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Authors: Waverly Curtis
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coffee?” she asked me.
“That would be great,” I said. My headache had become a pounding, throbbing vise gripping the top of my head.
As she handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee, brought in from the back room, I thought I might be able to gain her sympathy. “Thanks,” I said. “I really need this. Can you believe? They don’t have any coffee up there. I was desperate.”
She gave me a faint, slightly predatory smile. Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses.
I took a sip of the coffee. It was strong, like black sludge, but it was exactly what I needed. “I was just up there for the introductory weekend,” I said. “Checking it out.”
“What did you think?” she asked.
“It was pretty strange,” I said. “I don’t really understand the philosophy.”
“I hear they do weird rituals at night,” she said, licking her lips. “Running around in the woods naked. Pretending to be dogs”—she winked at me—“in more ways than one.”
Oh, wow! I really missed a lot by going straight to my room. “I didn’t see any of that,” I confessed. Her smile fell. “But then again, I went to bed early. I don’t really know what happened last night.”
She brightened again. “Well, something obviously went down.” She tapped her finger on the clipboard on her desk. “That poor girl.”
“Yes, her name was Tammy Darling,” I said.
She perked up. “Really? They’re telling me that everyone is calling her Leaf.”
“That’s the name Dogawanda gave her,” I said. “But her real name is Tammy Darling.”
“I’ll get on the phone and tell the sheriff,” she said. As she was dialing, she looked over at me. “So what name did Dogawanda give you?” she asked.
“I don’t have a name yet,” I said, which suddenly made me sad. I didn’t realize it, but I had a sort of yearning to see what Dogawanda would see in me. A tree? A flower? A bird? “But my dog got a name. He’s Towering Cedar.”
“Well, tell Towering Cedar to get his nose out of there!” she said, pointing to where Pepe was snuffling around the wastebasket. The sheriff must have come on the line then, because I heard her telling him that the victim was Tammy Darling. “The woman you’ve got waiting here in the office told me.” He must have chastised her about talking to me because she said, “Of course not! She volunteered the information.”
And that was that. I went back to sipping my syrupy coffee and she called up another friend and began gossiping about the Dogawandans again, starting with the exciting news about the dead body and proceeding to list every wrongdoing associated with them. Apparently they had started building on their property without getting the proper permits. It also sounded like the matter was going to be settled within a few days at a hearing of the Board of Adjustment.
There was a commotion outside. A big SUV with the word S HERIFF printed in gold letters on the side pulled up at the same time as a white van that was emblazoned with the logo of the Dogawanda retreat center—a huge yellow five-pointed star framing the head of a dog. A middle-aged man in a brown uniform got out of the SUV. He also wore a pistol belt, a light-colored cowboy hat, and a shiny silver badge on his chest. A gaggle of green-clothed men and women emerged from the van. I didn’t see Star anywhere, but as they filed into the room, I recognized Artichoke. Her hair was still tangled and her clothing rumpled. And walking beside her, supporting her with a hand placed under her elbow, was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had long, dark curly hair and a friendly, open face. It was her walk that was most familiar, a sort of languid sway that I instantly recognized but couldn’t place.
Pepe’s little nose was sniffing the air like crazy. He ran over to her and then ran back to me, sniffing my leg. “She smells just like you,” he said. “If you subtract the jasmine and incense. Why is that, Geri?”
The woman stopped about
“That would be great,” I said. My headache had become a pounding, throbbing vise gripping the top of my head.
As she handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee, brought in from the back room, I thought I might be able to gain her sympathy. “Thanks,” I said. “I really need this. Can you believe? They don’t have any coffee up there. I was desperate.”
She gave me a faint, slightly predatory smile. Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses.
I took a sip of the coffee. It was strong, like black sludge, but it was exactly what I needed. “I was just up there for the introductory weekend,” I said. “Checking it out.”
“What did you think?” she asked.
“It was pretty strange,” I said. “I don’t really understand the philosophy.”
“I hear they do weird rituals at night,” she said, licking her lips. “Running around in the woods naked. Pretending to be dogs”—she winked at me—“in more ways than one.”
Oh, wow! I really missed a lot by going straight to my room. “I didn’t see any of that,” I confessed. Her smile fell. “But then again, I went to bed early. I don’t really know what happened last night.”
She brightened again. “Well, something obviously went down.” She tapped her finger on the clipboard on her desk. “That poor girl.”
“Yes, her name was Tammy Darling,” I said.
She perked up. “Really? They’re telling me that everyone is calling her Leaf.”
“That’s the name Dogawanda gave her,” I said. “But her real name is Tammy Darling.”
“I’ll get on the phone and tell the sheriff,” she said. As she was dialing, she looked over at me. “So what name did Dogawanda give you?” she asked.
“I don’t have a name yet,” I said, which suddenly made me sad. I didn’t realize it, but I had a sort of yearning to see what Dogawanda would see in me. A tree? A flower? A bird? “But my dog got a name. He’s Towering Cedar.”
“Well, tell Towering Cedar to get his nose out of there!” she said, pointing to where Pepe was snuffling around the wastebasket. The sheriff must have come on the line then, because I heard her telling him that the victim was Tammy Darling. “The woman you’ve got waiting here in the office told me.” He must have chastised her about talking to me because she said, “Of course not! She volunteered the information.”
And that was that. I went back to sipping my syrupy coffee and she called up another friend and began gossiping about the Dogawandans again, starting with the exciting news about the dead body and proceeding to list every wrongdoing associated with them. Apparently they had started building on their property without getting the proper permits. It also sounded like the matter was going to be settled within a few days at a hearing of the Board of Adjustment.
There was a commotion outside. A big SUV with the word S HERIFF printed in gold letters on the side pulled up at the same time as a white van that was emblazoned with the logo of the Dogawanda retreat center—a huge yellow five-pointed star framing the head of a dog. A middle-aged man in a brown uniform got out of the SUV. He also wore a pistol belt, a light-colored cowboy hat, and a shiny silver badge on his chest. A gaggle of green-clothed men and women emerged from the van. I didn’t see Star anywhere, but as they filed into the room, I recognized Artichoke. Her hair was still tangled and her clothing rumpled. And walking beside her, supporting her with a hand placed under her elbow, was a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had long, dark curly hair and a friendly, open face. It was her walk that was most familiar, a sort of languid sway that I instantly recognized but couldn’t place.
Pepe’s little nose was sniffing the air like crazy. He ran over to her and then ran back to me, sniffing my leg. “She smells just like you,” he said. “If you subtract the jasmine and incense. Why is that, Geri?”
The woman stopped about
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