A new smart and sassy mystery featuring intrepid stunt double and Zen student Darcy Lott
When her Zen teacher is attacked in front of her by a silent, hoodie-clad assailant, Darcy Lott feels uncharacteristically helpless. If she cannot identify Garson-roshi’s attacker, she cannot protect him. For whoever it is will surely strike again.
But who would have a reason to assault this wise and gentle man? As she questions her fellow students and other acquaintances of the Zen master, it becomes clear that Garson-roshi has been keeping secrets from Darcy. What happened while he was living in Japan? And where does he disappear to on the last Wednesday of every month?
Distracted by the possibility of her big career break on a new action movie, Darcy finds herself unprepared when the case takes a shocking twist …
About the Author
Susan Dunlap has taught yoga, worked as a paralegal, and been part of the private investigative defence team in a capital murder case. She is a founding board member and former president of Sisters in Crime. As well as the Darcy Lott mysteries, she is the author of the Jill Smith, Veejay Haskell and Kiernan O’Shaughnessy series. She lives near San Francisco.
Read an Excerpt
Every morning after zazen we chant the Heart Sutra, the heart of the very long sutra that puts into words that which cannot be described in words. In a well-being ceremony we do the same thing, add a dharanishort section of a sutraand dedicate the merit of the chanting to the sick person. Is there merit in chanting? I don't know. Does the effect of the chanting float beyond the walls of this room? Beyond influencing what we do on the other side of the zendo doors? I don't know. But today, when our voicesSnell's includedraggedly chanted the Heart Sutra: form is no different from emptiness, emptiness no different from form that comfort was enough.
Then Snell said to the group, "I'm Officer Snell. I need a moment of your time before you leave."
And I added, "Please leave the zendo before you speak to the Officer."
Seven faces showed displeasure. It was already 7:50. Tempus fugit in the work world. And in the world of the laid back, no one wants to talk to a cop before breakfast. People hurried to the hall to ask Snell for a pass.
I waited till they left, trimmed the candle, sifted the ash, straightened the altar for the evening sitting. I aligned the zabutans.
I walked near-soundlesslywe're good at that in the zendoto the door and pressed my ear against the crack.