The Second Rule of Ten: A Tenzing Norbu Mystery (Dharma Detective: Tenzing Norbu Mystery) (39 page)

Rabbi Jason Van Leeuwen offered a moving perspective on the bereavement process and spiritual purpose of sitting
shivah
, and he gave me invaluable insights into how and where orthodoxy and grief intersect.

Rod Fracascio invited me to ride along with him up and down the Hollywood Hills so I could experience a day in the life of a working paparazzo. It was a fascinating time, and he applies a lot of Tenzing-like intuition to his work.

Tattoo artist Howard Teman, owner of the eclectic T-man Tattoo parlor, gave freely of his time, sense of humor, and expertise in all things pertaining to skin and ink.

Former police officer Dave Brown, Jr., both suggested the action and ensured the accuracy of “how and when to shoot through a door,” and “Sully” O’Sullivan loaned out his wonderful name.

Thanks to Tessa Chasteen, artist and avid mystery buff, for her multiple manuscript readings and helpful plot tweakings, not to mention for negotiating access to the roof-top wonders of Ravenswood Apartments.

What would I do without my brilliant writers group? Buckets of appreciation to Bev Baz, Monique de Varennes, Kathryn Hagen, Emilie Small, Pat Stiles, and Barbara Sweeney for taking precious time away from their own creative endeavors to assist Gay and me with ours. To say they helped edit our baby is an understatement—they had a big hand in shaping it.

My love to Daisy and Addie Pidduck, deep sources of delight and hilarious providers of ongoing material for the intrepid Maude and Lola; and to Jon, Blossom, Thomas, and Dorothy—children of my heart, my prides and my joys.

Finally, my love and gratitude to Cameron Keys: partner, ally, and friend. You encourage me with your courage and enliven me with your life. You make me laugh. You make me think. You make me better.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT
GAY HENDRICKS

Gay Hendricks, Ph.D., has served for more than 35 years as one of the major contributors to the fields of relationship transformation and body-mind therapies. Along with his wife, Dr. Kathlyn Hendricks, Gay is the co-author of many bestsellers, including
Conscious Loving
and
Five Wishes.
He is the author of 33 books, including
The Corporate Mystic, Conscious Living,
and
The Big Leap.
Dr. Hendricks received his Ph.D. in counseling psychology from Stanford in 1974. After a 21-year career as a professor of Counseling Psychology at the University of Colorado, he and Kathlyn founded The Hendricks Institute, which is based in Ojai, California, and offers seminars worldwide.

In recent years he has also been active in creating new forms of conscious entertainment. In 2003, along with movie producer Stephen Simon, Dr. Hendricks founded the Spiritual Cinema Circle, which distributes inspirational movies to subscribers in 70-plus countries around the world (
www.spiritualcinemacircle.com
). He has appeared on more than 500 radio and television shows, including
The Oprah Winfrey Show
and
48 Hours
, and on networks including CNN and CNBC.

ABOUT
TINKER LINDSAY

Tinker Lindsay is an accomplished screenwriter, author, and conceptual editor. A member of the Writers Guild of America (WGA), Independent Writers of Southern California (IWOSC), and Women in Film (WIF), she’s worked in the Hollywood entertainment industry for over three decades. Lindsay has written screenplays for major studios such as Disney and Warner Bros., collaborating with award-winning film director Peter Chelsom. Their current screenplay,
Hector and the Search for Happiness
, is in preproduction with Egoli Tossell Film. She also co-wrote the spiritual epic
Buddha: The Inner Warrior
with acclaimed Indian director Pan Nalin, as well as the sci-fi remake of
The Crawling Eye
with Cameron Keys.

Lindsay has authored two books—
The Last Great Place
and
My Hollywood Ending
—and worked with several noted transformational authors, including Peter Russell, Arjuna Ardagh, and Dara Marks.

Lindsay graduated with high honors from Harvard University in English and American Language and Literature, where she was an editor for
The Harvard Crimson
. She studied and taught meditation for several years before moving to Los Angeles to live and work. She can usually be found writing in her home office situated directly under the Hollywood sign.

R
EADING
G
ROUP
G
UIDE

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS: We’re thrilled you have chosen
The Second Rule of Ten
for your book group. First and foremost, we hope you enjoyed the ride! But we’d also love to think that Tenzing’s adventures can provide a little food for inner thought, as well as a cracking good story. The following questions are ones we have asked ourselves in the process of discovering “Ten,” and following his unique path through life. (Makes for an interesting journey, at times.) Have fun with them!

Questions for Discussion

1. Tenzing Norbu is a complex character, a 21st century detective trying to balance his inner and outer worlds. In what ways are you like, and not like, Ten?
   
2. Tenzing’s second rule deals with his unconscious beliefs. What are they, and how do they help or hinder his investigation into Marv’s death, his search for Sadie Rosen, and his pursuit of Chaco Morales?
   
3. What “life rules” have you developed? How are they the same as—or different from—the rules you learned as a child?
   
4. Along with his police training and trusty .38, Tenzing has a number of intuitive skills in his detective’s arsenal, honed through years of spiritual practice. How do they come into play as he seeks answers to Marv’s murder? Have you ever relied on intuitive flashes to solve personal dilemmas?
   
5. Ten is a bit of a hybrid, shaped by an upbringing in two very different cultures and environments. Have you or anyone you know had a similar experience of living in two different worlds? How did that impact your/their life choices?
   
6. This detective series represents the collaboration of a male and female author. How do you think this affects the way in which the male and female characters come to life and interact?
   
7. Tenzing has a deep longing for a good father figure. In what ways does this shape his interactions with the male characters he encounters in this story?
   
8. Ten also has a complicated relationship with his mother (more on this in future books!). Do you think Ten’s feelings for Heather (and Julia in
   The First Rule of Ten
   ) are impacted by his mother issues? Does this ring any bells?
   
9. Ten’s greatest test is to be present in a world that is largely “anything but.” How do you handle the challenges of staying mindful in a fragmented world?
   

AN EXCERPT FROM . . .

T
HE
T
HIRD
R
ULE OF
T
EN

Beep Beep Beep!

My eyes snapped open, the high-pitched warning tone piercing my sleep. It was 2:58
A.M.,
and somebody had just breached my perimeter.

I slid my hand under the pillow next to me, gripped my Wilson Supergrade, and thanked the various gods that Heather hadn’t spent the night. I swung out of bed. Sure enough, a shadowy figure was moving across the screen of my high-tech Guard-On system, captured in the eerie green glow of the infrared camera. I couldn’t tell if it was the same kid who had paid a night visit here before, but whoever he was, he was heading straight for my garage.

My cell phone buzzed. Mike. He must have received the automatic alert over at his place.

“I’m on it, Mike. Can you call Bill for me?” He grunted and hung up.

I pocketed the phone, pulled on some shoes, and slipped outside the bedroom. Moving quietly, I crept across the slick, hardwood floor, making my silent way through the living room and into the kitchen. I needed to get a better sense of what I was up against. I crouched low and looked out the kitchen window. About 100 yards away, past the trees that line my property, a sliver of moonlight glinted off the big, square windshield of a Hummer. Did that mean I had more than one visitor?

Homeowner outrage hummed in my bloodstream. This is private property. This is my safe space. You don’t belong here. I racked a round into the chamber of the .38.

I knew I should yell out to the intruder—most intruders flee at the first sign of an inhabitant, armed or not. But I could feel the sizzle of adrenaline in my bloodstream urging me to deal with this guy the old-fashioned way.

I cracked open the kitchen door and swept the barrel of the pistol across the grounds. Nothing. I dropped low and snuck around to the back of the garage, where my two cars were stabled. I peered into the small back window. It was Miguel, squatting behind the locked trunk of my Shelby, a crowbar in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

He was about to jimmy a trunk I’d spent at least 20 hours restoring. Not my Mustang, Miguel, not in this lifetime.

I crept silently to the door between the kitchen and the garage. I took a deep breath and banged open the door, reaching through to hit the switch illuminating the overhead light. I yelled at the top of my lungs and aimed the Wilson at him.

Miguel jerked his head up. The flashlight clattered to the floor and rolled across the concrete, coming to a stop at my feet as he groped in his pocket and pulled out a small pistol.

I pointed my gun at his chest. “Drop it!”

His arm jerked upward. Bad move. I lowered the sight and shot him in the meaty part of his left leg. He howled and fell like a stone, his head clunking against the Mustang’s back bumper as he went down. He was out cold.

I was starting toward him when I heard the sound of two car doors slamming.

I crouched down behind the Shelby and aimed into the inky darkness. Now I regretted switching on the light. It put me at a disadvantage. I could just make out a man—no—two men sprinting through the trees and running straight for me. When they were about 20 yards out, I grabbed the flashlight and slung it to my right, aiming for the Toyota. It hit the sheet metal with a clang. They started firing in that direction but spotted me immediately when I stood up to return fire. Two muzzles swung my way.

There was no time for niceties. I aimed for center mass, just like the Academy taught me. Two shots, two hits, square in two chests. The guy on the right toppled backward with a loud cry. The other one must have been wearing Kevlar because he just staggered for a moment, stopped in his tracks, but still very much alive. He got his footing back and fired, hitting the wall behind me.

My police training sent up another instructional flare: Take cover and hold fire until you can get a clean shot to the leg. But I wasn’t a cop anymore, was I?

By my count, this guy had already fired eight or nine times, leaving plenty of zip in what was probably a 17-shot magazine. I didn’t like the odds. I sighted the Wilson in for a headshot but missed low, hitting him directly in the Adam’s apple. With no oxygen or equipment to make a sound, he sank to his knees and fell forward onto his face with a wet flop.

I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding. With the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air, I realized I was witnessing karma happening right before my eyes. The second shooter had gotten a reprieve when my first shot bounced off his bulletproof chest. But then he’d spurned that subtle gift from the universe and called in his destiny.

I heard a loud thwock and my left foot jerked. Miguel! I took cover and checked the thick bottom of my running shoe—the ridiculously expensive running shoes I’d just treated myself to a couple of weeks ago. A .25 caliber bullet was now imbedded in its ruined sole.

Miguel was running out of strikes. Strike One: trying to jimmy the trunk of my Shelby. Strike Two: he blows away my new sneaker. The kid was clearly escalating.

I scooted backward so the Mustang’s axle and wheels were between him and me. I heard the scuff of jeans against the concrete floor.

“Hey, Miguel!” The scuffing sound stopped.
“Habla Ingles?”

“Un poco.” A little. That’s about how much Spanish I spoke.