Dial Om for Murder by Diana Killian Read Free Book Online Page A

more walks and yoga in her life, A.J. was feeling better than she had in years. Her back was mostly pain-free, and she felt much more capable of handling the little curves life continued to throw her way . . . like finding a murdered client or having her ex-husband drop in unexpectedly.
    Spreading her mat on the flagstones, she sat down facing the sun. For a moment she breathed quietly, eyes closed, simply taking in the peace of the warm, sunny morning . . . the trill of a bird, the scent of the flowering vine overhead, the feel of the breeze on her skin. She deliberately put aside her tension, the buildup of anxiety normal with modern life. She clamped down on her straying thoughts: Had she covered the pancake mix? What would Elysia say if she knew Andy was staying with A.J.? What would Jake think? Had she paid the electric bill for the studio? None of that mattered now.
    Rising, she went smoothly through the twelve-step sequence, starting by planting feet hips-width apart, palms together in the prayer position, fingertips brushing the center of her chest over her heart.
    A.J. drew a deep breath into her lungs, opened her palms, and swung her arms back over her head, arching her back and gazing up at the vines twining through the pergola slats. She exhaled, bending forward from the hips and slightly bending her knees as she placed her hands on the floor. She made an effort to bring her head as close as possible to her legs—but it was still not easy even after months of practice.
    As she inhaled, she bent her left leg, sliding her right foot back into a lunge.
    The main thing was to move with slow deliberation, not pushing, not forcing. A.J. concentrated on each breath, inhaling on the open positions.
    Exhaling, she slid her left foot into position beside the right and held the position, continuing to breathe—that was the real challenge, remembering to breathe steadily and evenly, matching the length of her inhalations with her exhalations.
    Lowering herself from the pushup position, she rested knees, chest, and chin on her mat.
    Discharge your tension into the earth. . . . She could almost hear Aunt Di’s cool voice instructing her.
    The morning sun was releasing the warm scent of flowers and earth.
    A.J. inhaled, using her arms to push up into the cobra position. She pictured the arc of her body as she closed her mouth and tilted her chin up.
    Curling her toes under, she exhaled and pushed into downward dog, feeling the stretch through her arms and the back of her legs. She slid her left foot forward so that it was parallel with the right. She rested her head in a forward bend as close to her knees as she could manage without straining.
    Straightening, she swept her arms above her head, arched her back and gazed up at the wooden timbers. She could see a spider weaving a silvery web across the leaves of the vine. Once she would have reached instantly for a broom.
    Actually she still felt like reaching for a broom.
    Baby steps, right?
    Returning inside, she showered quickly, and finding the guestroom door still closed, tapped softly.
    There was no response.
    She knocked again. Waited.
    Nothing.
    “Andy?” she called.
    No response. Lula Mae twined around her ankles and meowed plaintively.
    A.J. eased the door open.
    The guestroom was empty. The bed had not been slept in.

Six

    A quick glance out the front window verified that Andy’s blue sedan was still sitting in the front yard. So . . . ?
    With increasing trepidation, A.J. went through the house.
    “Hello? Andy?”
    She walked quickly from room to room. There was no sign of Andy, although his car keys were still lying on the kitchen counter.
    She stepped outside and walked down to the meadow, shading her eyes as she scanned the waves of shimmering green—it was already getting hot.
    To her relief she spotted Andy at the far end of the meadow. He waved to her and started back, and A.J. felt a little foolish for her brief bout of panic. What did she think had