The majority of times, it was money.
And only one of the victims, from what Mary could see, had money.
But what sent tingles of electricity down Mary’s spine wasn’t that Valerie Barnes had money. Half of Los Angeles was rich.
No, it’s that Valerie Barnes worked with money. She was a young partner in an accounting firm.
So she handled other people’s money.
It was nothing more than a guess, but Mary felt her instincts kick in.
And when she pulled up in front of the address for Altadena Alternative Therapies, her instincts went berserk.
Living in L.A., Mary was used to big homes. Beverly Hills, Malibu, etc., all featured some beauties and some monstrosities.
She’d seen them all.
But the mansion in Altadena was something she hadn’t quite seen before.
She pulled the Accord into the circular drive and surveyed the acreage.
The property itself seemed to be on its own — no sign of any neighbors. Mary had no idea how many acres the site was comprised of, but it would probably be the equivalent of a cattle ranch.
Mary parked and went to the front door, noting the security camera discreetly mounted flush with the coved overhang above the front door.
Mary pushed the button on the intercom.
It took several minutes before the door opened and a man in a gray suit looked at her.
“Hi, I’m looking for the support group Altadena Alternative Therapies,” Mary said. “I’m a nymphomaniac and I really am feeling the urge to act out. Is this the right location?”
The man appraised her before answering.
“Your name is Mary Cooper and you’re a private investigator,” he said.
Mary hid her surprise and noted that he hadn’t moved, and that he had positioned himself with his hands free and she could almost see the butt of his pistol in a shoulder holster inside his suit coat.
“Well, aren’t you a smarty pants?” she said. “So you know I’m looking into the death of a man who took part in AAT’s support groups. I’d like to get some information, please.”
“May I see your license?” he said.
Mary knew this guy was a professional. She handed him her private investigator’s license and he looked it over, then handed it back to her.
“Mr. Torrance will see you in the study,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mary followed the big security man through a house that was ridiculous to even be considered a house. It was an auditorium. It was a convention center, disguised as someone’s home. The hallways were three times larger than a courthouse, the ceilings five times higher than a gymnasium.
The whole thing looked like the last place you would find a psychiatric support group. What, did they pull up French Renaissance chairs into a circle for group discussions?
She was led to a library that matched the proportions of the rest of the place. Two-story bookshelves, a desk the size of South Dakota, and a fireplace big enough to house a family of four.
A man with wavy gray hair and yoga pants with a white cotton peasant shirt, barefoot, turned and greeted her.
“Ah, the private eye!” he said, his voice rich and hearty, but high-pitched.
“Yes, and you are?” Mary said.
“Ha! My name is Peter Torrance, but everyone calls me Tor. What’s your name?”
Mary felt like she was in kindergarten. “Mary Cooper.”
He came toward her and she couldn’t help but stare at his outfit. He was barefoot. The yoga pants were way too tight and his bulging crotch was hard to miss. The cotton peasant shirt could only be described as “flowing” as it seemed to go on and on. Mary also thought it looked dirty, like he’d rolled around on the floor in it. Maybe yoga? Yoga, in a heavy, long-sleeved shirt?
“How can I help you, Mary Cooper?” he asked.
“Tell me about Altadena Alternative Therapies,” she said.
“Why, of course! It’s a little alternative healing practice we set up in the Garden Room. Very interesting. We disbanded that some time ago, but it was a fascinating experiment. I think the results were inconclusive.”
“What were you studying?”
“That’s confidential, I’m afraid, Ms. Cooper. But the short answer is the human mind, of course. The human mind is what we study, day in and day out.” He swept his arm toward the two stories of bookshelves. “This is all about the human mind.”
“Got it. The human mind,” Mary said. “My mind is wondering what the hell a support group was doing in this house that’s worth what, a few hundred million?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Unusual, wouldn’t you say?”
“Who’s to say what’s usual? I’ve never followed the sheep, Mary, which is how I was lucky enough to amass enough capital that I need not worry about what others are doing.”
“What was your field?”
“Pharmaceuticals.”
“Synergy Labs? Is that your company?”
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“The human mind, Tor,” Mary said.
“Yes, that’s one of my companies. I have many.”
“Do you work with Dr. Frank Fallon?”
“Yes, I do, he is a consultant to the company.”
“And do you know a man named Craig Locher? A woman named Valerie Barnes? And a woman named Ann Budchuk?” Mary asked. “Any of those names ring a bell?”
Torrance bent over in a yoga pose, breathed out, then straightened up and looked at Mary.
“No, I can’t say that I do,” he said. “But I wasn’t intimately involved in the groups.”
“Dr. Frank was, right?” Mary asked.
“I believe he was.”
“Did you take part in the group sessions?”
“Me? Ha! Of course not.”
“Then who would know more about the groups?”
“I have no idea. I allowed the groups here, I had no hand in running them.”
Mary didn’t believe him for a second.
“I’m afraid I have to go now, Miss Cooper,” he said. “I’ve got a session of Tai Chi scheduled for the Daffodil Room. Would you like to join us?”
Mary sensed the presence of not one, but two security guards now behind her.
“No, I don’t believe in any of that crap.”
“Well, I hope I’ve answered all your questions as we won’t be doing this again, even though it was a pleasure,” Torrance said.
“The pleasure was all mine,” Mary said.
She allowed herself to be shown out.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Later, she would chastise herself for not listening to her intuition.
Because the thought crossed her mind as she was being led to the front door of the huge mansion.
A person could disappear here.
She thought that.
And then something nudged her in a small part of her warning system.
Fabric faintly rustled behind her and then pain exploded from the base of her neck, a hot numbness flashed across her brain and everything went black.
Chapter Forty
So this is what it’s like.
There was something to be said for recognizing life’s milestones, even when the situation is less than ideal. For instance, being confined in an insane asylum.
Mary was pretty sure that’s where she was.