I searched the room as fast as I could without making noise or a mess. If I had been sure the necklace was there, I wouldn’t have worried about the mess and could have worked more quickly. As it was, I didn’t want to put Baba on guard, in case I needed to come back for another visit. I looked under the mattress, under the rugs, behind the pictures on the walls, in every container and drawer I could open, and in the tank of the toilet in the attached bathroom. No one ever hides anything in the toilet tank, but you are supposed to look anyway.
The clock kept ticking.
There were size-two girl’s clothes in the closet along with an extensive selection of XXXL men’s street clothes, including half a dozen suits from mid-level designers, Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein, along with one navy-blue, three-button Armani. There was also a flashy selection of shirts, ties, and shoes.
Baba had a dual existence going.
The right-hand desk drawers held office supplies and ashram files. The left-hand drawers were locked. There was also a locked oak file cabinet stained the same golden color as the desk. I couldn’t find a key for the cabinet or desk and there wasn’t enough time to run out for a crowbar to crack them open, so I took a sturdy steel letter opener and tried to pry the top-left drawer open with that.
The lock had a steel tab that extended up into a steel-lined niche on the top of the drawer frame. I pried down with the letter opener at the same time as I pulled out and down on the U-shaped drawer handle, trying to open up enough space between the drawer and frame so that the lock would slip. I had the tab almost out of the slot when the letter opener split the wood it was dug into. My hand shot forward, knocking a lamp onto the wooden floor with a loud crash.
I froze, stiff as an aviator in a glacier. Baba’s room was in the back of the house. I didn’t think they would be able to hear the crash in the meditation room, but I wasn’t sure. After a few moments, I heard what sounded like feet pounding on a staircase. Quick as I could with shaky hands, I set the metal lamp back on the desk, then dodged into the bathroom, squeezing behind the door.
A few seconds later, the bedroom door was flung open and I heard someone breathing hard as if they had just run up a flight of stairs; then the door closed and aggressive footsteps went down the hall to the other bedrooms, more doors opening and closing.
When there was no more noise, I stepped out of the bathroom, holding the letter opener in my right hand, which hung down at my side, the tip of the dull blade pointing backward. It wasn’t a good weapon, but it was a weapon.
I looked at the clock. Meditation would be over in another minute or two if it wasn’t already. I had to get back downstairs. My hand was on the knob of the bedroom door when I heard voices in the hall.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The voices were coming closer. One of them was Baba Raba’s. The other was female. I started to retreat once more to the bathroom and then stopped. After an hour of meditation, the guru or his companion might need to use the facilities. The voices were right outside the door. Looking around wildly, I dove for the far side of the bed and wriggled under, same as sneak thieves and illicit lovers have been doing down through the dusty centuries since people first elevated their sleeping pallets to get away from crawling vermin. I felt a little silly hiding under the bed but, really, where are you going to go? The space beneath was clean and uncluttered. The bedspread hung down like a curtain to within a couple of inches of the floor.
I made it just in time. The orange fringe was still swinging when Baba came into the room. The floor shook as his big farm-boy feet plodded over and stood beside the bed, close enough to reach out and tickle. Facing him was a second pair of feet, much smaller and neater with red-painted toenails.
“I am sorry to take you away from the others,” Baba said, “but I wanted to see how you are doing.” His bedroom voice was less bombastic than his professional-guru voice. He sounded genuinely concerned. I wondered if his words were a prelude to hanky-panky and looked up to see how much clearance there was between me and the bottom of the bed. Not much. There was a box spring, but I didn’t have confidence in it. If Baba started bouncing his washtub ass on the bed, the whole thing might collapse on me.
“That’s all right,” I heard Evelyn Evermore’s cultivated voice say. “I want to talk to you, too.” Happily, she didn’t sound amorous. She sounded dismayed. Despite her fine meditative posture, she had not connected with her inner ananda.
“You don’t seem well, my generous friend,” Baba said. “You are upset by what happened in the desert.”
“I’m upset about a number of things, Baba,” Evermore said, the distress in her voice sharpening into anger. “I still want to know why you sent that disgusting man with me to Indian Wells. His manners were atrocious and he treated me like a prisoner.”
“As I told you before you left, I sent him because I sensed you were in danger. Which turned out to be all too true. It is fortunate he was with you. Or the necklace would have been stolen.”
“You are very interested in that necklace, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. It is essential for the work we are doing.”
“So you say. But I am having doubts, Baba. That Jimmy character is a cretin. He put his hands on me. It was a horrible experience and it makes me question your judgment and intentions. Where in the world did you even meet someone like that?”
“The Hebrew teacher Jesus told the Pharisees that he did not come to save respectable people, but sinners,” Baba said. “The Pharisees were rich and self-righteous and wanted to know why he spent time with barkeeps and prostitutes. He told them that people who are well do not need a doctor; only sick people need a doctor. Jimmy is a troubled young man and I am trying to help him. It is good for him to make himself useful in our work.”
“So, you’re Jesus now?” Evelyn said sarcastically. “No, I am not Jesus. I am just one feeble and faltering man trying to do a little good in an unhappy world. And I can’t do it alone. I need help. We all need help. Including you. I am sorry if Jimmy offended you. I will warn him about his behavior and make sure that he does not bother you again. He will apologize to you when he returns.”
Evelyn’s feet shifted restlessly and I heard her sigh. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t as harsh: “I don’t need an apology from him, and I don’t mean to be judgmental. Jimmy Z is a real jerk, but we have all been jerks in our lives, and worse, I suppose. At least I have. Just keep him away from me.” Her voice grew softer still. “Have you heard anything since the last time we talked?”
“Yes.” Baba said, power and authority flowing back into his tone, crowding out the apologetic note. “She is still in Los Angeles and she wants to come home.”
“How do you know? Have you found her?” Evermore’s voice trembled. Baba had struck straight to her heart.
“The same way I knew about her father’s sins,” the guru said, getting sonorous. “The same way I knew about her love of riding and about all the things that happened to her when she was with you that I have told you about. I am in contact with those who have knowledge of her whereabouts, and I am seeking her in deep meditation. I am close to her now. We will find her soon.”
“I want to believe you, Baba,” the rich lady said. “And I want to help you in your work. I told you last week that you could have the necklace after Diamonds in the Desert, and I will follow through on that. I just hope you are not stringing me along. It has been six months since you said you would find her. I will do anything you want, but you have to find her soon. I can’t stand this much longer.”