"No, you look at it," LaLeche quipped.

Tyber smiled in spite of himself. "People do choose to live there-strange as it may seem to you or me. Sometimes even I enjoy an occasional foray into the Big Apple. The theater, restaurants, shopping, nightlife..."

"Yes, there is something to say for the culture and choices available there." The man was smooth, Tyber gave him that. He knew just how to oil a conversation so no offense could possibly be taken, no real opinion given.

"This has all got me thinking...." LaLeche rubbed his chin, trying to convey the impression of a man on the verge of a great idea. Tyber waited patiently; he was positive he would soon find out where LaLeche was going with this "fresh" idea of his which had probably been bubbling around in the man's head for ages.

"What's that?" Tyber played along.

"What you're saying is very true-even if people do live in the city, they need to get away on occasion to untangle the spirit, to renew their sense of perspective."

I said that? I must've stepped out of this dimension for a minute and missed my brilliant observation. Silly me. Tyber gave himself a mental shake of the head. LaLeche enthusiastically continued on his preordained pathway. He vaguely reminded Tyber of Venus in retrograde.

"I've often thought how very wonderful it would be to have a retreat like this for people to come to when they feel a need to seek inner harmony."

Tyber stopped walking. LaLeche was looking to fleece his sheep in better surroundings. He better not be coveting his surroundings. He turned to the shorter man, hands on hips. "Are you saying you want me to open my home to your-"

"Oh, heavens no, Tyber! I would never suggest invading your personal space in such a manner."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"Look around you, Dr. Evans." His arm swung in an arc indicating the gently rolling landscape. "Think about what such an environment would do to open minds, enlighten beings!"

He wanted money. Lots of it, if Tyber was on to his little game plan. Tyber rocked back on his boot heels, quelling the distaste he had for this charlatan. "You're talking about a retreat?"

"More than just a retreat! A center for personal growth and study! A research facility for psychic endeavors! A place for spiritual peace and harmony for everyone."

A place where workshops for the individual ran into the hundreds of dollars. A place where LaLeche could sell videos and tapes of himself being wonderful. A big business New Age kinda happening sort of thing. Tyber got the picture.

"I don't know, Xavier, won't that be kind of expensive?"

"Think of it as an investment, Tyber."

Here we go. "An investment? What do you mean?"

"If you would like to get in on the ground floor of this, I can pretty much guarantee you a fine return on your money."

"Are you saying you'd profit from this, Xavier?" Tyber couldn't help throwing that in.

"Everyone would profit from it in all ways, spiritually and monetarily. There's absolutely nothing wrong with making money, Tyber. It's one of the very topics I plan to have a seminar on."

For fifty-nine ninety-five. "How do you incorporate a... zest for making money into spiritual practices? Aren't the two mutually exclusive?"

LaLeche sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly as if to convey that such a wise teacher as he often had to deal with the ignorance of his pupils. It irritated Tyber no end. "Unfortunately, a widely held misconception. Negative attitudes regarding success run deep. It is this type of unhealthy conviction toward abundance in our personal lives which needs to be healed."

"Healed? How can the attitude of money being an end to a goal be healed?"

"Think of money as you would sunshine." LaLeche seemed extremely proud of this idiotic comparison.

Tyber's voice was bland. "How so?"

"Sunshine brings light into our lives; its rays shed warmth and enlightenment on us. It brings us happiness; it brings us life. By the same token, sunshine is also responsible for drought, sunburn, unbearable heat, burnt crops."

"I don't know that I follow your train of thought." Especially since the tracks of those thoughts are following a Mobius strip of convoluted logic.

"I'm saying that the effects of sunshine can be good for us or bad for us, depending on how careful we are in our relationship to it. You see, the sunshine is neither good nor evil in and of itself. It is simply an energy. Money, a materialization of energy, is the same way-it can be good for us or not good for us, depending on how we choose to utilize it."

Tyber stared back at him, dumbstruck. The man had just whipped together a seemingly palatable omelet from chalk and cheese.

The fact of the matter was that sunshine had nothing whatsoever to do with money. One was radiant energy, the other a medium of exchange. With carefully chosen words, tangled mystical principles, and a dash of spiritual superiority, the man had made a sweeping conclusion.

And why not, Tyber asked himself facetiously; after all, nature abhors a vacuum.

Would some people actually buy this ridiculous analogy under the guise of self-fulfilling enlightenment?

Yes. Definitely.

"I hadn't thought of it in those terms before. I can see what you're saying now. So tell me, Xavier, how much of an investment would we be talking about here?"

"Not much, considering the size of the project. We'll need some raw acreage, of course. Although it would be nice to find a site that already has a suitable building, I don't think that will occur. After all, we have certain special needs for the buildings. A dormitory. A cafeteria. Grounds..."

Uh-huh. LaLecheville. "So what were you thinking?"

"I figure if I could get together two more investors, each of us would have to throw in about three hundred grand."

Tyber tried not to cough. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Three hundred, huh?"

"If it's too steep for you-"

"No. Of course not, but just what kind of a return can I expect on my money?"

"How does five hundred percent sound?" LaLeche's mouth wiggled with a smirky grin.

"Sounds like you might have an investor." Tyber returned his smirk with a mysterious little grin of his own.

"Wonderful!"

"Of course, I have to shuffle some funds around, free up some cash-you understand. Come to think of it, I have some extra bonds coming due in a couple of months-why don't you start scouting out a location in the meantime?"

"I'll do that!"

"Oh, one other thing, Xavier, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my name in connection with this project. I prefer to be a silent investor." The last thing Tyber wanted was LaLeche using his name to hoodwink other investors into this scam.

"I understand, Doctor." LaLeche winked at him, interpreting Tyber's remark in his own way. Which was just as well, as long as it achieved his objective of keeping LaLeche silent.

So now he could string LaLeche on a little longer. This "business" venture was just the legitimate cover Zanita and he needed to stay in constant touch with the man. Hopefully they wouldn't need to be in touch with him for too much longer.

As Tyber made his way back to the house, he realized that if worse came to worst, he could try to set up a sting operation with the phony investment scam, although that could be a tricky business and he hated the idea of exposing Zanita to the kind of danger it might entail. On the other hand, he wanted the scum out of their lives A.S.A.P.

He wondered just how risky it would be, thinking he might eventually be forced to call Sean in.

Zanita had come straight upstairs after dinner. She had one hell of a headache. She immediately threw off her clothes, donning her thick flannel nightgown. Proper clothes for the proper job.

Moistening a washcloth with ice-cold water, she draped it across her forehead and flung herself prostrate onto Tyber's oyster bed. Zanita on the half-shell. She grimaced.

Dinner had been a complete fiasco.

Blooey got into another fight with My-Maggy. This time they fought over the sequence of the layered salad.

Auntie had proclaimed the escarole quiche marvelous but terribly rich, this last said while pointedly staring at Mills.

Mills threatened to use her fork as a catapult for said quiche, aiming it directly at Auntie when Auntie wasn't looking.

LaLeche, lapping up Blooey's cooking and casting the occasional lecherous glance at her chest, continued dropping pearls of spiritual wisdom, somehow managing to look like the cat who had swallowed the Tyber canary.

Hambone took turns wailing piteously during the meal at the lack of tidbits forthcoming and growling at LaLeche's ankles. At least the cat was a good judge of character.

Throughout it all, Tyber sat in stony silence while being mercilessly grilled by Auntie on aspects of his virile physique.

No wonder her head was splitting.

She supposed she should feel bad at deserting Tyber to their guests, but her head was pounding too loudly for her to care. Besides, she needed to get rid of this headache to make room for another one. She was going to confront Tyber tonight with his attitude adjustment.

The door to the bedroom flew open-and slammed shut.

Zanita twitched, then moaned as the reverberations hit her skull. Tyber's words sliced across her brow.

"Thank you very much for leaving me with that barracuda, Zanita."

"LaLeche?" came the muffled voice from under the washcloth.

"No. Your aunt."

She could hear him stomping across the floor toward the bed. Zanita lifted one corner of the cloth to peer surreptitiously at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt with short, angry movements of his fingers. When he finished, he dragged it off, wadded it into a ball, throwing it in the general direction of the closet hamper. It bounced off the lid, puddling on the floor. Tyber, who normally was the neatest of men, uncharacteristically ignored it.

He turned back to her; she quickly lowered the cloth to play dead again.

"Are you sure that woman is a relative of-what the hell is that draped across your head?"

"A cloth."

"Yes, but why?"

"I have a headache, Einstein."

She felt the bed dip with his weight. "Do you feel sick?"

His tone had instantly gone from irritation to concern. It was precisely this-this caring behavior that was at the root of her headache in the first place!

Not receiving a response, Tyber lifted the washcloth from her face only to be confronted with a glaring visage.

"Put that back!"

"I just wanted to see if you were all right."

He was caring about her again! She began to smolder. In her mind's eye, she could see smoke fuming all around her. "I told you I have a headache!"

"Then why don't you take some aspirin like most people do?"

"Because I prefer the medicine cloth. Now give me that." She tried to rip the cloth out of his hands; he wouldn't let go.

"I've never heard a doctor say take two cloths and call me in the morning. You are the crankiest person when you don't feel well. I'll get you some aspirin."

He started to get up; Zanita clamped her hand on his arm like a vise. "You get off this bed, mister, and it'll be the last aspirin you ever get."

The idea of this petite woman physically threatening him over a wet rag had its humorous side. Tyber really wanted to laugh, but relationship survival being foremost in his mind, he settled for a confused, hurt expression. "I'm sorry, baby." He handed her back the cloth.

Zanita felt instantly contrite. "Forget about it, Tyber." She flung the cloth over the aquarium.

"You think the fish have a headache now?" A dimple popped into his cheek.

"Very funny."

"Here, let me massage your headache away." He scooted back against the pillows, placing her head on his lap. His two forefingers began massaging her temples on either side. It felt good. Real good.

Zanita tried to talk herself out of turning her head into the silky warmth of his bare chest. Or rubbing the curve of her cheek against his heated velvet skin. The plane of his upper torso was lightly fuzzed with gold-tipped hair and rock hard.

The man was built like a brick! He could probably take a punch. Oh, well. She relaxed against his lap. That left trying to reason with him.

Before she had a chance, Tyber broached his own subject.

"I had a little talk with LaLeche during our tour this afternoon."

Zanita closed her eyes under his soothing ministrations. "Did you find out anything we can use?"

"Not exactly. He wants to open up a center for-for-" Tyber realized LaLeche had never said specifically what research the center would be geared to. The man had spoken in sweeping, generalized terms, quickly offering him a return on his money that was too good to be true. LaLeche was smooth; he'd give him that.

"For what?"

Tyber shrugged his broad shoulders. "LaLechisms." Zanita giggled.

"Why did he discuss it with you? Did he want your advice?"

"No, he wanted my money."

Zanita opened her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I was told that for a nominal investment in his project, I could see a tidy return on my money."