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(Last week Brazil in an attempt to find his client, Elisa, encounters Chartan where he blurts out, “I’m afraid of myself.)

             Chartan was puzzled by Brazil’s response. What did this man really mean and what did he want? 

            “Let’s talk at my place,” said Chartan who had never had a stranger in his apartment to discuss inner feelings. Brazil nodded.

            When Brazil entered the studio, he looked for signs that Elisa had been there. The area was spotless and there was no bed, no normal place where two people might have sex.

            Chartan rolled out the yoga mat. “Here,” he said.

            Both men faced each other in the sitting position about an arm’s length apart.

            Chartan cleared his throat. “What about your fear?”

            Brazil opened his mouth but nothing came out. He clenched his teeth and lowered his head before speaking.

            “I’ve been battling anger for years. I thought I could get over this urge to hurt once I got older.  But it flares up when least expected. And it’s getting worse.”

            Chartan spoke slowly, “Replace your anger with love—sounds trite, but you can do it, or you wouldn’t be talking to me. You need life restoration.”

            The doorbell rang. Chartan knew it was Elisa—she’d only been gone a few hours. He stood up and walked to the door.

            Brazil guessed it would be his client as well, but he didn’t care what she might think. The floodgates of internal pain had been opened and he wanted to release more and didn’t care who heard it.

            “Mr. Chartan? “ The man in the doorway wore a suit.

            “Yes.”

            “I’m Detective Moran.”

            In a Life Restoration class Chartan once stated, “People have differing levels of ‘shock absorption,’… the unexpected can terrify one person and barely move another”. He said there’s no right and wrong response to shocking news, provided the person remains grounded in who they are—he didn’t elaborate on the statement and the four students in the room didn’t ask for elucidation.

            Chartan recalled the class while facing the detective in the doorway with Brazil next to him. Moran asked the pair if they knew an Elisa Cunnings.  Brazil gave a “yes” while Chartan said, “I know an Elisa—wasn’t aware of her last name.”

            Moran looked around the studio. “Can we sit somewhere?”

            “I have two chairs and a table, otherwise it’s the yoga mat,” said Chartan.

            Brazil blurted, “I’ll stand.”

            Moran took a chair and Chartan grabbed the other. Brazil stood by Chartan before inching closer to Moran.

            The detective asked each man how he knew Elisa. Brazil said he met her at a class Chartan was teaching —he made no mention of his private investigator relationship with Elisa. Chartan added that Elisa was the nurse in the San Francisco hospital where he had been taken after he was grazed by a bullet fired by the Car Window Bandit. He omitted how she had followed him to Sacramento.

            “A celebrity,” said Moran

            “Lucky,” replied Chartan.

            Moran coughed. “She could use some luck today—she’s been shot.”

(To be continued next Sunday)