Free Dead Air: A Talk Radio Mystery by Mary Kennedy Page B

joke, right?”
    “It’s no joke. It never should have happened this way. I never meant to hurt Guru Sanjay.”
    “I believe you, but start from the beginning.” I tried to rein in my rampaging emotions. So much for eight years of psychoanalytic training! I was an emotional wreck, and my thoughts were swirling like dry leaves in the wind as I struggled to make sense of what she was saying.
    “I’ll try, but some of the evening is a blur. I think I must have blocked part of it out of my memory. I told that to Detective Martino, but he didn’t believe me,” she added ruefully. “He thinks I’m guilty, you know.”
    “Don’t worry about Detective Martino right now. He thinks everybody’s guilty. Just tell me what happened,” I said firmly, “and don’t leave anything out.” I gave her a sharp look. “That bit about going out to the drugstore last night wasn’t true, was it?”
    “No, it was just an excuse,” she said, flushing a little. “I went straight next door to the Seabreeze as soon as I left here. I knew you’d think it was crazy, so I felt too embarrassed to tell you the truth.”
    So Carmela was right, I thought grimly. I wondered whether Lark knew she’d been spotted in the hotel lobby and had probably already been positively identified by the front-desk clerk. That must be why Martino had dragged her down to the station this morning. Otherwise, why would he have reason to suspect her?
    “I was going to call Guru Sajay on the house phone to ask him to autograph my copy of Heal the Cosmos —”
    “You had it with you, right? That’s why you were carrying that big yellow Coach knockoff; you had the book in there.”
    Lark nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. With her choppy blond haircut and winsome features, she looked about twelve years old.
    “Yes, and I brought along a little gift for him, a bottle of my Calming Essence.” Lark makes her own herbal essences from dried flowers, and, generous soul that she is, she loves to give them out to her friends. You just add a few drops to a glass of water and instant nirvana.
    “Go on.” I was beginning to wish I had poured us both a glass of wine before hearing what Lark had to say. A hefty flute of Pinot Grigio would hit the spot about now. I looked longingly toward the kitchen but didn’t want to interrupt Lark’s train of thought.
    “Well, I was heading for the front desk when I spotted him walking down the hallway to the back stairs. I don’t know how I got up the nerve to speak to him, but I did. I ran right up to him and told him I’d read all his books and had brought him a little present. I told him I’d love to have him autograph his book for me.”
    “And of course he agreed,” I prompted. I could just picture it. A fat middle-aged man meeting a devoted follower who just happens to be a gorgeous young blonde. It didn’t take much to connect the dots.
    “Yeah, he agreed all right, but I got more than I bargained for,” she said, letting out her breath in a whoosh. “He invited me up to his room for a minute, and that’s when things got crazy.”
    Despair laced her voice, and her tiny hands were knotted in fists, clutching the afghan as if it was a lifeline. Pugsley gave a nervous little nip, probably tuning in to the desperate tone in her voice.
    “Crazy how?”
    Lark blushed, a slow red burn that crept up her neck. “Well, first I asked him a lot of questions about his philosophy, and he seemed really interested in explaining it all to me.”
    I nodded, remembering how much Guru Sanjay liked to talk about himself.
    “And then suddenly he gave me a funny look and his whole attitude changed. He was like a different person, Maggie. He lunged at me and tried to kiss me. I couldn’t believe it! How could I have been so stupid? He was a complete lech. He didn’t want to talk about metaphysics; he just wanted to get into my pants!”
    “Ah.” A beat of silence passed. “Okay, so he