Free Evans to Betsy by Rhys Bowen Page A

door, leaving Evan to follow in her wake. This time they took a paved back route, past a very modern-looking glass-fronted building. “The spa,” Annabel said. “We run a full-service spa here. A massage therapist on duty twenty-four hours a day and experts in any kind of hands-on healing. Our aim is to soothe the body as well as the spirit.”
    It must be costing them a bomb to run this place, Evan thought. All these experts to pay and buildings to maintain . “So do a lot of people take advantage of getting their bodies and spirits soothed here?” he asked.
    Again a brief frown of annoyance. “We only opened last year. It takes a while to build up a reputation and of course we are only catering to the most exclusive kind of guest. But things are beginning to pick up. Now that it’s stopped bloody raining, that is.” They were descending a graceful flight of curved steps with a carved stone railing beside them—another part of the old estate, he guessed. A clear view of a sparkling estuary opened up in front of them. On the other side were sloping green hills. Down below them, at the bottom of the steps, was another cluster of outlandish buildings, built around a little beach of yellow sand. A large swimming pool was built out over part of the beach.
    “It’s certainly a lovely spot,” he said.
    She nodded appreciatively. “I’m very fond of it. I’d do anything to keep it.”
    “It certainly keeps you fit, going up and down all these steps.”
As he said it, he realized this was rather a tactless remark, given Lady Annabel’s generous curves, but she smiled and didn’t seem to take offence.
    “Actually I don’t come down here too much. This is the area of spiritual healing and meditation. Spiritual healers are very touchy about being disturbed.”
    Evan blinked as he noticed a strange object among the buildings, dazzlingly bright with reflected sunlight.
    “What’s that?” he asked.
    “That is our pyramid. A center of great healing energy.”
    Now Evan could see that it was, indeed, a pyramid, about the size of a small room, and made completely from beaten copper, decorated with Celtic knots.
    “Copper is a wonderful conductor,” Annabel said.
    “Do you hold some kind of ceremony in it?” Evan asked. It was rather small, even for a chapel.
    “Oh, no. You don’t need a ceremony in a pyramid. You just are in a pyramid.”
    As Evan still looked confused, she went on. “You sit and let the energy of the crystals do its healing.”
    Evan forced himself not to smile. He was tempted to ask how many rich nutters were willing to pay big money to sit in a copper pyramid, but he thought better of it. Obviously Lady Annabel believed in this kind of stuff. Who knew—maybe it worked.
    “Our meditation center is in here,” she said and opened the door to a wonderful round room, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the sea. Some of the windows were open and from outside came the cry of seagulls and the gentle hiss and slap of waves. The floor was polished wood but there were Persian rugs and large silk pillows strewn around.
    “Very nice,” Evan said.
    “This is our contemplation room. We use it for group meditation. We also have smaller, more intimate rooms for past-life regression, guided imagery, psychic readings. I’ll see if Rhiannon is available.”
    “Did somebody want me?” The voice was low and melodious.
Evan stared at the woman who had emerged from the shadowy hallway. He couldn’t have been more surprised. He was expecting flowing robes and large amulets. Instead, Rhiannon was wearing jeans and a black polo-neck sweater. It was hard to judge her exact age, but she had sensible, cropped gray hair and a face that had a weathered look of a life in the open air. Her figure, however, was as trim as a teenager’s and stood in sharp contrast to Lady Annabel’s flowing excess.
    “Oh, Rhiannon, there you are. Splendid. I’ve brought someone to see you.”
    Rhiannon’s eyes held