It Must Be Love

Three blocks long, Hyde Park was surrounded on all sides by one of the oldest residential neighborhoods in town. The residents themselves were a diverse mix of bohemia and affluence. Rich, poor, young, and those as old and humped as the cracked sidewalks. Struggling artists and prosperous yuppies lived side by side. Run-down purple houses with orange sunbursts around the windows sat beside restored Victorians, complete with pocked carriage blocks next to the curb.

The businesses were as eclectic as the residents. The shoe repair shop had operated in the district since before anyone could remember, and down the block, a guy could still get his hair cut for seven bucks. A person could grab a taco, pizza, espresso, or a pair of edible undies at the Naughty or Nice lingerie boutique. You could pull into the local 7-11 and buy a Slurpie and a National Enquirer after you filled your car with gas, or walk half a block and shop for books, bicycles, or snowshoes. Hyde Park had it all. Gabrielle Breedlove and Anomaly fit in perfectly.

The morning sun poured over the district and in through Anomaly's front windows, washing the room with light. The large windows were crammed with a display of Oriental porcelain plates and washbowls. A two-foot goldfish with its great fantail cast irregular shadows on the Berber carpet.

Gabrielle stood in her darkened store, squeezing several drops of patchouli oil into a delicate cobalt vaporizer. For almost a year now, she'd been experimenting with different essential oils. The whole process was a continuous cycle of trying, failing, and trying again.

Studying chemical properties, mixing the oils into the little bottles, using her burners and blending bowls, it all made her feel a bit like a mad scientist. Creating wonderful aromas appealed to her artistic side. Her belief was that certain aromas could potentially heal the mind, spirit, and body, either through their chemical properties or by triggering warm, pleasant memories that calmed the soul. Just last week she'd successfully created her own unique blend. She'd packaged it in beautiful rose-colored bottles, then, as part of her marketing ploy, she'd filled the store with the gentle fragrance of citrus and voluptuous flowers. She'd sold out the first day. She hoped to do as well at the Coeur Festival.

Today's blend wasn't unique but was reputed to have calming effects. She screwed the dropper lid back onto the brown patchouli bottle and replaced it in the wooden box containing her other oils. She reached for the sage oil and carefully added two drops. Both oils were supposed to help reduce stress, promote relaxation, and relieve nervous exhaustion. This morning, with an undercover cop due in her store in twenty minutes, Gabrielle needed all three.

The back door to Anomaly opened and closed, and dread settled in the pit of her soul. She glanced over her shoulder toward the rear of the store. 'Good morning, Kevin,' she called out to her business partner. Her hands shook as she replaced the bottle of sage. It was only nine-thirty in the morning, her nerves were already shot, and she was exhausted. She'd been up all night trying to convince herself that she could lie to Kevin. That by allowing Detective Shanahan to work undercover in her store, she was really helping to clear Kevin's name. But she had several big problems: She was a notoriously bad liar, and she didn't honestly think she could pretend to like the detective, let alone imagine herself as his girlfriend.

She hated lying. She hated creating bad karma. But really, what was one more lie when she was about to create karmic retribution of seismic proportions?

'Hey there,' Kevin called from the hallway and flipped on the light switches. 'What are you cooking today?'

'Patchouli and sage.'

'Is it going to smell like a Grateful Dead concert in here?'

'Probably. I made it for my mother.' Besides aiding in relaxation, the scent reminded her of pleasant memories, like the summer she and her mother had chased the Grateful Dead throughout the country. Gabrielle had been ten and had loved camping in their Volkswagen bus, eating tofu and tie-dyeing everything she owned. Her mother had called it their summer of awakening. Gabrielle didn't know about their awakening, but it had been the first time her mother had claimed psychic powers. Before that, they'd been Methodists.

'How's your mother and aunt doing on vacation? Have you heard from them?'

Gabrielle closed the lid to the wooden box and looked across the room at Kevin, who stood in the doorway of the office they shared. 'Not for a few days.'

'When she gets back, will she and your aunt stay at their house in town for a while, or go spend time up north with your grandfather?'

She suspected Kevin's interest in her mother and aunt had less to do with genuine curiosity and more to do with the fact that they made him nervous. Not only were Claire and Yolanda Breedlove sisters by marriage but they were also best friends and lived together. And sometimes they read each other's minds, which could be spooky if you weren't used to them. 'I'm not sure. I suspect they'll land here in Boise to pick up Beezer, then drive up to check on my grandfather.'

'Beezer?'

'My mother's cat,' Gabrielle answered, guilt knotting her stomach as she gazed into her friend's familiar blue eyes. He'd just turned thirty but looked about twenty-two. He stood a few inches shorter than Gabrielle, and his blond' hair was bleached by the sun. He was a bookkeeper by profession and an antique dealer at heart. He handled the business side of Anomaly, freeing Gabrielle to express her creativity. He wasn't a criminal, and she didn't believe for one second that he would use their store as a front to sell stolen property. She opened her mouth to voice the lie she'd practiced at the police station, but the words got stuck in her throat.

'I'll be in the office working this morning,' he said, then disappeared through the doorway.

Gabrielle reached for a lighter and lit a tea candle in the little vaporizer. Again, she tried to tell herself she was actually helping Kevin even though he wouldn't know it. She wasn't really sacrificing him to Detective Shanahan.

She still couldn't make herself believe it, but it didn't matter. The detective was due in her store in less than twenty minutes, and she had to make Kevin believe she'd hired him to do odd jobs over the next few days. She stuck the lighter into the pocket of her gauze skirt and walked past the front counter, cluttered with impulse items, to the office. She glanced at Kevin's blond head bent over some papers on his desk, and she took a deep breath. 'I hired someone to move those shelves from the side of the store to the back wall,' she said, forcing the lie past her lips. 'Remember we talked about it before?'

Kevin looked up, and a frown creased his brow. 'I remember we decided to wait until next year.'

No, he'd decided that for them. 'I don't think it can wait that long, so I've hired someone. Mara can help him,' she said, referring to the young college student who worked part time in the afternoons. 'Joe will be here in a few minutes.' Forcing her guilty gaze to remain on Kevin was one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

Silence filled the room for several excruciating moments as he frowned at her. 'This Joe's a member of your family, isn't he?'

Just the thought of Detective Shanahan swimming in the same gene pool disturbed her almost as much as posing as his girlfriend. 'No.' Gabrielle straightened a stack of invoices. 'I assure you Joe isn't family.' She pretended an interest in the paper before her. Then she choked out the most difficult lie of all. 'He's my boyfriend.'

His frown disappeared, and he just looked puzzled. 'I didn't even know you had a boyfriend. Why haven't you ever mentioned him before?'

'I didn't want to talk about it until I was sure of my feelings,' she said, piling one lie on top of another. 'I didn't want to create bad juju.'

'Oh. Well, how long have you known him?'

'Not long.' That much was the truth, she supposed.

'How did you meet him?'

She thought of Joe's hands on her hips, thighs, and between her breasts. Of his groin pressed into hers, and heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. 'Jogging in the park,' she said, knowing she sounded as guilty as she felt.

'I don't think we can afford it this month. We have to pay for that shipment of Baccarat. Next month would be better for us.'

Next month might be better for them, but not the Boise P.D. 'It has to be done this week. I'll pay for it myself. You can't object to that.'

Kevin sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. 'You want it done pretty badly. Why now? What's