Dave Zeltserman - Bad Karma

When he stepped outside he called Daniels and told him he’d stop by the station, that he had something for him. On the way over, he stopped at a convenience store and bought a large black coffee and a pack of Camel Filter Hardpacks.

Daniels looked bored as he glanced at the photos Shannon had handed him. He put them down and shrugged. “So?”

“I thought you’d be interested,” Shannon said. “Three members of True Light’s cult spending time at Carver and Gibson’s apartment.”

“First off, you don’t know that they’re members of that cult. All you know is they take yoga classes. Second, you don’t even know for a fact they ever spent time with Carver and Gibson, all you have is an impression from a neighbor that they did. And your buddy, Maguire, he doesn’t know when that was. Third, let’s say Carver and Gibson knew these girls, how the fuck does that tie that cult to their murders? You were a cop once. If someone came to you with this, what would you do?”

“I’d find these three girls and talk to them. Anil Paveeth also.”

“Who?”

“The great almighty Vishna. His real name is Anil Paveeth. This joker used to be a chemical engineer before becoming a god and starting True Light.”

“How’d you find this out?”

“A friend at the FBI.”

“So he used to be a chemical engineer. Big deal. I went to college for journalism and look at me now.”

“I still think it’s worth talking to them.”

“Let’s say I track down these girls. You know what I’ll get from them? Nothing. And I’ll get less from your pal, Paveeth. What you’re asking me to do is waste hours of my time, especially since there’s nothing connecting them to the murders. Now if you told me they were there the night Carver and Gibson were killed, or they had some altercation with them, then that would be different. Or if you told me your FBI friend has something concrete connecting that cult to those dead students. Are you able to tell me something like that?”

Shannon didn’t bother answering him.

“What I’m beginning to think is you’ve got a vendetta against that cult, that you didn’t like that a couple of their boys bruised you up the other day, and you’re looking for an excuse to send me down there to harass them.”

Shannon nodded towards the pictures he had given Daniels. “You need those?”

“Nah, why don’t you take them with you on your way out.”

Shannon did what the lieutenant suggested and took several steps towards the door when Daniels begrudgingly asked him what his theory was. “How were Carver and Gibson connected to that cult?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they did some early recruiting for Paveeth before he opened his yoga studio.”

“Or maybe there’s no connection. Maybe those girls became so distraught over their friends’ deaths that they ended up getting sucked into the same cult together.” Daniels shook his head, his chest deflating as he sighed. “You find a real connection between Paveeth and those dead students and I’ll look into it. But not until then. I already had a new asshole chewed out for me yesterday for not showing enough sensitivity to ‘our minority’ faiths here in Boulder.”

Shannon left. It was already past five. He thought about heading back to the Boulderado to see Susan, but instead made a detour to the university. He found Eddie at the fountain area outside the student center playing a kid in speed chess. Eddie had a rook and three pawn advantage but never had a chance to use it because the kid’s flag fell while he pondered his position. The kid got up and let Shannon take his place.

Eddie opened his eyes wide as he considered Shannon. “An unexpected surprise. I thought our match was tomorrow?”

“It is. I wanted to ask if this is the girl you had talked to before.”

Shannon handed him the picture of the girl with straight red hair, one of the three to have been let out of the van. Eddie studied it intently, pushing his upper plate out as he did.

“Nope,” he said, “that’s not her. The one I talked to looked like a young redheaded version of Meg Ryan with freckles, at least when her eyes weren’t jumping around on me. How about it? You up to a game of speed chess?”

“Sure, I’ve got five minutes to spare.”

“You any good at it?”

“We’ll find out.”

They set up the board with Shannon taking white and each side putting five minutes on their side of the chess clock. Twelve moves into the game Eddie muttered “fish” under his breath. Twenty moves later Eddie had his head in his hands as he stared hopelessly at the board. He stayed in that position until his flag fell.

“Why me, lord, why me?” he beseeched the sky, then turned livid as he faced Shannon. “I played the Steinitz variation of the Caro-Kann perfectly. I spent three day studying all its variations. You screwed up on your twelfth move. It should’ve been a won game for me.”

“I kind of liked my twelfth move,” Shannon said.

“That move should’ve opened you up to a queenside attack…” Eddie cut himself off. “Another game?”

Shannon looked at the kid who’d been observing their game and waiting his turn. “Okay with you?” The kid shrugged, said it was more than cool with him. That he enjoyed watching someone humble Eddie for a change.

Eddie, setting up the board, asked, “You making any headway with your investigation?”

“If you call wandering aimlessly without a clue headway, then yeah.” Shannon took his pack of Camels out, opened it, and tapped lose a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Alright with me. Rest of Boulder might form a lynching party, but don’t hold back on my account.”

Shannon’s hands shook as he struck a match and held it to the cigarette. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the smoke and tasting the sweetness of it. He felt lightheaded and disgusted with himself, but also immediately calmer, less jittery-as if a valve had been opened and the pressure inside released.

“I quit five years ago,” he explained. “The last couple of days the thought of lighting up has been bugging me.”

“Falling back into your old ways.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you were a cop you probably smoked. Now that you’re doing cops’ work again, you’re falling back into your old ways.”

Shannon didn’t believe that was the reason for it, but he shrugged and acknowledged that it was possible. Eddie had taken white for the next game. He made his move and hit the clock. Shannon followed suit, letting no more than a tick run off his clock. Most of the game was played evenly with neither side obtaining a clear advantage. With a minute left on both clocks, both players made their moves fast and furiously. By the end Eddie had a slight advantage, but his flag fell. Only a few ticks showed on Shannon’s clock.

Eddie stared incredulously at his fallen flag, then at the board. “I had you,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

“No question about it. I had you.” He rolled his eyes upward before facing Shannon. “At least this gives me hope for tomorrow. One more?”

Shannon checked his watch, saw it was a quarter to six. “Sorry, I need to get going.”

“I hope these games helped you.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “If I had to guess, you came here more to clear your head than to ask me about that picture or to play chess. Any ideas come to you?”

“Still hopelessly in the dark.”

Shannon nodded to Eddie, stubbed out his cigarette and walked off. A thought buried in his subconscious had been nagging at him, and while he played the second game he realized what it was: why the hell were those Russians acting as a taxi service and picking up those girls at the yoga studio? His gut told him the Russians were from Denver. If they lived in Boulder they’d stick out like sore thumbs. So why’d they drive all the way out here just to pick up those girls? The answer hit him about the time he was finishing the last game. They were already in Boulder for another reason so it was no big deal for them, and he had an idea what that other reason might be.