The South Beach Search. Sharon Hartley

      “I’m the spa’s yoga instructor,” she said, still holding on to him, enjoying the sensation. “I know who most of the members are.”

      “But I’ve never been to your class.”

      “You should come,” she said, reluctantly releasing his hand. His strong grip was somehow reassuring. “Yoga would help you relax.”

      Confused by her powerful reaction to him, she stared at a pulse beating steadily at the base of his neck, then raised her gaze to be captured by a pair of intense brown eyes. No wonder Debbie gushed over Reese.

      “Hey, too bad, Taki.”

      She glanced toward the voice. Hector, one of the spa’s personal trainers, approached with a purple gym bag slung over his heavily muscled shoulder. The police officer continued working on his forms.

      “Reese,” Hector said with a nod at the Jag. “Wow. The new wheels. Bad luck, huh, man?”

      “No,” Reese said. “Stupidity is more like it.”

      “You lose anything?” Hector asked Taki.

      “The bowl,” she said simply.

      “Bummer.” Hector patted a Free Tibet sticker on the Jeep’s rusted bumper and shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, girl. Maybe you do have a spiritual blot on your soul. Gotta go, but let me know if I can do anything.”

      With a wave, Hector continued to his red Camaro.

      Taki cursed herself for telling big-mouth Debbie her theory of why her life was such a wreck. When would she get it that most people didn’t understand her unusual slant on the cosmos?

      “Listen...Taki, is it?” Reese Beauchamps’s husky voice grabbed her attention again. He now stared at her as if she’d materialized before him from another dimension. “I’m confident I know who took my briefcase and why,” he said. “I had important notes inside regarding a missing witness.”

      She raised her chin. “You lost a witness?”

      “Not exactly.” His dark eyes still searching hers, he shook his head. “Anyway, if we find the stolen property, I’ll make sure you get your bowl back.”

      “Okay, Miss Taki,” the officer called out, his voice emphasizing her name. “What’s missing? They get your radio?”

      Taki and Reese approached the policeman. “The only thing that’s gone is a box with an ancient Tibetan bowl,” she said.

      “An old bowl?” The cop frowned. “Give me a description.”

      “It’s copper and brass, eight inches in diameter. There was also a wooden wand that came with it.”

      The cop nodded as if now he understood. “A magic wand. Okay. So what’s the approximate value?”

      “Priceless. I had it blessed by a holy man, so there’s not another one like it in the world.”

      The officer raised his gaze and stared at her as if she were an alien invader. “Uh-huh. What’d you pay for it?”

      “Nothing. It was a gift. From a Tibetan monk.”

      “Come on, Miss Taki,” the cop insisted. “Give me a figure. What’s it worth?”

      “My mortal soul,” she murmured. “I made a promise to give the bowl, as a symbol of gratitude more than anything, to the Paradise Way Ashram. If I don’t...” Taki looked down, but not before she saw the policeman roll his eyes heavenward. Reese Beauchamps said nothing, but she sensed his curiosity.

      “What’s an...ashram?” the officer asked.

      “Like a secluded religious retreat, right?” Reese answered.

      She nodded. “Something like that.”

      “Well, a hundred bucks ought to cover it,” the officer said. “I’m done here.” He handed Taki her registration and driver’s license. “You can get a copy of the police report for your insurance company in a couple of days.”

      “Thank you, Officer,” Reese said. “I’m sure you’ll get to work on this right away.”

      “Too bad I don’t have insurance,” Taki said when the officer returned to his black-and-white police cruiser.

      “You don’t have insurance?”

      “Just the required liability thing. Theft is too expensive.” As the enormity of her loss sank in, she blinked back tears. The bowl was supposed to right so many wrongs.

      “If the perpetrator is who I think it is,” Reese said, “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some restitution.”

      Thoroughly chilled now, she hugged her elbows, looking for warmth. “Thanks, but I just want my bowl back.”

      “And believe me, I want my briefcase.” Rattling his keys as if anxious to leave, Reese gave his broken window a disgusted glance. “Well...I’ll be in touch.”

      “Let me know as soon as you hear anything. That bowl is very important to me.”

      “I can tell. But then, not many bowls are able to sing.” He raised his brows. “Does it perform opera or more like rap?”

      She narrowed her eyes at the amusement in his voice, wishing people wouldn’t make fun of what they didn’t understand. But seriously, what did she expect? A man like Reese would never appreciate the peaceful tones created by her bowl, how soothing the sound was to her troubled soul.

      “Mostly yodeling,” she said, trying to make her voice as earnest as possible.

      He shook his head, obviously unsure whether she was serious. Good.

      “Don’t get your hopes up too high, though,” he said as he opened the Jag’s door. “I can’t make any promises.”

      After watching Reese drive away, Taki trudged back to the warmth of the spa. No matter how hard she tried to set things right with the universe, her karma always came back to haunt her. She tried to do the right thing, but maybe she was doomed to unhappiness forever.

      She’d planned to deliver the bowl to the ashram immediately after her last class. Why, why had she been so foolish to leave it in the Jeep? She should have taken it into the spa and stashed it safely inside her locker. Yeah, she had been worried someone would ask her about it, want to see it, and of course she didn’t want to talk about the challenge Guru Navi had given her and how long she’d waited for the package to arrive from Tibet after the blessing. But maybe no one would have noticed.

      She was just plain stupid. She deserved everything bad that ever happened to her.

      Inside the ladies’ locker room, after a long steam bath which she hoped would melt away lingering negativity, Taki tried to think about what to do next. Unfortunately, no amount of steam could halt her depressing thoughts.

      No point in visiting the ashram tonight. She could start over with another task, but where would she find the money to go back to Tibet? It had been a miracle she got there last time. With her lack of skills, she wasn’t likely to find another steamer captain willing to let her work her way across the Pacific Ocean. Although she had learned how to cook vast amounts of food for the always-hungry crew.

      Debbie approached while Taki towel-dried her hair, wishing her brisk movements could push a new idea into her brain. She’d been seasick for three months on the last voyage and really didn’t want to go through that again.

      “So what’s Reese going to do?” Debbie asked.

      “He thinks he knows who stole his briefcase,” Taki said. She wrapped the towel around her head to secure her hair. “Maybe the same person took my property.”

      “Did he call in the FBI?”

      “The FBI? Why would he do that?” Taki rummaged in her locker to find a comb.