Kate went off with Detective Sanchez and left me to handle the food. Detective Sergeant O’Malley helped me fill two extra trays and then joined me when I sat down with Otto, Norma, Julie, Aoife, Theo, and Lucky. I bought wine for the table. At first, O’Malley demurred; then he reconsidered and seemed to relax. “What kind of workshop are you in?” O’Malley asked.
“Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll,” Lucky said with a straight face.
O’Malley blanched while the rest of the group laughed. “That’s just in Lucky’s room,” I said. “Seriously, we’re part of a Transitions workshop that, hopefully, will help us to manage the transition we’re going through.”
O’Malley frowned and Otto tried to explain. “For example, I’m going through the transition of retirement, trying to decide what I’m going to do next.”
“I’m about to retire,” O’Malley said. “I know I don’t want to be home all the time, but I’m not sure what I want to do other than be a cop.”
Fortunately for O’Malley, our group had lots of suggestions about what he might do. By the time Kate and Laura came back, O’Malley seemed to think he should come to Satori for the next Transitions workshop.
At 7:30, the detectives left to conduct more interviews. Because Kate was involved in a lengthy discussion about Aoife’s safety, I didn’t get a chance to ask her about what Laura Sanchez had said when they were outside.
“Welcome back,” David said. “You’re doing an excellent job. Tonight, we’ll hear from our last three participants and then we’ll talk about the Tuesday schedule.”
Cheryl pointed to a young woman with red hair and freckles. She was wearing overhauls and a Cranberries t-shirt. “Lucy it’s your turn.”
“I’m Lucy Collins. I’m here as part of the Satori work-study program. Cheryl is my therapist; she suggested that I attend this workshop.”
“Since the ‘sine qua non’ of this workshop is brutal honesty, I will start with this admission: I have an eating disorder. Rather, I have had a series of eating disorders: I have been bulimic and anorexic now I am obese because I have trouble regulating my eating. I’m working on it.”
She stood up straight. “A lot of people tell me that I would be attractive if I gained weight or lost weight or did this or that. This does not register on me because I almost never see myself as attractive. I have a lot of difficulty looking in the mirror and seeing someone who is worthy of respect.”
Lucy retrieved her thermos and drank water. “Can you come over here, Cheryl. I’m nervous.” Cheryl walked across the room and sat down in front of her client.
“Like many women and girls who have eating disorders, I have been abused. In my case by my stepfather, Don. The abuse started when I was twelve and ended when I was seventeen and left for college. The abuse was complicated by the fact that my stepfather was also the pastor of our church.”
Kate growled. I squeezed her hand.
Lucy stopped and looked around the room. “In case you are wondering, Don died in a traffic accident, two years ago. He was driving drunk with a teenage girl from our church. Fortunately, she lived.”
Lucy teared up but kept talking. “I’m here to try to be a normal workshop member. I have trouble with boundaries; I overshare or numb out without noticing my own experience.”
She looked at Cheryl. “How am I doing?”
“You’re doing great, Lucy. Take a deep breath and take your time. Check in with yourself: How are you doing?”
Lucy gulped and briefly closed her eyes. “I’m okay. Maybe a little scared that I broke my silence.”
“You should adopt her,” I whispered to Kate.
“My thought, exactly,” she said.
“Lucy, what do you want from the group?” Cheryl asked.
“I want to be accepted.”
“What does that mean to you?”
Lucy’s lips moved but no words were audible.
“You’ll have to speak up,” Cheryl said.
“I want to be respected.”
“Lucy, we’ve done the self-respect process before,” Cheryl said. “Can we do it in front of the entire group?”
“Sure,” Lucy said in a voice that slightly quivered.
“Okay. Imagine that a close friend was telling you positive things about yourself. What would they say?”
“They would say: Lucy you are a good friend. You show up when I need you. You keep your commitments. You tell the truth. You love me no matter what.” Lucy teared up.
“Good. What else would your friend say?’
“They would say: Lucy you are smart. You can figure things out. You can take care of yourself.”
“Good. What else would your friend say?”
Lucy’s lips moved.
“No one can hear you.”
“My friend would say: Lucy, you are beautiful. I know that you have trouble seeing this, but you are beautiful.” Lucy blushed beet red and looked at the floor.
“Good,” Cheryl said. “Is it okay if I repeat what you said to the entire group? Is it okay if I reintroduce you to the group?”
“Sure.”
Cheryl slowly scanned the group as she spoke. “This is my friend Lucy. She is a good friend. Smart. Resourceful. And beautiful.”
Lucy continued to blush.
“How does it feel to hear that, Lucy?”
“Good.” Her voice lowered. “But embarrassing.”
“Maybe we should stop here, and you can get feedback from the group.”
“Okay.”
Several hands went up.
Cheryl selected Lucky. “How old are you, Lucy?”
“I’m 22.”
“You are very brave. You have the beauty of the brave.”
Several people applauded.
Lucy blushed.
Cheryl recognized Aoife. “Lucy, where was your mother when all this happened?”
“She was drunk. We’re not in contact anymore.”
Aoife sighed. “Can I give you a hug?”
Lucy smiled. “I’d like that.”
Aoife hugged Lucy. And then was joined by Kate, Norma, and Julie. They hugged for a long minute.
“Thank you,” Lucy said. “I feel safe here.”
“That’s probably enough,” Cheryl said. “Thank you, Lucy.” The women both scooted back to their positions in the group.
“Let’s move on to Greg,” David said.
The last man in the group stood up. He was Asian, probably the same age as me, and in good shape. The man was wearing a black acrylic full-length t-shirt and white chinos. “My name is Greg Tanaka. I live in Danville and I’m a CPA.” He opened his thermos and drank water.
“The problem with being a CPA is that you get exposed to people who have way too much money. Some of my clients try to write off things like their mistress’s apartment or their new Lamborghini. My neighborhood is awash in new money, and it warped my judgment.” Greg smiled a weak smile. “I took a chance to make a lot of money and it didn’t work. I got caught.”
“One of my clients got involved in money laundering. He needed help setting up a phony company and I assisted him. A lot of money washed through this company, and I saw a chance to siphon off a little bit for myself. There was so much money that I thought no one would notice.” Greg shook his head. “I was wrong. The FBI did notice.” He looked around the group. “Did you know the FBI employs accountants? I didn’t.” he chuckled. “Maybe if I did, I would have made other career choices.” He shuffled his feet. “I made a mistake. I was arrested. I agreed to cooperate with the FBI. I was found guilty of securities fraud and sentenced to two years in prison.” He sighed. “After the workshop is over, I report to the Federal prison at Lompoc.”
David got up and walked in front of Greg. “Thanks for your story, Greg. I want to remind you that participants in this group must come here voluntarily. Is your participation part of your plea bargain?”
“No,” Greg said, shuffling his feet. “I’ve lost everything and need to rethink my life. I thought I would come here to begin a new start. I’m not going to get any career counseling in prison.” Greg’s voice broke. “It’s hard to admit that I’ve been such a fool.”
“Shame is the hardest emotion to express,” David said. “It takes a lot of guts to admit that you’ve been a fool.”
Greg studied the floor. “Thanks.”
“Would you like to get some feedback?”
“I think so.” Greg’s voice was barely audible.
David looked around the room.
Tammy held up her hand. “Greg, I want you to know that I think you are very brave to tell your story.”
Otto raised his hand. “Greg, since you cooperated with the FBI, are you worried for your safety when you go to prison?”
“My attorney says the FBI will protect me.”
I looked at Kate.
She made the “maybe, maybe not” hand gesture.
There was no other feedback. David thanked Greg and they both moved back to their positions in the group.
Cheryl spoke, “Now we move on to our last participant, Lois. After she tells her story we’re through with phase one.”
A striking middle-aged woman stood up. She had long black hair with streaks of grey, pulled back into a loose braid. She wore a beige jumpsuit and an elaborate woolen shawl that had beads woven into the fabric. I figured her for an artist.
“My name is Lois Waters. Thank you for all your amazing stories. You are all very brave.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “We began with Tom’s tale of death and end with my tale of death. The death of love.”
Lois stepped into the circle and slowly scanned the room. “I just turned 50. I’m a lesbian and I live alone; just down the road in Carmel.” She stopped in front of Lucky. “I didn’t always know I was a lesbian. For many years, I was in denial of my sexuality; I even lived with a man for a while. Then, thirty years ago, at another Satori workshop I had an affair with a woman and realized my true nature.”
Lois walked across the circle and stopped in front of Kate and me. “I was satisfied, sexually, but I had difficulty establishing a lasting relationship. My therapist told me that this was because I had trouble trusting. She said I was not secure enough in my identity as a lesbian to be able to love completely.”
Kate gripped my right hand.
“Ten years ago, I was at a gallery opening in Carmel when I met a young artist who had just arrived in town, Moira. We spent the night together and it was very good. Moira wanted us to continue and so we became an item. She moved into my spare bedroom.”
Lois walked back across the room and got a sip of water. “I was 40 and Moira was 25. I felt loved and satisfied in the relationship, but I was aware of the age difference. I talked about this with Moira, suggested she find someone her own age, but Moira insisted that she loved me, and the fifteen years made no difference. We were happy for five years and then Moira met Kim, someone her own age.” Lois teared up.
Kate handed her tissues.
“I was at the party when they met, and I knew right away there was chemistry between them. When we got home, Moira denied it. Then she started sneaking off to see Kim. I confronted her with it, and she got angry, wouldn’t meet my eyes. Then one day I came home and found that Moira had moved out.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “She didn’t even leave a note.”
“How did that feel?” Cheryl asked.
“Terrible. Moira had lied to me, and I had been a fool to believe that our age difference wouldn’t matter.” Lois dabbed her eyes. “For the last several years I have been alone. Moira and Kim live in Carmel Valley; they seem to be happy. I am growing old by myself.” She walked back to her place in the circle. “I came here because I realized that I have been stuck; I don’t have enough love in my life and I’m afraid to love.”
Cheryl got up and walked close to Lois. “Would you like to work on being stuck?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Close your eyes and go inside and see if you can find the part that wants to be loved.”
Lois sat silently for a minute. “I found it. It’s like a big soft heart.”
“Good,” said Cheryl. “Now ask that part why it finds it difficult to accept love.”
Lois considered this. Her lips moved but no sounds were audible.
“What did you learn?”
“My heart says it wants love but is afraid of being hurt.”
“Okay,” Cheryl said. “I’m going to ask you to do one more thing, if you can. When you go inside and see your heart, look around and see if there is another part that is acting as a ‘defender.’”
“A what?”
“It’s a part that is protecting your heart. Perhaps in the same way that you might keep a bulldog in your front yard to keep visitors from knocking on your front door. The bulldog might keep away unwanted visitors, but it might also keep a lover from your door.”
Lois smiled. “I get it.” She closed her eyes for a brief time. “I found a couple of defender parts.”
“Pick one and tell me about it.”
“It’s the part that’s too busy to date. I tell myself that I am too busy with my art and my social projects and, therefore, I do not have time to pursue a new relationship.”
“Very good,” Cheryl said. “Do you think we can examine another defender part.”
“Yes.” Lois closed her eyes. “I found a good one.” She teared up. “This is the part that is fearful that if I open up to love, I will be severely hurt.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It tells me that if I open to love, I will die.”
“I think I have a part like that,” Kate whispered.
“Very good,” Cheryl said to Lois. “I want you to try to talk to that part.”
“Okay.”
“Tell that defender part that it has been doing a good job. Thank it. And then tell it that you are stronger now and you do not need it to completely block your heart. Tell it that you will call it out when you need to.”
“I can do that.” Lois sat quietly for several minutes. As her lips moved silently, she wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you,” Lois said to Cheryl.
“We can stop here,” Cheryl said. She leaned closer to Lois. “You did terrific work. You were very brave.”
“Thank you. It was hard work.”
“Are you ready for feedback?”
“Yes.”
Several hands went up. Julie said, “I think I have a part like Lois, a part that’s afraid to open up.”
“Me, too.” Kate and Norma said.
Cheryl looked around at the women. “Tomorrow we’re going to meet as a woman’s group. Perhaps I can teach you all about dialoguing with your defender parts.”
The women nodded.
Lois hugged Cheryl and they scooted back to their positions in the group.
After a few minutes, David spoke. “Wow. What a group!” he looked slowly around the circle. “Having a successful transitions workshop requires that the participants take risks. You are a bunch of risk takers. Good for you.” He turned to Cheryl.
“Thank you all for your work. We’ll see you all tomorrow morning at 9AM.”
The men got up and began leaving the room. The women stayed in a cluster around Cheryl and Lois. Lucky, Otto, and Theo walked over to me, “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m not sure. If Kate stays here, I’m going to the baths. Otherwise, I am going to hang out with her.”
“We’re going to the baths,” Lucky said. “Maybe we will see you there.”
I waited by myself for a few minutes. Finally, Kate broke away from the group and approached me. “I know I told you that we would be together. but it looks like the women are going to do more work with Cheryl. Can we wait until tomorrow night?”
“Okay. I think I understand but there’s a part of me, like a small child, that wants to hold onto you.”
Kate smiled. “I have that part, too.” She held out her hand. “Now I’m going to shake your hand because if I hug you, I may not be able to let go.”
I walked to the baths and got into a large tub with Lucky, Otto, and Theo. “Have you noticed that the women’s group is more cohesive than the men?” Lucky asked.
“That’s because they don’t have any outliers,” Otto said.
“What do you mean?” Theo asked.
“The four of us are involved in the group process,” Otto said. “But Rory isn’t because he is too wounded. And Paul isn’t because he’s too depressed.”
“What about Greg?” I asked.
“I don’t know about Greg,” Otto said. “I don’t understand him.”
“He’s not engaged,” Lucky said. “Maybe he’s preoccupied with the thought of going to prison.”
“That would make sense,” Theo said.
“Have any of you talked to him?” I asked. “He’s not around much at mealtime.”
“He’s a weird guy,” Lucky said. “I tried to talk to him last night and he was very strange.”
“Maybe it was homophobia,” Otto said.
“No, it wasn’t that,” Lucky said. “Believe me I know how to recognize homophobes. It was like Greg was on ludes or a similar downer.”
“That would make sense if he were very afraid of going to prison,” Theo said.
We talked for another thirty minutes and then Lucky and Theo left. When it was clear that we were alone, Otto said, “I’m thinking about asking Norma out. What’s your opinion?”
“I like Norma; she is a terrific person. Why do you need my opinion?”
“Because I haven’t dated in thirty years. I’m rusty.”
“I take it that you and your wife have separated.”
“Inga has gone back to Germany. I don’t expect her to return.”
“From what you said, it sounded like you and she had irreconcilable differences.”
“Yes. Plus, she began to regard sex as evil.”
I blew out a breath. “That must have been hard.”
“Yes. So, I haven’t been on a romantic date in a very long time.”
“Norma is a perfect person for you, Otto. She may not be your soul mate, but she is a very kind person.”
“That’s what I think. Thank you, I will ask her out.” After a few minutes, Otto got out of the tub.
I sat in the tub and pondered, Is Kate my soul mate? I realized that I didn’t need to decide that now.
I was about to get out of the tub when a woman got in. At first, because of the poor lighting, I thought she was one of the women from the Transitions group. Then I realized it was detective Sanchez. “Did you solve the case?” I asked.
“Hardly,” she laughed. “I’m celebrating the end of a particularly frustrating day.”
“Where’s your partner?’
“Probably in bed. Don’t tell him I’m here. He doesn’t approve of the tubs.” She looked around. “Where’s Kate?”
“She and the other women in our workshop are doing a special process.”
“From what she told me, I should be in the workshop, working on my relationship.”
“David gives this workshop a couple of times a year. You can come the next time.”
Sanchez mulled this over. “Kate said that you guys met a couple of months ago and that it didn’t work out.”
“Yes.” When she didn’t continue, I asked, “What else did she say?”
“Kate thought you were both ready to have a relationship.”
I let out my breath. “Yes.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m amazed. I’d come to believe that with the death of my wife, I had used up my karmic relationship quota and that I probably would never have another big relationship.”
“And now you don’t believe that?”
“Now I believe that Kate and I will work it out.”
“That’s very romantic. It gives me hope.”
I waited for Laura Sanchez to say more but she didn’t. She turned around and looked over the edge of the tub at the seascape below. “You didn’t like Malcolm Eastwick,” she said, slightly turning her head,
“He was a client, so I tolerated him. He was full of himself. My deceased wife, Fiona, made fun of him, but I couldn’t do that.”
“You weren’t around on Saturday?”
“No, I drove down on Sunday.”
“It turns out that not many people were here on Saturday.”
“That’s strange,” I said. “There should have been workshops.”
Laura turned around so her back was against the side of the tub. “It turns out that there was a gap in the Satori schedule last weekend. Normally, weeklong workshops end on Friday morning and weekend workshops begin Friday night. But in this case, there was no weekend workshop because the workshop offered in the Satori catalog – something about Shamanism – didn’t sell.”
“And there wasn’t a backup workshop?”
“No. The only thing scheduled was a team-building exercise with the work-study students that was led by David Sanders and Cheryl Taylor.”
“You’re telling me that no new guests showed up on Friday night.”
“Yes,” Sanchez said. “No new guests showed up and the old conference center wasn’t in use because the workshop that was to occupy that space didn’t occur.”
I scratched my head. “So, on Saturday night, everyone was on the south end of the Satori campus.”
“Exactly. Malcolm Eastwick showed up at his residence on the north end of campus and no one was around.”
“Can I ask a question?” I waited for Laura to respond. When she didn’t, I kept talking. “Access to the grounds is closed, at least on the south end. Do you have a record of who came in and out on Saturday?”
“There’s someone assigned to the south gate 24/7. They write down names and license plates on a form and, later, that data gets input to a computer. We’ve gone over the list for Saturday, and everything checks out.”
“They write down who enters the campus, but not who leaves.”
“Exactly.”
“What about the north campus? Is there is a gate up there?”
“There’s a gate regulated by a keypad. It doesn’t show who entered, merely when. However, there is a camera there and we checked the entry times against the video record. Malcolm Eastwick showed up Saturday at 2:10PM in his Tesla. Only two folks showed up after that: One was the maintenance guy, Juan Romero, and the other was a staff member named Carl something.”
“I met him. He works in HR.”
I waited a couple of minutes before asking, “How long are you going to be here?”
“Another day. We plan to interview the Institute board. Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll drive back to Monterey.” Sanchez got up. “Tell Kate I’ll talk to her before we leave.” She swam across the tub and got out.
I thought about what I had learned. Sanchez thinks Malcom was murdered. She suspects one of the staff members did it.