urgent matter on my mind. I needed to make a pit stop at the Seabreeze ladies’ room before heading back to the station.
I was surprised to find a weeping Sanjay-ite huddled in a love seat in the cozy anteroom that led to the actual rest-room. She was young and blond, probably in her early twenties. It looked as if she’d been crying for quite a while, because her face was blotchy and her eyelids puffy. She was clutching a tear-stained copy of Heal the Cosmos and swiping her nose ineffectively with a paper towel.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, obviously intruding on a private moment. “I’m just going to use the . . . uh . . . facilities,” I said, heading for the tile-walled room with the sinks and toilets. She nodded, sniffling, and then my psychology training kicked in—how could I leave her there in distress?
I heard myself saying, “Is there anything I can do to help you? A drink of water?”
She shook her head, drew her knees up on the couch, and gave full vent to her grief. “I can’t—I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said between sobs. She obviously hadn’t finished reading Heal the Cosmos or she’d know he wasn’t really “gone,” just transitioned, but I decided not to point this out to her.
“Did you know the guru very well?” I said softly, slipping into an armchair next to her.
She nodded. “For over five years. I’ve read all his books and I’ve gone to all his seminars.”
Wow, quite the devoted little acolyte , I thought.
“So you’re a follower . . .”
“Oh, I meant more to him than that,” she said miserably. “He has millions of followers, you know.”
I nodded sagely. She meant more to him? What was she talking about? Had I struck pay dirt again?
She leaned forward, her eyes locking on mine, her voice soft and full of tears. “I was going to take over the number-one spot in his organization.” She dabbed her eyes. “He was going to announce it this weekend, and now it’s all gone.” She threw one arm out in a hopeless gesture, railing against fate. “It’s over!” she said, jumping to her feet. “Now that dreadful woman will run his empire right into the ground, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” She turned and stormed out into the hallway.
I sat back, stunned. This was more than I’d bargained for. The dreadful woman had to be Miriam Dobosh. Was there really going to be a change in command? Or had Guru Sanjay been toying with this sweet (and pretty) young girl? And did Miriam Dobosh have an inkling about what was going on?
I stood up shakily, pondering my next move. First a pit stop and then—I jumped back in surprise when a tall, stocky figure came barreling out of one of the stalls.
Miriam Dobosh. It was like the scene in Fatal Attraction when Glenn Close suddenly pops up in Anne Archer’s bathroom, and I staggered backward in shock.
“She’s insane,” she hissed, her face close
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